The rest of the day passed peacefully. The ruins of a two-story stone building, missing only one wall, provided their campsite with shelter from the drizzle—a refuge even their horses appreciated. Tex spent most of her time lounging in the open tent under some furs, absorbed in a well-worn copy of The Art of Fencing by Master Shaven. She often repeated the legend that he had never lost a duel out of over two hundred and had only been defeated by illness. Meanwhile, Moira and Ashan busied themselves with minor equipment repairs and quiet conversations, careful not to disturb their companion’s reading.
That same day, their other companions reached Kardum and delivered all verbal and written reports to Captain Darva, who wasted no time presenting them to the council. These reports became the subject of a lively late-afternoon debate in, of course, the captain’s office, as the council hall was still being used as a shelter for refugees.
“Our best hope is to retake Hooren before the Last Tribe finishes their conscription. If their allies in our region know the recruitment date, they must have been preparing for it for some time. We need to strike preemptively,” argued the representative of the city guard, his tone firm.
“Kaarv is much better fortified and lies by the river. If we provoke them into attacking, they’ll have their backs to the riverbank and be within range of our archers, safely positioned on the city walls. Why march all the way to Hooren?” countered the councilor representing the guild of transporters.
“And what if they simply bypass Kaarv and head deeper into Iskev or east to Gar? Not one more inch of land for those cultists!” snapped the merchant guild representative—a tall, gray-haired woman with sharp features, notably the only one without ashen skin.
“My friends,” the chairman said in a conciliatory tone, raising his hands to calm the room, “all remaining independent cities and their districts have agreed to form a union army under our command. We cannot squander this opportunity; decisive action is required...”
They debated well into the night, but it was not in vain. The minimum plan involved outpacing the Last Tribe in organizing cohesive forces, launching an assault on Hooren, retaking the lightly fortified city, regrouping, tending to the wounded, and—if the situation allowed—gaining control over the entire area except for the heavily defensible Forgdom. This city, nestled at the base of the mountains, was filled with mines, tunnels, and subterranean passages. Fighting there would cost significant time and lives. Instead, the goal was to force the Last Tribe to retreat to Forgdom and secure everything else. Without the construction of massive siege engines with the help of dwarven engineers or the recruitment of an imperial mage with the appropriate skills, breaching Forgdom’s walls was out of the question. However, cultists or not, they still needed to eat. Precious metals and gemstones wouldn’t fill their stomachs, so a strategy of isolation could erode their morale and determination, eventually leading to negotiations.
By the next morning, messages had been sent, and the signal fires lit. One challenge was the need to leave sufficiently large garrisons in each city to prevent covert cultist saboteurs—undoubtedly hiding among the refugees—from causing catastrophic disruptions. Meanwhile, they planned to recruit volunteers from towns and villages. They harbored no illusions about keeping the plan a secret; in fact, though they refrained from revealing specific dates, heralds and speakers openly encouraged enlistment. Refugees from Hooren itself were particularly eager and numerous in signing up, driven by hope of reclaiming their homes.
Moira’s team received new orders and reinforcements for the two members lost in the battle with Larkan and his followers. Their mission was to proceed to Kaarv, deliver letters, and assist in securing the designated encampment area between the river and the city walls. Concerns lingered over more dangerous experiments by the Elder, which could disrupt their progress. Therefore, while instructed to remain mobile, they were tasked with providing protection against such threats to the best of their abilities.
The group of seven road wardens with Otan on the front, arrived at the ruins the following day, where they spent the night with the rest of the team before continuing their journey toward Kaarv. They carried their own new orders and a collection of heavily sealed letters from the city council. At last, the time for a counterattack was approaching, igniting renewed determination within the group. The thought that there were enough willing to take up arms against the Last Tribe filled them with hope.
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Now, with time being of the essence, they sped along the main road, prioritizing mobility over stealth. Moira's ravens flew above them—one close by to respond to any unexpected threats, while the other two scouted ahead and guarded the rear to alert their mistress of any pursuit or danger ahead. They maintained a steady pace, one that their breed of horses could sustain for an extended period. The small groups of refugees they passed posed no threat; on the contrary, they stepped aside from the road to let the column of armed rider's pass.
It took them three days and two nights to reach Kaarv, where the credentials from the council of Kardum secured them swift access to the city authorities. The riverside city was teeming with armed men, clearly on high alert, fearing they might be the next target of an attack. The cobblestone streets, once bustling with merchants, were now eerily empty. Folded and packed stalls leaned against the walls, the only remnants of a trade that had been lively not so long ago. Many windows and storefronts were boarded up.
As it turned out, the local council had appointed a so-called "First Overseer" during these turbulent times, granting him near-autocratic power over security matters until the conflict was resolved. Meanwhile, the council focused on other responsibilities, which were overwhelming enough as it was. It was with this overseer that the group, represented by Otan and Moira, had their meeting.
The overseer received them in his modest office. He was an older man, lean, with a composed demeanor and a face marked by scars. His chestnut-brown, thoughtful eyes quickly but attentively scanned the contents of the letters from Kardum. Once finished, he set them aside and looked at his guests warmly.
“Thank you for delivering this news so promptly. I’m heartened by its content. We’ve already begun forming units here and will eagerly anticipate reinforcements from the south.” He opened a drawer and retrieved a simple copper medallion embossed with intricate designs matching the insignia on his chest, a depiction of a stone tower with guards. Handing it to Moira, he said, “Should the need arise, show this to my soldiers. They will assist you to the best of their ability. I trust in your abilities, esteemed adept of magic.”
“Thank you. We will do everything we can to protect your people and this city from the curses and schemes of the Last Tribe,” Moira replied, bowing her head slightly.
“I should be the one thanking you,” he responded jovially. “Now we might need help with dangers of Elder magic, but with all the rest, if you’ll accompany me to the window.” He stood from his desk and guided them to the northern window, which overlooked the opposite side of the city. From the watchtower where they stood, all the way to the northern gate, the main street was lined with hanged convicts, each with a placard around their necks.
“The letter instructed me to allow you unrestricted travel through our region’s backroads, so you may avoid falling victim to cult conspirators. Of course, you have my full support, but rest assured: in this city, anyone who once harbored sympathies for the Last Tribe can no longer pose a threat. You can sleep soundly within these walls.” His tone carried a distinct note of pride.
Moira was uncertain how to respond, so Otan stepped in, commending the overseer’s efficiency and thanking him for his hospitality before excusing them on the grounds of needing rest after their journey. They returned to their companions, who waited below with the horses. True to the overseer’s word, they availed themselves of the city’s hospitality.
A guard directed them to one of the few still-operating large inns. The couple who ran it had dismissed their staff due to the unrest. The husband tended to the horses while the wife prepared a warm meal and laid out bedding in a spacious common room as the group ate. Before leaving them, she warned against venturing into the streets after the night bell without an urgent reason, wishing them a restful night.
Reactions among the group were mixed. They unanimously agreed they needed to better understand the situation. It was clear the overseer took security matters extremely seriously, and they could only hope his measures weren’t overzealous.
The common room was empty save for them. Exhausted from their journey, they decided to get a good night’s sleep and plan their next steps in the morning. High above, Moira’s ravens kept vigilant watch, scanning the city and its surroundings for any signs of danger.