Ridgebrook woke to the sound of horns.
Not the short calls used by hunters, but deep, heavy blasts—the kind carried by the Warguard. The sound rolled through the forest and settled over the village like a curse.
Lira rushed toward me, her cloak half tied, hair a mess, fear plain on her face. "Liam! They're moving again. Their torches shifted at dawn!"
"I see it," I muttered, staring at the faint orange glow threading through the trees. "Vantor's tightening the circle."
Orin rode up hard, her horse kicking dust. "Chief, we counted nine new positions. They're rotating guards in shifts. It's a full encirclement, clean and disciplined."
Vlad appeared beside us without a sound. "He is patient," he said calmly. "I expected rage. Not this."
"He wants us to panic," I said. "Or starve."
"Starvation builds character," Vlad replied.
Lira shot him a glare. "This is not the time for your ancient sense of humor."
I stepped between them. "Nobody's starving yet. We have food. Water… probably."
The Summoner's Ledger flashed in my vision.
[HOSTILE POSITIONS: 22]
[SUPPLY RISK: HIGH (14–18 DAYS)]
[SIEGE PHASE 1: OBSERVATION]
Fantastic. The system had officially confirmed we were trapped.
By midmorning, two Warguard scouts approached our trenches. They didn't attack. They paced, tested the soil, and watched—like wolves checking a fence. We responded slowly, deliberately non-threatening. After ten tense minutes, they withdrew.
The village exhaled as one.
The relief didn't last.
By noon, the Warguard began clearing trees beyond bow range, building their own barricades and archer platforms. Ridgebrook felt smaller with every hour. Caged. The villagers whispered anxiously.
"What if they attack tonight?"
"What if they burn us?"
"What if Rank 3 warriors arrive?"
I watched Lira move through the village, calming people where she could, while Vlad drilled the younger men with brutal efficiency.
"If you miss your strike," he told them flatly, "you die. So don't miss."
Not comforting. But effective.
Near midday, an arrow fell from the forest and buried itself in the dirt near my boot.
Lira gasped. "Liam!"
"I'm fine," I said, though my heart was racing. "They're testing range. Or trying to scare us."
Orin picked up the arrow, inspecting it. "If they wanted you dead, this would be red."
"That helps a lot," I muttered.
Later, a villager came sprinting toward me from the creek. "Chief! They blocked the water!"
I ran to the stream. The flow had thinned to a weak trickle. Upstream, Warguard soldiers were building a temporary dam.
Not a full cutoff.
Just a warning.
Lira stared in horror. "Liam… if the water stops—
"I know."
The Ledger pulsed again.
[WATER SECURITY: CRITICAL]
Vlad knelt beside the creek, studying it. "This is solvable."
"How?" I demanded.
"Take it back," he said simply.
I groaned. "Of course that's your solution."
By early evening, we gathered inside the longhouse. Faces were drawn, fear thick in the air.
"We ration," I said. "Water first. Food next. Rotating guards, reinforced walls, traps at night. We keep them guessing."
Borrik nodded grimly. "Aye, Chief. But if supplies run low…"
"Then we stretch them," I said. "We survive."
Orin glanced at me. "What about your summoning? Can you call another warrior?"
"Sixteen more days."
The room fell quiet.
Lira squeezed my arm. "We'll make it. Somehow."
"Sixteen days is a lifetime in war," Vlad added helpfully.
Lira shot him a murderous look.
As night fell, dozens of torches ignited around Ridgebrook—an unbroken ring of fire. Watchers. Hunters. A prison made of light.
Then Vantor's voice carried through the darkness.
"Sleep well, Chief Richard. You will not have many nights left."
I cupped my hands and shouted back, "Fuck you too!"
"LIAM!" Lira hissed, grabbing my sleeve.
The only reply was distant laughter from the forest.
Vlad stepped closer, eyes glowing faintly. "You wound his pride with words. Good. Fear spreads fastest that way."
"I'm not trying to spread fear," I muttered. "I'm trying not to shit myself."
He nodded. "Also acceptable."
We stood on the wall together—Lira, Orin, Vlad, the villagers, and me—watching the torches flicker like unblinking eyes.
Sixteen days until the next summon.
Sixteen days to hold a village against a baron.
Sixteen days to survive.
The night pressed down on us.
No one slept easily.