Night descended upon the village of Redwillow, and the world grew quiet. Lennox lay on his straw-filled mattress, the warm glow of the campfire still lingering in his mind. The old bard's words haunted him, the tales of war and ruin mixing with his own curiosity about the world beyond. Slowly, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted into a restless sleep.
But this was no ordinary dream.
Lennox found himself standing amidst a great hall, its stone walls adorned with banners of gold and white—the colors of Altheria. Before him stood King Edric, his face stern and weathered, his golden armor shining even in the dim torchlight. Beside him was a young man, his son, clad in lighter armor, his expression defiant and filled with anger.
"You will go, Alden," the king commanded, his voice firm yet weary.
"But, Father!" Alden protested, his fists clenched at his sides. "How can I leave when our people are on the brink of war? My place is here, by your side!"
"No," Edric said, his tone brooking no argument. "Your place is where I command you to be. The elves and dwarves will not come to our aid unless we ask. They must see the future of Altheria in you. They must believe in this alliance. You are not only my son but the hope of our kingdom. Go, and do not return until you have their aid."
Alden's jaw tightened, his eyes blazing with fury. But he saw the desperation in his father's gaze and, reluctantly, nodded. "As you wish, Father," he said, his voice heavy with resignation.
The scene shifted abruptly. Lennox was no longer in the hall but on the battlefield of Altheria. The fertile plains were already trampled into mud, the air thick with the acrid scent of smoke and blood. Soldiers screamed, steel clashed, and the ground shook with the roar of the orc horde.
Lennox stood frozen as he witnessed the chaos. The orcs tore through the human ranks with savage ease, their axes and blades cutting down men as if they were wheat before the scythe. King Edric was at the front, his golden armor dulled with grime and blood, shouting commands to his knights.
"Hold the line!" Edric roared, his voice cutting through the din of battle.
But the line broke. The humans were overwhelmed.
Through the carnage, Lennox's gaze was drawn to the towering figure of Grask Thorne. The orc warlord carved a path through the battlefield, his crimson eyes glowing like embers, his massive axe leaving devastation in its wake.
Lennox felt himself drawn toward the confrontation as if an invisible force compelled him. He saw Edric and Grask lock eyes across the battlefield.
The fight was brutal and relentless. Edric's sword was swift and precise, his skill honed by decades of battle. Grask, however, was a force of nature, his strength unmatched, his every swing a death sentence.
The duel seemed to last an eternity, but Lennox knew how it would end. He wanted to look away, to stop watching, but he couldn't.
Grask's axe finally struck true, cutting through Edric's defenses. The king fell to his knees, his strength spent.
The orc warlord loomed over him, his axe poised to deliver the final blow. But then, he paused. Slowly, he raised his gaze to the sky, his crimson eyes locking onto something—or someone.
Lennox froze. He felt those eyes pierce through time itself, locking onto him. The orc warlord saw him.
The vision shattered like glass, and Lennox awoke with a gasp. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding like a war drum.
"It was just a dream," he whispered, trying to calm himself. But deep down, he knew it was more than that.
The next morning, the village was somber. Lennox learned that the old bard had passed away in the night. The news hit him harder than he expected. The man who had kindled his imagination and filled his mind with stories was gone.
As he paid his respects, he met with his closest friend, Cael, a boy his age with a mischievous grin and also an orphan just like Lennox.
"I can't stay here," Lennox said, his voice heavy with emotion. "The bard's tales... I want,no... i need to see the world, Cael."
"Then we'll go together," Cael replied with a grin, clapping a hand on Lennox's shoulder. "We'll see the world and make our own stories."
But as they finish talking, a squad of horse rider arrived in the village. A soldier clad in the cloth armor with yellow and green creast on his cloth, dismounted and unrolled a scroll, his voice booming over the gathered villagers.
"By order of the Baron of Westmoor, all able-bodied young men are to report to the keep at dawn tomorrow. You are hereby conscripted into the Baron's army to defend againts enemy."
Its turn out while century ago human stand together, right now human fighting each other, chasing after gold and power.
The villagers murmured in fear, but there was no choice.
"Nox!, are you okay?" Said Cael
Lennox felt a weight settle on his chest. His dreams of adventure were now replaced with the grim reality of war. "I'm alright"