The First True Days of Spring Arrived
The first true days of spring arrived, bringing with them the steady melting of snow and the return of fertile ground. Rivers began to flow freely once more, and the trees, bare and skeletal for months, stirred with the first hints of budding green. Yet, not all land thawed.
As Alexander rode west with Tyrell and Gareth, their horses slowing upon reaching the stretch of lifeless terrain, he couldn't ignore the unnatural barrenness that had claimed this land. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the wilderness—where the land around Emberhold was regaining life, this place remained frozen in time, untouched by the season's renewal. No plants, no animal tracks—just dry, cracked soil as if the earth itself had been drained.
Gareth dismounted, crouching to run his fingers through the dirt. The soil crumbled between his calloused hands, brittle and lifeless. "This place has been dead for a long time," he muttered. "Far longer than Emberhold has existed."
Alexander frowned, scanning the terrain. The land was too dry, too lifeless. It reminded him of what had begun happening near the forges where Tenebrium was refined. Yet, something about this location felt different. The dead zone stretched further than just the work of the black metal—it was deeper.
He turned to Gareth. "If the raw ore leeches energy, it would have killed the surrounding land only recently, correct?"
Gareth nodded. "A few months at most, but this? This place looks like it's been like this for decades, maybe longer."
Tyrell, ever the sharp-eyed scout, crouched near a loose patch of soil. He dug his fingers in, revealing a faint reddish tinge beneath the surface. "This color—looks like oxidized iron," he noted.
A realization struck Alexander. What if this land wasn't dead because of Tenebrium? What if it was dead because of what lay beneath it? He crouched, running his own fingers through the dirt. There was something about the texture, the way the ground seemed too dry, too lifeless, yet carried an undercurrent of something unseen.
"If there's iron underground, then it could be the reason why nothing grows here," Alexander said slowly. "Some iron-heavy deposits can turn soil barren over time, poisoning the land above."
Gareth's eyes widened. "If you're right, that means we're standing on top of a potential iron mine."
Alexander stood, his mind shifting gears. "Not just any iron—a deposit strong enough to create a dead zone. If we dig deeper, we may not just find iron, but something more."
The realization changed everything. What had originally been a simple relocation plan for Tenebrium refinement was now a potential industrial breakthrough. If this location contained a rich mineral vein, Emberhold wouldn't just be securing a forge location—it would be securing a major resource for expansion.
"Then we start digging," Alexander said, his mind already considering the possibilities. "We'll move the Tenebrium production here as planned, but I want excavation teams working alongside it. If there's iron or anything else down there, I want to know about it."
Gareth grinned, already thinking ahead. "I'll get the workers on it immediately."
As they rode back to Emberhold, the implications weighed heavily on Alexander's mind. If this land held a substantial iron deposit, it could give Emberhold an unmatched advantage. No longer would they have to rely on outside trade for iron, nor worry about Vale cutting them off from imported materials. With iron and Tenebrium both within their grasp, their industrial capabilities would far outpace any of their rivals.
Yet, there was still the matter of war.
The War Tent—Vale's Forces Mobilize
Back at Emberhold, Alexander strode into the war tent, where Silas was already waiting, a spread of parchment and hand-drawn maps laid before him. Reports from their scouts detailed Vale's troop movements.
"His forces have begun mobilizing in full," Silas said, tapping a cluster of markers on the map. "Scouts report at least four hundred men stationed near his border towns, and he's reinforced his supply lines. If he moves, he'll be able to sustain a prolonged campaign."
Elias crossed his arms. "We can't wait for him to march straight to our gates. If he controls the roads, he can starve us out before the fight even begins."
Alexander studied the map. Vale wasn't just preparing to attack—he was preparing to cut Emberhold off from trade, resources, and reinforcements. This wasn't just a military engagement. It was a siege before the battle had even started.
Tyrell leaned over the table, scanning the terrain markers. "We need to strike first," he said. "Before he fully locks us down."
Silas nodded in agreement. "We hit his supply lines like we did before. We don't need to fight his army directly—just weaken it before it even reaches us."
Alexander exhaled slowly, his mind made up.
"Then we strike first," he said. "We take his supply routes, burn his outposts, and force him to bleed resources before he ever reaches our walls."
Silas smirked. "Now that's the Alexander I know."
For the first time, Emberhold was not just defending itself—it was waging war.
The First Steps of War
Within hours, plans were set into motion.
Tyrell's scouts were deployed ahead of the first strikes, marking supply caravans, key roads, and enemy patrol routes.Elias and Marcus began organizing the warriors for swift, coordinated raids rather than direct engagements. Speed and precision would win this war, not brute force.Silas worked on gathering information, using his network of informants to predict Vale's next moves.
The first target was a supply convoy heading toward Vale's nearest garrison. A large shipment of rations, weapons, and medical supplies was due to arrive in three days—if that convoy didn't make it, Vale's forces would feel the strain immediately.
"We'll take it in the night," Tyrell said. "Quick, silent, no survivors to report back."
Alexander nodded. "Make it happen."
The second target was a watchtower outpost that overlooked a key trade road. With that outpost gone, Vale would lose sight of Emberhold's movements and weaken his hold over the roads.
"We strike just before dawn," Elias decided. "Hard and fast. No time for them to send out messengers."
The Time of Waiting Was Over
As the preparations unfolded, the weight of the coming war settled over Emberhold.
The warriors sharpened their blades. The scouts moved like ghosts through the forests, preparing for the first blood to be drawn. The smiths hammered out final weapons, while the builders reinforced defenses for what was to come.
The cold war with Vale had ended.
Now, there would be no more waiting. No more cautious maneuvering.
The first real strikes of war would be made by Emberhold's hand.