Chapter 12: Si vis pacem, para bellum
by SlivvoThe village of Embershore buzzed with urgency as word of the approaching goblin warband spread like wildfire. The morning sun cast long shadows over the bustling settlement, illuminating the frantic preparations. Villagers worked tirelessly, reinforcing the newly built stone walls, sharpening weapons, and securing vital supplies. Every able-bodied person had a role to play—this was no longer just a village; it was a fortress preparing for war.
Sorin, Hashan, Korovh, and Cailean stood inside the council chamber, a sturdy room carved from the tunnel leading to the dungeon heart. Rich furnishings, gifted by the people of Elan, adorned the chamber, but today there was no time for luxury. The elongated U-shaped table bore maps, battle plans, and hastily drawn sketches of potential ambush points. Around it sat the village elders, each a leader in their own right: Eldric, the human farmer; Liora, the elven herbalist; Brogar, the dwarven blacksmith; Tinker, the gnomish engineer; Aeris, the sprite healer; and Merrin, the halfling trader.
“We must be ready,” Sorin declared. “Our scouts estimate the goblins will reach us by nightfall.”
Hashan frowned, studying the map. “We should establish choke points along the roads leading into the village. If we force them into narrow passages, we can control their numbers.”
Korovh slammed a fist onto the table. “Our militia is willing, but inexperienced. We need more drills—formation training, quick response maneuvers.”
Cailean, clad in gleaming highsteel armor, nodded. “I’ll oversee their training. We must ensure that every fighter knows their role. A single mistake could mean disaster.”
The elders murmured their agreement as Liora added, “We also need scouts monitoring the goblins’ movements. The more we know, the better prepared we’ll be.”
Sorin met her gaze. “Agreed. I’ll handpick a team.”
With the strategy set, the council dispersed, each elder rushing to fulfill their duties. Sorin lingered for a moment, reflecting on how far they had come. From captivity under the goblins to leading a flourishing village, their journey had been arduous—but they had built something worth protecting.
Sorin opened his status page, eager to see his progress. His hard-fought battles had elevated him to Level 12, with new attribute points to allocate.
He distributed his points evenly, ensuring a well-rounded build. With his newfound strength, Sorin left the chamber and joined Hashan and Korovh outside.
The sun hung high, casting a golden hue over Embershore’s efforts. Blacksmiths hammered out new weapons and armor, farmers secured livestock, and gnomish engineers constructed traps and defensive turrets along the walls.
“We need to ensure everyone is ready,” Sorin said, surveying the scene. “Let’s check on the militia.”
At the training grounds, Cailean barked commands as the militia drilled in formations and counterattacks. The fighters, a mix of seasoned warriors and fresh recruits, executed maneuvers with growing confidence.
“They’re improving,” Cailean told Sorin as they observed. “Not perfect, but they’ll hold the line.”
Satisfied, Sorin and his companions continued their rounds, checking on vital preparations. At the outer defenses, villagers fortified the stone walls and laid out makeshift barricades. Hashan took recruits on an endurance run, while Korovh inspected a newly constructed forge beside a small iron mine—a game-changer for future weapon production.
At the construction site, Sorin used Analyze to assess the growing population. To his surprise, he discovered sprites living among them.
A healer named Aeris explained, “Like the goblins, we came seeking refuge. Here, we can build a future.”
Sorin nodded. “You’re welcome in Embershore. We need all the help we can get.”
Nearby, a gnomish builder named Tinker oversaw the final reinforcements on the gate. “The walls will hold,” he assured Sorin, “and the defensive mechanisms we’re installing should slow the goblins down.”
As the sun dipped lower, a scout from Elan arrived, breathless. “The goblins are closer than expected,” he gasped. “They’ve been raiding villages on their way here.”
Sorin’s chest tightened. “Which villages?”
The scout listed them—Greenfield, Raventon, Willowbrook. Every name was a knife to the gut.
Cailean’s jaw clenched. “We can’t wait. We must send for reinforcements from Chay.”
Sorin agreed. “I’ll prepare the villagers. We hold the line here.”
Night fell upon Embershore.
Torches lined the stone walls, casting flickering light on the watchful guards. The militia stood ready, weapons in hand. From the ramparts, Sorin gazed into the forest’s shadowy depths, knowing that within hours, war would reach their doorstep.
Hashan joined him, his expression resolute. “We’re ready, Sorin. Whatever comes, we face it together.”
Sorin nodded, his grip tightening around his sword. “Together.”
As the first howls of goblins echoed in the distance, Embershore stood defiant, its people prepared to fight for everything they had built.
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