The Night Was Heavy with Tension
The night air was thick with tension as Alexander read through the scout's report, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the war table. A supply caravan—one of Emberhold's first organized trade routes—had been ambushed. The attack wasn't random.
It was deliberate.
It was a message.
The Aftermath of the Ambush
Tyrell returned at dawn, his face shadowed with exhaustion. His usual sharp gaze was dulled by the weight of the report he carried.
"Four of our men dead, two wounded," he said grimly. "The wagons were burned, and the supplies were taken."
Alexander's expression darkened. Supplies could be replaced. Men could not.
"Any survivors?"
Tyrell hesitated before nodding. "One. We found him tied to a tree, left alive to deliver a message."
Elias, who had been standing off to the side, cracked his knuckles. "Where is he?"
Minutes later, they stood before the survivor—a trader who had volunteered for the route. He sat near the main hall, his wounds hastily bandaged, his face pale from blood loss and exhaustion.
His eyes flickered toward Alexander, a mixture of relief and fear in his gaze.
"They weren't bandits," he rasped, his voice hoarse from dehydration. "They were organized. They knew exactly where we'd be."
Silas leaned forward. "And their leader?"
The man swallowed hard. "He gave me a message for you."
Silence.
Alexander's stare remained fixed on him. "Speak."
The trader hesitated, then recited the words as if they had been burned into his mind.
"Emberhold grows too bold. Withdraw, or we will break you before you rise."
The room tensed.
Elias scoffed. "That noble bastard thinks this is enough to scare us?"
Alexander's expression remained unreadable. No, this wasn't meant to scare them.
It was meant to provoke them.
Silas exhaled, rubbing his beard. "They want us to react emotionally. A reckless retaliation would expose us, maybe even push the other nobles to unite against us."
Alexander nodded slowly. "Then we don't give them what they want. We don't react." His gaze darkened. "We strike—on our terms."
Unraveling the Enemy
Silas had already begun tracking possible suspects—nobles with both the resources and the motive to try and stifle Emberhold's growth.
"We have three primary suspects," he reported, spreading out parchments detailing their influence and past dealings. "Each of them has something to gain from keeping us weak."
✔ Viscount Harland Vale – A merchant-lord with deep trade networks. If Emberhold continued to control the supply of crafted goods and weapons, his influence over trade routes would weaken.
✔ Baron Edwin Margrave – Ruler of the lands west of Baron Valtor's territory. If Emberhold expanded too far, his borders would be the first to become vulnerable.
✔ Countess Lyria Voss – A woman known for subtlety and deception, infamous for using mercenaries and covert tactics to eliminate rivals. A quiet manipulator.
Alexander studied the names. One of them was behind the ambush.
But he wouldn't act blindly.
"We need more information before making a move," he said. "Silas, start working your contacts. I want confirmation before we decide who to strike."
Silas nodded. "Already on it."
Alexander turned to Tyrell. "Increase security on our remaining trade routes. No caravan moves without armed escorts."
Tyrell nodded. "I'll put my best men on it."
Elias folded his arms. "And if they attack again?"
Alexander's gaze was cold, resolute.
"Then we remind them that Emberhold is not an easy target."
The Expansion of Trade
Despite the ambush, trade couldn't stop. The attack had sent a clear message, but Emberhold's survival depended on expansion.
By midday, a delegation from two villages arrived, requesting an official trade deal with Emberhold.
"The attack worried them," Silas explained, "but they're also realizing that Emberhold is the only real power in the area."
Alexander met the village leaders in the courtyard, studying them carefully. These were not desperate men—they were cautious, calculating. They saw what was happening. The region was shifting, and they needed to choose a side.
They had chosen Emberhold.
"We need protection," one of the village elders said. "In return, we can offer food, raw materials, and craftsmen."
Alexander considered their words. Protection alone wasn't enough—Emberhold had to control the routes, not just defend them.
"We accept," he said. "But we won't just protect your caravans—we'll build secure trade routes. Watchtowers, patrolled roads, and armed merchant caravans."
One of the leaders hesitated. "That… sounds like an army."
Elias smirked. "It is."
The village leaders exchanged glances, weighing the implications. A trade army meant security—but it also meant Emberhold was not just a settlement anymore.
After a long moment, the elder nodded. "We agree."
Emberhold was no longer just defending itself.
It was expanding its influence.
The Noble Moves Again
That night, the tension in Emberhold remained high. The first attack had been an opening move.
The second came before dawn.
A scouting party near the borderlands never returned.
Tyrell's men found their bodies in the morning—executed with clean, efficient kills. Their weapons untouched, their valuables left behind.
It wasn't looting.
It was a warning.
Pinned to one of the corpses was a small parchment, the ink fresh as if meant to be read before it dried.
"Your ambition will be your downfall."
Alexander's grip tightened around the paper, his fingers pressing into the ink until it smudged.
Silas read over his shoulder and let out a slow breath. "They're escalating."
Alexander exhaled sharply, his mind already calculating the next move.
If this noble wanted a war, they had made a mistake.
They thought Emberhold was still just a settlement.
They would learn—too late—that Emberhold was something far more dangerous.