[150 Powerstones Bonus Chapter]
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One year ago, in the autumn.
Kaen led six companions—Caden, Zakri, Mundar, Lairon, Cathril, and Ameliah—from the eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains, through the wilds of the Anduin River Valley, to this distant land, where they founded the Kingdom of Eowenríel.
Of these, Caden, Zakri, and Mundar still had wives and children back in the valley. When they had set out, Kaen had promised them: by the summer of this year, they would return home.
That time had come.
Kaen summoned all his ministers and military commanders to court. Even Mundar, who had been stationed far off in the city of Azure Spring, was called back to attend.
Standing before them all, Kaen spoke:
"A host is raised not to idle in peace, but to be tempered in battle. A mighty kingdom is not born of quiet fields and idle harvests—it is forged by the bones of its enemies, stacked high and terrible beneath its banners."
"You have likely heard that a company of dwarves has arrived in our land. They hail from the East—once the richest of all kingdoms beneath the mountain: Erebor, the throne of Durin's folk."
"Their leader is none other than the last prince of Erebor—Thorin Oakenshield. He has come to entreat our aid, asking that our host march with him to slay Smaug, the dreaded fire-drake that defiled their mountain."
"His offer in return: one-fifteenth of Erebor's hoard—once the richest in all Middle-earth. Or… the heirloom of Durin's line itself—the priceless jewel known as the Arkenstone."
A murmur rippled through the gathered lords and ministers.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then old Jack stood. His gaze was resolute, his voice firm:
"My lord, your kingdom rises like the sun at dawn—your light is fierce and your will beyond defiance. The civil administration stands with you."
The rest followed swiftly. Tifa, Norman, Hubert, Will—all the stewards of the realm rose and pledged themselves in silence, their eyes steady and unwavering.
Caden spoke next:
"The young warriors of the kingdom thirst for glory. Our spears have long since been polished."
Sigilion added:
"The steeds of the heavy cavalry are stout and ready. Where your will leads, our hooves shall follow—and there the borders of the kingdom shall extend."
Then Lairon, Cathril, Mundar, and Reger all stepped forward, voices rising in unison:
"For the king we ride, to live or die without regret!"
Kaen rose as well. Drawing the Sword of Courage and Glory, he met their gazes with unwavering determination.
"Muster the host. We march—for the Lonely Mountain!"
….
At the Royal Academy of Healing, Ameliah had just finished lecturing her students when she saw Kaen waiting quietly outside her hall.
"My lord!"
She rushed toward him, prepared to bow, but he lifted a hand to stop her.
Kaen looked down at her small hands and softened, a rare gentleness blooming across his face.
"There's something I meant to have Cathril tell you," he said, "but it's been too long since we've spoken. So I came myself."
"What is it?" Ameliah asked, her smile warm and serene, like a calm lake under sunlight.
"Walk with me," Kaen replied.
They strolled through the meadows of the valley Elohir's Field, sunlight falling like gold across the hills, a breeze brushing gently past them. There was no need for words; their presence was enough.
Sitting on the grass, Ameliah leaned her head against Kaen's shoulder.
He said softly:
"I march soon for the Lonely Mountain. We'll pass through the Anduin Valley—where we first met, where it all began… our home."
Breathing in the scent of him, Ameliah was quiet for a while. Then she whispered:
"Wherever you are, that's where I belong. I'm not like Caden or the others—I have no family either. Only you."
Kaen gently stroked her golden hair.
"Then you are my family."
Ameliah hesitated. "And only me? You could lie, and I'd still believe you…"
Kaen smiled faintly. "I won't lie. There's also Tifa, and Cathril, and Joanna…"
…..
In the end, when she learned how vast and brutal the coming war would be, Ameliah resolved to lead a hundred healers into battle. Their presence would become a source of courage for warriors to fight without fear of wounds.
The kingdom entered a full state of martial readiness.
All resources were diverted toward the army.
Troops gathered in Aurienel, to the east. Grain, weapons, and supplies flowed in without end.
The Kingdom of Eowenríel could now muster a total of 5,200 soldiers.
Kaen took with him:
> 1,000 bow infantry,
> 500 mounted archers,
> 500 heavy infantry,
> 500 heavy cavalry,
> 100 scouts of the ranger corps,
> 100 Royal Guard.
A 2,700-strong expeditionary force, bolstered by auxiliary forces numbering up to 5,000 horses.
It was a formidable army.
Every soldier was equipped with runed weapons and armor—wrought from ancient dwarven techniques and strengthened through enchantments.
Six months of relentless training had passed.
And thanks to Kaen's mysterious system panel and its triple-speed development bonus, their strength had grown at a terrifying pace.
> The archer infantry could now rival elite rangers.
> The mounted archers moved and struck like thunderclouds, harrying enemies across the plains.
> The heavy infantry and cavalry now stood shoulder to shoulder with the greatest of battlefield forces.
> The Royal Guard, clad in golden runed plate, were a breed apart—even five enemies on horseback would fall before one of them in single combat.
This was the greatest host Kaen's kingdom could currently raise.
In terms of logistics, they lacked not in resources—but in people.
Even with the accelerated development, the population had barely crossed 60,000. To field a professional army of 5,000 was already an extraordinary feat.
Leaving some behind to defend the kingdom, Kaen had scraped together a maximum force of 2,700 elite troops and 2,300 auxiliaries. Any more would risk the safety of the realm itself.
As for the commanders—Kaen brought all of them.
The coming battle—the legendary Battle of the Five Armies—was to be an epic-tier campaign, its scale vast enough that any hero unit who survived might rise from elite rank to epic.
Thus, not a single captain was left behind. Every one of Kaen's champions would ride into this war.
….
However, for now, Kaen would not march with the main army.
Instead, he would ride ahead, with Thorin's dwarven expedition and a hundred Royal Guards, on a separate mission.
They were bound to uncover the secret of a certain ancient map,a secret passage to the Lonely Mountain.
The secret of that passage was inscribed on a map, and a special key was forged—engraved with the words: "The Heir of Durin."
These two relics were handed down from king to king, treasured symbols of the royal line of Erebor.
But when Thorin's father went missing, both key and map were lost to time.
Many years later, Gandalf uncovered a withered, aged dwarf in the ruins of Dol Guldur. It was none other than Thráin, Thorin's father.
With his final breath, Thráin gave the map and key to Gandalf, begging him to return them to Thorin.
Now, only a handful still remembered the secret hidden within the runes of that map. To decipher it, they would need someone ancient, wise, and learned.
The first to come to Gandalf's mind—
Was Kaen's own teacher, a master of lore who dwelt in the halls of Rivendell… Elrond.