Discipline is the steel spine of any great army. It is what turns mere men into an unyielding wall, what keeps swords steady when chaos reigns, and what forces warriors to stand firm before horrors that would send lesser men fleeing.
Beyond its practical edge in battle, discipline possesses a beauty of its own—the way it suppresses fear, how it molds instinct into obedience, and how it allows soldiers to march into death as if it were merely another step forward.
For a commander, nothing is more frustrating than an enemy that refuses to break. Battles are not won by strength alone, but are instead always won by the collapse of an enemy's will. Many wars have been decided not by sheer bloodshed but by the simple act of forcing the other side to run. Quick, devastating strikes—sudden ambushes, relentless charges, and overwhelming force—these have been the weapons of tacticians for thousands of years, used to shatter morale and send men scattering before a fight can even begin.
