Rise of the Horde

The flickering torchlight cast long, dancing shadows across the finely crafted table in the center of the room.

Queen Elara, her face etched with the weariness of a manybattles and a lifetime of loss, addressed her sisters, Aella and Kaela.

Beside her stood Syvis, her loyal companion, seemingly indifferent to the heated discussion unfolding before them. The air hung thick with the scent of damp stone and unspoken anxieties.

"We need allies," Elara stated, her voice resonating with a controlled firmness. "The orcs...although seemingly weird... and despite their… unconventional nature of conducting themselves. The Ereians, though with a new leader at the helm. An alliance with them would secure our peaceful settlement in their lands."

Aella slammed her fist on the table, the sound echoing harshly in the confined space. "Allies? You speak of allies once again! After what happened to Mother? After *they* betrayed us, leaving us to flee like hunted animals?" Her voice, raw with bitterness and pain, trembled slightly. The memory of the massacre, the betrayal, the desperate flight—it was a wound that refused to heal.

Kaela, though calmer in demeanor, mirrored her sister's distrust. "Elara," she began, her voice measured, "I understand the strategic advantage. But these are not races known for their trustworthiness. The Orcs are unpredictable... and we know for certain of their hate for our race... often referring to us as long ear. The hate between our races has been going on for generations ever since our races came in contact with each other. Although we are now separated from the main line of our race, we are still of elven lineage." She paused, her gaze meeting her sister's

"And the Ereians...we don't know much about them, but one thing for certain, they would also stab us in the back in front of benefits". "How can we risk another betrayal?" she continuned.

Elara sighed, the weight of their grief and mistrust heavy upon her shoulders. She knew their reservations were born from justifiable pain.

Their mother, their former leader before Elara, had been brutally murdered in a treacherous alliance, forcing their desperate escape into these unknown territories. The memory was a constant shadow hanging over their fragile kingdom.

"I understand your fear," Elara conceded, her voice softening slightly. "The pain of betrayal runs deep. But we cannot afford to let our past dictate our future. We are vulnerable, outnumbered, and our resources are dwindling. This alliance, though risky, offers the best chance of survival, of securing a future for our people."

"A future built on shifting sands," Aella countered, her voice sharp. "These are not people we can trust. They'll turn on us the moment it benefits them."

"We'll take precautions," Kaela interjected, her voice a carefully modulated attempt at compromise. "We won't fully entrust ourselves to them. We'll maintain our own forces, our own defenses. And we'll watch them closely."

The debate continued for hours, punctuated by sharp exchanges and tense silences. Aella remained resolutely opposed, her distrust a fortress seemingly impervious to reason.

Kaela, though more cautious and measured in her approach, shared her sister's fundamental skepticism.

Syvis, silent throughout, remained a stoic presence, her expression unreadable, her loyalty unquestioned but her opinion unspoken.

Elara presented arguments about the strategic importance of the alliance, the potential benefits, the necessary risks.

She painted a vivid picture of the dangers they faced if they remained isolated, vulnerable to attack. She spoke of the need for a strong, unified front, a chance to rebuild and reclaim what they had lost.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a fragile compromise began to emerge.

Kaela, seeing the desperation in Elara's eyes, proposed a conditional alliance. "We agree to a temporary alliance," she said, "but with strict conditions. If we detect even the slightest hint of betrayal, we break the alliance immediately, and we retreat. No questions asked."

Aella, though still deeply hesitant, eventually nodded. The fear of another betrayal was paramount, but the reality of their vulnerable situation was undeniable.

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The unspoken understanding between the sisters was palpable—a deep-seated distrust, balanced against a desperate need for survival. Their willingness to accept the alliance came with a heavy price—eternal vigilance, a readiness to flee at a moment's notice.

"Agreed," Elara said, a weary relief in her voice. The victory felt hollow, bittersweet. The alliance was a gamble, a calculated risk born out of necessity rather than trust.

The shadow of their mother's death, the bitter taste of betrayal, would forever linger. But for now, survival seemed a little less distant. The price of safety, however, remained a constant, unspoken vigilance—a perpetual readiness to abandon the alliance and flee into the shadows if even the slightest hint of duplicity emerged.

The sisters, scarred by their past, had chosen a path forward, but their hearts remained guarded, ready to retreat into the safety of distrust at the first sign of danger.

The dark elven runners, their faces etched with the weariness of long miles and the gravity of their mission, melted into the shadowed alleys of Ishtar.

Their cloaks, the same dark hue as the Ereian night, offered little concealment from Faynah's network. She, perched high in a watchtower overlooking the manor where the dark elves held their council, had already anticipated their movements. The agreement, brokered after days of tense negotiations, hung heavy in the air, a fragile peace treaty waiting to be tested.

The manor itself, a gift from the Ereians, stood in stark contrast to the surrounding, brightly lit city. Its architecture, a blend of Ereian grandeur and dark elven practicality, hinted at the uneasy alliance forged in the fires of recent conflict.

Inside, the air thrummed with a subdued energy. The dark elves, known for their stoic nature, displayed a nervous restlessness. The decision, the one that had spurred the runners' hurried journey, was momentous. It concerned their continued presence in Ereia, a matter of delicate balance given the lingering distrust between the two races.

One of the runners, a wiry female named Lyna, approached the manor's heavily guarded gates. The Ereian guards, though initially suspicious, recognized the dark elf sigil embroidered on her cloak and allowed her passage.

Inside, she delivered the message to a stoic-faced elder, his features a roadmap of years spent navigating the treacherous currents of dark elves' situation. The news was received with a quiet intensity, the gravity of the decision etched onto each face within the dimly lit hall.

Meanwhile, Faynah's own messengers were making their way to Khao'khen, the main leader of the orcish forces that had fought alongside the dark elves.

They carried a brief summary of the agreement, highlighting the dark elves' commitment to remain in Ereia, provided certain conditions were met. It was a carefully worded message, devoid of emotion, reflecting the cautious optimism that lay at the heart of the newly forged alliance.

"The dark elves have agreed to our terms," one of Faynah's messengers, a young man named Theron, reported to Khao'khen, his voice tight with the weight of the information. Khao'khen already expected the result but he still listened intently, his expression unchanged.

"The details?" Khao'khen asked, his voice low and measured.

"They will remain within Ereia, assisting in border patrols and providing military assistance. In exchange, Ereia will continue to shelter them and provide necessary support to guarantee their safety," Theron replied. He paused, his gaze unwavering. "But they still remain wary. They insist on keeping the identities and locations of their people a secret."

Khao'khen stroked his chin, his eyes thoughtful. "Their demands are… a little bold."

Well he can't actually blame the dark elves for being careful. They are in lands that are not their own, a kingdom that is not theirs, and surrounded by possible enemies everywhere.

Khao'khen dismissed the messenger, then turned towards Sakh'arran. "How is the progress on the defenses?" he questioned.

Khao'khen brought with him half of the orcish horde, along with those who have newly arrived to Ishtar, those who were in charge of building the roads.

"It is going well, chief. We have already finished the foundations of the fort. Perhaps in month's time, it will be functional already, and would be a great barrier against enemies who would dare to invade Ereia." Sakh'arran answered.

The border town, Takris, situated just less than an hour of journey from the borders of Ereia with the now destroyed Kingdom of Alberna lacked any form of formal defense. The town was just surrounded with a rotting wooden wall, that easily crumbled when he gave it a mighty kick.

The former rulers of Ereia trusted too much on their natural barrier, the vast expanse of unforgiving desert, against any invaders..

Although the terrain works in their favor, and would certainly deter many from invading them, a well prepared army would still get through their natural barrier.

That is the reason why Khao'khen decided to build a fort by the town. Though the Tortuga Fortress was now in the hands of the Ereians, who knows when the newly established Kingdom of Lazica decideds to take it back with all that they have. Ereia would then be vulnerable once again, with just the desert to slow down the advance of the invading foes towards the heart of the kingdom.

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