Dawn painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson as Alexander and his men returned to Emberhold. Their raid had been a success—the Redhill Storehouse was nothing but charred remains, and Vale's forces would soon feel the weight of their loss. The air still carried the faint scent of smoke, a quiet reminder of the blow they had struck. But Alexander knew that this was only the beginning.
As he entered the war tent, Silas was already waiting, a knowing smirk on his face. He gestured to the map spread across the table, where new markers had been added, indicating recent movements in Vale's territory. "Word will spread by midday," Silas said, rolling out a fresh report. "Vale's supply lines just took a severe hit. If he doesn't act quickly, his forward troops will be eating scraps within the month."
Alexander removed his cloak, tossing it over the back of his chair as he studied the reports. Tyrell's scouts had confirmed the extent of the damage—without the supplies from Redhill, Vale's ability to sustain a prolonged campaign had weakened. His men could still march, still fight, but their rations would run thin, and desperation would start creeping into their ranks.
"How are his vassals responding?" Alexander asked, glancing up at Silas.
Silas' smirk widened. "Exactly as expected. His lords backed him because they thought he could keep control over this war. But now? Some of them are getting nervous. If Vale can't protect his own supply chains, what's stopping us from burning the rest?"
Elias let out a low chuckle, arms crossed over his chest. "And here I thought you nobles were all about honor and loyalty."
Silas shrugged, unbothered. "Loyalty is expensive. If Vale looks weak, his vassals will start hedging their bets. Some will fortify their own holdings instead of sending him more troops, others might even start negotiating with us. No one wants to be on the losing side of a war."
Alexander studied the map, fingers tapping lightly against the wooden table. This was their opening. If they could keep up the pressure, Vale wouldn't just be struggling to supply his forces—he would be struggling to keep his own men in line. And the moment doubt seeped into the minds of his allies, the war would no longer be solely fought on the battlefield.
"Then we push further," Alexander said finally. "Not with raids, not yet. We give his lords a reason to doubt him."
Silas raised a brow. "And how do you plan on doing that?"
Alexander leaned forward, his tone measured. "We make it known that anyone who chooses to stand aside—who refuses to reinforce Vale—won't be targeted by us. If they abandon him, we let them be. If they send more men, we treat them as enemies."
Elias grinned. "Divide and conquer. I like it."
Silas nodded slowly, considering the plan. "It could work. No lord wants to back a losing war. If enough of them hesitate, Vale will be left with a fraction of his expected reinforcements."
"Then we make sure they hear the offer," Alexander said. "We spread the word through merchants, travelers, anyone who can reach them."
With the plan set, the next stage of the war was in motion. It was no longer just a battle of swords—it was a battle of influence, of strategy, of making Vale's own allies doubt him.
The Introduction of The Maxwell Dominion's Banner
While the war continued, Emberhold itself was evolving. The settlement was no longer just a town—it was expanding, its reach stretching into the lands beyond its original borders. With new outposts, a growing industry, and an identity that extended beyond a single settlement, it was time to formalize what they had built.
The Banner of Emberhold had already been raised, a symbol of resilience and strength. But now, with new lands coming under their influence, a greater banner was needed—one that would represent all of Alexander's dominion.
The announcement was made that evening. The town square filled once again, just as it had when the Banner of Emberhold was first raised. But this time, the unveiling was different. It wasn't just for one town—it was for something greater.
As the fabric unfurled, the crowd murmured in awe. The Maxwell Dominion's banner was striking—bolder than Emberhold's, more commanding.
A black field dominated the background, representing the harshness of the frontier and the trials they had overcome.A crimson phoenix rose from golden embers, its wings spread wide—a symbol of rebirth, resilience, and a new power rising from hardship.A great sword and an anvil stood beneath the phoenix, intertwined, representing both strength and industry.Above the phoenix, a silver crown rested subtly, a quiet declaration of leadership and rule.The edges of the banner were lined with gold, a symbol of prosperity and ambition.
Silas stepped forward, his voice carrying over the gathered people. "This banner represents all we have built, all we will build. It is not just a flag—it is a promise. A promise that we will endure, that we will rise, and that from embers, strength is forged."
The wind caught the fabric, lifting it high above the settlement. For the first time, The Maxwell Dominion's colors flew.
Alexander stood at the front, watching as his banner rose into the sky. This was the beginning.
Fortifications & Industry Expansion
With the stone quarry now operating at higher efficiency thanks to Alexander's innovation, fortification efforts across Emberhold accelerated. The new method of controlled stone cutting using wooden wedges had doubled productivity, making stone structures more viable.
Gareth was overseeing the expansion personally. "We'll have the outer walls reinforced within the month," he reported. "Once that's done, we can start on better housing."
Owen, who had been handling most of the construction, nodded. "We're still short on wood, though. If we want more permanent buildings, we'll need to secure a better source."
Alexander frowned. "Then we prioritize efficiency. Less waste, more strategic use of what we have."
The Maxwell Dominion was no longer struggling for survival—it was building for the future.
Vale's Response & The Road Ahead
News of the raid on Redhill Storehouse had already spread across the region. Vale's forces were feeling the shortage, and his vassals had begun questioning his ability to lead. Reports indicated that some of them had delayed sending reinforcements, waiting to see if he could recover.
But Alexander knew Vale wasn't finished. The man was too proud, too experienced to crumble after a single setback.
Silas brought the latest report to Alexander that evening. "Vale's tightening his defenses. He's moving troops to protect the remaining storehouses."
"Expected," Alexander muttered. "He knows we'll strike again."
Elias smirked. "And he's right."
Alexander studied the map, noting the changes in Vale's troop formations. This was their moment to push further, to keep Vale off balance. But they had to be careful. The next move needed to be calculated, precise.
"We wait," Alexander said finally. "Let him spread his forces thinner. Then we strike again."
Silas nodded approvingly. "Keep him reacting, never acting."
As night fell over Emberhold, the banners of The Maxwell Dominion flew high, marking the beginning of something greater than war—a future that was being forged, one battle at a time.