The works for the western wall extension in Damu lay drenched beneath the winter rain that had fallen since morning.
Cold raindrops falling from the gray sky drenched the stones and wooden scaffolding. White breath puffed from the mouths of the stonemasons, rising into the chilly air. One Dawi stonemason placed his chisel against the wet surface of a stone and swung his hammer down.
Clang!
The sharp metallic sound pierced through the patter of the rain. Beside him, another stonemason repeated the same motion.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sounds of chisels striking stone erupted in succession.
"Grrrm! Why the hell are these stones so damn hard in this cursed weather!"
One Dawi stonemason grumbled as he wrung out his soaked beard on his chin. Water droplets plopped down.
"Quit your whining and get back to work! We have to finish this section before winter sets in!"
master builder Vargo shouted as he strode through the rain. His brown fur clung to his body, drenched by the downpour.
One Muwa stonemason folded his wet wings and crouched beside a pile of rocks. White breath leaked from his beak.
"Wings get so damn uncomfortable when they're soaked... This blasted rain!"
"Save the complaints for later, and move that stone first!"
At Vargo's bellow, the Muwa stonemason reluctantly stood up.
Workers bustled about along the wall. Sledges scraped through the mud, hauling stones.
The wheels of wagons sank deep into the muck, creaking and groaning.
One Dawi pushed a sledge laden with a massive stone, exhaling ragged breaths, while steam rose from his shoulders, radiating heat.
Wind blew in from the west. A cold, sharp gust that drove the rain onto the stonemasons' faces.
A young Dawi warmed his hands with his breath, shivering.
"This cold I can handle, but with the rain on top, my hands are freezing solid."
"Move your body and you'll warm up!"
Logan shouted from nearby, placing his chisel on a wet stone and swinging his hammer. Clang! The sound rang out as stone fragments flew.
Beyond that, at the point where the southern and western walls met, a massive stone watchtower rose.
The tower was already completed up to the third level. Gray stones were meticulously stacked to form a hulking structure. Wide firing slits for crossbows and ballistae pierced the walls of each level. The stones around the windows were smoothly polished, allowing rainwater to cascade down.
The top of the tower lacked a roof yet, but a wide open space offered views in all directions.
Stones from the Monos quarry, flecked with black crystals, darkened in the rain upon the tower's outer walls. The base was thick and sturdy. Befitting its size—several times that of a typical watchtower—its presence alone was overwhelming.
Keuraber stood at the top of the tower, gazing downward. Rain soaked his worn leather coat.
He clutched the collar of his coat with one hand and stared out at the Tharn Forest beyond the wall. White breath rose from his mouth as well.
'The southern section is nearly done. Now, if we just finish the second segment of the western wall... We should complete it before spring arrives.'
He turned his head, shifting his gaze along the western wall. An unfinished section came into view. Piles of stones lay there, with workers laboring in the rain.
'That segment... It'll take at least two more days. If only this rain would let up...'
As he lost himself in thought, something caught his eye flying from between the trees in the Tharn Forest.
Keuraber narrowed his eyes and focused on it. It was a Muwa with white feathers speckled in brown. Its wingbeats were irregular and labored. The Muwa pierced through the rain toward the wall. Its wings looked heavy, sodden with water. One wing drooped, throwing off its balance.
"Oh no..."
Keuraber quickly began descending the tower stairs.
The Muwa barely made it over the wall. It flapped its wings in an attempt to land, but its strength gave out, and its body pitched forward. Thud! It collapsed onto the wall's floor. Water droplets sprayed from its soaked feathers.
"Someone's down!"
"Over there, someone's arrived!"
The stonemasons halted their work and rushed over. Two Dawis knelt beside the fallen Muwa. One shook its shoulder.
"Hey! Are you okay?"
"Bring some water!"
Another stonemason yelled. A Muwa stonemason hurried over with a water bucket.
"Looks utterly exhausted..."
"What happened? How'd it end up like this?"
The stonemasons murmured among themselves. Keuraber descended the stairs swiftly and approached the gathering. His footsteps splashed on the wet stone of the wall.
The crowd parted to make way. Keuraber crouched before the fallen Muwa. Its white feathers were a mess of mud and rainwater. Its beak gaped open, ragged breaths escaping. Its chest heaved rapidly.
"Give it some water."
Keuraber extended his hand. Someone handed him the bucket. He trickled a bit of water into the Muwa's beak. The Muwa coughed and opened its eyes. Yellow pupils gazed at Keuraber, unfocused.
"It's alright. Breathe slowly."
Keuraber said gently. The Muwa steadied its breaths a few times before speaking.
"I... I'm Hwual from Udaba village."
Its voice was hoarse and trembling.
"Udaba? You came all the way from that far-off place?"
One Dawi stonemason asked in surprise.
"Udaba... That's quite a distance from here, isn't it?"
Another stonemason muttered, nodding.
Hwual's beak quivered as it spoke again.
"Orcs... The orcs... The village... The orcs to the village..."
Its voice grew fainter. Its eyes slowly closed, and its head lolled to the side. It had fainted.
"Quick, get this fellow inside! We need to warm him up!"
Keuraber shouted. Two Dawi stonemasons carefully lifted Hwual. They hurried toward the barracks below the wall.
Keuraber stood and gazed out at the western Tharn Forest. Sheets of rain obscured his vision. A dark shadow fell across his face.
"Orcs, huh..."
He murmured lowly.
*****
Evening arrived.
In the heart of Damu, near the barracks, the thick wooden door of the council chamber building swung open. It creaked, letting light spill out from within.
The interior was bathed in a soft orange glow. Wall-mounted mana stones emitted warm light throughout. Each mana stone, about the size of a palm, bore faintly glowing runes of Damu, illuminating the surroundings. The light was uneven—bright in some spots, casting deep shadows in others.
Stone walls were adorned with banners from various clans. The largest bore an emblem of interlocked claws. Black thread embroidered on a brown cloth background. Beside it hung a red cloth with a white-threaded, intricately stitched sun emblem. Another featured mountains and stars, silver thread embroidered on blue cloth. The banners draped from the walls, their lower edges sagging with weight.
At the center of the room stood a round table crafted from thick oak. Its surface bore scratches and dents from years of use. Spread across it was a large map, fashioned from processed tree bark.
Damu's walls were boldly outlined in thick lines, buildings marked as small squares. To the west lay the Tharn Forest, beyond which stretched the badlands. Dots scattered across the map indicated village locations, each labeled with tiny script beside them.
Gardon stood at the center of the round table, looking down at the map. His massive frame blocked the mana stone light, casting a large shadow over it. His plate armor gleamed with a dark golden sheen in the orange light. The edges of his shoulder guards reflected the glow.
His usual boisterous smile was absent from his face. His jaw was set firm, eyes fixed on the map. His brows were slightly furrowed. His thick fingers slowly traced over the map, pointing to the western region.
"Explain the situation, Rilbeur."
Gardon's voice filled the room. It was lower than usual, weighted with gravity. A slight tremor lingered at the end, but he suppressed it.
Twelve chairs surrounded the round table. Eight were occupied by Dawi and Muwa warlords. One Dawi warlord sat with arms crossed, glaring at the map. His brown fur bristled with tension. His ears twitched. Another Dawi warlord had his hands on the table, fingers tapping rhythmically. One Muwa warlord huddled with wings tucked tight against his body, head bowed. His feathers puffed up in anxiety. Another Muwa warlord opened and closed his beak repeatedly. All their gazes were heavy.
Rilbeur rose from his seat. He was a Muwa with gray feathers, white streaks around his beak. He walked to the table's edge and stood before the map. He spread his wings briefly, then folded them. His eyes scanned the map.
The tip of his wing slowly rose, pointing into the air. A faint blue light began to shimmer from the wing's end. It rippled outward like waves.
As Rilbeur moved his wing, small luminous shapes rose from the village markers on the map. They resembled pebble-sized flames, emitting a faint white glow. The shapes floated gently upward, hovering in the air. Mingling with the mana stone light, the room grew brighter.
"The armies of orcs and minotaurs are burning villages on the Star side (north) and Land side (south) of the Nauulaat River, advancing toward Damu."
Rilbeur's voice was calm, yet coiled with tension. He continued, pointing to the western map with a finger from his manifested hand.
One Dawi warlord stood, leaning forward. His chair scraped back against the floor.
"This isn't the usual small-scale raids, then?"
His voice was rough.
Another Dawi warlord chimed in.
"We heard it's a massive force. Is that true?"
Rilbeur nodded slowly.
"Yes. It's on a scale unlike anything we've faced before."
He paused, took a deep breath, then looked at Gardon.
"Muwas who flew in from each village witnessed it firsthand."
His voice lowered.
"They said the forest was covered in orcs. Between the trees, behind the bushes, atop hills, in the valleys below... Everywhere they looked, orcs."
Rilbeur moved his wing again. The blue light trailed his motion across the western map.
"It was an endless horde. One Muwa, flying over the Tharn Forest, saw orcs and minotaurs. It seemed as if the entire forest was moving. All visible through the trees were ashen orc skins and black armor."
The room fell silent. Someone swallowed audibly.
"They couldn't even count them; the horde surged without end."
Rilbeur added.
"One Muwa flew low and heard their war cries. The ground trembled. Thousands, tens of thousands of footsteps merged into thunder."
One Muwa warlord flapped his wings. Feathers rustled.
"A force of that size..."
His words trailed off.
Rilbeur shook his head.
"We've never seen such numbers penetrate this deep into the Sun side(east), heading straight for Damu."
His wing moved once more. It pointed to the farthest western end on the map, the Moon side tip's small luminous shape. The shape glowed brightly, then dimmed as Rilbeur lowered his wing. It faded slowly, scattering like a dying candle flame.
"Starting from the Moon side(west) end, Udaba..."
Rilbeur's finger moved upward. He pointed to the next shape. It dimmed and vanished in the same manner.
"Wirowi..."
The third shape extinguished. Light scattered in the air.
"Fhalba..."
The fourth. Gone.
"Dwina..."
Rilbeur's voice grew even lower. His eyes met Gardon's directly.
"All these villages have been burned or abandoned. The orc and minotaur armies press on without pause toward Damu."
Gardon's fist slammed onto the table. Thud! The heavy sound reverberated through the room. The table shook. Small stone pieces on the map rattled. The mana stone lights flickered.
"Has word come from the Moonlit Citadel?"
Gardon's voice burst forth. A faint tremor underlaid it. He clenched his jaw. His facial muscles hardened. His brows furrowed deeper. He drew a deep breath, chest expanding. He exhaled slowly.
The Moonlit Citadel. Where his son Daroon served as garrison commander. The troops there were few.
A small fortress on the western badlands to monitor orcs and minotaurs. Something tightened in Gardon's chest. But he couldn't show it. If the Grand Warlord wavered, all would falter.
Rilbeur nodded slowly.
"Ah, a Muwa soldier flew in from the Moonlit Citadel as well."
He paused, observing Gardon's face.
"A band of minotaurs attacked the citadel. But Captain Daroon and his soldiers repelled them."
Gardon's eyes brightened slightly. The tension in his shoulders eased a fraction.
"But..."
Rilbeur continued.
"Expecting reinforcements to follow, Captain Daroon has abandoned the citadel and is leading the nearby villagers from the Sun side(east) toward Damu. One Muwa soldier flew here on his orders to deliver this news."
Gardon exhaled slowly. His eyes closed, then opened. He braced his hands on the table. Fingers pressed into the surface. The wood creaked. He lifted his head. He straightened his shoulders and back.
'Good. Daroon is safe.'
His mind steadied. He looked down at the map. His finger pointed to the Moonlit Citadel's location.
"Without knowing the exact scale of the orcs and minotaurs, we must first ascertain their numbers."
Gardon raised his head, surveying the warlords.
"Who can lead a scouting party?"
One Muwa seated at the table's side stirred. He spread his wings wide. Black and brown feathers gleamed in the mana stone light. His wings beat down once, strongly. A gust stirred. The map's edges fluttered on the table. He lifted into the air, flying toward the table's center. His talons touched the surface. Click, click. Sharp claws scratched the wood. He landed on the table, right beside the map.
His eyes narrowed, fixing on Gardon. Deep golden pupils flashed in the mana stone glow.
"If it's scouting, this Salma will handle it personally, Grand Warlord Gardon."
Salma's voice rang out smooth and resolute. His talons scratched the table again.
The mana stones swayed, shedding faint light. In that dimness, Gardon regarded Salma. Their gazes met in the air. Weight emanated from Gardon's eyes, sharpness from Salma's.
The council chamber fell into silence.