The celebration in Airtulan spread through the campfires and songs, seemingly carefree. Yet beneath this harmonious atmosphere, an undercurrent of unease began to stir.
Eldar Elnor had just concluded the blessing ceremony and returned to his seat. Before he could sip his honey mead, a group of young warriors from the border tribes approached discreetly. The dust of long travel still clung to their clothing, their expressions grave—a stark contrast to the joyous crowd.
One of them, Aldan from the Northwind Tribe and a border sentinel, leaned closer to Elnor and whispered cautiously, "Elder, I bring urgent news."
Elnor's gaze darkened as he set his goblet aside and nodded, indicating for Aldan to continue.
"Skirmishes have broken out along the border between Strongson and Eldenia," Aldan said in a hushed tone. "More concerning, King Edmond of Eldenia has sent a request for aid."
Another warrior, Rena of the Green Shadow Tribe, added, "I've also heard rumors. Strongson appears to be mobilizing more troops—they might not just be targeting Eldenia."
Elnor's brow furrowed, the firelight carving deep lines into his face. He asked softly, "Have these reports been verified? What could be their purpose?"
Aldan shook his head, his anxiety evident. "For now, these are only observations and messages from the border. We can't confirm everything yet. But Strongson's ambition is undeniable—they may have set their sights beyond Eldenia. We fear Airtulan could be next."
Elnor fell into thought, his gaze sweeping over the jubilant crowd. He lowered his voice further, saying, "This matter must remain quiet for now to avoid disturbing the people. Your reports, however, are invaluable. I will consult with the other elders on a course of action. Thank you for your loyalty and diligence."
Aldan and Rena bowed respectfully before retreating into the shadows of the night. Despite their departure, a storm brewed within Elnor's heart. He gently tapped his staff against the ground, signaling another elder to approach. The two exchanged whispers unnoticed by the surrounding revelers.
Meanwhile, Arthur, ever observant, caught sight of the elders' hushed discussion and the tense demeanor of Aldan's group. He turned to Magda and asked, "It seems the border warriors brought urgent news. What do you think it's about?"
Magda arched an eyebrow, speaking softly, "Probably some skirmishes with Strongson. Their ambition is no secret to us."
Loka, overhearing, interjected boldly, "Strongson? Ha! Even if they dared to invade Airtulan, they'd have to cross the northern mountains and forests first. We'd teach them what real warriors are made of!"
Arthur nodded but couldn't shake his unease. He knew Strongson's military strength was formidable. While Airtulan was vast and resource-rich, it wasn't suited for prolonged warfare. Its scattered population and resources made it vulnerable. If Strongson truly intended an invasion, things wouldn't be as simple as Loka claimed.
As the bonfire dwindled, the tension among certain individuals grew. Aldan and the other border warriors stood silently aside, awaiting further instructions. The elders, illuminated by the firelight, discussed matters in hushed, serious tones.
Under Airtulan's moonlit sky, the shadow of the World Tree stretched across the land, adding a sacred atmosphere to the Elder Council meeting. Standing in the center of the hall was Selena, draped in a robe woven with leaf patterns. Her gaze was as bright as the stars yet carried an unmistakable air of authority.
Gathered around her were the leaders of Airtulan's tribes and members of the Elder Council. Their faces, illuminated by torchlight, bore solemn expressions.
Selena voice, clear and resolute, filled the chamber: "Honored elders and tribal leaders, Airtulan has long upheld peace and harmony with nature, maintaining friendly relations with our neighbors. However, troubling news from the eastern border compels our attention. Strongson's new leader, Leon, has broken past agreements, threatening not only our peace but also the stability of our region."
The gathered leaders nodded lightly, some murmuring to one another. Halke, chief of the Silver Wolf Tribe, was the first to speak. "Strongson has always been a nation riddled with internal strife. While Leon's ascension ended years of infighting, his ambitions clearly extend beyond consolidating power. He aims to annex eastern territories, perhaps even unify the entire eastern continent."
Maeldor, elder of the Ancient Deer Tribe, stroked his long beard as he replied, "Leon is shrewd and dangerous, his thirst for power far surpassing that of his forebears. Still, Strongson's internal divisions may hinder his plans. If their noble factions continue to quarrel, large-scale conflict may be delayed. But if they unite, we'll face a formidable and aggressive neighbor."
Kanu, leader of the Mountain Eagle Tribe, frowned. "Leon's rise was no surprise. We offered him blessings for his coronation, yet he showed little genuine goodwill. Instead, he's focused on unifying his army and tightening his grip on regional nobles—clear preparations for future campaigns."
Loka of the Flame Tribe added, "Leon's ambitions might go beyond the eastern lands. Halke's right; he could very well aim to challenge Airtulan's strength."
As the discussions subsided, Selena rose, her gaze sweeping across the assembly. Her voice softened but lost none of its resolve: "Airtulan does not seek conflict, but we do not shy away from challenges. Preserving peace along our borders is our shared duty. We must act swiftly—forge cooperation with Eldenia and bolster our defenses."
She paused, then continued, "Arthur, you and the warriors of the Silver Wolf Tribe will travel to Eldenia to meet their frontline commanders and convey our support. Kanu, organize the Mountain Eagle Tribe scouts to monitor Strongson's movements. All tribes must remain vigilant—should the situation deteriorate, unity will be our strongest shield."
At dawn, the forested mountains of Airtulan shimmered under the sun's first light. Dew glistened on the grass, and the quiet was broken only by the soft breath of horses and murmured conversations.
Arthur, dressed in light warrior gear, stood beneath the World Tree. His expression was calm, but his eyes held a trace of contemplation.
Taka approached with four finely trained horses, patting their sturdy necks. "These steeds are swift as the wind and hardy enough for any terrain. Just don't let them go hungry."
Arthur accepted the reins with a faint smile. "Your horses have never let me down, Taka. This time, they may be our greatest allies."
Beside him, three Silver Wolf warriors prepared silently, their mutual trust evident in their eyes.
Hark approached Arthur, his broad hand resting on a spear. Quietly, he said, "Arthur, you are the pride of the Silver Wolf Tribe. I trust you will protect yourself and honor Airtulan."
Arthur nodded solemnly. "I will, Father."
Hark hesitated briefly, then handed Arthur a small silver wolf insignia—the emblem of their tribe's leadership. Arthur accepted it with reverence, attaching it to his chest.
Selena arrived, her presence radiant in a pale green robe symbolizing the blessings of nature. She approached Arthur, her tone gentle yet laced with concern. "Arthur, this journey will be perilous. But I trust in your wisdom and courage." She handed him an amulet woven from the branches of the World Tree. "May it shield you from harm."
Arthur examined the amulet, its craftsmanship a reminder of the sacred tree's power.
As the sun fully rose, Arthur mounted his steed and rode toward Airtulan's eastern border. His figure gradually vanished into the morning light, carrying with him not only the expectations of his tribe but the hopes of all Airtulan.
Selena watched him disappear, a faint smile on her lips. Her soft words carried on the wind: "Take care, Arthur."