A week had passed in a blur. For many people in the world, that week meant nothing, like a passing wind on midsummer's eve. But in the north, The Frostguard Keep knew no rest.
Everyone, no matter who they were or what they were—slaves or free folk—was put to work. The primary focus was on repairing and rebuilding the damaged sections of the Keep, which, truth be told, was the whole bloody Keep.
Even Aron, their Lord Commander, joined in the repairs. His action surprised the new soldiers and particularly the slaves, who never imagined that one day they would witness someone of his position work with them side by side, and even working harder than anyone else.
Another thing that shocked everyone was that Aron made the slaves train alongside the soldiers. At first, there was resistance. The soldiers felt it was beneath them to spar with those they deemed inferior, and the slaves were fearful, not understanding why they were being taught the ways of war. But just one gaze from Aron caused everyone to swallow their words and do as they were told.
Despite the harsh climate, the grueling labor, and the tortu—Ahem! ...training, the slaves were actually happy. For the first time, they were treated as human beings, not mere tools to be used and discarded. And for that, Aron—unintentionally—just earned five thousand loyal men and women.
The three thousand soldiers from the southern cities became the New Frostguards, replacing the old ones who had become Watchers. The Keep needed new soldiers to bear the Frostguard banner—a crossed hammer and sword above a tower.
As for the orcs, oh boy where do I begin? Aron slowly integrated them with the rest, hoping to avoid conflict, but come on! Orcs are dumb and love to fight. Of course, there will be conflict. And when that happened, Aron had a simple and effective solution.
Let them fight! Aron fully embraced the tradition of Mak'Gora. Whenever disputes arose, he allowed them to be settled through combat. It was brutal, but it worked. The orcs respected strength, and seeing Aron, their new Warchief, uphold their traditions earned their grudging respect.
'The strong is right and the weak have no right'
In the end, the orcs found their place within the walls. With a surprising number of one thousand two hundred fully grown orcs, and after healing the injured, the number was close to a thousand. Yet from the camp, Aron established for the non-warrior orcs like elders, younglings, and females, more than three hundred joined his ranks. Apparently, young orcs mature rapidly.
In total, Aron had a little more than eleven thousand men (11,000): 1800 Watchers, 3000 Frostguards, 1200 Frostfang orcs, and 5000 slaves. With so many men and women, Aron restructured the chain of command.
Surprisingly, for the orcs, Kira'tar was chosen by her people. Since Morgash lost to Aron, he was regarded as nothing more than a regular orc warrior, but Kira'tar was different. She was a Shaman, the spiritual leader, and only a Shaman could be second to the Warchief.
The slaves, Aron asked them to appoint someone to represent them, and their choice was a well-respected man. Mr. Finn, a half-elf and a former teacher who was unfortunate enough to have a few noble brats attending his classes, was harassed for intervening when they tormented an innocent girl.
Mr. Finn's intervention led to his downfall. The noble kids, enraged by his defiance, used their influence to have him enslaved. Despite his past suffering, Finn had a dignified bearing and an innate sense of justice that resonated with the other slaves. They trusted him, so they appointed him as their leader.
For the New Frostguards, Aron appointed Bard as a commander, with ten captains below him, each captain having ten lieutenants, and each lieutenant overseeing their unit.
The Watchers were a bit different. They were mixed with many races, which complicated their structure. They were divided into squads based on their race and specialized skills. Barbarians and a few dwarves formed the vanguard. Beastmen, like wolves, dogs, and cats, served as scouts and rogues, striking fast and running style. As for the rest, it was a mix and match of archers, warriors, mages, and so on.
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However, what gave Aron and Eldarion a headache trying to organize them was something entirely different and an unexpected discovery. Since The Watchers' awakening potion was used primarily to heal them from the Chthonic parasite, an unexpected mutation happened.
A new ability similar to a hive mind allowed up to five watchers to link themselves on a deep level, sharing their thoughts, feelings, and more importantly, senses. This ability essentially merged their minds, enabling them to see through each other's eyes and greatly enhancing their combat effectiveness.
Aron tested it, fighting against five watchers at the same time. If he wasn't careful or was slightly weaker, they would have wiped the cold floor with his face. Landing a sneak attack or hitting a blind spot was impossible when the others could see it. He was essentially fighting one person split into five. What one saw, felt, and attempted, the others reacted accordingly.
Because of this unforeseen development, and to optimize this ability, Aron, Eamon, and Eldarion, created a rather unique structure.
Eamon, as the New Master of the Hunt—the second in command in the order of the Watchers—had four Eyes of the Order. Their role was to observe, strategize, and relay orders from the Master of the Hunt to the four Sentinel Primes beneath each one of them.
This way, Eamon could link himself to the four Eyes of the Order, and when needed they could cut the link, allowing The Eyes to link to each of their Primes, then the Primes to their Silver fangs, and so forth.
Their structure was designed with this new ability in mind, maximizing its potential and ensuring effective use, especially since the linking act is smooth and easy.
…
"UGH!...I need some air," Aron growled, barely restraining himself from incinerating the new evil in front of him. It was something that made the Dragon tremble in fear each time he saw it.
Paperwork.
The never-ending paperwork, truly made Aron contemplate abandoning everything and returning to Larton to play with his little dhampir daughter.
'Do they just keep breeding or what?' he wondered, seeing a new stack of papers appear out of nowhere when he took a break to eat.
Sigh.
With a defeated sigh, Aron walked out of his office, heading for the courtyard for some fresh air.
"Greetings, my lord," Lyra greeted with a respectful bow, standing at the door with another woman.
"Still lingering here?" Aron inquired with amusement. "Go and get some rest, both of you," he instructed.
"But My lord we—"
"No buts!" Aron interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I appreciate your dedication, but I require some time for myself and you all need rest. You're of no use exhausted."
"!!!" Lyra flushed at his touch, nodding while trying hard to avoid his gaze. She and the other silver-haired woman quietly left for their rooms.
'This is becoming more complicated by the day,' Aron thought as he watched them walk away.
For some reason, Lyra had asked his permission to form a woman-only unit composed of rescued female soldiers. Moreover, she requested that they be awakened as Watchers. Interested to see how it would turn out, Aron agreed, but apparently, it was a mistake.
The new unit, named "Sisters of Silver," had self-proclaimed themselves as the Grandmaster's personal guards. This almost led to a very angry fox sending those women to their graves.
"Brr…" Just thinking about the night he spent calming Kasumi made a shiver run down his spine. She had literally milked him dry for hours until she passed out from pleasure. A fox yokai was no match for a true dragon.
Cling! Cling!
"Hmm?...nice," Aron muttered, narrowing his crimson eyes as he observed the training in the courtyard. At the center was a spar between an orc and a barbarian. The two races were similar in mentality, and Mak'Gora often occurred between them.
VOOO!
"!!!" A sudden horn blast pierced the morning air, cutting through the ongoing activity. Everyone froze their senses on high alert. Aron snapped to attention, his senses sharpening.
"MY LORD!" A Frostguard called from atop the east watchtower.
Without a second to waste, Aron immediately sprinted to the east wall, Hunt Master Eamon swiftly following behind.
"There, my lord!" the guard exclaimed, pointing in a direction.
"Hm?" Narrowing his eyes, both Aron and Eamon quickly spotted the source of the guard's focus.
Axes, spears, and hexagonal shields. Short, stout figures with long, thick, and ferocious beards marched in disciplined ranks. The morning sun glinted off their polished armor, creating a dazzling spectacle.
"Dwarves?" Eamon wondered aloud. "What are they doing here?"
It was an unmistakable dwarven battalion. Their presence was undeniable.
VOOO!
Another horn blast echoed through the area, signifying their arrival.
"Ohh!..."Aron flashed a recognizable smile, identifying the dwarf atop a brown wild boar.
"MY LORD!" Both Eamon and the guard exclaimed when Aron leaped from the wall.
THUD!
He landed with a forceful impact on the ground below, his new favorite wolf-fur cloak billowing dramatically behind him. The dwarves halted their march, their gazes fixed on Aron's imposing figure.
CLIK! CLIK!
The boar skidded to a stop a few meters away, allowing its rider to dismount. The dwarf strode purposefully towards Aron, stopping a short distance away. He raised his head, meeting Aron's gaze, and upon spotting the wide grin on the Lord Commander's face.
"BWAHAHAHA!!" The dwarf erupted in laughter. "Greetings, Lord Commander Aron," he boomed with a hearty voice, slamming his fist to his chest and bowing slightly.
"Dwalin Hearthkeeper at your service!"