A few days before the previous event, the sun cast long shadows as people ran through the dusty roads of a small village west of Ironmarch. The air was thick with the sounds of shouting and panicked screams. "Run, run for your lives!" echoed from all directions.
Inside a small wooden house, a middle-aged man was speaking with his teenage son.
"Son! Take your little sister now," the man said, his voice rushed as he held his boy's shoulders.
"No, dad! Come with us," the child begged, his voice cracking. From the other side of the room, the sound of a little girl crying could be heard.
"Ferin! Listen to me!" His voice grew stern and commanding. He looked into his child's eyes and gently caressed his head. "How can I abandon the village while I am the chief? I have to buy the people some time to flee." He smiled lightly, his face filled with determination for what was coming.
"But dad, you said it yourself that you can't beat those trolls. They will kill you," Ferin cried, clinging to his father. He couldn't bring himself to let go.
"Son, it is okay. Everything will be fine. Live for me. Live for your little sister!" He hugged his son tightly before gently pushing him away. "Take little Emy to the east. Run as fast as you can. You should be able to arrive at Ironmarch in two weeks if you keep running."
He then looked at his crying daughter. "You look exactly like your mother." He caressed Emy's crying face and planted a kiss on her forehead. Strangely enough, Emy stopped crying and looked at her father with wide, innocent eyes.
"I'm so sorry Nana, I'm such a useless husband," he said to himself, a silent tear rolling down his cheek. He went to the kitchen and pulled out a small sack. He put some fruits and rations inside and gave it to his son.
"This should be enough to last you for a week. If you carry more than this, it will only slow you down. You'll have to hunt in the woods on your way to Ironmarch." He tied the sack with a rope and handed it to Ferin. "Go, take your sister and survive!" He said one last time before he left the wooden house, leaving Ferin and Emy behind.
Outside, the village was a chaotic scene. People were running with their belongings, some were holding their weapons, and others were in a panicked frenzy, looking for a lost loved one.
The village chief went to the gate and found the village militia waiting for him. Their numbers were less than fifty.
"How long until the trolls get here?" he asked one of the militia.
"According to Todd, who spotted them when he went hunting, they will be here in less than ten minutes," the man said grimly.
"That fast?" The chief looked shocked. 'Can I buy enough time for Ferin and Emy?' he mused. He turned to his men.
"Everyone, I think we all know our fate," he said gravely. "We will all die here. But we will die for our family. We will give them enough time to flee. This will be our last hunt together, my friends. It's been an honor knowing all of you." He smiled at every one of them, as if he had already accepted his fate.
"For our family!"
"Kill these fuckin' trolls!"
"I'll take as many as I can! Fuck all of them!"
Shouts of fury and fervor could be heard from the villagers who were ready to die for their loved ones.
In the distance, the dense forest could be seen swaying as a loud sound of heavy footsteps got closer. "Huraa! Huraa! Huraa!" could be heard from inside the forest. As the sounds grew nearer, a figure over two meters tall with long hands and a muscular body appeared from the trees. He was holding an axe that was almost as big as an adult man. His skin was green, and two large fangs jutted out from his mouth.
They were trolls!
In a while, a group of trolls, more than twenty of them, started appearing from the forest, looking at the villagers who were waiting for them at the wooden gate. The leading troll slammed his foot on the ground rhythmically, and the others followed. As the beat got faster, the leading troll charged with full power toward the village. "Roarrr!"
Back to the present time, Luceran and the group are trotting on the road in an orderly fashion. Roughly half an hour ago, they just finished resting and having their lunch, so they are in their peak condition now. It could be seen from their faces, which looked fresh and not sweaty.
As they are trotting along, tens of people could be seen on the horizon running with all their might toward their location.
"Halt!" Luceran commanded, and the company stopped. Commander Borrin rode his horse next to Luceran.
"Your Highness, it looks like they are running from something," he said, his face solemn. The prince only nodded in response.
"They must be villagers from Dalawood, right?" Lieutenant Greg asked from the side.
"Yes, I have been to Dalawood twice. Their faces look familiar," Commander Borrin said.
Hearing their discussion, Luceran slowly moved to approach them on his horse, with the rest of the group following. As they grew closer, Luceran and his company couldn't help but frown. The faces of the fleeing villagers were painted with despair, panic, and grief. 'What is happening here?' Luceran mused to himself.
As the villagers approached the army, a woman in her thirties screamed, "Help! Help! Please help our village!"
"Calm down, what happened that made you all run like this?" Commander Borrin asked, his voice calm, leading the conversation.
"Trolls! Trolls are attacking our village!" The teenage boy named Ferin shouted from behind, holding his little sister, who was about a year old. His eyes were swollen and full of dirt.
"What! Trolls?" Borrin gasped. Luceran and the others were also shocked. Trolls usually lived in mountainous regions or dark forests. There were many troll villages scattered around Primordia, including in the Kyros Divine Empire. The reason giant factions like the empire did not exterminate the scattered troll forces was because it took a lot of manpower to track them down one by one and wasted a lot of resources to mobilize a large force. So, giant factions usually left this kind of problem to mercenary organizations to handle.
What made them shocked was because cases like this rarely happened. Such an event could easily lead to racial conflict. If more hidden troll camps started attacking small villages like this, it would not be impossible for the empire to retaliate.
"They are seeking death," Luceran said flatly. His eyes were cold as if he had already sentenced the trolls to death.
"Why are they doing this? They are territorial, but trolls outside of Gorgoloth Region rarely raid villages like this, unless there is a good reason for them to do so," Kellen said, his face a frown of confusion.
While some of the soldiers were comforting the villagers, Ian and Liz looked troubled. "Your Highness, I think we should help them," Liz said, her face sad, empathizing the villagers. The others nodded when they heard her suggestion.
"We will. Men! We will march to the village as quickly as we can! Commander Borrin, ask a villager to lead the way!" he ordered.
"Yes, Your Highness!" Borrin bowed and walked to Ferin, the boy who was holding his little sister. "Boy, what is your name?" he asked gently, his voice soft, as if trying to comfort the boy.
"My name is Ferin, and this is my little sister, Emy. My lord, let me take you to our village!" he said, gritting his teeth.
To hasten their march, the villagers mounted the horses together with the soldiers. After everything was settled, they galloped to the west, toward the village that was attacked by the trolls.