Chapter 17: The Gathering Leaves

The war council chamber was a place of shadows and silence, the air heavy with the weight of decisions that could alter the fate of Titan Land.

Garrick stood at the head of the long, polished table, his sharp eyes scanning the six figures seated before him.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of oil lamps casting long shadows across the faces of the Ashen Leaves' most powerful leaders. A massive map of Sylven Vein dominated the table, its surface marked with enemy positions, strongholds, and potential battle zones. But the real conflict wasn't on the map—it was in the room, among the leaders themselves.

The six individuals gathered around the table were the pillars of the Ashen Leaves Organization, each a master of their own domain. Their roles were as varied as their personalities, and their ambitions often clashed as fiercely as the armies they sought to command. Politics was a weapon here, sharper than any blade, and Garrick knew he had to navigate it carefully.

Reiner Vos, the head of intelligence, sat with his fingers steepled, his cold, calculating gaze fixed on the map. He was a man who saw war as a game of information, where secrets were the most valuable currency.

Beside him, Marla Veric leaned forward, her hands resting on the edge of the table. As the logistics commander, she was the backbone of the organization, responsible for supplies, reinforcements, and trade negotiations.

Orin Kael, the lead saboteur, sat slouched in his chair, his sharp features half-hidden in shadow. He was a man of the night, an expert in assassinations, espionage, and disruption tactics.

Veyna Luthir, the diplomatic liaison, sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression calm but resolute. She was the voice of reason in a room filled with aggression, the one who handled alliances, truces, and secret deals.

Torran Vhast, the combat division commander, was a force of nature. He sat with his arms crossed, his broad shoulders tense, his eyes burning with impatience. A battle-hardened warrior, he believed in striking hard and fast, with little patience for politics or diplomacy.

Finally, there was Sarik Dorne, the internal security chief. He sat at the far end of the table, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if searching for hidden threats. His sole focus was uncovering spies and maintaining stability within the Ashen Leaves.

The meeting began with updates, each leader presenting their concerns and strategies. But it wasn't long before the political tensions surfaced.

Reiner spoke first, his voice cold and precise. "The enemy's intelligence networks are tightening. They're watching us closely, and some of our movements may already be compromised. If we don't act carefully, we'll lose the element of surprise."

Marla nodded, her expression grim. "Our supply lines are under attack. Food, weapons, and reinforcements are becoming harder to secure. If this continues, we won't last long in a prolonged war. We need to prioritize our resources and consider alternative trade routes."

Orin leaned forward, his tone sharp. "The assassinations of the executioners were successful, but the enemy's retaliation could be worse than we anticipated. We need to prepare for their counterattacks and ensure our operatives are protected."

Veyna, ever the diplomat, interjected. "We should consider a temporary truce with the smaller factions. Fighting on multiple fronts would be disastrous. If we can secure even a few allies, it could buy us time and resources. Diplomacy is our best weapon right now."

Torran slammed his fist on the table, his voice booming. "Waiting is cowardice! The longer we delay, the stronger they become. We should strike now, while they're still disorganized. Let them feel our strength! Diplomacy will only make us look weak."

Sarik, calm but firm, countered Torran's aggression. "There's a chance that there's a mole within our ranks. Someone is leaking information to the enemy. Until we find them, any large-scale move could be a trap. We need to proceed with caution and root out the traitor before making any decisions."

The room erupted into arguments, each leader pushing their own agenda. Veyna's calls for diplomacy were met with scorn from Torran, who saw negotiation as a sign of weakness. Marla's practical concerns were dismissed by Reiner, who believed information was more valuable than supplies. Sarik's paranoia only added fuel to the fire, as accusations flew across the table.

Garrick listened silently, his expression unreadable. He knew this was more than just a war council—it was a test of his leadership. The Ashen Leaves were a powerful force, but their strength was undermined by internal divisions. If he couldn't unite them, the war would be lost before it even began.

When the voices finally died down, Garrick stood tall and addressed the room.

"The war is inevitable," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "Whether we fight now or later, there will be blood. But we won't rush in like fools. Our first priority is to eliminate our vulnerabilities—find the mole, secure our supplies, and weaken the enemy from the shadows. When the time is right, we'll strike hard and take control of Titan Land before anyone else can."

His words silenced the room. Some of the leaders nodded in agreement, while others looked uneasy. But they all knew Garrick was right. War was coming, and they had to be ready.

---

As the meeting ended, the leaders left the room, each lost in their own thoughts. The tension was still thick, but the path forward was clear. The Ashen Leaves were on the brink of war, and the political battles within their ranks were just as dangerous as the enemies outside.

After the war council disbanded, Garrick made his way to a smaller, more secluded room deep within the Ashen Leaves' stronghold. The air here was quieter, but no less tense.

Waiting for him were three figures who had become indispensable to his plans: Luvine Caldus, Elia Solmere, and Porter Vance. They were the ones who had carried out the assassinations of the executioners, a mission that had thrown the enemy into chaos and bought the Ashen Leaves precious time.

Garrick entered the room, his presence commanding immediate attention. Luvine stood tall, her posture rigid and professional, her sharp eyes scanning Garrick for any sign of his mood.

Elia sat calmly in a chair, her hands folded in her lap, her expression thoughtful but unreadable. Porter, as usual, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as if he found the whole situation amusing.

Garrick didn't waste time with pleasantries. "You did well," he said, his voice low but firm. "The executioners' deaths have disrupted the enemy's plans. They're scrambling to recover, and that gives us an advantage."

It was rare for Garrick to offer praise, and the three of them knew it. Luvine gave a curt nod, her face betraying no emotion. Elia's eyes flickered with a hint of satisfaction, but she remained silent. Porter, however, couldn't resist a sarcastic comment.

"So, we're the heroes now?" he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "Does that mean we get medals? Or just more dirty work?"

Garrick's gaze hardened, but he didn't rise to the bait. "This isn't a game," he said, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. "The war is far from over. The St. Louvre Kingdom and the Black Sun Syndicate are in secret talks. If they form an alliance, we'll be facing a united front. The Iron Fangs are gathering mercenaries, waiting to see who offers the most money. And there's a spy in our ranks—someone who's leaking our plans to the enemy."

Elia leaned forward, her calm demeanor breaking slightly. "A spy? Do we know who it is?"

"Not yet," Garrick replied. "But Sarik is working on it. Until we find the traitor, we need to be careful. One wrong move, and we could lose everything."

Luvine's voice was steady as she spoke. "What's our next move?"

Garrick's eyes narrowed. "We need to strike again. The enemy is still reeling from the assassinations, but they won't stay disorganized for long. We need to take out one of their key officers—someone who can't be easily replaced. It'll buy us more time and keep them off balance."

Porter let out a low whistle. "So, we're just going to keep stabbing important people until there's no one left to fight? Sounds like a plan."

Garrick's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of irritation in his eyes. "This isn't about mindless killing. It's about strategy. Every move we make has to count. If we act too soon or too recklessly, we'll lose the advantage."

Elia nodded slowly, her mind already working through the implications. "Do we have a target in mind?"

"Not yet," Garrick admitted. "Reiner is gathering intelligence. Once we have a name, you'll be the ones to handle it. But until then, stay ready. The war is coming, and we need to be prepared for anything."

The room fell silent as the weight of Garrick's words settled over them. Luvine's jaw tightened, her mind already racing through potential scenarios. Elia's expression was calm, but her eyes betrayed the intensity of her thoughts. Porter, for once, didn't have a sarcastic remark. Even he understood the gravity of the situation.

Garrick turned to leave, but before he reached the door, he paused and looked back at the three of them. "You've proven yourselves capable. Don't let that go to waste."

With that, he was gone, leaving Luvine, Elia, and Porter alone in the room. The silence stretched for a moment before Porter broke it with a dry laugh.

"Well," he said, pushing himself off the wall, "looks like we're the chosen ones. Lucky us."

Luvine shot him a glare. "This isn't a joke, Porter. If there's a spy in the organization, none of us are safe."

Elia stood, her movements graceful but deliberate. "We need to be careful. Garrick's right—one wrong move, and everything falls apart."

Porter shrugged, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. No pressure or anything."

As the three of them left the room, each was lost in their own thoughts. The war was coming, and they were at the heart of it. The stakes were higher than ever, and the margin for error was razor-thin.

---

A Week Since The Desert Trial...

Raen sat on a jagged piece of broken stone, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands hanging limp. His body ached from the trials, every muscle screaming in protest. His mind, however, was worse.

It felt like a storm, swirling with questions, doubts, and fears. He stared at the ground, his eyes unfocused, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

How did I even get here? he thought. I was just a kid from a small village. Now I'm… what? Some kind of warrior? A survivor?

He didn't feel like a warrior. He felt like a fraud. Every victory in the trials had come at a cost. Every step forward had left him more broken than before. And now, sitting here in the eerie silence of this place, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was in over his head.

Saela approached him. Her footsteps were quiet, almost soundless, but Raen felt her presence before he saw her. She had a way of making her presence known without saying a word.

He looked up, expecting her to scold him, to tell him he was too slow, too weak, too unprepared. But instead, she sat down beside him, her expression unreadable.

"I need to tell you something important," she said, her voice calm but serious.

Raen blinked, caught off guard. Saela wasn't one for small talk, and she rarely shared anything personal. If she was starting a conversation like this, it had to be something big.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Saela didn't answer right away. She looked out into the distance, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to see something far beyond the horizon. Finally, she spoke.

"Do you know how much time has passed in the real world?"

Raen frowned. He hadn't thought about it. The trials had felt like an endless nightmare, a blur of pain and fear and exhaustion. He had no idea how long it had actually been.

"No," he admitted. "How long?"

"Four months and twelve days," Saela said.

Raen's eyes widened. "What? That's impossible. It felt like… a few weeks at most."

Saela nodded. "Time moves differently here. While we've been fighting, the world outside has been changing. And not for the better."

Raen's stomach dropped. He thought about the world he had left behind—the chaos, the tension, the fragile peace that had been hanging by a thread. If four months had passed, then anything could have happened.

What's waiting for me out there? he thought. What's happened to the people I care about?

Saela seemed to read his thoughts. "Veyra is at war," she said.

Raen froze. "War? What do you mean?"

Saela took a deep breath, as if preparing herself to deliver bad news. "The Black Sun Syndicate, the St. Louvre Kingdom, the Iron Fangs, the Ashen Leaves, and a few factions—they're all fighting for control of Titan Land. The Hollow Kingdom is weak, and everyone is trying to take advantage. The elite executioners of the Hollow Kingdom… they're dead."

Raen's breath caught in his throat. "The executioners? Dead? How?"

Saela's expression was grim. "Assassinated. Someone took them out, one by one. No one knows who did it, but it's thrown everything into chaos. The executioners were the enforcers of the Hollow Kingdom's power. Without them, the balance is gone. Now, every faction is scrambling to fill the void."

Raen's mind raced. The executioners were dead. The very people who had once hunted him, who had been symbols of the Hollow Kingdom's strength, were gone.

This changes everything, he thought. But who could have done it? Who would have the power to take down the executioners?

"Do you think it was the Ashen Leaves?" he asked.

Saela shook her head. "No one knows for sure. But whoever did it, they've sparked a fire that's spreading fast. The factions are at each other's throats, and the people caught in the middle are paying the price."

Raen felt a wave of unease. He thought about the innocent people—the farmers, the merchants, the families just trying to survive. They didn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire.

"What about the people?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "The ones who aren't part of these groups? What happens to them?"

Saela's expression darkened. "They're caught in the middle. Some are trying to survive. Others are joining the factions, hoping for protection. But no one is safe. Not anymore."

Raen clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He had wanted to make things better, but now it seemed like everything was falling apart.

This isn't what I wanted, he thought desperately.

Saela noticed his frustration and placed a hand on his shoulder. "This isn't your fault," she said. "The war was coming, no matter what. The executioners were just one piece of a much bigger problem. The Hollow Kingdom was already crumbling. Their deaths just… sped things up."

Raen didn't feel any better. He looked at Saela and asked, "Why are you telling me this? Why now?"

Saela hesitated for a moment, then said, "Because you need to understand what's waiting for you out there. This isn't just about surviving the trials anymore. When we left the trials, we were stepping into a warzone. And if you're not ready, you'll die."

Raen nodded slowly. He understood. But he still had so many questions.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked. "You don't even like me."

Saela almost smiled at that. "I don't dislike you," she said. "I just don't have time for weakness. But you've proven yourself in the trials. You're stronger than you think. And if we're going to survive what's coming, we'll need every bit of that strength."

Raen looked at her, surprised. He had never heard Saela say anything positive about him before.

She thinks I'm strong? he thought, a flicker of hope igniting in his chest. Maybe I'm not as useless as I feel.

"There's something else," Saela said, her tone shifting. "Something about me that you should know."

Raen waited, curious.

"Before all of this, I wasn't a fighter," Saela began. "I was a scholar. I studied ancient Sol structures—ruins, artifacts, things like that. I was part of a team, and we were traveling to a remote area to investigate a new site. But on the way, we were attacked by bandits."

Raen listened closely. He had never heard Saela talk about her past.

"They took us prisoner," she continued. "They tortured us, made us work for them. Most of my team didn't survive. They died because they couldn't fight back. I was lucky. Kieran and Roth found us. They killed the bandits and freed me. But by then, it was too late for the others."

Raen felt a pang of sadness. He couldn't imagine what Saela had gone through.

She lost everything, he thought. Her team, her life, her purpose. And she had to rebuild herself from nothing.

"After that, I realized something," Saela said. "The world doesn't care about scholars or researchers. It cares about strength. If you're weak, you die. So I decided I would never be weak again. I trained, I learned to fight, and I became someone who could survive."

Raen looked at her with new respect. He had always seen Saela as cold and unfeeling, but now he understood why. She had been through something terrible, and it had changed her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know."

Saela shook her head. "You don't need to be sorry. Just understand that the world out there is cruel. If you want to survive, you have to be strong. And not just physically. You have to be willing to do whatever it takes."

Raen nodded. He understood now. The trials had been hard, but they were nothing compared to what was waiting for him outside.

I can't afford to hesitate, he thought. I can't afford to be weak. Not anymore.

"Thank you," he said. "For telling me."

Saela stood up and looked down at him. "Don't thank me yet. We still have to get out of here. And when we do, the real fight begins."

She walked away, leaving Raen alone with his thoughts. He stared at the ground, his mind racing.

Four months. A war. A collapsing kingdom.

He had thought the trials were the hardest thing he would ever face. But now he realized they were just the beginning.

The world was burning, and he was about to step right into the flames.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The weight of everything felt overwhelming, but he couldn't let it crush him. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

I'll find a way, he promised himself. No matter what it takes, I'll find a way to fix this.

Since the day Kieran helped him, he learned a lot about everything. For years, he didn't know the dangers and cruelty of the world he lived in.

His parents knew how to hide the secrets of this cursed world.