Rise of the Horde

480  Chapter 480

The King of Lazica paced his chambers, the polished floorboards gleaming under the flickering candlelight. The weight of his crown felt heavier than ever, pressing down on his young shoulders.

The treaty with Ereia, a document he'd signed with such naive hope, now felt like a shackle. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the lines of worry etched deeper into his face each passing day.

The northern barbarians, once a manageable threat, were now a terrifyingly well-armed force, their iron weapons gleaming menacingly under the harsh northern sun. And it was all thanks to Adhalia.

Adhalia, the Ereians' seemingly innocuous merchant, whose caravans snaked their way across the plains, leaving a trail of iron and discontent in their wake. Her trade with the barbarians was a blatant violation of the spirit, if not the letter, of the treaty.

The King had repeatedly protested to the Ereians, but their response was always the same: a highlighted copy of the treaty, its clauses regarding free trade emphasized with garish colours, as if to imply that his concerns were frivolous, merely the whining of a disgruntled king.

"They mock me," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He could almost feel the scorn radiating from endless sands of Ereia.

A messenger arrived, interrupting his grim soliloquy. He carried a dispatch from Lord Valerus, the Lazican governor of the northern border. The King snatched the scroll, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfurled it.

The dispatch detailed the latest trade exchange between Adhalia's caravan and the barbarian horde. Hundreds of iron swords, spears, and axes had been exchanged for furs, livestock, and… rare minerals. The chilling detail sent a fresh wave of nausea over the King. This wasn't just about military superiority; this was about the systematic undermining of his influence, facilitated by Ereia's supposed neutrality.

The king's advisor, Lord Goran, a seasoned diplomat with a weary countenance, entered the room. He'd seen many kings come and go, and the burden of their crowns had etched deep lines onto his own face.

"Your Majesty," Goran began, his voice low and measured, "The situation grows more perilous with each passing day. The barbarians are bolder, more aggressive. Their fortifications are stronger, thanks to the Ereian iron."

The King slammed the dispatch onto his desk. "Bolder? Aggressive? They're conquering our lands, Goran! Taking our people! And Ereia stands idly by, claiming it's merely 'free trade.'"

"The treaty… it leaves us little recourse," Goran sighed, his gaze falling on the highlighted treaty copy. "They cite the clause guaranteeing free passage for merchants. Adhalia's caravans present no overt aggression. It's a clever loophole, a legalistic deception."

"Deception!" the King;s voice rose. "This isn't about legality; it's about survival! Our people are being slaughtered, enslaved, and Ereia is profiting from it!"

"What, then, do you propose, Your Majesty?" Goran asked, his voice tinged with a hint of despair.

He paced again, his mind a whirlwind of anger and desperation. "I will send another envoy," he declared. "A stronger one. One who will not be silenced by their legalistic games. I will make them understand that this is not about some abstract clause in a treaty. It is about the fate of my kingdom."

Goran nodded gravely. "But what if they refuse to listen, Your Majesty? What if they continue to turn a blind eye to what is actually happening?"

"Then we shall have no choice but to consider other options," The King replied, his tone hardening. "Options that may not adhere to the treaty, but will secure the survival of Lazica." He knew he was on a dangerous path, one that could lead to open war with Ereia, a power far greater than his own. But inaction was a death sentence. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The next morning, he dispatched a forceful envoy to Ereia, a seasoned warrior-diplomat known for his bluntness and unwavering loyalty. The envoy carried a message of stark warning, outlining the escalating crisis and explicitly blaming Ereia's complicity through Adhalia's trade. He demanded an immediate halt to the weapons trade and reparations for the damage inflicted.

Days turned into weeks, the tension mounting with each passing moment. News from the north grew increasingly grim. The barbarians, emboldened by their new weaponry, pressed their attacks with renewed vigour, pushing deeper into Lazican territory.

The young king, burdened by the weight of his responsibilities, felt the full force of his kingdom's vulnerability. He knew that the future of Lazica hung precariously in the balance, teetering on the edge of a precipice, its fate inextricably linked to the callous actions of Adhalia and the silent complicity of Ereia. The highlighted treaty lay on his desk, a constant reminder of a broken promise and a rapidly approaching war.

*****

The setting sun cast long shadows across the parched earth of the Burning Sands, painting the landscape in hues of orange and purple. Dust, stirred by the departing cavalries, hung heavy in the air, a testament to the recent conflict. General Kaphir, his face etched with the weariness of a protracted campaign, watched the two orcish leaders depart. Beside him stood Faynah, her own expression a mixture of relief and quiet anticipation.

Dhug'mhar, the weird leader of the Rhakaddon Cavalry, his face a mask of scarred granite, extended a massive hand to Kaphir. "The Sands are yours, General. For now, at least." His voice, deep and gravelly, carried the weight of centuries of conflict. "My warriors are eager to return. The fight with Threia calls, and the bloodlust of my people yearns for it."

Kaphir grasped the orc's hand, his own considerably smaller. "Your contribution has been invaluable, Dhug'mhar. Without your cavalry, the Ereian army would still be bogged down in this endless conflict." He paused, his gaze drifting towards the retreating lines of Rhakaddon riders. "Tell your Chieftain, Ereia remembers their aid. We owe you a lot, we will not forget."

Haguk, the leader of the Warg Cavalry, almost the same size as Dhug'mhar, approached next. He bowed low, a gesture surprisingly graceful for a warrior mounted on a hulking warg. "The sands are hot, General. And the north wind sings a song of war. We shall carry Ereia's thanks to the mountains." His tone lacked the bluntness of Dhug'mhar, but his eyes held the same unwavering intensity.

Faynah stepped forward, her hand resting lightly on Kaphir's shoulders. "Do tell Chief Khao'khen that if he requires our assistance, he just needed to send a word and we will oblige. The Darkhariss family will heed to the agreement. May your path to Threia be swift and your victories many." Her voice was calm, but the gratitude she expressed was sincere.

Dhug'mhar snorted, a sound like rocks tumbling down a mountain. "Swift and many, Lady Faynah. That is the orcish way." He then turned to Haguk. "Let us ride, brother. The mountains await."

Haguk nodded, a slight grin pulling at his lips. "Indeed. May our ancestors grant us victory." With a final, respectful nod to Kaphir and Faynah, the two orcish leaders turned their mounts and led their respective cavalries towards the distant horizon, leaving behind a cloud of dust that slowly settled back onto the unforgiving sands.

Kaphir watched them go, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. The departure of the two powerful cavalries left a palpable void. While many of the rebellious groups in the Burning Sands was subdued, the Ereian kingdom still faced challenges.

The smaller, scattered rebel groups, though currently insignificant, posed a potential threat if allowed to fester. Fortunately, the kingdom possessed effective intelligence gathering capabilities in the Eye in the Shadows and the Dark Elven Watchers. Their combined networks ensured that no rebellious movement remained undetected.

"They were invaluable," Kaphir commented, his voice low. He turned to Faynah. "Skigg'truk and his Fourth Warband will suffice for the remaining security tasks. We need to consolidate our gains and focus on rebuilding. The people need peace after this long conflict."

Faynah nodded in agreement. "The infrastructure of the Burning Sands is devastated. Rebuilding will require significant resources and manpower. We should begin allocating funds immediately and strategize on the best deployment of the remaining troops." She paused, her gaze turning towards the horizon where the dust clouds from the departing cavalries had finally dispersed. "And we need to maintain vigilance against those lingering rebel cells. The Eye in the Shadows and the Dark Elven Watchers must remain vigilant. We cannot afford another resurgence."

Kaphir sighed, the weight of his responsibility settling heavily on his shoulders. "Indeed. The long conflict has taxed our resources considerably. But we will rebuild. We will rebuild stronger than before. The victory is ours, for now, at least. We have bought Ereia peace. But we must be vigilant. Peace is a fragile thing indeed. And the vigilance of the Eyes and Watchers will be crucial for maintaining it."

The remaining portion of the evening was spent in detailed discussions of the kingdom's rebuilding efforts and the ongoing surveillance of the remaining rebel cells.

The quiet murmur of their conversation blended with the sounds of the night: the distant howl of a jackal, the rustle of wind through sparse vegetation, and the occasional creak of the nearby fortress.

The victory was hard-won, bought with blood and sacrifice, but the hope for a lasting peace flickered brightly in the eyes of General Kaphir and Faynah, even as the shadows of potential future conflicts loomed large on the horizon.

The task ahead remained monumental, but they were ready, prepared to face whatever challenges the future held, their vigilance sharpened by the recent conflict, their determination forged in the crucible of war. For now, at least, the Burning Sands were secure, and Ereia could now focus on the slow, arduous process of healing and rebuilding, its future resting upon the shoulders of the new leading figures of the kingdom.