You have

Staring at the precipice of a brutal choice, you find yourself ensnared between the merciless kingdom of Frankia, thirsting for your people's blood, and an unthinkable alternative. In a voice laden with the burden of impending doom, you whisper, 'For the sake of my people, may the world forgive us for the harrowing path we must tread today.'

Sir Deatrick's face remains grim, his voice tense as he says, 'Sire, I believe it is imperative we return to the capital with all haste to initiate the necessary actions.'

You didn't want to be near Queen Ann any longer than you had to, prompting you to say, "That is the best idea I have heard all day."

As you make your way back to the castle, the burden of your decision presses upon you, suffocating the air with its weight. The silence that envelops the ride is not just somber but a chilling reminder of the choice you've been **** to make. The enormity of it all threatens to overwhelm you, and you find yourself grappling with the sheer magnitude of the choice you made

Upon reaching your destination, time morphs into a relentless taskmaster. The urgency of the situation brooks no delay. In a matter of weeks, you must covertly assemble your elite troops, readying them for a march that must remain veiled in secrecy, even from their own kin.

There was a cold silence across the camp on the night before you set off to march, as the simple fact that they didn't know what they were going to do was enough to tell them that it was something both great and something that would also cast a foreboding shadow on their lives.

On the following morning, you marched out with three hundred of your finest soldiers and an additional 50 of your most trusted mercenaries. Each step you took toward the kingdom of Frankia was a chance to turn back, to not do the unforgivable, and each time you chose to take the step forward left a mark on you. A mark that would be later judged by the rest of the world.

You had to circumvent all towns, villages, and main roads to preserve secrecy. Thus, the first, second, and third snow had descended by the time you managed to stealthily navigate your way to Duke Franz Jacques's Domain, resulting in nearly a foot of snow blanketing the mountain pass before the first foot of your soldiers tread upon it.

It was a slow drudge through the mountain pass, and the snow never seemed to end. At some points, it was even waist deep, while your troops did there best to fight off frost bright. Despite you best effort you still ended up losing four of your least experienced mercenaries to the cold, but after a month, you finally dropped into Kingdom of Frankia, Lord Alaric Hubbard's domain, to be exact.

The journey through the treacherous mountain pass was a test of physical and mental endurance. The snow came down in relentless waves, burying the troops waist-deep in some areas. They trudged on, their heavy boots sinking into the thick snow with each step.

Despite their best efforts to stay warm, frostbite threatened to take hold of their extremities. Some men huddled together at night for warmth, sharing precious body heat to stave off the bitter cold. But others too proud or stubborn to admit weakness, but others refused to share a bed with anyone, and in their arrogance, four of the newest mercenaries succumbed to the harsh conditions and paid the ultimate price, passing away in their sleep as their body frozen become another temporary feature for which to mark the trail of the winter wonderland of the mountain pass.

(The A point on the pentagon on Queen Ann's note)

The bitter wind whipped through the evergreen trees as you and your army halted just beyond the sight of Lord Hubbard's manor. The troops were cold and weary, but they knew they couldn't risk lighting a fire or setting up tents. They listened to the sounds of laughter and revelry coming from inside the manor, where Lord Hubbard and his people enjoyed warmth and feasting without fear.

Of course, the people of Franic would be feasting; what fear should they have? No one has declared attention to wage war on them, and they are surrounded on all sides by natural barriers that make it impossible for a large army to cross in the winter.

Some of your section leaders reported growing resentment among the soldiers. They envied Lord Hubbard and his men for their comfortable accommodations while they suffered in freezing temperatures. But you told them to take conform in that "as the night wore on, luck was on your side. They wouldn't have to hide much longer."

Lord Hubbard's fifth of the army was camped just outside his Manor stone in hastily built wooden houses, with a temporary wooden palisade surrounding them. They were so sure of their safety that they didn't even post a guard at the wall. The knot was supposed to hold the lone door, but the palisades were left undone as if someone on the inside actually wanted to let you in. This allows you and your army to march silently straight into their camp through the front door without being noticed.

As the moon hung high in the sky, your army crept through the unguarded palisade and infiltrated the enemy's camp. The element of surprise was on your side as you attacked while they slept, filling the air with screams and cries for mercy. Your seasoned soldiers expertly dispatched their foes, some using their bare hands while others wielded weapons with deadly precision. Some of your more noble soldiers woke up their opponents before casting their lives aside. There is no valor in dispatching foes who can barely wield their weapons in their stupor.

The whole night, you only had one casualty, and that was one of your mercenaries who had a dark reputation. He succumbed to his lust for power when he spotted the naked wife of a unit commander running down the hall for her life. Instead of fighting his target, he chased after the woman and received a swift slice down his back before he could even touch her. One casualty out of countless enemies - a testament to your strategic brilliance or the evilness of your strategy.

As the final battle for the castle raged on, you made a difficult decision to employ mercenaries to secure victory. Mercenaries have a tendency to loot and claim their spoils, and there are numerous stories about their disgusting behavior towards the women of their fallen foes.

You had **** but to use them regardless of the stage of the battle because not doing so alone would put your plans at risk. Because without them, you couldn't ensure that you secured all the messenger pigeons and horses before one of them was used to slip news out of this domain.

However, you wanted to spare one woman from the fate of the mercenaries. And that was the wife of Lord Hubbard. She was 15 years less the age of her husband, with him being a youthful forty. Her beauty is in stark contrast to the brutality surrounding her. Thus, as a last act of kindness, you made sure it was your blade that took his life and not the blade of a random mercenary; as a result, prevent any one of them from claiming her as a spoil of someone they killed.

But this was the only one you could protect, as the mercenaries made sure to make up for what little thrill this empty battle could provide with the sick thrill of forcing themselves on the female kin of the ones they slayed.

To the day you die, you will be hunted by the cries of the female kin of your foes on that night as your mercenaries stole pleasure from them while Lord Hubbard's wife huddled in fear in the corner of the room you had claimed.

You aren't here to be the world's villain; you're here to save your own country from a mistake you made. So you had hoped to spare these women from the mercenaries after they had their fun for one night by leaving them behind. But as one of your more trusted soldiers said, "These are the family of soldiers; if they are anything like my family, they can write, they can ride, they can travel, and they know where other soldiers are stationed." As such, leaving them behind poses too much of a security risk; thus, they must stay with their merciless capturers on the long two-week march to your next target.

Lord Dalston Wilkinson's domain fell similar to the previous one, with his son, daughter, and wife coming under your care and protection and you taking no casualties.

Lord Farmon Cohen's soldiers were so confident in their safety that they didn't even put up a palisade around their encampment outside of his walls. As if it was an infection, Lord Cohen's troops, arrogance made your mercenaries careless. As a result, two mercenaries whose egos cut their lives short. They tried to wake up five people simultaneously as a fool-hearted way of gaining more loot. Luckily, your elite troops set in before it got out of hand, and alarms were raised. But in the end, you took his two daughters under your care.

As you rode up to Lord Farmon Cohen's encampment, you noticed something odd - there was no palisade protecting his soldiers. The few there who were awake were too drunk to do anything and were too busy boasting about their invincibility and their grand journey to notice their doom coming down on them. With a sneer, your mercenaries dismounted and made their way into the camp. Suddenly, two young soldiers approached with a glint in their eyes and an air of superiority. They boasted about their latest raid and how easy it had been thanks to the incompetence of Lord Cohen's troops. In a foolish attempt to prove themselves and claim more women for themselves, they tried to eliminate five soldiers all at once. A stupid attempt that cost them their lives. Before any harm than that, your elite troops stormed in and dealt with the remaining threats. As the chaos subsided, you took pity on Lord Cohen's two daughters, who were left behind by their father's careless leadership and took them under your protection.

The remaining living mercenaries didn't shed a tear for their fallen command as they argued over who got the 'loot' of their dead. However it was clear that each one learned their learned the lesson from their fallen well.

Fear gripped you when you realized Lord Gorka Petersen's fifth of his soldiers were camped right in the middle of his manor, well inside his stone walls. Before this moment, you never had to siege a wall. For the past three times, by the time you had to actually deal with the walls, you had already dealt with anyone who could be a threat. As a result, it was far too easy for one of your more acrobatic soldiers to climb the wall and open the gate.

However that is not a options for you because the sound of the metal gate opening is sure to awaken the army inside. So you sent out a scout to search for a secret entrance inside, and to your surprise, he came back quickly to report that the main gate was left open with only one guard.

Gates to manors are never left open overnight because of the threat of wild animals. So this could be because of the assistance of your hidden female guardian.

Your troops dispatched the guard easily before he could raise the alarms. Despite it being the easiest manor you took over, you will forever remember this as the one you wished never happened for two reasons. First, It was a shame to cut such a young (19-year-old) Lord's life short, but you still took his widow mother (41-year-old) under your protection. Second, due to the fighting being in the actual streets and house of the manor, for the first time, you couldn't protect the actual citizens from the lust and greed of your mercenaries. There wasn't a house they didn't loot, and there wasn't an age woman they didn't claim. Most men tried to fight back to protect what little wealth they had, and they're of-age female kin, but your mercenaries had no problem cutting them down as well. As a result, by the end of the night, there wasn't a man alive between the ages of 18 and 60, and there wasn't a woman above the age of 18 that wasn't either under your protection or claimed by them.

By the time you had dispatched the last of the noble winter encampment and turned your attention to the capital, you had six women and one male under your protection, with 47 mercenaries surviving and dragging along 121 females for their pleasure.

Your troops dispatched the guard easily before he could raise the alarms.

As you led your troops through the gates of the manor, swords clashed, and screams echoed through the streets. Your mercenaries were ruthless, cutting down any man who dared to defend their home. You watched in horror as they also showed no mercy to women, claiming them as their spoils of war. For the first time ever, even women related to citizens were now far game, due to the fighting actually happening inside the manor.

You couldn't protect any of them. By the end of the night, there were hardly any men left alive between the ages of 18 and 60. The only survivors were under your protection - six women and one young man. As for the of-age females who called the manor home, all were taken by your mercenaries.

Despite your victory, all you could think about was the senseless loss of life and innocence. You took in an older woman whose son had been killed, knowing it was your responsibility to protect her now.

But as you set out for the capital, you couldn't shake off the guilt and weight of what had happened. Your mercenaries celebrated their success with capturing 121 women in tow while you grappled with the consequences of your actions as a leader.