Chapter 10 – The Test of Leadership: The Beginning of the Crisis

Spring had just begun to free the land from the shackles of snow when the world seemed to decide to test us once more. Two months had passed since I completed the magic test. My body was recovering, my mind was calm, and honestly... I had begun to hope I could enjoy the rest of my childhood, if only for a little while. But that hope shattered on a gray morning, when the alarm bell rang three times from the eastern watchtower. Three chimes. An attack. Then two rapid chimes. An attack from multiple sides.

Two hours later, the entire palace transformed into an emergency military headquarters. Maps were spread across the long table in the war room. Father, Duke Argwager, stood at the front with a stone face. Around him were commanders, deputy generals, and military nobles who had come from various surrounding regions. The atmosphere was heavy, silent, and full of tension. "Three attacks occurred simultaneously," my father's voice was deep and sharp, "The North Gate, the Southeast Snow Route, and the Western Mountain Pass."

Someone asked, "Is this a coincidence?" "No," Father answered quickly. "It's planned." I stood behind with my teacher, Master Lugen. My eyes were fixed on the map. Red marks spread, and I could feel a strange instinct within me—not fear, but... readiness.

Father pointed to two spots. "Commander Freyn and I will hold two sides. But for the third point... the Western Mountain Pass... we are short-handed." All eyes turned to him.

And then, slowly, he looked at me. "Alex."

The atmosphere immediately fell silent. "You will lead the defense there. Lugen will accompany you." Some people were surprised. An old noble almost objected, but Lugen simply raised a hand. "Let me assess him directly. If he fails, I take responsibility." I just nodded. Wordlessly. In my head, a thousand strategies swirled. But none could prepare me for this feeling: that I would be leading human lives. Not wooden puppets. Not magic puzzles. But humans.

We departed two hours later. Eleven core soldiers. One shadow battalion. Twenty scouts. Thirty archer soldiers and fifty frontline fighters. A small force, compared to the enemies we were about to face.

...

The first day on the Western Mountain Pass was about adjustment. The old fortress there was almost abandoned. Rokka Fortress—rough stone, decaying wood, walls unrepaired since the second generation of Argwagers. But that was what we had. I ordered partial reconstruction of the gate. Organized evacuation plans for nearby villagers. Established additional observation posts on the hillsides. And on the first night, I summoned the entire force to the main hall.

"My name is Alex Argwager." Everyone stared. Some skeptically. Some surprised. Some suppressing smiles. "I know I'm still young. But on this battlefield, age doesn't matter. What matters are the decisions that will save you, and the courage to execute them. I'm not asking you to like me. But I ask one thing: trust my orders when the battle begins. Because if not, we could all die." There was no applause. But no laughter either. Only slow nods.

That night, Lugen patted my shoulder. "Your speech wasn't perfect. But the message was clear. They will listen to you."

...

Day two, monsters began to appear. Not large hordes, but scouts. Class D and C monsters. Some forest goblins, furry snow creatures, and one horned beast—a sign that a large wave was preparing. I ordered archers to be deployed in three layers on top of the fortress. Set up ice traps on the entry paths. And most importantly, I mapped out attack patterns from old records. Apparently, this path had been used twenty-seven years ago in a seasonal attack that failed to be stopped. I learned from past failures. And began to map new patterns.

Day three to fifth: attacks began to stabilize. Every night we were attacked in small waves. The monsters weren't attacking with full force—they were testing. Looking for weaknesses. I spent the daylight hours with the scouts. Reading reports. Determining guard rotation times. Even joining night patrols. "You don't have to join patrols, Young Master," said a scout leader named Daro. I looked at him. "If I don't see it myself, I can't give proper orders." He simply nodded.

...

Day six: the first casualty fell. A young archer, Elsen. He slipped while drawing back an arrow, dragged away by a snow creature.

We couldn't save him in time.

I didn't cry. But I noted it down. Name. Date. Location of the mistake. And why it must never happen again. I began assigning direct tasks to each squad leader. No longer relying on the usual structure. I adjusted roles. I re-examined each person's strengths and weaknesses.

And when the seventh night came, we were ready. The second wave of monsters came—this time larger. Fanged creatures, frozen wolves, and one small ice giant. We defended with great difficulty. I stood on the wall, wielding elemental binding magic of wind and fire. "Hold position! Do not break formation! Don't think about death, think about who you are protecting behind you!"

The cry echoed. Fire exploded. Arrows flew. The ground trembled. And we... kept standing.