On Airtulan's eastern border, dawn's light filtered through towering pines, casting golden beams into the circular stone hall of the tribal council. In the center of the chamber, Loka stood tall, gripping his battle axe tightly. His sharp gaze swept over the gathered tribal leaders, each one aware of the monumental decision looming over them. The atmosphere in the hall was tense and oppressive, a silent acknowledgment that a great upheaval was at hand.
Maeldor, his long white beard flowing over his chest, was the first to speak. His voice, though deep and measured, carried a commanding weight. "Word from Eldenia has reached us. Yesterday, Selena sent an urgent message confirming that she has gone north to seek the aid of the Battlebear Clan. However, their forces will need time to travel from the northern frontier. We cannot afford to wait idly."
Loka slammed the haft of his axe against the ground with a resounding thud, his tone resolute. "Eldenia was the cornerstone of the alliance. Its fall means we now face a Strongson Kingdom that holds the upper hand. We can't afford delay. Veilshadow Heights, with its treacherous terrain, offers us our best chance—if we can avoid Leon's main army."
"But that path is fraught with peril," Taka, leader of the Greenveil Tribe, interjected, his brow furrowed. "The heights are not only rugged and difficult to traverse but are also riddled with unknown dangers. If Strongson has been monitoring the area, advancing blindly could lead to the annihilation of our forces."
Maeldor rapped his oaken staff on the stone floor, silencing the murmur of dissent. His piercing gaze moved from one leader to the next. "The risks of Veilshadow Heights are real, but that is precisely what we can use to our advantage. Leon, Strongson's commander, is focused entirely on the main front with Eldenia and the allied forces. If we maneuver through the heights from the east and strike north of Eldenia, we can catch them off guard. This would force Leon to divert his forces northward, relieving pressure on the main front."
A low murmur rippled through the gathered leaders as they weighed Maeldor's plan. Sensing hesitation, Maeldor continued, his tone unyielding. "I've already dispatched a group of elite scouts to Veilshadow Heights. Their mission is to confirm whether the path is passable. If it is, we can avoid Strongson's main forces and stage a surprise assault on Eldenia from the north."
Loka nodded, adding with measured confidence, "Once the Battlebear Clan's reinforcements arrive, we will converge with them to encircle Leon's forces from the north. The success of this plan hinges on the scouts' findings and on the resolve of everyone here." His gaze swept the room, his voice steady but firm. "Airtulan has never retreated, no matter how daunting the battlefield."
Taka exchanged a glance with the other tribal leaders before slowly nodding in agreement. "The Greenveil Tribe will send its finest warriors to join this effort. If the scouts confirm the safety of the passage, we will fully support this plan."
A faint smile crossed Maeldor's face as he turned to Loka. "Then it is settled. Loka, you will personally lead the scouting party. Your courage and expertise are what we need most in this endeavor."
Loka straightened, his expression resolute. "I accept the responsibility."
As the meeting neared its conclusion, Maeldor gave a final word of encouragement. "Prepare for battle. Regardless of what awaits us in Veilshadow Heights, we must ensure that Airtulan plays its part in this war."
Each leader silently nodded, the weight of their decisions clear in their solemn expressions. Veilshadow Heights loomed in their minds like a shroud of uncertainty, but they all understood: it could be their last chance to shift the tide of war—a glimmer of hope for the alliance.