The dawn broke over the stronghold, painting the skies in muted shades of orange and gray. Despite the victory over Varok's detachment, the air felt heavy with tension. Ashar leaned against the wooden railing overlooking the courtyard, his mind replaying the events of the previous night.
Varok's death was a decisive blow, but it came at a cost. The ambush had proven just how cunning Gorrok could be. This wasn't a fight against mindless brutes; it was a chess match, and the Orc warlord was playing to win.
Rylah approached, her expression unreadable. "You've been standing here for an hour," she said, her voice softer than usual.
"I needed to think," Ashar replied without looking at her. "Last night... it was too close. We walked straight into Gorrok's trap. If Varok hadn't underestimated us, we might not be having this conversation."
Rylah crossed her arms, leaning on the railing beside him. "And yet, we succeeded. Varok is dead, his detachment scattered. That's not nothing, Ashar."
"No, but it's not enough," he said, his tone clipped. "Gorrok still has over a thousand soldiers at his disposal, and we're barely scraping together five hundred who can fight."
Numbers and Preparations
The stronghold's current forces were a mix of farmers, hunters, and refugees, most with little to no combat experience. Sorin had worked tirelessly to turn them into a cohesive unit, but even his skill had limits.
During a midday meeting in the strategy hall, Ashar addressed his commanders. A large map of the surrounding territory lay spread across the table, marked with the positions of known enemy forces.
"We've taken out one of Gorrok's lieutenants," Ashar began, pointing to the forested area where the ambush had occurred. "But he's still strong. According to our scouts, Gorrok commands at least twelve hundred soldiers. Of those, about nine hundred are stationed at his main camp near the river. The rest are spread out in smaller detachments, like the one we encountered."
Sorin nodded, his expression grim. "And we have... five hundred at best. A third of them barely know how to hold a sword."
"Which is why we need to avoid direct confrontation," Ashar said. "Our strength lies in guerrilla tactics. We hit them where they're weak, disrupt their supply lines, and force them to spread themselves thin."
"What about their leadership?" Rylah asked. "Varok's death will hurt their morale, but Gorrok still has lieutenants to rally them."
Ashar's jaw tightened. "Exactly. Gorrok himself is untouchable right now—he's too well-guarded. But his lieutenants are another story. If we can take them out one by one, we'll cripple his chain of command."
The Key Villain: Gorrok
The room fell silent as the conversation shifted to Gorrok. His name alone carried an air of menace.
"Gorrok isn't just a warlord," Sorin said, his voice low. "He's a strategist. Every move he's made has been calculated. He doesn't just conquer; he manipulates. Villages don't just fall to his armies—they surrender out of fear."
Ashar nodded. "And that's what makes him dangerous. He's not just fighting for territory; he's fighting to break us. If we let fear take hold, he's already won."
Rylah frowned. "Do we know anything about his plans? His next move?"
"Our scouts intercepted a message," Sorin said, unfolding a small piece of parchment. "It's coded, but we've managed to decipher parts of it. Gorrok is preparing for a major offensive. He's consolidating his forces, likely for an all-out assault on our stronghold."
"When?" Ashar asked.
"Within the next week," Sorin replied. "Maybe sooner."
Fortifying the Stronghold
Ashar wasted no time. The stronghold became a hive of activity as preparations for the impending assault began.
Varen led a team to reinforce the walls, using salvaged wood and stone to patch weak points. Leona worked with hunters to set traps in the surrounding forest—pits, snares, and spike traps designed to thin the enemy's numbers before they reached the gates.
Meanwhile, Ashar trained alongside the recruits, demonstrating techniques and offering guidance. He knew morale was just as important as physical preparation. The men and women of the stronghold needed to believe they could win.
"You're doing well," Ashar said to a young recruit named Taryn, who struggled to lift a sword. "Keep your stance low, and don't overcommit to your strikes. Defense is just as important as offense."
Taryn nodded, determination flickering in his eyes. "Thank you, Ashar. I'll keep practicing."
As the day wore on, Ashar found himself reflecting on the weight of leadership. Every decision he made carried consequences, not just for him but for everyone who had placed their trust in him.
A New Ally
That evening, as Ashar reviewed the map in his quarters, a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," he called, expecting Sorin or Rylah.
Instead, a stranger stepped into the room—a man clad in worn leather armor, his face partially obscured by a hood. His piercing green eyes studied Ashar with an intensity that set him on edge.
"Who are you?" Ashar demanded, his hand instinctively moving toward his sword.
The man raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "My name is Kael. I've been watching your stronghold for some time now."
"Watching?" Ashar's tone was sharp. "That's not the best way to introduce yourself."
Kael chuckled. "Fair enough. Let's just say I've been assessing whether you're worth the risk."
"What risk?"
"The risk of throwing in my lot with you," Kael said. "I've fought against Gorrok before. I know how he operates—and I know how to beat him."
Ashar's eyes narrowed. "Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't," Kael admitted. "Not yet. But I can give you something no one else can: knowledge. I know Gorrok's tactics, his weaknesses, his fears. If you want to survive his assault, you're going to need me."
The Decision
Ashar considered Kael's words carefully. Trust was a rare commodity in their situation, and a single misstep could cost them everything. But Kael's confidence and apparent knowledge were hard to ignore.
"Fine," Ashar said finally. "But understand this: if you betray us, there won't be anywhere for you to hide."
Kael smiled faintly. "Understood. You won't regret this, Ashar."
As Kael left the room, Ashar turned back to the map, his mind racing. The coming days would determine the fate of the stronghold—and perhaps the entire rebellion.
There was no room for error.