Alexander stood before the gathered settlers of Emberhold, his gaze steady as he prepared to address them. The people who had bled for this land, who had fought and suffered, now stood in tense anticipation. The battle was over, but their war had not ended in the way many had expected.
A hushed murmur passed through the crowd, a mixture of exhaustion, confusion, and quiet anger. They had spent weeks preparing to die for their home. Now, they were being told the Baron had retreated—but not because he had been destroyed.
Alexander had fought many battles, but this was a different kind of struggle. He wasn't standing before an enemy, sword in hand. He was facing his own people, and what he said next could decide the future of Emberhold just as much as any blade.
He took a breath, then began.
"The war is over—for now." His voice was calm, firm. "Baron Lucius Valtor and I have come to an agreement. He will withdraw his forces. He will not attack Emberhold. And in return, we will no longer raid his supplies or interfere in his lands."
A ripple of uneasy murmurs spread through the crowd. Some faces lit with relief, but many remained dark with skepticism.
Marcus, arms crossed, stepped forward. His voice was low but carried through the gathering. "So that's it? After everything we lost, after the men we buried, we just… let him go?"
Tyrell, standing beside him, scowled. "A truce with the Baron? After what he's done?"
Elias, leaning against a wooden post, watched carefully but said nothing. He wanted to see how Alexander would handle this.
Alexander didn't flinch. He met Marcus's glare head-on. "I understand why you're angry. We all lost people. We all suffered. But listen to me—this wasn't about revenge. This was about survival. If we kept fighting, the Baron would have sent more men, and next time, we wouldn't have survived."
A scoff came from one of the militiamen. "We were winning! We drove them back!"
"We were barely standing by the end of it!" Alexander snapped, his voice rising. "Look around you! How many of you fought with wounds still bleeding? How many of you saw the dead piled against our barricades? How many of you have children and families who wouldn't have lived through another assault?"
The settlement fell silent.
Alexander's tone lowered, but his words remained sharp. "We have no reinforcements. No endless food stores. No walls of stone to hide behind. We are alone in this frontier, and every fight we take must be one we can win—not just today, but tomorrow, and the next day after that."
Silas, who had been quiet, finally spoke. "This truce gives us time. Time to rebuild, to grow. We don't have to live looking over our shoulders, waiting for the next raid. The Baron is done with us—for now."
Marcus shook his head. "You trust him that much?"
Alexander's jaw tightened. "I trust that he is a man who values practicality. Right now, fighting us is more trouble than it's worth. And that means we have an opportunity. But if you all want to keep fighting just to satisfy your anger, then tell me—how do you plan to win the next battle? When you're starving? When you're outnumbered two to one? When we're still burying our dead?"
Silence.
Clara, standing near the back, spoke up. "So what happens now?"
Alexander looked out over them all. "Now, we build something worth fighting for. We make sure that if the Baron ever looks our way again, he sees a force stronger than before. We take this chance to turn Emberhold from a battlefield into a home."
He turned to Marcus and Tyrell. "You're angry. I understand. But this isn't surrender. This is strategy. If we keep looking at every problem like a battle, we'll never become more than a band of fighters scraping by."
Tyrell exhaled, shaking his head. "Damn it, Alex…" He ran a hand through his hair, then smirked. "Fine. You win this one."
Marcus hesitated longer. Then, with a deep breath, he gave a reluctant nod. "I'll follow you. But if that bastard ever goes back on his word, I expect to be the first one leading the charge."
"You will be," Alexander promised.
The tension in the air faded, slowly but surely. Some still had doubts, but Alexander had planted the first seed of belief. This truce wasn't an end—it was a beginning.
For Emberhold to survive, it couldn't just be a settlement of warriors. It had to become something greater.
And this was the first step.