The Calm Before the Storm

The sun dipped low over the village of Brighthollow, casting long shadows along the walls. Inside the village, a tense quiet had settled. The orcs hadn't arrived yet, but everyone knew they were out there, somewhere beyond the horizon. The militia stood ready, and Lord Aric and his knights prepared to ride out and clear the nearby forests of any monsters lurking before the true battle began.

Atop the village walls, Garrick, the captain of the militia, paced back and forth, his stern gaze sweeping over his men. He was a grizzled veteran, having fought in skirmishes against bandits and the occasional raid. But nothing had prepared him for the possibility of an orc invasion.

Thomas stood with his friends Marcus, Elric, and Ava, each of them trying to keep their nerves in check. They were all villagers, not soldiers, but they had taken up arms to defend their home. Thomas glanced up at Garrick, who barked orders to the men.

"Keep your eyes sharp, lads!" Garrick's voice boomed over the wall. "I want every man ready for anything. The orcs may not be here yet, but they're out there, and we're going to be the ones holding this village when they come."

Thomas felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Marcus, his longtime friend. Marcus had always been the jokester of their group, but today his face was drawn, his usual humor replaced by a grim resolve.

"You ready for this?" Marcus asked, trying to sound calm but failing to hide the edge of fear in his voice.

Thomas nodded, gripping his sword a little tighter. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Beside them, Elric shifted nervously, adjusting the straps on his hastily-donned armor. "I just hope we don't have to fight too soon. My armor doesn't even fit properly."

Ava, the only woman in the group, gave Elric a nudge with her elbow. "Just stay behind me, Elric. I'll make sure the orcs don't get you," she said with a smirk, though her eyes betrayed her own nervousness.

Garrick approached the group, his weathered face grim. "Listen up, you lot. This isn't like the training. If the orcs come, they'll hit hard and fast. Stick to your posts, keep your heads down, and follow orders. Understand?"

Thomas, Marcus, Elric, and Ava nodded in unison, though the weight of Garrick's words settled heavily on them.

Meanwhile, at the village gates, Lord Aric gathered his knights. His eyes swept over the line of men and women who had trained under his watchful gaze. Each of them was prepared to follow him into the unknown, ready to protect Brighthollow at all costs.

"Sir Alistair," Lord Aric called, summoning his most trusted knight to his side.

Alistair, a hulking figure of iron and steel, stepped forward. "Yes, my lord."

"We ride out to the forests and clear the beasts. The militia will hold the walls, but we must ensure no creatures break through from the wilds before the orcs arrive."

Sir Alistair nodded, his expression as serious as always. "The men are ready, my lord."

Lord Aric glanced back at the village one last time, his gaze falling on the walls where Garrick and the militia stood waiting. Among them, he noticed Thomas standing tall beside his friends. He admired the young man's courage, knowing that the fate of Brighthollow rested on the shoulders of both knights and villagers alike.

"We'll strike swiftly," Lord Aric said, turning back to his knights. "Once the beasts are dealt with, we'll return here and prepare for the main battle."

As he mounted his horse, he called out, "For Brighthollow! We fight for our home!"

The knights cheered in response, their armor gleaming in the fading light. With a swift motion, they spurred their horses forward and rode out of the gates, leaving the village in the hands of the militia.

Back on the wall, the militia watched Lord Aric and his knights disappear into the distance. The tension among the men was palpable. They were armed with crude weapons—rusty swords, farming tools, anything they could find—but they knew the stakes. Brighthollow was their home, and it was up to them to defend it.

Garrick turned to the militia and raised his voice. "Listen up! Lord Aric and the knights will take care of the monsters outside. Our job is to make sure nothing gets inside these walls. Keep your eyes open and your weapons ready. No matter what happens, we stand together."

Thomas exchanged a glance with Marcus. "Think we'll see any action?" Marcus asked, his voice low.

"I hope not," Thomas replied. "But if we do, we'll be ready."

Elric fidgeted with his bowstring, trying to distract himself from the fear gnawing at his gut. "I never thought I'd be standing here, waiting for orcs to attack. This isn't how I imagined my life would go."

Ava, standing tall and fierce with her spear, gave him a reassuring smile. "None of us did, but we'll get through this. Together."

Just then, Garrick came up behind them, his gaze hard as steel. "I need you four sharp. You're watching the north wall. If anything comes from that direction, you sound the alarm. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain," Thomas answered, feeling the weight of responsibility settle even more heavily on his shoulders.

As Garrick moved off to inspect the rest of the militia, Thomas turned back to his friends. "Alright, you heard him. Let's get into position."

The group moved to their assigned post on the north wall, settling into a tense watch. The forest beyond the village was dark, and the shadows stretched long as night approached. They could hear the occasional rustling of leaves or the distant call of a night bird, but so far, there was no sign of any orcs.

"I wonder what's happening out there," Marcus muttered, glancing in the direction Lord Aric had ridden.

Thomas, keeping his eyes on the darkening treeline, shrugged. "We'll know soon enough. But for now, we focus on what's in front of us."

Ava stood beside him, her spear at the ready. "No matter what happens, we've got each other's backs. Right?"

Thomas nodded. "Right."

The hours dragged on, the village remaining eerily quiet as night fell. The militia stood vigilant, the tension growing with every passing minute. Thomas felt the weight of his sword in his hand, his muscles tight and ready for action. His thoughts drifted to Jack and the rest of his siblings, now safely on their way to Fairhaven. He hoped they wouldn't have to face the horrors of war, at least not yet.

As the moon rose high in the sky, a distant horn blew—a signal from the scouts posted outside the village.

"Something's out there," Elric whispered, gripping his bow tightly.

"Stay calm," Thomas said, his voice steady despite the anxiety gripping his chest. "We don't know what it is yet."

Garrick's voice cut through the night, ordering the men to prepare. "Hold your ground! No one leaves their post until we have confirmation."

The militia tensed, their eyes trained on the dark beyond the walls. Whatever was out there, it hadn't reached them yet. But they could feel it—something was coming.

Thomas glanced at his friends, his heart pounding in his chest. "This is it."