Chapter 42: The Forge of War
The warlords of the Scarlet Ring, gathered in the dim light of the stone hall within Blackbarrow, felt the weight of the moment pressing down upon them. With each passing day, the shadow of Kael's growing power loomed larger over their towns. The decision had been made. War was inevitable.
Lord Varnic, the imposing leader of Blackbarrow, stood at the head of the table, his heavy iron boots thudding against the stone floor. His mind raced with thoughts of strategy and survival. If Kael could take down the mighty Warden Torvak, then he was no mere threat. Varnic's voice cut through the silence, rough and commanding.
"We will strike at his weak points, just as we discussed. The moment his defenses falter, we make our move."
Lady Nethira of Mireholt, known for her poisonous tongue and even more dangerous mind, leaned forward. "His strength lies in his unpredictability. He's not like other lords we've faced. The slaves that follow him—they're not mercenaries. They fight for something more. We need to break his hold over them."
Velsor, the Pale, a cloaked figure with a gaunt face, nodded silently. He had not spoken much in the council meetings, but his input had been valued. His powers of illusion and manipulation were feared by many, even in the darkest corners of the world. But now, he was quiet, studying the map laid out before him.
Thorek Ironjaw, the warlord of Fendrel's Rock, stood up, his massive frame casting a shadow over the war table. "We need to divide his attention. If we can keep him stretched thin, he won't be able to focus his forces where they matter. We've seen how fast he moves. If we trap him in multiple places, he'll be forced to make a choice—and we will exploit that choice."
Lady Nethira's lips curled into a cold smile. "Yes. If we strike fast and hard, we can drive a wedge between Kael and his newly formed alliances. Let's remind them why they were once slaves."
"The first strike must be decisive," Varnic growled, "and it must be brutal. The weaker towns in his territory, the ones that have pledged loyalty to him in exchange for protection, will be the perfect target. We hit them, burn their homes, and slaughter their families. If we can turn his own people against him, then the battle is half won."
Velsor finally spoke, his voice like sandpaper scraping against stone. "And what of the other towns in his domain? They will rise to defend him. We must strike from multiple directions at once to confuse him."
"We will have to move quickly," said Thorek, slamming his fist into the table. "If we wait too long, Kael will only grow stronger. His territory is expanding every day. Look at this map. He controls the north and the west—most of the strategic positions are already in his hands. We will need to take those positions from him before he becomes too entrenched."
Lady Nethira stood, walking over to the map and tracing her fingers along Kael's growing domain. "The southern border is less fortified, but his forces there are fierce. They have been bred for war under his banner. We may not get an easy victory there."
"The east," Varnic said, "is the most vulnerable. The land there is rugged, and it is sparsely populated. If we can isolate his forces in that region, we can take control of the land with minimal resistance."
A murmur of agreement passed around the room as the warlords considered their next move. Each one knew that they were gambling with their lives. If they failed, Kael would not only crush their armies but would likely turn his forces against them in retaliation. But if they succeeded, they could break his growing empire before it fully took root.
"We will send our strongest forces to the east," said Varnic. "Thorek, your people will lead the charge. Lady Nethira, your spies and infiltrators will sow discord among his ranks. If there are any traitors or discontent, we will exploit them."
Thorek nodded grimly. "We'll do our part, but we'll need a clear route through the mountains. If Kael's forces are entrenched there, we may be walking into a trap."
"That is why we must act fast," Nethira replied. "The element of surprise is everything. Once we strike, we cannot hesitate."
"And what about Velsor?" Thorek asked, turning to the silent mage. "What role will you play in this?"
Velsor's pale eyes gleamed as he adjusted his hood. "I will weave illusions to confuse his forces. If I can twist their perceptions, cause them to doubt their command, then they will become vulnerable. Their morale will falter. But I will need to be close enough to the battlefront to make it effective."
Varnic's eyes gleamed with calculation. "You will be stationed at the rear, then. You'll keep Kael's men disoriented, make them question what they see. You will be our invisible weapon."
Velsor inclined his head, the only acknowledgment of the order.
The plan was set, but the road ahead was far from certain. The warlords of the Scarlet Ring knew that their next move would determine the fate of their towns—and potentially their lives. If they failed, it would be the end of their influence in the region. Kael's empire would become unassailable.
Thorek's voice broke the silence that followed. "And what of the other factions? The factions to the west? Should we expect them to join us?"
Varnic hesitated before answering. "The western factions are fractured. They are unlikely to send help—unless we win this first battle. If we are victorious, they may rally to our side. But if we fail, we will be alone."
Lady Nethira's gaze hardened. "We cannot afford failure. If Kael takes the initiative and strikes back, he will show no mercy."
The warlords looked at each other, the weight of their decisions sinking in. There would be no turning back once they launched their strike.
"We move at dawn," Varnic declared. "May the gods grant us victory."
As the warlords left the council hall, their minds were already planning the next steps of their war. Every detail mattered. Every movement would be watched. The fate of the Scarlet Ring—and the fate of the land itself—now lay in their hands.