Chapter 72: Moses Whitcomb
Far from the cheers of academy tournaments and ambitious youths chasing glory, another stage was being prepared.
A far deadlier one, a real war.
Across the northern roads of Krynova Kingdom, columns of soldiers marched beneath fluttering banners.
Supply wagons stretched for miles. Blacksmiths worked without rest. Horses were shod day and night.
Grain, steel, arrows, medicine, and siege equipment flowed toward the frontier like rivers feeding a sea.
An army was gathering, a large one.
Perhaps, the largest gathered by Krynova in very long years.
The roads leading toward Handh City were crowded with soldiers carrying shields and spears.
Tens of thousands and more arrived every day.
The kingdom moved with frightening efficiency. As if it had spent years preparing for this exact moment.
Handh City stood at the northwestern border of Krynova.
A fortress city, an impregnable military base and command center.
A city that had witnessed enough wars to earn the name of unreachable.
Inside the governor’s mansion, however, war felt very distant.
Warm candlelight illuminated a private chamber.
Heavy curtains blocked the outside world.
The sounds of marching soldiers could not be heard.
Only silence remained. A naked couple rested together upon a large bed.
The man possessed a broad chest covered with old scars.
Seven black lines stretched across his face.
Marks that commanded respect throughout the continent.
Marks earned through blood and battle.
He was Cameron Grant. One of the Three Honored Knights. The Third Honored Knight, a titled general of Krynova Kingdom.
A man whose name alone could alter the morale of armies.
His wife rested comfortably against him, her fingers traced the long hideous scars on his chest.
Two black lines adorned her own face.
Compared to Cameron’s seven, they seemed insignificant.
Yet they represented years of achievement beyond what most warriors could dream of.
For a time neither spoke, the silence between them was comfortable and familiar.
Until she finally asked, "How many?"
Cameron opened one eye. "How many what?"
"The army." She leaned against him. "The one marching toward Kufashr."
The general smiled faintly.
Even in private moments, people thought about war.
"Approximately seventy thousand." He answered.
His wife blinked /hat number alone was staggering.
Yet Cameron wasn’t finished. "Add the sellsword companies."
He shrugged. "Perhaps eighty thousand."
He pause before continued "Maybe eighty-five."
Her eyes widened, even she struggled to imagine such a force.
Bigger cities had been conquered with fewer men.
She sat up slightly, concern becoming visible. "Kufashr is only one small city."
"It is."
"Then why send so many?"
Cameron chuckled. "Because nobody wants surprises."
She wasn’t convinced. The woman stared toward the ceiling, thinking.
Then asked the question that had been bothering her.
"The kingdom has never acted like this before."
Her voice softened.
"Krynova has always been the least aggressive among the major powers."
The general remained silent.
She continued. "Every war and border conflict or treaty. Krynova always preferred stability."
She looked at him. "So why now?"
The smile slowly left Cameron’s face. Not because he disliked the question.
Because he had asked it himself, many times.
The kingdom had changed, something was different. The old policies remained.
The old institutions and even the old king is same. Yet, somehow the direction felt different.
As if an invisible hand had begun guiding events.
The general gently kissed his wife’s forehead. "Don’t worry about that."
She frowned. "That’s not an answer."
"It is tonight." His arm tightened around her.
The woman sighed.
Sometimes being married to a general was infuriating. Eventually she asked another question.
One far more personal. "Are you commanding the invasion?"
Cameron immediately shook his head. "No."
That surprised her more than the army’s size.
"No?" She stared. "Then who is?"
A faint smile appeared, one mixed with curiosity and perhaps a little amusement. "A new name."
The general leaned back.
"Moses Whitcomb."
The name felt unfamiliar to his wife, she repeated it. "Moses Whitcomb."
Cameron nodded. "I haven’t met him."
That alone was astonishing.
The Third Honored Knight knew almost every significant military officer on the continent.
For a commander of an eighty-thousand-man army to be unknown to him—
That was unusual, very unusual.
How did he get to command without being heard of at least once?
"What kind of man is he?"
Cameron laughed. "If I knew that, I would have met him already."
The answer did little to ease her concerns.
For some reason, it increased them.
Several days north.
Beyond Krynovan borders, its armies and its banners.
Kufashr City stood peacefully beneath the afternoon sun.
The city wasn’t especially large, nor especially wealthy.
No legendary landmarks decorated its skyline, no ancient wonders attracted travelers.
It was simply a good city, a practical city.
The kind built by sensible people. With strong walls, busy markets, organized streets and a respectable garrison.
Everything necessary, nothing excessive.
More importantly, it protected larger cities deeper within the Khanate of Tharun’kai.
Kufashr was a shield, a first line of defense.
And every shield eventually faced a hammer.
Two travelers walked through the crowded streets.
At least, they appeared to be travelers. One looked like a wealthy merchant.
The other resembled a servant, neither attracted much attention, which was exactly the point.
The first man stopped beside a market stall.
He inspected his reflection in a polished bronze tray.
Then frowned. "How do I look?"
The second man sighed.
The question had already been asked six times today.
"Perfect, sir."
The first man touched his cheek. "Is my makeup fading?"
"No, sir."
"You checked properly?"
"Yes, sir."
"Both sides?"
"Yes, sir."
The man nodded approvingly. "Good."
The servant resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
His employer had spent nearly three hours preparing his disguise that morning.
Three hours, the result was admittedly impressive.
Nobody would connect this refined merchant to the identity hidden beneath the cosmetics.
Still, the obsession was exhausting.
The disguised man looked around the city, people moved through the streets normally.
Merchants haggled, children played and workers hauled goods.
Life continued peacefully.
The man smiled and asked casually. "How does this city look, Kane?"
The servant named Kane glanced around, his eyes swept across the walls.
The guard towers, the gates, the roads. Then his eyes went towards the warehouses amd the nearby hills.
Unlike his companion, Kane wasn’t studying beauty.
He was studying weaknesses, routes, defenses, opportunities.
Finally he answered. "It looks perfectly conquerable, Sir Moses."
The disguised merchant smiled wider. "You are one of my most intelligent vassal, probably second to me only."
He resumed walking as he said, Kane smiled at the words he heard.
The crowd unknowingly parted around him. Some instinct warned people to move.
Though none understood why, Kane followed silently.
His expression remained neutral. Inside, however, he felt uneasy.
Because every time Moses smiled like that, something important was about to happen.
Ahead of them, Kufashr continued living its ordinary day.
Nobody knew or suspected that somewhere beyond the horizon, nearly eighty thousand soldiers were gathering.
And walking among them at that very moment was the man destined to bring that storm directly to their gates.
Moses Whitcomb merely adjusted his disguise and continued down the street.
Smiling, as though he was already looking at a city that belonged to him.
