The rain came heavy over Carienhelm, washing away the dust of twenty silent years. Beneath the fortress walls, thousands stood—farmers, blacksmiths, traders, and soldiers—faces drawn, eyes fixed,"My men," said Aeron, "the North thinks we are not united, that we are not equal to them — and yes, they are right. We are better!"
The Liberator assembled his army.
"You have heard enough speeches from me — enough words. The war has now begun. We are deep within enemy lines, and we will not be reinforced before reaching the Great Plains.
The easy part of war is over. The North has assembled its legions; we will meet their elite army in Lavon — twenty thousand men. We outnumber them four to one. No matter how skilled they are, they will crumble under our weight."
The Liberator raised his sword.
"We are not cowards! We are men of Warden Calen! We are men of Southern land! We are Valenor!"
"We are Valenor!" the army roared back.
"For Freedom!" Aeron cried.
"For Freedom!"
The army began to march.
Every step thundered across Frankia. The ground trembled near Lavon, and earthquakes shook the rest of the realm.
The horns sounded again—this time from the walls.
Carienhelm answered.
The fortress gates groaned as they began to open, iron chains rattling after twenty years of silence. Stone parted from stone, and the city revealed itself—crowded walls, raised banners, and thousands of waiting souls packed shoulder to shoulder.
Cheers broke like thunder.
Women rushed forward first, scattering flowers across the road—white, yellow, red—petals crushed beneath marching boots, their scent rising above mud and steel. Children waved scraps of cloth. Old men bowed their heads as the army passed.
The Liberator rode beneath the gates.
Aeron did not smile, but his eyes softened as the roar washed over him. This was not victory—not yet—but it was belief. And belief, he knew, was the first weapon of any revolution.
The army marched on.
Banners swayed. Drums beat slow and steady. Steel gleamed beneath clearing skies as Valenor moved as one—farmers turned soldiers, blacksmiths turned warriors, a nation walking toward its fate.
Above them, the gates of Carienhelm stood open at last.
And the war had begun.
***