Chapter 22: The Hunter's Gambit

The command tent, hastily erected from salvaged Rubak materials and reinforced with Volgunder ingenuity, was thick with tension. The flickering lamplight cast harsh shadows on the faces gathered around the rough-hewn table, illuminating grim expressions and the glint of steel. At the head sat Captain Karl Volgunder, his six stars a stark reminder of his authority. Beside him, now the center of attention, stood Brian Volgunder, his golden armor traded for a more practical, travel-worn leather jerkin, the Volgunder wolf emblem subtly embossed on the breast.

Maps, crudely drawn on scraps of parchment and animal hide, were spread across the table, depicting the known terrain, the location of the recent skirmish, and the suspected location of the main Rubak encampment.

"The scouts report," Karl began, his voice gravelly, "that the Rubaks have consolidated their forces. Their numbers are… substantial. Far greater than our initial estimates."

A murmur of unease rippled through the assembled officers. Liam, standing near the edge of the tent with Brad, felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his stomach. He could see the concern etched on the faces of even the most seasoned veterans.

"How substantial?" Brian asked, his voice calm but firm.

A grizzled scout, his face etched with the hardships of the Eastern Wastes, stepped forward. "At least six hundred, Captain," he reported. "Possibly more. They're drawing warriors from multiple tribes. And they're still gathering."

Six hundred. The number hung in the air, heavy and ominous. The combined Volgunder attack force, even with Brian's reinforcements, numbered less than half that.

"They're preparing for a major offensive," Elara, the cautious knight from the previous discussion, stated. "If they attack us here, in this makeshift camp…" She let the sentence trail off, the implication clear.

Hektor, the Vangoria warrior, slammed his fist on the table. "Then we attack them! We take the fight to them before they can grow any stronger!"

"Reckless," Elara countered. "We're outnumbered, outmatched, and on their territory."

The debate threatened to erupt again, the familiar arguments clashing in the confined space. But Brian Volgunder raised a hand, silencing the room.

"The Rubaks have always been fewer in number," Brian said, his voice carrying a quiet authority that commanded attention. His blue eyes, so like Liam's and Arthur's, yet holding a different kind of fire, swept across the assembled officers. "They've raided our borders for generations, harrying our forces, striking and fading before we could respond. They've won victories, not through sheer strength, but through cunning, through strategy."

He paused, letting his words sink in. "They use the terrain to their advantage. They strike quickly, unexpectedly, and then disappear. They've made us bleed, not with grand battles, but with a thousand small cuts."

He leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Now, they expect us to react in the traditional way. To meet them in open battle, to rely on our superior armor and training. They expect us to be… predictable." He smiled, a thin, predatory smile that sent a shiver down Liam's spine. "We will not give them what they expect. We will use their own tactics against them. We will make them drink from the same bitter cup."

Hektor scoffed. "We're knights, Volgunder! Not skulking raiders. We have heavy armor, trained warhorses. We fight in formation, with honor!"

Brian's smile didn't waver. "Then we adapt, Hektor. Or we die." He looked at Karl. "We ditch the heavy armor. We go light. We move swiftly, silently. We strike at night, when they least expect it. We harass them, disrupt their supply lines, sow chaos and fear among their ranks."

A stunned silence followed his words. This was… unconventional. Unheard of. It went against everything they had been taught, everything they believed in.

"It's… unorthodox," Karl said slowly, his brow furrowed. But there was a flicker of something else in his eyes, a hint of… agreement. He had fought alongside Brian before. He knew his reputation, not as a legendary warrior in the traditional sense, but as a hunter, a strategist, a master of unconventional warfare.

"It's suicide," Hektor insisted. "They know this land. We don't."

"We will learn," Brian countered. "We will use scouts, we will adapt, we will become the shadows. We will turn their strength – their numbers – against them. We will make them fear the night."

Lia Razakia, who had been leaning against a tent pole, watching the exchange with a keen interest, pushed herself upright. "Reckless as always, Brian," she said, a playful smirk on her lips. "That's what I like about you." The teasing tone was there, but there was also a clear note of approval in her voice.

Brian gave her a wry smile. "Someone has to be," he replied.

Liam, watching his brother, felt a surge of pride. Brian wasn't just a warrior; he was a leader. He had taken control of the situation, offered a new perspective, a daring plan that challenged the established norms. He had, in a few short minutes, shifted the entire dynamic of the attack force.

"We'll need to study the terrain," Brian continued, turning his attention back to the maps. "Identify their weaknesses, their supply routes, their patrol patterns. We'll need to be meticulous, precise. We'll need to be… invisible." He paused. "And if we can capture one of their scouts, a prisoner who can provide us with intelligence… that would be invaluable. We need to know their numbers, their leadership, their plans."

Karl nodded, his initial hesitation giving way to a grudging respect. "Agreed. We'll focus on reconnaissance. Small, fast scouting parties." He paused, then looked at Brian. "And someone needs to train our men in these… new tactics. Someone who understands stealth, speed, and the art of fighting in the shadows."

Brian smiled. "I know just the man." He gestured towards Brad, who had remained silently observant throughout the meeting. "Brad. You'll be in charge of training a select group in shadow tactics. Choose your best, those with the aptitude for this kind of warfare."

Brad bowed his head slightly. "As you command, Brian."

Karl nodded, accepting Brian's recommendation without question. "Very well. Let's get to work."

The meeting continued, the officers discussing the details of Brian's plan, the logistics, the risks, the potential rewards. Liam listened, fascinated, absorbing every word. He was seeing a side of warfare, a side of leadership, that he had never encountered before.

As the meeting broke up, and the officers dispersed to carry out their orders, Brian beckoned Liam to follow him. They walked a short distance away from the camp, towards a rocky outcrop that offered a view of the surrounding plains.

"So," Brian said, his voice softer now, more personal. "Tell me everything. What have you been up to, little brother?"

Liam hesitated, then began to speak. He told Brian about the tournament, about his struggles with swordsmanship, about Van's brief mentorship. He spoke haltingly at first, unsure how his brother would react, but Brian listened patiently, his expression encouraging.

Then, Liam spoke of the crypt, of the surge of cold, of the stigma on his back. He didn't mention the Umbral Core, not yet. That secret felt too dangerous, too volatile, to share.

Brian's reaction was not what Liam expected. There was no shock, no disbelief, no condemnation. Instead, there was a thoughtful silence, a flicker of… recognition… in his eyes.

"Magic," Brian said softly, almost to himself. "I always suspected… there was more to our family history than Father let on."

Liam's eyes widened. "You… you knew?"

Brian smiled, a slightly wistful smile. "Not knew, exactly. But… I've felt it too. A… tingling, sometimes. A sense of… something… more." He touched his hand to his chest, just above his heart. "Nothing like what you describe, of course. But… enough to make me wonder."

He looked at Liam, his gaze serious. "The old stories, Liam," he said. "The ones about dragons and magic… they're not just stories. There's truth in them. Our ancestors… they were more than just warriors."

He paused. "But magic is dangerous, Liam. Especially now, when it's so… forgotten. People fear what they don't understand. And that fear can be… deadly."

"I know," Liam said, his voice low. "I've seen it."

They talked for a long time, sharing stories, exchanging confidences. Brian spoke of his missions in the south, of the strange lands he had seen, the battles he had fought. He didn't boast, didn't exaggerate, but Liam could sense the weight of his experiences, the toll that war had taken on him.

Lia interrupts them.

"We need to talk, magic boy, " Lia said.

Liam felt a moment of shame. Was his magic that obvious?

"Come on, I won't bite, or will I ?" Lia said, smiling and giggling.

Brian steps away and said, " I will leave you two, my presence is required elsewhere"

As Brian left, Lia sat down near Liam.

"Your magic is strange, powerful," Lia said, "I've never felt anything like it."

"What do you mean?" Liam asked.

"I'm very good at sensing magic; it's a gift, I guess," she said. "My family has some old, forbidden techniques that no one use or talk about anymore, they say the old ones went too far, to extreme that it corrupted them, but they were once the most respected and feared warriors in Aetheria," she added.

"Did you sense it in the final, with that boy?" she asked

"Yes, it was dark, corrupted,"Liam answered.

"I was there in the final,I felt it, it was disgusting, like touching a rotten corpse," she said.

She looked at Liam and asked, "Do you want to train with me later, I have this feeling that we will be seeing more of the dark forces".

Liam looked at her, she was serious for the first time, and a little afraid.

"Yes," he replied.

"Good, get some rest, little boy, we have a long night to come"

Later that evening, after the camp had settled into a restless quiet, Liam found Brad near the edge of the perimeter, staring out at the moonlit plains.

"Brad," Liam said, his voice hesitant. "There's… something I need to tell you. Something I found."

He reached into his tunic and pulled out the Umbral Core, the dark, intricately carved object pulsing faintly in his hand.

Brad looked at the object, his brow furrowed. "What is that?" he asked. "And where did you find it?"

Liam explained how he had found it, in the hidden cave, near the tomb. He described the feeling he had, the sense of power.

Brad listened intently, his expression growing increasingly serious. When Liam finished, he didn't take the Core, but he leaned closer, examining it with a careful eye.

"I don't know what it is," Brad admitted, "but it feels… potent. And old. Be very careful with it, Liam. Anything that radiates that kind of energy… it could be dangerous."

"I know," Liam said. "I can feel it. It… absorbs magic. And it can… release it. But it's… unpredictable. I don't know how to control it."

"You have the gift, and you will know what to do when the time comes," Brad said

"I will put you on the recon team, you already know the basics, and you have proven your self a capabel swordsman, we will need you,".

Liam nodded, feeling a surge of both apprehension and determination. He tucked the Core back into his tunic, feeling its weight against his chest. He had a long way to go, but he was ready to face whatever the future held.