NORDIC WAR COUNCIL

The grand hall of the Ironside palace was dimly lit, torches flickering against the stone walls. A massive round table stood in the center, where the most powerful figures of Nordia sat anll the members of the royal family, all generations—each carrying the blood of the Ironside lineage.

At the head of the table sat King Malon Ironside, his golden eyes cold, his expression unreadable. The room was tense, the air thick with the weight of war. His siblings and in-laws had gathered, and the discussion was already heated.

Gerald Ironside slammed his fist onto the table. "Enough talking! Delria has insulted us for the last time! They killed our representative without hesitation. They do not fear us anymore, Malon. We must remind them who rules this world!"

Cheri Ironside leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "And you think the best way to do that is to raze their entire nation to the ground?" she scoffed. "We are not savages."

Zakaria Ironside chuckled darkly. "No, Cheri, we are conquerors. And what do conquerors do? They take. We should obliterate their military first, then execute their leaders publicly. Let the people watch as their nation crumbles, and they will kneel before us."

Roman Ironside nodded in agreement. "Bombing them would be the most effective strategy. A swift strike before they can even retaliate."

"Swift?" Samo Ironside, the President of the Beserker organisation , finally spoke, his voice calm but sharp. "Destroying entire cities isn't swift—it's barbaric." His gaze moved across the table. "We are not at war with the people of Delria, just their rulers. Massacring civilians is a stain on our history we will never be able to erase."

Gerald Ironside laughed. "Stains? You think history will remember mercy? No. History remembers victors."

King Malon, who had been silent until now, finally raised his hand. The room fell into immediate silence. His voice was measured, deep, unwavering.

"They killed our diplomat. They spat on our peace talks. They challenged our power." He exhaled slowly. "And we will answer."

A murmur of approval spread across the room.

"Then we vote," Zuran Kirthand suggested.

The room fell silent once more as the votes were cast.

For total destruction: Gerald, Roman, Zakaria, Lara, Rachel, and Zaria.

Against total destruction: Cheri, Jojo, Edward, and Samo.

The vote was tied. All eyes turned to King Malon, who held the deciding vote.

Without hesitation, he spoke. "We bomb Delria."

A mix of reactions spread across the table—some victorious, others tense.

Samo stood up abruptly. "I won't stand for this."

King Malon's eyes darkened. "Then sit down, Samo."

The tension was suffocating, but Samo clenched his jaw, knowing he had no choice. The decision had been made.

Nordia would unleash hell upon Delria.

The room remained tense after King Malon delivered his final verdict. Nordia would bomb Delria. But now came the matter of execution—the strategy that would ensure complete and utter domination.

Samo Ironside, still visibly displeased, exhaled sharply before speaking. "If we're going to do this, then we do it with precision. We don't just send a mindless horde into Delria." He glanced at his siblings. "We use our best first—our top squads should lead the initial assault in waves. They'll secure critical areas before the lower-ranked forces move in as reinforcements."

King Malon nodded slowly, motioning for Samo to continue.

Samo turned to Solomon Kirthand, his expression serious. "Solomon, your unit—Platoon One—will be the first to invade. Your mission is to breach their defenses and establish a foothold inside Delria before the rest of the army moves in."

Solomon smirked, resting his elbows on the table. "You're sending me in first? I like the sound of that."

Zakaria Ironside grinned. "Platoon One is the strongest of our forces. If anyone can carve a path into Delria, it's them."

Samo ignored Zakaria's comment and continued. "Platoon One will target their border outposts first. Take control of their supply routes, cut them off from reinforcements. Once their defenses are weakened, we move to Phase Two."

Lara Kirthand interjected, arms crossed. "And what's Phase Two?"

Samo's expression darkened. "Once the bombings begin, we push in with Platoon Two and Three to seize major cities—starting with Fekka. We wipe out any remaining resistance and establish Nordia's control over Delria's military facilities."

"Which squads will follow after?" asked Rachel Kirthand, tapping her fingers on the table impatiently.

Samo sighed. "After Platoons One, Two, and Three establish a foothold, the lower-ranked platoons will follow as reinforcements and enforcers. We'll spread out our forces, sweeping through the country while the air force provides cover from above."

Roman Ironside smirked. "And how long do you estimate it will take to completely conquer Delria?"

Samo hesitated for a moment before answering. "If everything goes as planned? A month. Maybe two."

A scoff came from Gerald Ironside. "Too long. If we're bombing them, the war should be over in weeks."

Samo shot him a glare. "We're not just killing them. We're conquering them. If we go in recklessly, we risk resistance forces forming within the ruins. We don't just want to win—we need to make sure they never rise again."

King Malon raised his hand, silencing the room once more. "We follow Samo's plan. Platoon One, led by Solomon, will invade first. The bombings will soften their defenses, and we will claim Delria piece by piece. No mistakes. No mercy."

The decision was final.

Nordia's invasion was set in motion

As Samo continued outlining his plan, a voice cut through the room.

"That's a mistake," Rachel Kirthand said plainly, leaning forward with an unwavering gaze.

The room fell silent. The older members of the family turned to her, some surprised, others amused. Rachel was the youngest ever platoon captain, a genius in strategy, but interrupting Samo Ironside—the President of Nordia—was a bold move.

Samo's eyes narrowed slightly. "Excuse me?"

Rachel kept her composure. "If we send in the top squads first in waves, we're setting ourselves up for failure. It's predictable. Delria will see it coming the moment Platoon One engages, and they'll adjust their defense accordingly. Even if Solomon's squad crushes their front lines, they'll have time to reorganize before the rest of our forces even arrive."

Zakaria and Lara the 4th exchanged glances, small smirks forming on their faces as they watched Rachel confidently dismantle Samo's plan.

Solomon, who had been listening quietly, chuckled. "She's got a point, Samo. You're giving them too much room to breathe."

Rachel didn't hesitate. "Instead, we should attack from multiple points simultaneously. Platoon One can still lead the charge, but while they engage the border outposts, Platoon Five, led by me, will strike their supply chains from the east. At the same time, a separate force should infiltrate key strongholds deeper inside Delria before they realize the scale of our attack. They'll be scrambling to react instead of reinforcing their front lines."

Samo's jaw tightened. "That's risky. You're spreading our forces thin."

"It's calculated," Rachel countered. "By the time they figure out where the real attack is happening, they'll already be compromised. We need to overwhelm them in one strike, not give them time to reinforce."

A heavy silence followed. The older siblings and in-laws were watching with intrigue, some nodding in agreement, others waiting for Malon's reaction.

King Malon tapped his fingers against the table, deep in thought. Then, after a long pause, he smirked. "We go with Rachel's strategy."

Samo clenched his jaw but didn't argue. The decision was made.

Zakaria chuckled, crossing his arms. "Not bad, Rachel. Not bad at all."

Rachel simply nodded, her expression unreadable. She had just bested the President of the beserker organisation in strategy, and the war had not even begun.