Chapter 21: War of Iron Fang

Raen leaned against the stone wall of the quiet chamber, his arms crossed as he watched Saela from across the room.

The firelight flickered, casting shadows that danced across her face as she sat by the hearth, her gaze distant. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to begin.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Saela," he said, his voice low but steady. "Can I ask you something?"

She turned her head toward him, her expression softening. "Of course."

Raen hesitated again, his thoughts swirling. Why does this bother me so much? Why can't I get him out of my head?

He exhaled slowly and pressed on.

"Kieran," he began, his tone careful. "How does he know so much? About... everything? About us? It's like he's always ten steps ahead."

Saela studied him for a moment, as if weighing her words. Then she smiled faintly and looked back at the fire. "Kieran is... different," she said softly. "He always has been."

Raen furrowed his brow, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn't, he pushed further. "Different how?"

She glanced at him again and then gestured for him to sit beside her.

He crossed the room and lowered himself onto the edge of the hearth, the warmth of the fire brushing against his skin.

"Kieran," Saela began, her voice thoughtful, "is like a dragon."

Raen blinked, caught off guard by the comparison. "A dragon?" he echoed.

She nodded, her eyes glinting with a mix of admiration and something deeper—something almost reverent. "In most tales, dragons hide," she explained. "They stay in the shadows, unseen and unheard, until the moment they're truly needed. And when they appear, it's because something serious is happening—something that no one else can handle." Her gaze grew distant again, as if she were recalling a memory. "That's what Kieran is like."

Raen frowned slightly, turning her words over in his mind. A dragon? Is that what he is to them? To her? He felt a flicker of unease but quickly pushed it aside. "So, he's some kind of... savior?" he asked, his tone tinged with skepticism.

Saela smiled faintly. "In a way, yes," she said. "He's saved all of us at one point or another—Roth, Cassian, Veyne... me." She paused, her voice softening further. "And you."

Raen stiffened slightly at her words. Saved me? Is that what she thinks? That I needed saving? He looked away, his jaw tightening.

Saela seemed to sense his discomfort but continued anyway. "Kieran isn't like anyone else," she said quietly. "He sees things differently—understands things differently. It's like he carries the weight of something far greater than any of us can comprehend." She glanced at Raen again, her expression earnest. "That's why he knows so much. That's why he always seems to be ahead."

Raen's thoughts churned as he listened to her words. A dragon... hiding in the shadows until the moment is right. Is that really who he is? Or is there something more to him—something she's not saying?

"And what about you?" he asked after a long pause. "What does he look like to you?"

Saela tilted her head slightly, considering his question. Then she smiled—a genuine, warm smile that seemed to light up her entire face. "To me," she said softly, "Kieran looks like hope."

Raen stared at her, caught off guard by the simplicity and sincerity of her answer. Hope, he thought bitterly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the crackling fire filling the silence between them. Finally, Raen stood and turned away, his expression unreadable.

"Thanks," he muttered, his voice barely audible. Then he walked toward the outside, leaving Saela alone by the hearth.

---

The war in St. Louvre was escalating rapidly, with the Iron Fang's forces advancing from the west and northwest, supported by their allies in the Velkar Dominion. The once-thriving region was now a battleground, with villages, towns, and fortresses falling under siege.

The Iron Fang, a brutal and highly disciplined military force, was relentless in its campaign to conquer St. Louvre. Their strategy was methodical, targeting key settlements to cripple the kingdom's defenses and economy.

The village of Redwick, located near the western border, was among the first to fall. Redwick had been a prosperous farming community, known for its fertile lands and abundant harvests.

But when the Iron Fang marched in, they burned the fields, slaughtered the livestock, and took the villagers as prisoners or conscripts.

General Kael Dravik, a ruthless commander of the Iron Fang, led the assault on Redwick. His tactics were swift and brutal, leaving no room for resistance. Within days, Redwick was reduced to ashes, and its people were either dead or enslaved.

Further north, the town of Greystone suffered a similar fate. Greystone was a mining town, rich in iron and coal, which made it a strategic target for the Iron Fang.

General Lira Voss, known for her cunning and precision, led the attack on Greystone. Her forces surrounded the town, cutting off all supply routes and bombarding it with trebuchets. The defenders of Greystone, led by Captain Edran Malor, fought valiantly but were ultimately overwhelmed.

The mines were seized, and the Iron Fang began using them to forge weapons and armor for their army.

The fortress of Blackridge was another critical loss for St. Louvre. Blackridge was a heavily fortified stronghold located in the northern mountains, guarding one of the main passes into the kingdom. General Tharic Vayne, a towering figure clad in blackened steel armor, led the siege on Blackridge.

His army included siege engines capable of breaching even the strongest walls. The defenders of Blackridge held out for weeks under the command of Lord Commander Alden Rorin, but their supplies dwindled, and morale plummeted. When the walls finally fell, Tharic's forces poured in, slaughtering the defenders and claiming the fortress.

The fall of Blackridge opened the northern pass to the Iron Fang's forces, allowing them to push deeper into St. Louvre. The kingdom's northern regions were now vulnerable, and villages like Frosthaven and Silverbrook were left defenseless.

Frosthaven, a small village known for its lumber industry, was quickly overrun. The Iron Fang set fire to the forests surrounding Frosthaven to prevent any attempts at guerrilla resistance.

Silverbrook, a quaint village by a river, was turned into a forward operating base for the Iron Fang's northern campaign.

Meanwhile, in the west, the city of Westmarch was under siege. Westmarch was one of St. Louvre's largest cities and a vital trade hub. Its fall would deal a severe blow to the kingdom's economy and morale.

General Kael Dravik personally led the siege on Westmarch, employing a combination of psychological warfare and relentless assaults. The city's defenders, led by General Elira Kain, were determined to hold their ground.

Elira was known for her tactical brilliance and unwavering resolve, but she faced an uphill battle against an enemy with superior numbers and resources.

The Velkar Dominion's support for the Iron Fang further complicated matters for St. Louvre. The Velkar Dominion was a powerful kingdom to the west of St. Louvre, known for its advanced military technology and vast resources.

They provided the Iron Fang with weapons, supplies, and reinforcements. Velkar engineers constructed siege engines and fortifications for the Iron Fang, while Velkar merchants ensured a steady flow of goods to sustain their war effort.

The war also had devastating effects on St. Louvre's economy. Trade routes were disrupted as towns and cities fell to the Iron Fang. Inflation soared as resources became scarce.

Food prices skyrocketed due to the destruction of farmland and supply lines. The kingdom's treasury was quickly depleting as funds were diverted to support the war effort. Merchants and artisans struggled to make ends meet as their businesses suffered from the chaos.

In an effort to counter the Iron Fang's advance, St. Louvre's military leaders devised a plan to fortify key positions and launch counterattacks where possible. General Emmerich was tasked with defending the city of Highcliff, a strategically important settlement located on a plateau overlooking the western plains. Highcliff's natural defenses made it an ideal location to halt the Iron Fang's advance from the west.

In the north, General Seris led an effort to regroup scattered forces and establish a defensive line along the River Aelwyn. The river served as a natural barrier that could slow down the Iron Fang's progress. Seris worked tirelessly to rally troops and coordinate with local militias.

Despite these efforts, morale among St. Louvre's citizens and soldiers was low. Stories of villages being razed and people being enslaved spread fear throughout the kingdom.

Refugees flooded into cities like Highcliff and Eastvale, overwhelming their resources and creating further strain on an already fragile economy.

The war in St. Louvre was far from over, but it was clear that the kingdom faced an uphill battle against a formidable enemy.

The Iron Fang's relentless advance and the Velkar Dominion's support made it difficult for St. Louvre to mount an effective defense.

As villages burned and fortresses fell, the people of St. Louvre could only hope that their leaders would find a way to turn the tide before it was too late.

---

The Château de Saint-Louvre stood proud and timeless, a fortress of elegance nestled in the rolling hills of Provence.

It was home to the Duval family, a lineage of nobility known for their kindness and grace. But kindness is no shield against cruelty.

One cold, moonless night, darkness descended upon the château. Armed men, faces hidden beneath black hoods, stormed the estate.

Screams echoed through the halls as flames devoured the tapestries and paintings that had adorned the walls for centuries.

The Duval family—Émile, the father; Margaux, the mother; and their two children, Julien and little Lucien—were dragged from their beds.

"Please," Margaux begged, clutching Lucien in her arms. "We have done nothing to deserve this!"

Her words were met with silence, save for the crackling of fire and the clash of steel. Émile stood tall despite his trembling hands. "Take me," he said. "Spare my family."

But mercy was not in their captors' hearts. One by one, Émile, Margaux, and Julien fell to the blades of the invaders. Only Lucien, barely ten years old, was spared—not out of compassion, but because he was deemed useful.

The boy was dragged away from the burning ruins of his home, his small hands bound with rough rope. Tears streaked his soot-covered face as he cried out for his family. "Maman! Papa! Julien!" But no one answered.

Lucien was taken to a labor camp deep in the forest, a place where cruelty thrived and hope was a stranger.

The camp was a grim collection of wooden shacks surrounded by barbed wire. Children like Lucien were forced to toil from sunrise to sunset, their small bodies breaking under the weight of tasks meant for grown men.

On his first day, Lucien met Étienne, a boy not much older than himself. Étienne had been in the camp for months and had learned how to survive. "Don't cry," he whispered to Lucien as they dug trenches under the watchful eyes of guards. "They hate it when you cry. Stay quiet. Stay invisible."

But Lucien couldn't stop crying. Each night, as he lay on the cold, hard floor of the shack, he would clutch the small locket that had belonged to his mother—a tiny relic he had managed to keep hidden—and weep silently.

"Why did they do this to us?" he asked Étienne one night.

"Because they can," Étienne replied bitterly. "Because no one stops them."

The days blurred together in a haze of pain and exhaustion. Lucien's hands blistered from the rough tools he was forced to wield. His stomach ached from hunger; the meager rations they were given barely kept him alive.

But it was the memories that hurt most—the sound of his mother's voice, the warmth of his father's embrace, Julien's laughter as they played in the gardens of Château de Saint-Louvre.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of blood and fire, Étienne turned to Lucien. "You have to survive," he said firmly. "For them—for your family."

Lucien nodded, though his heart felt heavy with despair. He clung to Étienne's words like a lifeline.