me the king,me the priest, me the paladin

The battlefield thundered with the rumble of approaching doom.

Veyron stood at the ramparts of Palledania's outer wall, eyes locked on the Truhflan army approaching with relentless force. Their cannons—cold, metallic monsters—lined the ridge, and behind them, hundreds of armored soldiers marched in eerie unison. Banners fluttered among the smoke, symbols barely visible through the haze.

Veyron narrowed his eyes.

> "We've reached that moment, haven't we?"

Around him stood thirty archers, fifty-one infantry, and four cannon-support troops—just a small unit. This was all Veyron had claimed for himself. A cannon. A slingshot. And this team. The generals had laughed at first, but after what he'd survived… no one questioned him anymore.

Suddenly, his maid arrived, dragging two frightened slaves behind her. She dropped them at Veyron's feet without a word and vanished just as fast.

For a moment, Veyron stared at the trembling figures. A memory stirred—of the man he used to be. The old Veyron had abused the weak to cope with his frustrations.

He curled his lip.

> "Pathetic."

That version of him was gone.

He walked over to the cannon and addressed his team.

> "Set the angle to 41 degrees. At this altitude and wind speed, we'll hit their second cannon if we fire as the wind reaches eleven miles per hour."

The cannon crew blinked in disbelief.

> "How do you know that, Your Highness?"

> "I don't guess," Veyron said. "I calculate."

Then he moved to the slingshot team.

> "Adjust elevation up two notches. Aim for the nozzle of their lead cannon. If it lands, we jam it."

He turned to the archers.

> "Eyes. Don't aim for the body unless it's exposed. Aim for their eyes."

> "Fire."

The arrows soared through the smoke, swift and black like angry crows. Most bounced off armor, but two found their mark—straight into the vision gaps. Two soldiers dropped, screaming.

The cannon fired.

Its trajectory was close, but slightly off—it struck near the base of the second enemy cannon, killing three, but failing to jam the barrel.

Then came the slingshot.

A huge stone, wrapped in iron, crashed into the open mouth of the lead cannon. Timing perfect. The impact caused a premature blast. The cannon exploded, killing six Truhflan soldiers.

Cheers erupted behind Veyron.

> "Their weapons can't breach us!"

But Veyron didn't smile.

His eyes scanned the battlefield below.

Nine hundred enemy foot soldiers and nearly two hundred mercenaries were advancing toward Palledania's gate. Their morale had dipped from early losses, but their numbers gave them strength.

Then, Veyron raised his voice—sharp, commanding.

> "Why are you fighting this war?"

His soldiers fell silent.

> "For money? For pride? For honor?" He paused. "No. You're fighting to survive."

He stepped up on the ledge of the wall.

> "No money means no life. No respect means no name. And if you don't fight—you won't live to save anyone."

He pointed toward the enemy.

> "They want your homes. Your families. Your blood. That's their greed. But I—" he paused—"I want you to survive."

Another pause.

> "I don't want to see you die. But this world isn't fair. So show them—even the gods—what you're made of."

His arm slashed forward.

> "GOOOOO!"

The roar from the soldiers shook the air.

Archers reloaded, infantry surged forward, and even the frightened men who had nearly retreated now gripped their swords with fire in their eyes. Their prince hadn't spoken like royalty. He'd spoken like one of them.

---

Perspective: A Palledanian Soldier

I was just a farmer. I never wanted to be here. But when he screamed… I felt it. Like my father was shouting from the heavens.

If that arrogant prince—who used to whip slaves—wants us to live too… maybe he's changed.

---

Perspective: A Truhflan Soldier

They said we'd win easily. That our cannons would crush them.

But one exploded.

And that boy on the wall… he isn't scared. He looks like he knows how this ends.

Why?

---

More Truhflan cannons rolled out of their gates. Reinforcements. The enemy was ready to bury Palledania in fire.

Veyron turned, leaped down from the wall, and jumped onto his horse.

> "Your Highness, where are you going?" a commander shouted.

> "To find help."

> "Help from who?!"

He didn't answer.

---

Veyron raided a broken-down carnival tent, digging through debris until he found it: a cracked, grinning mask.

Then he broke into a forgotten church and stole an old priest's ceremonial robe—used only for divine offerings. He pulled the hood over his head.

He stepped back onto the battlefield.

A hush followed. Soldiers turned.

What was that thing?

> "I am the priest of survival," Veyron whispered.

And he walked into the storm.

---

Perspective: Palledanian King (Veyron's father)

The king read the report from the front lines.

His youngest son—the fool of the palace—was fighting on the walls. Leading.

He set the scroll down.

> "Perhaps I was wrong to call him worthless."

---

Perspective: Veyron's Elder Brother

From his tower, the firstborn prince watched it all unfold.

> "He's not doing this for the kingdom. He wants to prove something."

He clenched his jaw.

> "Still… not bad, little brother."

---

Perspective: Truhflan King

King Ferghas of Truhflan sat on his throne, laughing as advisors announced the deployment of more cannons.

> "Victory before nightfall," one said.

> "Excellent," Ferghas chuckled. "Bring the wine."

But in the shadowed corner of the room, a robed figure watched him in silence.

Ferghas never noticed.

He didn't know he was a puppet.

And the one pulling the strings had no intention of letting him enjoy his 'victory.'

---

Veyron stood still as the wind brushed his robes.

He felt something—guiding him.

> "Wait," he murmured. "I forgot…"

> "WISH GRANTED."

That voice returned. A voice from a dream.

> "So your choice is to deal with trillions…"

Veyron snapped his eyes open.

> "I need a scout."

> "Maid!" he called. "Bring me every soldier's record. Names, ranks, specialties. Everything."

Two hours passed.

He skimmed page after page.

Nothing.

> "Wait… yesterday I said I wished I could clone a fly."

The voice whispered again:

> "Fly Clone 1."

Veyron froze.

A buzzing sound.

A small fly hovered before him.

> "I see what you see," it said inside his mind. "I am linked to your thoughts. I know your goals. I cannot betray you."

> "You… can scout?"

> "Already moving."

The fly zipped toward the enemy camp.

> "Can you hear me?"

> "Loud and clear."

He closed one eye.

Instantly, he saw through the fly's vision.

> "Show me everything."

---

The fly glided into Truhflan's lines.

Gunpowder. Dozens of barrels. Poorly guarded tents. Their main camp was vulnerable on the western side.

Veyron opened his eyes.

> "Call the commanders. Now."

Eleven officers and Commander Teriya gathered.

> "A scout's on the way," one said. "He'll report in an hour."

Veyron nodded.

> "I want an assassin."

> "We haven't found one yet," came the reply.

> They still don't trust me, Veyron thought. They still think I'm the fool.

But he didn't fight it.

> "Give your ideas. Teriya speaks after. Then I will."

Plans came and went.

Then Teriya stood.

> "Let's trick them. Make our strongest wall look weak."

She laid out a plan: fall back two hundred troops, use only slingshots, and let a fake scout get 'captured' with false blueprints. The enemy would waste firepower on an indestructible wall.

> "They'll hit us with everything they've got," she said. "We'll lose nothing."

Veyron smiled inside his hood.

> "This… is why we're still alive."

---

That night, Fly Clone 1 returned.

> "I've seen their core. I'll show you."

Veyron absorbed every detail.

He walked to the Mercenary Guild.

He tried to clone an assassin.

It failed.

Too human. Too unstable.

The fly worked. Simple. Loyal.

He hired twelve real mercenaries. Sent them at once. Fast. Quiet.

Then he returned to the wall.

Another wave of Truhflan troops charged—only 1,250 this time.

Teriya frowned.

> "Where are the rest?"

Silence.

Veyron narrowed his eyes at the sunset.

> "They're planning something."

The war wasn't over.

Not yet.

To be continued…

If someone read this than please leave a comment I want to know that people are reading or not