Chapter 126: The Shadow of War

The storm had passed, but the air still reeked of smoke and blood.

Elias stood at the edge of the village, looking out at the aftermath. The charred remains of the mercenary camp burned bright against the twilight sky, the crackling of flames mingling with the distant wail of the wounded. A few of Ashford's villagers moved cautiously through the ruins, searching for survivors, gathering what they could, their faces hollowed by exhaustion, fear, and a pain they'd learned to wear like a second skin.

Elias's hand tightened around the hilt of his blade, the metal smooth and cold beneath his fingers.

It was far from over.

The fire had bought them time, but that was all it had done. The enemy had been shaken, their confidence shattered, but not defeated. Not yet. And as the rising sun bathed the broken land in pale light, Elias knew that the true test was just beginning.

The wind stirred the remains of Ashford's once-proud marketplace, sending ash drifting through the air like whispers of the past.

Ashford had been a thriving village. A community. A home.

Now, it was nothing but a collection of ruins and broken memories.

"Elias," a voice interrupted his thoughts.

He turned to find Sophia standing behind him, her face grim, her eyes shadowed with the weight of the night's events. She looked as weary as he felt, but there was no time for rest.

"They're still out there," she said, her voice low and tense. "We need to prepare."

Elias nodded, turning his gaze back to the horizon. The wind picked up, carrying with it the faintest scent of something more dangerous than the smoke and rain — something cold, something threatening.

"It's not just the mercenaries anymore," he muttered. "It's Aldred."

Sophia's jaw tightened at the mention of the King's name. Aldred was a tyrant, a ruthless monarch whose cruelty knew no bounds. He had already taken so much from them, and now, it seemed, he wanted to finish the job.

"Aldred…" She shook her head, as if the very mention of him was enough to make her blood boil. "He's not going to stop until we're all dead."

"Then we make sure he regrets it," Elias said, his voice hardening with resolve. "We don't run. We don't hide. We fight."

Sophia's eyes flickered with something like agreement, but there was something more beneath the surface. Fear. She was afraid, just like the rest of them. And who could blame her? Aldred's armies were vast, his influence unstoppable. But Elias wasn't going to let that stop him. Not now. Not when there was still hope to fight.

As the sun climbed higher, the remnants of the mercenary group began to regroup. Their leader, Garron, a brutish man with thick, bloodshot eyes and a temper to match, had been the first to rally his troops after the fire, despite the chaos.

Elias had no illusions about Garron. He was a coward at heart, quick to anger, and even quicker to betray those who didn't serve him. But he was also ruthless, and if left unchecked, he would tear through the village with an unrelenting fury.

The mercenary captain had gathered his men in the heart of the village, their voices rising in a chorus of angry shouting as they cursed the fire, cursed their enemies, cursed their own misfortune.

Elias approached cautiously, his thoughts sharp, his heart pounding in his chest.

Kaelen stood at his side, the two of them moving silently through the shadows. "We could kill him now," Kaelen whispered, his hand hovering over his blade. "Take him out before he gets too comfortable."

Elias shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "We wait. If we kill him now, the others will scatter. They'll just run, and then we've lost our leverage."

"Leverage?" Kaelen's voice was laced with disbelief. "You're talking about negotiating with these animals?"

Elias didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the group ahead of them, on Garron as he barked orders to his men, the firelight casting a grotesque glow on his face.

"I'm not negotiating," Elias finally said. "I'm giving them a choice. They can either fight for us, or we make them wish they had."

---

The hours stretched on, each one heavier than the last. Ashford's remaining villagers scrambled to fortify their positions, patching up walls, securing doors, and gathering whatever weapons they could find. The smell of burning flesh and oil still clung to the air, but Elias could see the fire in their eyes — a fire that hadn't been there the day before. They were no longer cowering in fear. They were standing tall, ready to fight.

And yet, the reality of their situation weighed heavily on them all.

Elias stood atop the remnants of the town's central watchtower, staring out at the horizon. The wind had picked up again, howling through the wreckage of the village as though it, too, was mourning the loss of everything that had once been.

Beside him, Kaelen was sharpening his blade, his expression unreadable. Sophia stood at the base of the tower, talking to a few of the villagers, her face a mask of determination.

And then, as the last vestiges of the storm faded into the distance, the first of Aldred's soldiers appeared on the horizon.

It was a small group at first, barely more than a dozen. But Elias knew that was just the beginning. Aldred never came with just a dozen men.

The first wave was a test. A probe. A way for the King to gauge how Ashford would respond. The real attack would come soon.

"Here we go," Kaelen muttered, his voice tense. "Do you think they'll surrender?"

Elias didn't answer. He didn't believe in surrender. Not anymore. The world had taught him long ago that surrender only led to death. And Ashford was not going to die today.

Sophia joined them on the tower, her eyes scanning the horizon. She didn't need to say a word. She knew what was coming.

"We fight," she said simply, her voice unwavering.

And with those words, the tension in Elias's chest began to ease, if only for a moment. He wasn't alone. They weren't alone. And maybe, just maybe, they had a chance.

---

Meanwhile, in the distant keep of Alendar, King Aldred sat upon his iron throne, surrounded by his closest advisors. His sharp, calculating eyes were fixed on the map laid out before him, a map that detailed Ashford's defenses, its weak points, its supply lines.

"Ashford thinks it can hold out," Aldred muttered, his voice cold and dark as the winter night. "But they have no idea what's coming."

Beside him, the Butcher of Baelen's Cross stood silent, his mask gleaming ominously in the dim light of the hall.

"Send the second wave," Aldred commanded, his eyes flicking to the Butcher. "And this time, make sure they don't leave anything standing. No mercy."

The Butcher nodded, turning to leave, his heavy footsteps echoing through the cold stone corridors.

---

Back in Ashford, the first of Aldred's soldiers arrived, and the battle for the village began.

Elias watched from the tower, his heart steady despite the rising chaos. This was their last chance.

Sophia, Kaelen, and the villagers were ready.

And as the first arrow flew through the air, Elias's gaze turned toward the horizon once more. This was just the beginning.

Ashford would either stand tall… or fall in flames.

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