The Battle in Progress

The Mage Research Institute in Eldre'Thalas had specifically studied large-scale teleportation arrays for emergencies like this. Azar's foresight had once again produced unexpected results. The Amani forces had been completely unprepared for the ambush and suffered heavy losses. After fighting their way out of the encirclement, they were pursued by Eldre'Thalas's cavalry, who gave them no chance to escape alive. In the end, the Amani leader had no choice but to leave a large rearguard behind and flee deep into the forest with only a small group of elite troops.

"Order the troops to stop pursuing them. Have the mages hurry up and repair the array. The fighting at the front should be reaching a critical point, and it's time for us to go back and finish off our enemies for good." Watching the last trolls flee into the forest, Daphne issued her orders decisively.

"Yes!" The messenger hurried off to carry out her command.

"Saruman, will one legion be enough for you?" Daphne turned to ask Saruman. He and Gandalf were in charge of the mage forces this time.

"I'm afraid it won't be enough. The Amani Trolls won't be able to come back for more, but rebuilding and restoring Suramar will still take a great deal of effort." Saruman hadn't even spoken when Gandalf, standing beside him, cut in.

"Are you stupid? What does Suramar's reconstruction have to do with us? Don't listen to him, Sophia. Leave the wounded behind, and leave all the Sentinels with me. We'll still need sufficient support. Leave some priests, enough to tend to the wounded. Most importantly, I need plenty of mages. The more, the better. We have a lot of texts to sort through. You know the library in Eldre'Thalas still has plenty of room." He sounded serious until his last sentence, when the sly grin at the corner of his mouth gave away his ulterior motive.

Meanwhile, in the Zandalar Mountains, at the front lines of the two armies, the Kaldorei forces had charged the Zandalari Trolls' positions several times over the past few days. The trolls had fought back fiercely, their resolve unshaken. Though their losses were heavy, they had kept the Night Elves from breaking through their defenses.

"How many times has this been?" the exhausted Azar asked the Azshara beside him.

"This is the sixth."

"This can't go on. Order the troops to pull back and rest." Though Azar was reluctant, he finally gave the order.

"I want to rest for a while. Wake me immediately if anything happens."

"All right, I will. It's been three days, and you haven't slept at all. You really need to get some proper rest." Azshara spoke softly. Then she hurried to his side and gathered him in her arms. With her eyes closed, she gently stroked his hair with one hand and hummed a lullaby, as if soothing her child to sleep. Azar didn't resist, letting her hold him. Perhaps he was simply exhausted, or perhaps it had been too long since he'd enjoyed his wife's embrace. He soon fell asleep. He looked so comfortable that even in his sleep, he shifted his head, as if searching for a more comfortable position. Azshara used magic to lift them both and gently move them onto her large bed. They lay there, wrapped in each other's arms. She had waited so long for this moment. She felt so happy she wished time would stop. Sophia came in, saw the scene, and immediately turned around and left, smiling. She seemed to float along as she walked, perhaps so caught up in her happiness that she didn't notice the person in front of her. She walked straight into him and fell to the ground with a yelp. The unfortunate man she'd collided with was Dath'Remar, who was just as distracted and paying no attention to where he was going. Of course, he was preoccupied with worry over the battle.

"I'm sorry, Princess. I didn't mean to." When Dath'Remar saw that he'd collided with Sophia, the curse on his lips turned into an apology. He hurriedly helped her up.

"Don't go in there. Whatever it is, tell me instead," Sophia warned Dath'Remar as she stood up. She wouldn't let anyone disturb her parents right now.

Dath'Remar glanced at the queen's tent, then at Sophia. He understood everything. After saying his goodbyes, he turned and left. No one knew how he felt at that moment, and no one would care. Only he understood, and only he could find his own way through it.

"How long did I sleep?" Azar opened his eyes and saw Azshara beside him. She was lying on her side, gazing at him, her eyes full of tenderness.

"Not long. It's just gotten dark. Are you getting up?"

It's dark already? Right, it's dark! Why didn't I think of that? Darkness was the Kaldorei's friend. Night was when we had the advantage! At the thought, he quickly sat up. His sudden movement knocked Azshara, who was lying on her side, over, and Azar instinctively paused. An awkward scene followed: Azshara lay flat on the bed, while Azar braced one hand against it and ended up sprawled over her. For a moment, neither of them spoke. They simply gazed at each other as the seconds ticked by. Gradually, Azshara's face flushed, and Azar's breathing quickened. Azshara wrapped both arms around his neck, and Azar suddenly leaned down to kiss her. Their movements were so in sync, so natural and coordinated. The longer their feelings had been suppressed, the more fiercely their desire erupted. Well, women could be a little reserved, and even at such a crucial moment, Azshara didn't forget to cast a warding spell.

The next day, the generals gathered for a meeting.

"Our casualties have been heavy these past few days, mostly among the melee troops. The Zandalari are stronger than us in close combat." Dath'Remar gave his report first.

"How are the ranged troops doing?" Azar asked.

"The mage forces haven't suffered many casualties, but their mana is greatly depleted. They'll need some time to rest," one Archmage replied.

"The Elf Hunters have also suffered significant losses, but we can still hold on," another elven general said. His tone made it clear he was a tough veteran.

"Dath'Remar, select elite troops for two tasks: first, protect our lines from attack; second, keep harassing the trolls. That's our assignment for the next three days. I want those trolls across the way to lose sleep."

"Father, what will we do after those three days?" Sophia asked at just the right moment, smoothly changing the subject.

"Wait for Daphne's legion! They've finished fighting and are resting. Once they arrive, we'll launch our full-scale assault!"

Three days later, the commanders of both armies seemed to have reached the same agreement. At the exact same time, they assembled their entire forces and faced each other. After the third blast of the horns, Azar gave his order.

"Rear ranks, mages: Arcane Missiles! Target the enemy's left flank, the troll javelin throwers!" After giving the order, he counted to five in his mind. Not bad. They were following orders well.

"Elf Hunters! Target the enemy's front ranks on the left!" Seeing that the troll hunters were temporarily suppressed, Azar decisively gave his second order. Before the junior officers could even relay it, his third order followed right on its heels. "Warrior Legion, Charge!"

Dath'Remar, standing beside him, glanced at Azar in confusion, then looked at Azshara behind them. Azar's face was calm and expressionless; Azshara looked completely unconcerned, as if it had nothing to do with her. Her eyes were fixed only on her husband. Had I got it wrong? Is he not deliberately sacrificing the capital's troops? I'd never seen anyone fight like this. The archers hadn't even finished shooting before the troops charged. Are you sure they won't hit their own men?

Before he could finish wondering, the corner of Azar's mouth twitched, and his eyes narrowed to slits! Anyone close to him knew that this was the look of a very displeased Prince. He'd miscalculated. The attacking troops weren't his own, and they hadn't been trained in his tactics, so it would be difficult for them to carry out his orders. The results were worse than he'd expected. He'd been too optimistic. While they attacked with everything they had, the Zandalari forces also made their move. They weren't going to just stand there and let themselves be attacked without fighting back. Their tactics were simple: they threw their numbers straight into the center. Simple, but effective. Dath'Remar charged to the front to organize the defense. It was his duty. If the center broke through, the queen would be in danger.

"Father, the enemy is determined to attack the center. Should we send in the reserves? I'm afraid the front won't hold." Sophia kindly reminded her father.

"Don't distract your father, Sophia. Even I can see that the enemy's left flank is about to give way, while they're pulling troops from the right to reinforce the center. We're almost there. The center? You think you can win just by charging at me? I'm no pushover." Before Azar could answer, Azshara stopped their daughter.

"Hahaha, the girl hasn't seen us fight before, so it's only natural she'd worry. Sophia, if those trolls are bold enough to fight their way over here, you'll have the pleasure of seeing your father in action." Azar was full of confidence now. His words helped; the tense expressions on the guards around them eased a little. That was the role of a commander: a gesture, a look, a smile, and the whole army's morale could shift.

"Azar, darling, I'm really looking forward to seeing you fight like you did back when you slaughtered those piglets." The queen joined in the joking. The guards wore expressions of utter dismay. Flirting in public, right in front of them? Did they think the guards weren't there? Anyone who didn't know better would think they were out on a picnic.

Azar turned his attention back to the battlefield, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's. Yes, now he was the hunting eagle, searching for his opponent's weakness so he could strike a fatal blow. Suddenly, he stood up, moving so quickly that everyone around him jumped!

"Daphne! Right flank, charge!"

It was a simple feint: commit all their forces to the enemy's right flank, leaving the center wide open to draw the enemy's attention. Once they realized their forces couldn't hold both flanks, they'd naturally pull troops from the left. Azar had stationed all his most elite troops on his own right flank, waiting for this moment! Even if the command center came under threat, he wasn't going to use them. As troops moved, their formations would briefly fall into disarray. That was the perfect moment to attack, like a football team preparing a counterattack, with the whole team pushed forward, only to suddenly lose the ball and be counterattacked instead. Azar had seized on a mistake made by the Zandalari Trolls. In fact, they had barely made a single mistake in the entire battle. This tiny weakness, hardly even a mistake, had dealt them a fatal blow.

That was the art of command!