The snowfall hadn't stopped all night. Luminaar woke to a white world.
The operation was a success. Lucas's group lost two men, one volunteer and a village guard, while Captain Rhys's team faced only a lone shadowfang scout and emerged without casualties.
The operation carried on until just before nightfall, and they gathered enough wood for the repairs and even a small reserve.
Kael hadn't wanted to get out of bed this morning. Too much in his head. Too many scenes replaying behind his eyes. The fight had ended in moments — two spells from him, and then it was over. What followed was Kael taking out his anger on the wounded and defenseless creature.
I should've opened with something heavy. An ice spear, maybe. Take one out before it closes the gap. He exhaled through clenched teeth. I thought it'd go like the dire wolves. They were stronger, faster than shadowfangs… and still—
Kael pushed back the thin blanket, the cold air biting at his skin as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
The silence of his room was heavy, but outside, the village was already stirring, footsteps crunching through the snow, voices calling out orders.
They are getting ready while I can't even manage to get out of bed. He chucked dryly. I need to get it all together before the attacks start.
There was a knock on the door, and the servant boy's voice called out, "The food is ready, milord."
Kael rubbed his face and pushed himself to his feet. He pulled on his cloak and followed the boy down the narrow, dimly lit hallways toward the dining hall.
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and warm light spilled out, mingling with the rich aroma of roasted meat and fresh bread. The murmur of voices grew louder as Kael stepped inside.
Lucas sat by the fire, a weary grin tugging at his lips as he shared a story with a few guards. Nearby, Captain Rhys poured ale into tankards, his stern gaze softening as he caught sight of Kael.
The room felt like a fragile reprieve from the cold and bloodshed outside. Kael took a deep breath and took his place on the long table.
Rhys was already seated at the table when Kael arrived. A few moments later, Lucas joined them, the weight of the night evident in his tired eyes. The majordomo was absent, not that he was needed for this discussion.
The table was filled with roasted meat, fresh bread, and a few other dishes.
Just like the previous day, they ate in silence. Kael barely tasted the food, his mind too tangled. He shoveled the meal into his mouth more out of habit than hunger, the warm flavors lost on him as his thoughts raced.
Kael finished first, pushing his plate aside and waiting for the others to catch up. When the last bite was swallowed, he cleared his throat.
"Are the funerals arranged?"
Lucas nodded slowly, eyes downcast. "Yes. Tomorrow at dawn. The village priest will conduct the rites. It's the least we can do."
Rhys grunted, leaning forward, fingers drumming on the table. "We'll give 'em what honor we can. But if you ask me, we need to dig more graves before the ground freezes."
Lucas shot Rhys a sharp glance, but said nothing.
Kael's jaw tightened. "Agreed. Get that done."
Giving that order felt bad, digging up graves before they were even needed... Fuck.
"Have the repairs started?" Kael asked, a frown on his face.
"Yes, since the first tree arrived yesterday, the repairs to the walls and tower should be done in two days," Lucas replied, the usual carefree look was gone from his face.
"So we need to get lucky and hope they don't come knocking sooner than that," Kael said, his voice low but firm. "Get the best hunters and scouts to go out and gather information. They should avoid engaging the monsters if they don't have to."
"That would be for the best," Lucas agreed, nodding. "We need to understand their numbers, their patterns. Without that, we're flying blind."
Rhys's eyes darkened with resolve. "I'll see to it. I know who to trust out there. If anyone can bring us news without ending up as a meal, it's them."
Kael gave a curt nod. "Good. What else can we do to strengthen the defenses? Traps?"
Lucas perked up slightly. "We managed to retrieve the old bear traps that were scattered in the woods before you arrived. They're crude but brutal, we will set them along the most likely approach routes. They won't stop a shadowfang outright, but they'll slow them down and buy us precious time."
Kael allowed a small smile. "That's better than nothing. How about spikes on the walls? Do we have enough wood?"
Lucas's smile faded a bit. "Not enough to cover every inch, but we can fortify the most vulnerable spots, the broken palisades, the gatehouse, near the watchtowers. The rest will have to rely on our men."
Rhys snorted softly. "The walls might hold if we can keep those beasts off. But the moment they find a weak point, it'll be a bloodbath."
Kael rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "If the weather holds, I can put about ten ice spikes daily—each one sharp enough to pierce through thick hide. If we manage to put them in key places, it'll be a nasty surprise."
Rhys leaned forward, the firelight flickering over his weathered face. "I'll organize training. It's harsh work, but if they want to live, they'll learn fast."
A tense silence settled over the table, the weight of their task pressing in.
Kael broke it, his voice quieter now. "We prepare for war. Every day counts."
After the last word hung heavy in the air, they rose from the table without another glance. Lucas and Rhys moved off to marshal their men and oversee the preparations.
Kael remained behind, the quiet of the room settling around him like a cold cloak. The flickering firelight cast long shadows across the walls, but inside, he felt nothing but the gnawing weight of what lay ahead.
For a moment, he simply stood there, alone with his thoughts.
I was a bit skeptical about the classes I got in the Count's manor, but never did I expect they would put me in command of a settlement. I should have studied more about command and management.
His fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the wooden table, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet room. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, each beat a reminder of how unprepared he felt.
That did not sound like me at all. Two days in this village and I already feel like a different man. Things are moving faster than I can even think them through.
Kael pushed back his chair and rose from the table, the weight of the conversation still pressing on his shoulders. The firelight flickered behind him as he stepped through the heavy wooden door and into the biting cold of the morning.
Outside, the snowfall continued, thick and steady, wrapping Luminaar in a quiet white shroud. The village looked different beneath the fresh blanket, almost serene, yet beneath that calm lay the nervous energy of a settlement bracing itself for battle.
His boots crunched softly against the snow as he made his way down the main path toward the tower. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, but the harsh wind swallowed the warmth quickly. The palisade's broken sections looked smaller under the snow's cover, but the damage was still obvious. Alongside the tower, a group of villagers and guards were busy building a sturdy wooden ladder, its frame rough but solid, designed to replace the broken one that cut access to the tower.
Kael paused, watching as a burly man hammered the rungs into place, his breath steaming in the cold air.
Let's hope this works...
A distant sound reached him then, the rhythmic thuds of axes striking wood, the grunts of exertion, and shouted commands. Kael turned toward the training grounds, nestled between two rows of huts.
A cluster of about twenty villagers stood arranged in a rough formation. Some clutched pickaxes and axes, tools turned weapons, while others hefted wooden staffs or crude spears. A guard barked orders, demonstrating a stance or swing, his voice cutting through the cold air.
Kael's gaze lingered on the faces around him. Determination and fear wrestled there in equal measure. These were not soldiers—just farmers, woodcutters, miners, people who'd never held a weapon, now forced into roles they never imagined.
They're scared. But they want to survive. So do I.
The guard noticed Kael and gave a short nod, continuing the lesson with renewed vigor. Kael's hands clenched into fists at his sides.
I need to be better. I need to face my fear. For all of them.
He moved toward the palisade, where a handful of guards were affixing crude wooden spikes to the palisade. The spikes were jagged and uneven, but their intent was clear: to make climbing the walls a bloody ordeal.
Nearby, half-buried in snow, several bear traps lay waiting—silent sentinels in the white wilderness, ready to snare anything foolish enough to stumble into them.
He ran a gloved hand over a frost-coated post and exhaled a breath of cold air. This village, these people—they're counting on me. To protect them, to lead them. I can't let them down.
Kael turned back toward the manor, the snow crunching softly beneath his boots, the village slowly waking to meet the storm ahead.
He ran a gloved hand over a frost-coated post and exhaled a breath of cold air.
The change in me, the care I feel for this place and its people, isn't just a passing thought. It's the oath.
I vowed to protect this territory before I was sent here, and that vow pushes me to honor it. But I'm not angry, at least not much. I accept this task. This is my responsibility now. The oath may nudge me forward, but this is still my choice. I have to make it work.