The village sat nestled in the valley, surrounded by dense forests that seemed to breathe in the stillness of the night. The warmth of a fire crackled in the hearths of the villagers, but the group of guardians and nobles had little time for comfort. Arteja stood by the edge of the perimeter, spear in hand, her eyes scanning the dark forest. The faint smell of damp earth filled her nostrils as she listened to the nocturnal symphony of chirping crickets and rustling leaves.
Corliss had returned bloodied but alive, collapsing into the safety of the village after delivering her grim warning. The attackers weren't done—they were regrouping and would strike within two days.
Arteja paced the village's outer edge, her mind racing with plans. Defending a location with untrained villagers and minimal supplies would be a challenge. Yet, as always, Arteja's resolve remained unwavering.
"Anything out there?" Lirael's voice broke the silence, soft yet sharp.
Arteja turned slightly but kept her gaze locked on the treeline. "Nothing yet, but it's coming. You can feel it, can't you?"
Lirael nodded, resting a hand on her sword hilt. "We have to be ready. Do you think Corliss bought us enough time?"
"She bought what she could. We'll use it." Arteja's voice was calm, but there was steel behind her words.
The nobles, meanwhile, remained huddled together inside the main hall of the village elder's home. Their faces were pale, and their whispered conversations did little to mask their unease. Arteja wasn't concerned about their fear; she was concerned about their ability to follow orders when the time came.
When her patrol ended, Arteja gathered the group of guardians and Corliss, now patched up but visibly weakened. Around them, the villagers waited, uncertain but eager to hear what would come next.
Corliss began, her voice steady despite her injuries. "The enemy has numbers. They'll come in waves, testing our defenses before overwhelming us with a final push. If we're not ready for that, we'll lose everything."
"We'll use the terrain to our advantage," Arteja added, stepping forward. She tapped the ground with her spear for emphasis. "The village is surrounded by natural bottlenecks. We'll turn those into kill zones. Trenches here and here"—she pointed at the makeshift map etched into the dirt—"and barricades here to funnel them into our traps. Lirael, take charge of digging the trenches. Corliss, oversee the barricades. I'll train the villagers for combat."
"Combat?" an older villager asked hesitantly. "Most of us can't even swing an axe properly!"
Arteja's piercing blue eyes fixed on him. "You don't need to be perfect. You need to hold the line. Follow my orders, and you'll survive."
The man swallowed hard and nodded.