Chapter 14 - Council of WarBy sunrise, the grand war room of the Blackstone Palace was packed with the loyal commanders and pack leaders who had sworn allegiance to the crown. Maps of the Northern Reach were spread across the heavy oak table, marked with tactical positions and strategic choke points.
General Malakor, who had recovered from his magic exhaustion under strict guard, stood near the map table, pointing to a narrow mountain pass known as the Frostbite Gorge.
"Malric’s forces are gathering here," Malakor said, his voice cold and analytical. "Roughly three thousand elite northern fighters. They are heavily armed and accustomed to fighting in sub-zero conditions. If we meet them in an open field, our casualties will be devastating."
"Then we don't meet them in an open field," Lyra stated firmly, stepping into the center of the room. All eyes turned to her. She no longer looked like the timid girl from the Black market; her posture was commanding, and the royal pendant resting against her chest radiated a steady, comforting glow. "Malric is proud, and he is arrogant. He expects us to cower behind our walls or march blindly into his trap. We use his pride against him."
Caspian watched her from the head of the table, a proud, burning warmth flashing in his amber eyes. Go on, little bird, his voice echoed in her mind.
"We send a small vanguard led by myself and Caspian to draw his main force into the gorge," Lyra explained, tapping the map. "While Malric focuses entirely on us, our elite tracking units will circle through the high ridge and cut off his supply lines. Without provisions or escape routes, the northern packs will surrender without a full-scale massacre."
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The commanders murmured in approval, the initial skepticism toward a human queen evaporating entirely.
Caspian slammed his hand onto the table, shattering the silence with absolute finality. "The strategy is set. Prepare the legions. We ride north at midnight."
