The Way of Knight
Chapter 34 – Preparations for War
The morning sky above the Eisenwald marsh was thick with fog, yet the air no longer carried the quiet of peace. From the edges of the village to the riverbanks, movement filled the land. Hammers rang, shovels dug into damp soil, and the shouts of militia captains echoed, arranging lines of newly recruited young men.
Fenrir stood on a wooden watchtower hastily built near the village hall, overlooking the feverish activity below. The chill of dawn could not subdue the heavy, molten-red aura that faintly burned around him. It pulsed like the breath of the earth itself—dense, suffocating, alive.
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"Raise the beam higher! Tie it tight, don't let it shake!"
"Divert the water to the western canal, hurry before the ground hardens!"
Hundreds of men and women labored together. Farmers who once held hoes now carved trap ditches into the soil. Fishermen who once rowed their boats now hauled logs to build barricades. Even children carried water and food for the workers, eyes wide with both fear and pride.
Fenrir descended the tower, his boots sinking slightly into the wet ground. Wherever he passed, people stopped briefly, bowing their heads before resuming their tasks with renewed vigor. The presence of their young lord—his very aura—turned dread into determination.
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On a half-dried clearing of the marsh, dozens of youths stood with crude spears and wooden shields. Captain Orwin bellowed commands like thunder.
"Triangular formation! Tighten the line! If you leave even a hand's width, the enemy will break you!"
Bam! Spears lowered in unison, the vibration echoing across the ground. Their faces were pale, hands trembling, but when Fenrir approached, their spines stiffened.
He stopped before them, his gaze sharp.
"You are not royal soldiers. You are farmers, fishermen, shepherds. But today, this marsh demands more of you. Remember—every spear you hold is not just wood. It is a wall that shields your families."
One young man shouted, his voice shaking yet burning with resolve.
"For Eisenwald, my lord!"
The cry spread like wildfire, until the entire line roared together.
"For Eisenwald!"
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Fenrir then inspected the northern canal. Workers were closing the waterway with logs and mud, creating a small dam. If Klausen's forces marched through, the dam could be broken, flooding the path and turning solid ground into treacherous swamp.
Elsewhere, sharpened bamboo stakes were hidden beneath shallow waters, masked with leaves and mud.
An elderly craftsman bowed. "Young lord, thirty spike-pits are ready. If the enemy charges with horses, they won't realize until too late."
Fenrir nodded, his tone calm yet commanding. "Good. Double the traps on the western flank. Klausen will press hard from there."
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But not all hearts were steady. That night, as Fenrir inspected the training ground, he overheard two farmers whispering.
"What if Klausen truly comes with a thousand men?"
"We can't possibly win… our baron is still so young."
Fenrir stepped out of the shadows. Both men froze, blood draining from their faces.
"Can't possibly win?" His voice was low, but it struck like a hammer. "Do you think I would lead you to meaningless death? Listen well. Klausen has numbers, but he doesn't have the marsh. You know this land—every pool, every trail. As long as you trust the marsh, you will not lose."
The words burned into them, melting doubt into reluctant conviction. They bowed deeply.
"Forgive us, my lord. We will fight."
Fenrir placed a hand on their shoulders. "Fight not for me. Fight for your families. That is true strength."
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Two days later, the entire village gathered in the hall. Fenrir stood before them, flanked by Captain Orwin and several militia leaders.
"Baron Klausen believes our marsh is easy to take. He is wrong." Fenrir raised his blade high, molten-red aura flaring around him like a storm. "This marsh is our home. And it will become the grave for anyone who dares trespass!"
"For Eisenwald!" the crowd thundered.
"For our marsh!"
Their voices crashed together, breaking through the fog of fear, replacing it with fire.
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Yet reality struck swiftly. As the echoes of the cheer lingered, a drenched scout stumbled into the hall, gasping for breath.
"My lord… Klausen has moved. A great force gathers at the northern border. Their banners are already visible… at least five hundred strong."
The hall fell silent, heavy with dread.
Fenrir closed his eyes briefly, then opened them with the steel gaze of a predator. His molten aura surged, filling the hall with suffocating heat.
"Good. Let them come." His voice cut through the silence like a blade. He drew his sword, its edge gleaming in the firelight.
"Eisenwald is ready."
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