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Roland stared at the Ring of Glory now adorning his right index finger, the weight of its significance sinking in. The octagonal ruby gleamed ominously, its golden band exuding an aura of ancient power. For a moment, Roland couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret—the ring had cost him a significant portion of his wealth. But as he traced the delicate runes engraved along its surface, the feeling quickly faded.
"Impressive, Your Majesty. This ring has a divine presence," Carlos remarked, his eyes locked onto the ring.
Roland sighed inwardly. The ring was more than just a symbol of wealth; it was a powerful artifact, one that carried the weight of history and responsibility. "It's more than just a pretty trinket. This is the Ring of Glory, the first of the Nine Holy Rings."
Carlos's expression shifted from admiration to awe, and Reynold, who had just entered the tent, immediately dropped to one knee upon seeing the ring. "My king, the glory of the Lagrand Empire has chosen you," he said reverently.
Roland nodded, acknowledging the significance of the moment. "Let's see if it lives up to its name. Glory!"
As he uttered the command, a red-gold light radiated from the ring, spreading to encompass the knights around him. The power of the ring melded their collective strength, their auras unified in a single, radiant burst of energy. The knights echoed the call, their voices ringing out in unison.
"God bless Lagrand!"
"Dragon God above!"
Reynold's voice trembled with emotion. "The Ring of Glory has returned, my king. You are destined to revive the empire."
Roland felt the weight of Reynold's words. The Nine Holy Rings, once thought lost to time, were now within his grasp—or at least one of them was. "Five rings are still out there," he mused, his gaze drifting towards the horizon.
"Yes, the first, second, sixth, seventh, and ninth rings were once held by the royal family, but they were lost," Reynold explained.
"But with the return of the Ring of Glory, Lagrand's glory will follow," Roland said, a determined glint in his eye.
Reynold nodded in agreement, though the weight of their task was evident. "Indeed, my king."
As Roland stared at the sky, lost in thought, the sound of footsteps brought him back to the present. Reynold re-entered the tent with a new visitor in tow.
"My lord, an elf named Legolas seeks an audience," Reynold announced.
Roland stood up, his interest piqued. "Legolas? What brings him here?"
The elf entered, his movements graceful but urgent. "King Roland, I bring news from the north," he said, his voice steady despite the gravity of his message.
"News? What are the orcs up to now?" Roland asked, already bracing himself for the worst.
"The half-orc army is gathering at the northern fortress of Gambada," Legolas reported, handing Roland a map marked with strategic points.
Roland's heart sank. "Gambada... They've begun to mobilize already?"
"Not fully, but I saw orcs moving through the Grey Mountains, heading toward Gondaba," Legolas replied, his gaze unwavering.
Roland glanced at the map, his mind racing. "What do Bard and Thorin say?"
"They are prepared to defend their homeland at all costs," Legolas confirmed.
Roland nodded. "The north is in good hands, then. But I'll need to focus on the south—Dogoldo and the forces led by Azog. They'll likely target Rapid City first."
"Dogoldo?" Legolas looked puzzled. "I wasn't aware of any southern threat."
Roland rubbed his temples. "Yes, it's a fortress where Azog's forces are entrenched. We can't afford to ignore it."
Legolas nodded in understanding. "I see. But I must return north. I trust you will handle the south."
Roland dismissed him with a wave. "I'll send scouts to establish an outpost across the river. We'll monitor the orcs' movements and prepare for the worst."
As Legolas departed, Roland turned to Reynold. "Put the city construction on hold. Take the knights across the river and set up a camp. I'll have Mage Ladir accompany you to build an outpost. Bring Carlos as well; his skills will be invaluable."
Reynold bowed deeply. "Your will is my command, my king."
Once alone, Roland felt a wave of unease wash over him. Despite all his preparations, he knew he wasn't ready for a full-scale assault from the orcs. The thought of facing them head-on sent a chill down his spine.
Just then, Mage Ladir appeared beside him, seemingly out of thin air. "Relax, Your Highness. It's winter."
Roland blinked, confused. "Winter?"
Ladir smiled faintly. "Winter is not the season for war. The orcs will wait until spring to attack. You have time to prepare."
Roland exhaled slowly, relief mingling with determination. "Then we'll be ready for them when the time comes."
But as he stared out at the snow-covered landscape, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The second Lonely Mountain War was coming, and Rapid City would be the first line of defense. The Ring of Glory had chosen him, but whether he could live up to its legacy remained to be seen.