The Road to War
Chapter 7: The Road to War
The victory at the Riverlands marked a turning point.
The town had expanded, the farms flourished, and warriors patrolled the new territory with pride.
But power always attracted enemies.
And soon, the town would face its greatest challenge yet.
The Messenger of War
It was a cold morning when the first sign of trouble appeared.
A lone rider approached the town gates, clad in heavy furs, his horse covered in dust.
The guards raised their weapons.
But the rider made no attempt to attack.
Instead, he dismounted, raised his hands, and shouted:
"I bring a message from the Ironfang Clan!"
The name sent a chill through the guards.
The Ironfang Clan—a warband of ruthless warriors known for raiding and pillaging smaller settlements.
The gates opened, and the masked ruler watched as the messenger was brought to the town square.
Elya, standing tall, faced him with cold eyes.
"Speak," she commanded.
The rider smirked. "Your people took land that does not belong to them. The Riverlands are ours. You have three days to leave… or the Ironfangs will burn your town to the ground."
A tense silence followed.
Then, Elya laughed.
"You must be mistaken," she said. "We do not surrender our land. If your leaders want it, they can try to take it."
The messenger's grin faded.
"So be it," he growled. "You've sealed your fate."
He turned, mounted his horse, and rode away.
The war had begun.
Preparing for Battle
The town erupted into organized chaos.
Arak, the warrior leader, gathered his best fighters. Dren, the blacksmith, worked day and night forging new weapons. Vala and the farmers prepared food supplies for the army.
The masked ruler opened his system interface.
"New Feature Unlocked: War Strategies"
A tactical map of the region appeared.
It showed the town, the Riverlands, and a red marker indicating the Ironfang Clan's camp—located two days' ride to the west.
He had two options:
Defend the town, building fortifications and preparing for a siege.Strike first, taking the fight to the enemy before they could gather their full force.
Elya turned to Arak. "What's our best move?"
Arak smirked. "We don't wait for death. We bring it to them."
The decision was made.
They would attack first.
The March to War
Two hundred warriors assembled at dawn.
They were outnumbered—scouts reported the Ironfangs had at least three hundred fighters—but the town's warriors were better armed and trained.
The masked ruler issued his commands:
"Ambush their supply lines. Cut off their reinforcements. Strike fast and hard."
The army moved out.
For two days, they marched through forests and across hills, avoiding detection.
Then, on the third night, they reached the outskirts of the Ironfang camp.
Fires flickered in the distance.
The enemy was unprepared.
Arak turned to his warriors. "Tonight, we strike like wolves. No mercy."
Swords were drawn. Bows were readied.
The attack began.
The Battle of Ironfang Camp
The first arrows flew silently through the night, striking unsuspecting guards.
Then—chaos.
The warriors rushed the camp, cutting down enemies before they could react.
Tents burned.
Weapons clashed.
Screams filled the air.
Arak led the charge, his spear tearing through enemy ranks. Elya fought alongside him, her blade flashing under the moonlight.
The Ironfang leader, a massive warrior named Gorran, emerged from his tent, roaring in fury.
"You dare attack us?!" he bellowed.
Arak grinned. "You gave us no choice."
The two warriors clashed.
Gorran swung a massive axe, but Arak dodged, landing a deep cut across the warlord's arm.
The battle raged for an hour.
Then—Gorran fell.
A spear through the heart.
The Ironfang warriors, seeing their leader dead, panicked and fled.
The town had won.
Victory and Consequences
By sunrise, the Ironfang Clan was no more.
The remaining survivors were either captured or scattered into the wilderness.
The town's warriors returned home as heroes.
But the masked ruler knew one thing for certain:
This was only the beginning.
More enemies would come.
And the town had to be ready.
---
Victory over the Ironfangs had solidified the town's power.
The warriors had returned, their weapons stained with blood, their spirits high.
But war always left its mark.
And this victory would come at a cost.
A New Threat Emerges
The morning after the battle, the masked ruler stood atop the town's stone wall, overlooking the land they had fought so hard to claim.
Elya approached.
"The Ironfangs are finished," she said, "but we have a bigger problem."
She unrolled a map, pointing to the east.
"The Stonefang Mercenaries have been spotted moving toward our territory."
The masked ruler's eyes narrowed.
The Stonefangs—a ruthless band of hardened warriors for hire.
They weren't raiders like the Ironfangs. They were professionals.
And someone had paid them to attack.
The Betrayal
Later that night, Arak burst into the war council chamber.
His face was twisted with rage.
"We have a traitor," he growled.
The room fell silent.
He threw a blood-stained letter onto the table.
It bore the seal of the Stonefangs.
Elya picked it up and read aloud:
"The town is vulnerable after the battle. Strike now, and I will ensure the gates are open. Payment will be delivered once the deed is done."
The masked ruler clenched his fists.
Someone from inside the town had made a deal with the mercenaries.
And they were planning to open the gates for the attack.
Elya's voice was cold. "Who wrote this?"
Arak pulled out a dagger—one marked with the blacksmith's insignia.
"Dren."
The Blacksmith's Betrayal
Dren was dragged into the great hall, bound and beaten.
His face was swollen, his clothes torn.
But his eyes burned with defiance.
"You don't understand," he spat. "I did this for us."
Arak slammed his fist on the table. "You sold us out!"
Dren shook his head.
"No, you fool. I saved us."
The masked ruler stepped forward.
"Explain."
Dren exhaled.
"We can't fight forever," he said. "Every battle weakens us. We win today, but what about tomorrow? Next year? The mercenaries weren't coming to destroy us—they were coming to make a deal."
Silence.