The horn's echo rolled through the forest like the growl of something ancient and hungry.
Every villager froze.
Every Riverbend rider straightened.
Even the trees seemed to hold still.
Another horn blast followed—longer, deeper.
Not scouting.
Not probing.
A declaration.
"They're here," Orin whispered.
Vlad's lips curved. "Finally."
I swallowed hard, gripping my spear until my palms went white. "Everyone to stations! Move!"
Ridgebrook erupted into organized chaos.
Villagers rushed behind the walls.
Shields and spears were handed out.
Boiling water pots were set above the gate
Slingstones were piled near watch posts.
Riverbend riders mounted and took defensive positions
The trenches glowed faintly with torchlight, casting jagged shadows across the ground—shadows that made Ridgebrook look larger, more threatening, more alive.
Exactly as we planned.
Lira joined me at the top of the barricade, her breathing shaky but controlled. "Liam… whatever happens—stay focused."
"Trying."
"Fail better," she whispered.
I laughed weakly despite everything.
Vlad stepped onto the wall beside us, perched unnaturally still, scanning the treeline with predatory calm.
"They bring fifty… no, closer to sixty," he murmured. "Spearmen. Archers. A few shield bearers. And three mounted officers."
Orin cursed under her breath. "He mobilized the Warguard faster than I expected."
"And the Rank 3?" I asked, throat tightening.
"No," Vlad said. "Not yet."
Relief flickered through me.
Then dread replaced it.
If this wasn't his full force, Vantor was testing the waters.
And he would escalate.
The first soldiers emerged from the forest—dark silhouettes carrying torches, armor glinting.
Five.
Ten.
Twenty.
Then the rest.
An entire wedge formation advanced steadily toward Ridgebrook, shields raised, spears in perfect alignment.
Vantor's banner hung at the front—a black wolf's head on crimson cloth.
The air thickened.
My heartbeat turned into a drum.
A mounted officer trotted forward, raising a scroll.
He shouted loud enough for the village to hear:
"BY ORDER OF BARON ALDRIC VANTOR, RIDGEBROOK IS CHARGED WITH REBELLION, MURDER OF ROYAL SOLDIERS, AND DEFAMATION OF HIS NOBLERIGHT RULE!"
Villagers gasped.
Riverbend riders gripped their weapons tighter.
The officer continued:
"SURRENDER YOUR CHIEF AND THE PALE EXECUTIONER, AND THE REST OF YOU MAY LIVE."
Every head turned toward me.
Every heart pounded.
Every breath felt like knives.
I stepped forward.
My voice didn't sound like my own.
It was steadier. Colder.
"Ridgebrook does not surrender."
A ripple of fear ran through the villagers.
But also—
A flicker of pride.
The officer scowled. "Your village is outnumbered. Outmatched. Outranked. You face trained warriors loyal to a powerful lord. You face annihilation."
"We face men who fled last night," I replied.
That stirred them.
A murmur went through their ranks.
Shame. Anger. Doubt.
Perfect.
The officer snapped, "You will regret those words. Form up!"
Weapons shifted.
Armor clinked.
The torchlight turned their ranks into a wall of iron and flame.
Lira grabbed my sleeve. "They're preparing to advance!"
Borrik shouted from below, "Chief! We're ready!"
Orin tightened her reins. "Give the order."
Vlad stood silently, gaze fixed like a predator waiting to pounce.
I inhaled.
The world held still.
The officer raised his saber—
"ADV—"
"STOP!"
Another voice cut through the battlefield.
Deep.
Heavy.
P
Authoritative.
Everyone froze.
A man stepped from behind the formation.
He wore dark armor trimmed in silver, a crimson mantle, and a wolf-head crest engraved on his breastplate.
His presence was suffocating.
His eyes were cold as winter stone.
Baron Aldric Vantor had come in person.
Orin whispered, "Damn it… he wants to see us himself."
Vantor rode forward slowly, surveying the trenches, the walls, the villagers, the alliance with Riverbend.
But most of all—
He stared at Vlad.
Long.
Hard
Trying to understand what he was looking at.
Vlad didn't blink.
Vantor finally spoke, voice booming:
"So… this is the pale butcher my men cannot stop talking about."
The entire battlefield tensed.
Vlad tilted his head. "Your men exaggerate."
"Do they?" Vantor asked coldly.
"Yes," Vlad said. "I was not trying."
A shudder went through the Warguard.
Vantor looked at me next.
"Chief Liam Richard."
My throat tightened.
"I expected someone older," he said.
"I expected someone smarter," I said before thinking.
Lira choked.
Orin's eyes widened.
A few Riverbend riders muttered that I was insane.
Vantor stared at me with chilling calm.
"Very well, boy," he said. "Let us speak plainly."
He raised a hand—
And the entire army lowered their weapons.
"We will negotiate," Vantor said. "For now."
Vlad smiled faintly.
"Negotiation," he murmured. "How entertaining."
Lira whispered urgently, "Liam… be careful. He's not here to talk."
I nodded slowly.
And as Vantor dismounted and approached the barricade, every instinct I had screamed:
This man is more dangerous than any soldier.
More dangerous than any Rank.
More dangerous than Vlad.
This wasn't a battle.
This was a test.
And Vantor was deciding whether Ridgebrook lived or died today.