The ground began to tremble before we ever saw them.
Hooves pounded against the dirt in a steady, disciplined rhythm—too organized to be bandits, too loud to be scouts. Villagers hurried behind the barricades, eyes wide, clutching whatever weapons they could find.
Borrik ran up to me, breathless.
"Chief! They're almost here—armored riders, maybe twenty!"
My stomach tightened. Not Vantor's army… not yet. But twenty trained fighters could still crush Ridgebrook if this went badly.
Lira stood beside me, gripping her staff so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Liam, don't engage them recklessly. Please."
"I'm not planning to," I said.
Behind me, Vlad rolled his neck as if warming up.
"Do you wish them dead?"
"No."
"Disappointing," he muttered.
I shot him a glare. He smirked.
The riders emerged from the trees—horses clad in leather barding, riders wearing light armor marked with the sigil of a mercenary company from several kilometers west.
Not Vantor's forces.
Their leader rode at the front: a sharp-eyed woman with braided hair, a sword at her hip, and the posture of someone who had ended more than a few lives. She raised a hand, and her unit stopped about thirty meters from our gate.
"Ridgebrook!" she called. "We come to help our hometown!"
Nervous murmurs rippled through the villagers behind me.
Borrik whispered, "Mercenaries? Why the hell would they come here?"
"They trade information," I replied quietly. "News travels fast."
Vlad stepped closer, his voice low.
"Let me speak to them."
"Absolutely not."
He sighed like a disappointed teacher.
"Coward."
"Survivor," I corrected.
I stepped up to the gate. "State your business."
The woman dismounted slowly, deliberately.
"I am Captain Orin Vallet. We heard what happened. Baron Vantor has marked Ridgebrook for punishment. I'm here to confirm whether the rumors are true."
"What rumors?" I asked.
She hesitated.
Then her gaze slid to Vlad.
He didn't move. Didn't blink. He stood there like a statue carved from violence.
Captain Orin's jaw tightened.
"Rumors of a pale northern warrior. Rumors of impaled men at your gate. Rumors that your village openly defied Vantor."
Lira stiffened beside me.
"Rumors spread quickly," I said.
"Faster when corpses are involved," Orin replied.
Her eyes swept over the villagers peering from windows, the freshly dug trenches, the sharpened stakes lining the walls.
"You're preparing for war," she said quietly.
"We're preparing to survive," I answered.
Orin studied me carefully. She wasn't hostile—not yet—but she wasn't easily convinced either.
"You're the chief?" she asked.
"I am."
Her eyebrow lifted slightly.
"You're younger than I expected."
"I moisturize," I said.
A few of her soldiers blinked. Vlad snorted softly in approval.
Orin gave a thin smile before it faded.
"Vantor's wrath isn't something a village can endure. If he marches, he'll bring dozens. Maybe hundreds."
"I know," I said.
"Then why resist?"
Because surrender meant slow death.
Because fear only wins if you kneel.
But I didn't say that.
"This is our home," I said instead.
Orin exhaled, almost sympathetic.
"Do you want our mercenary group's help?"
The reaction was immediate. Gasps. Whispers. Even Vlad looked mildly interested.
I narrowed my eyes. "Why would mercenaries help Ridgebrook?"
Orin crossed her arms.
"Because we were born and raised here. We left to survive—but these are still our people."
So this wasn't pity.
It was repayment.
"Help how?" I asked.
"Information," she said. "Supplies. Possibly manpower. But only if your story matches what we've heard."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we stay out of it," she replied bluntly. "And you face Vantor alone."
Vlad leaned down and whispered in my ear,
"If they betray us, I will gut her first."
"Please don't," I whispered back.
"Then do not let her twist the truth."
I stepped forward. "Ask your questions."
Orin hesitated for the first time.
"Did you truly… impale Vantor's men?"
"Yes."
The word left my mouth before I could stop it.
Vlad smiled.
Lira winced.
One rider made the sign of a protective charm.
Orin nodded slowly.
"And the pale man behind you—he killed them?"
"No," Vlad said calmly. "I killed them."
Her eyes lingered on him longer this time, taking in the cold stillness, the unnatural calm, the quiet certainty.
"And you follow the chief?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he is my master."
She stiffened. Her soldiers tensed.
"Gods…" she whispered.
Then the ground shook again.
Not from her riders.
Heavier hooves.
Armored weight.
A different rhythm.
Vlad's eyes sharpened.
"Not them."
My blood ran cold. "From where?"
"East," he said. "From the keep."
The mercenary soldiers exchanged grim looks.
Orin cursed under her breath.
"Vantor's first retaliation force…"
Lira whispered, "Liam… they're coming."
I took a steady breath.
"Captain Orin," I said. "I need an answer. Will your group help Ridgebrook… or not?"
She looked at me.
Then at Vlad.
Then at the trenches, the walls, the terrified villagers—and the distant thunder of approaching hooves.
Finally, she nodded once. Sharp. Decisive.
"Our mercenary group stands with Ridgebrook."
And just like that—
Our war had allies.