The morning after the discovery of the traitor, the camp felt different. It was quieter, the air thick with unspoken tension. Ashar could feel it in every step, in every glance from his soldiers. Trust had been shattered, and though the traitor had been dealt with, the damage lingered, festering like an open wound.
The traitor, Joran, had confessed. His reasons were twisted—a misguided belief that they could never defeat the Orcs, that their best chance for survival lay in surrender. But that didn't matter now. What mattered was that the information had been leaked, and the Orcs were already on their way.
The war drums in the distance had begun again that morning, thundering in the air like the heartbeat of an approaching storm. The Orcs were not just a threat—they were coming, and they were coming with fury.
Ashar stood on the wall of the stronghold, his eyes scanning the horizon. His soldiers were preparing for battle, but the uncertainty in the air was palpable. The traitor's confession had been swift, but it didn't undo the damage done. They had lost precious time, and now the Orcs were closing in.
"Sir," Karis's voice broke through his thoughts, and Ashar turned to see her standing beside him, her face grim but resolute. "We've got about twelve hours before they arrive."
Ashar nodded, though his mind was racing. The stronghold's defenses had been bolstered, but they were still incomplete. There were gaps in the walls, weak points that the Orcs could exploit. Worse, Ashar had learned through Rylah's investigation that the Orcs had grown smarter. They knew their tactics now. They knew how to breach walls, how to exploit weaknesses, and they wouldn't hesitate to do so.
"We need to reinforce the southern wall," Ashar said, his voice low but firm. "It's the most vulnerable. Get every able-bodied man on it, now."
Karis nodded and turned to relay the order. Ashar watched her go, his gaze returning to the distant horizon. The Orcs were coming. And though they had planned for this moment, nothing could fully prepare them for the devastation they would face.
***
As Ashar moved through the camp, speaking to his commanders and ensuring the final preparations were in place, he couldn't shake the feeling that something more was at play here. Yes, the Orcs were a threat, and yes, they had prepared for battle. But the traitor's confession had sparked a deeper, more troubling question.
What if the Orcs knew more than they were letting on? What if the betrayal was just the tip of the iceberg?
His thoughts were interrupted as Rylah approached, her face as serious as ever.
"We've gotten reports," she said, her voice low, barely above a whisper. "The Orcs are divided."
Ashar's brow furrowed in confusion. "Divided? How?"
Rylah looked around quickly to ensure no one was listening before continuing. "There's a power struggle within their ranks. We've intercepted messages—there's a faction of Orc leaders who are loyal to the old ways, and there's a new faction rising. They believe that the Orcs need to expand beyond their current territories, to crush human resistance before it spreads. It's a matter of time before they clash with each other."
Ashar's mind began to race. A civil war within the Orcs? It was the kind of opportunity they couldn't afford to waste. If the Orcs were fighting amongst themselves, it could give Ashar and his people the edge they needed. But it also meant that the Orcs could become more unpredictable, more dangerous.
"Do you know which faction is coming?" Ashar asked, his voice tight.
Rylah shook her head. "Not yet. But the messages suggest the two factions are on a collision course. It's only a matter of time before they face each other."
Ashar's heart raced. This was a potential game changer. If they could exploit the divide within the Orc ranks, they might have a chance. But it also meant that the Orcs could be more divided and desperate, a dangerous combination.
"We'll need to act quickly," Ashar said, his voice low but filled with determination. "If we can force them into a fight, we could take advantage of it. We can't wait for them to make the first move."
***
As the hours passed and the sun began to set, Ashar's thoughts remained focused on the impending battle. The Orcs were near—too near. And the stronghold, while fortified, was still not ready for the full force of their assault.
In the command tent, Ashar met with his commanders one last time before the battle. Rylah, Karis, Darius, and the others stood around the table, their faces hard with resolve. The camp was as ready as it would ever be, but there was still a sense of unease in the air.
"We've prepared for the worst," Ashar said, his voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside him. "The Orcs will come. They'll hit us hard, but we can withstand their first wave. Our focus needs to be on holding the line, keeping our people safe."
Karis nodded. "We've set traps around the outer perimeter. Once they breach the first defenses, we'll use the traps to slow them down."
Darius spoke next, his voice rough from the constant barking of orders. "We've got enough men to hold the walls, but we'll need reinforcements if they push harder than we expect."
Ashar nodded grimly. The Orcs were many, and while they had prepared, there was always the possibility that the enemy would overwhelm them. He'd seen it happen before. The Orcs were savage, relentless. And now they had more to fight for than just territory—they had to wipe out the human resistance before it spread.
"Once we push them back, we don't stop," Ashar said, his voice low but filled with a burning determination. "We fight to win, not to survive."
***
As the night deepened, the war drums grew louder, a rhythmic pounding in the distance that made the ground tremble. The sound was deafening, the unmistakable march of the Orc army approaching their doorstep.
Ashar stood at the top of the stronghold, his eyes locked on the horizon. The first signs of the Orc forces were visible—massive shadows moving against the pale light of the moon. They were here. The moment had arrived.
"Ready yourselves!" Ashar shouted, his voice carrying across the camp. "Tonight, we fight for our freedom!"
As his soldiers scrambled to their positions, Ashar's thoughts turned to the possibility of using the Orcs' internal divisions against them. If they could force the factions to clash, it might be the break they needed. But in the meantime, they would face the full force of the Orcs—and they would have to hold their ground, no matter the cost.
"Hold steady," Ashar whispered to himself, gripping the hilt of his sword. "This is just the beginning."