The morning sun rose over Caelorn with a copper-gold glow, spilling light over the half-rebuilt walls and the lines of new recruits training in the yard. The city was changing—fast. What had once been a frightened settlement was now buzzing with the energy of a nation waking up.
Amani stood on the battlements, cape fluttering behind him. Below, the workers and fighters moved with purpose. It wasn't perfect, but it was becoming something real. Something strong.
"Lord Amani," Captain Serah called as she climbed the stairs. "The scouts have returned. They bring news."
Amani stiffened. "Good or bad?"
She paused. "Both."
Before he could ask further, the scouts approached. Their leader, a thin young man with dust on his boots, bowed quickly.
"My lord… we found them. The Iron Tribe."
Amani's eyes widened. The Iron Tribe—one of the largest and most feared groups of lords who had formed a brutal coalition to expand their territory. Their reputation was terrible. They conquered, enslaved, and absorbed weaker lords. And they were close.
"How close?" Amani asked.
"Three days' march. And…" The scout swallowed. "They're heading this way."
Serah clenched her fists. "So they've decided to test us."
Amani didn't panic—not outwardly. He had expected conflict eventually, but not this soon.
"Do they know about our alliance with the River Lords?" Serah asked.
"No," the scout said. "But they know Caelorn has grown stronger. It seems that alone is enough for them."
Amani turned away, eyes scanning the developing city. He wasn't afraid for himself—he was afraid for the thousands of civilians depending on him.
"We need allies," Serah said. "More than the River Lords."
Amani nodded. "We're sending envoys. To the Wood Clans. To the Desert Guilds. Anyone who stands against the Iron Tribe."
"And if they refuse?" Serah asked.
"Then we stand alone."
---
Later That Night
Amani sat alone in the council hall, a map spread across the table. Torches flickered as he traced the Iron Tribe's route.
Three days… maybe four if the weather slowed them.
A knock came at the door.
"Enter."
It was Liora, the young healer whose magic had once saved him in the ruins. "You look like you're carrying the whole world," she said gently.
"In a way, I am."
"You're not alone, Amani. The people believe in you. They'll fight for you."
He sighed. "I just hope they don't have to die for me."
Liora stepped forward, placing a small carved totem on the table. "This is a charm of protection. From my village back home. We used it when storms came."
He smiled faintly. "Do you think it works?"
"I don't know," she said softly. "But I think you work. And that's enough."
---
The Next Morning — The Iron Pact
Word spread quickly. Envoys had sent back replies.
The Wood Clans would join.
The Desert Guilds offered resources.
The River Lords pledged their elite fighters.
Amani stood before the gathered crowd—soldiers, workers, hunters, farmers. All eyes were on him.
"Caelorn!" Amani shouted. "A storm is coming. The Iron Tribe seeks to crush us. But we will not kneel!"
Voices roared back in agreement.
"We have formed a pact with our neighbors," he continued. "A pact of iron, of courage, and of survival. This city will not fall!"
The people cheered—loud, fierce, and united.
Amani raised his sword high.
"This is The Iron Pact—and with it, we begin a new chapter of our destiny!"
The crowd erupted.
The first true war of this new world had begun.