The years since the battle against the Devourer had been kind to the Iron Brotherhood. Their reputation had grown beyond Ashford, spreading across the kingdoms like wildfire. Gabriel, now known as the "Holy Warrior of Light," was hailed as a hero—a saviour who had banished darkness from the world. The Iron Brotherhood expanded its reach, establishing strongholds in multiple cities, offering their services to protect the realm from all manner of threats: bandits, monsters, rogue magic users, and more. But despite the accolades and the victories, one memory remained constant in Gabriel's mind—his promise for vengeance against the orcs who had slaughtered his parents.

Now, the capital of the North, Vallendale, was in peril.

Word had come from the High Lord of Vallendale himself, an urgent plea for aid. The Northern territories were plagued by a rising orc presence—tribes that had once been scattered were now unified, raiding villages and towns with brutal efficiency. It was a dark echo of Gabriel's past, one that filled him with a renewed sense of purpose.

Gabriel stood on the balcony of the Iron Brotherhood's largest stronghold in Ashford, gazing out over the bustling city streets. Jareth, now his trusted second-in-command, joined him, leaning against the stone railing with a sigh.

"So, it's official," Jareth said. "We're headed North. Vallendale's in worse shape than we thought."

Gabriel's jaw tightened. "I've heard the reports. They say entire villages have been wiped out overnight. It's the same pattern—the orcs raid, take what they can, and leave nothing but death behind."

Jareth studied Gabriel's face, noticing the hard edge to his voice. "This is more than just another job for you, isn't it?"

Gabriel didn't answer right away. His thoughts drifted back to the day his village had been destroyed—the screaming, the blood, the fire. He remembered the cold, lifeless bodies of his parents, slaughtered by the orcs, and the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. That was the day he had first picked up a sword. And ever since then, he had sworn he would have his revenge.

"It's personal," Gabriel finally said, his voice low. "This is the same threat that took everything from me. I made a promise a long time ago that I'd put an end to it. This could be my chance."

Jareth nodded slowly. "Then we'll do it together. The Brotherhood's stronger than ever now. We've got enough men to take on an army."

Gabriel turned to face him, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. "This isn't just about me, Jareth. Vallendale needs us. If these orcs are as organized as they say, we're dealing with something more dangerous than we've ever faced before. We need to be prepared for anything."

Jareth gave him a reassuring smile. "We've been through worse. We'll figure it out."

Gabriel smiled back, though the burden in his heart remained. "Let's gather the others. We ride for Vallendale at dawn."

---

The Iron Brotherhood's march north was swift and efficient, their convoy moving through the dense forests and rugged hills that separated the northern capital from the rest of the realm. As they travelled, Gabriel couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in his gut. The stories of the orc raids were too familiar, too close to the nightmare that had haunted him for years. But now, he was no longer a boy with nothing but rage and fear. He was a warrior, forged in battle, with the strength of the gods flowing through his veins.

The sun had barely risen when Vallendale came into view. The city, nestled in the shadow of towering mountains, was surrounded by high stone walls. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the distant hum of the city's life reached their ears. But even from afar, Gabriel could sense the tension in the air. There was no bustling energy like Ashford or the other southern cities; the people here were on edge, living under the constant threat of attack.

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As the Brotherhood approached the city gates, they were greeted by a detachment of soldiers wearing the blue and silver of Vallendale. Their captain, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward and saluted.

"Lord Gabriel, we've been expecting you," the captain said, his voice rough but respectful. "The High Lord is waiting in the castle. The situation's worse than we feared."

Gabriel dismounted his horse, his eyes scanning the walls of the city. "Take us to him."

---

The Great Hall of Vallendale Castle was as cold and imposing as the city itself, with high ceilings and stone walls lined with tapestries depicting ancient battles. The High Lord of Vallendale, Lord Roderick, sat at the head of a long table, flanked by his advisors. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes lined with exhaustion.

"Gabriel," Roderick said as they entered, rising from his seat to greet him. "Thank the gods you've come. The situation is dire."

Gabriel nodded, his expression grim. "I've heard the reports. The orc tribes are uniting. What's the latest?"

Roderick gestured to a map spread out across the table. "We've lost five villages in the last month alone. The raids are growing more frequent, and they're not just attacking isolated homesteads anymore—they're striking at our supply lines, our trade routes. They're cutting us off from the rest of the realm."

Jareth stepped forward, examining the map. "They're not acting like typical orcs. This is organized. Someone's leading them."

Roderick nodded. "That's what we fear. We've had scouts tracking their movements, and they've identified a warlord—a powerful chieftain who's rallying the tribes under one banner. They call him Grulak the Devourer."

The name sent a chill down Gabriel's spine. "Grulak," he murmured. "I've heard of him. He's one of the most feared orc warlords in the northern territories."

"He's more than that," Roderick said, his voice heavy. "He's a monster. They say he's never been defeated in battle, and he's slaughtered entire armies without mercy. If we don't stop him now, he'll overrun Vallendale—and then the rest of the North."

Gabriel clenched his fist, his blood boiling. This was it. The chance he had been waiting for. Grulak and his orcs had to be stopped, not just for Vallendale, but for every life they had taken, including his parents'.

"We'll stop him," Gabriel said firmly. "The Iron Brotherhood will fight with you."

Roderick looked relieved, though his worry didn't fully disappear. "I'll send word to the rest of the Northern lords. We'll need all the help we can get."

---

Later that night, as the Brotherhood made camp within the city walls, Gabriel found himself restless. He sat by the fire, staring into the flames, his thoughts consumed by the coming battle. He knew this fight wouldn't be like the others they had faced. Grulak was more than just an orc warlord—he was a symbol of everything Gabriel had sworn to destroy.

Jareth joined him by the fire, silently handing him a cup of ale. For a while, they sat in silence, the weight of what lay ahead hanging in the air.

"You're thinking about them, aren't you?" Jareth finally said.

Gabriel didn't need to ask what he meant. "Every time I see the destruction the orcs leave behind, I remember. It's like reliving that day all over again."

Jareth nodded, his expression sombre. "It's been years, Gabriel. You've built something incredible since then. The Brotherhood is stronger than ever. You don't have to carry this alone."

Gabriel stared into the fire, his jaw clenched. "This is my fight, Jareth. My parents… they didn't deserve what happened to them. None of those people did. And now, it's happening all over again. I can't let it continue."

Jareth placed a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, his grip firm. "We're with you. Whatever happens, we'll face it together. But don't let your need for vengeance cloud your judgment. You're not that boy from the village anymore. You're a leader now. The men look to you for strength."

Gabriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're right. But this feels different. Grulak… he's the reason I picked up a sword in the first place. If we can stop him, maybe I can finally put that part of my past to rest."

Jareth gave him a small smile. "Then let's make sure we win."

Gabriel chuckled, though it lacked any real humour. "Yeah. Let's."

---

The days that followed were filled with preparations. The Brotherhood, along with Vallendale's forces, made ready for war. Scouts brought back reports of orc warbands moving closer to the city, and the sense of impending battle hung over everyone like a dark cloud.

Gabriel stood on the battlements, watching as his men trained in the courtyard below. His mind was focused, his heart steady. He had been preparing for this moment his entire life.

As the first signs of dawn broke on the horizon, Gabriel knew their time was running out. The orcs were coming. And this time, he would be ready. The promise he had made so many years ago—to avenge his parents, to destroy the orcs that had taken everything from him—would finally be fulfilled.

And Grulak the Devourer would fall by his hand.