The road to Riversbend was rough, winding through dense woods and across uneven terrain, but it was still one of the few paths relatively safe from brigands. Aric Thorne kept his eyes sharp, scanning the underbrush and the treeline, his hand never far from the hilt of his sword. The sun had barely risen above the canopy, casting dappled light on the path ahead. His mind was focused on the task before him, finding allies and gauging the lay of the land.

Riversbend, a modest town nestled by the fork of the Lirien River, had been spared the worst of the civil war. Unlike Solandis, its homes still stood, and its people, though weary, were beginning to rebuild. Aric had heard whispers of discontent among the town's populace, of lords and minor nobles clashing over what little authority remained. It was here he hoped to find the first of many who might rally to his cause.

As he approached the outskirts of Riversbend, he took in the sight of villagers going about their day with guarded caution. The blacksmith's hammer rang out, echoing through the crisp morning air, and a group of children ran through the muddy streets, their laughter a brief respite from the somber mood. Aric pulled his hood up, hoping to blend in, though he knew it wouldn’t last.

He headed straight for the local tavern, The Crooked Reed. It was a sturdy building, its wooden beams thick with age and its sign hanging askew, swaying gently in the breeze. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ale and smoke. Conversations hummed with tension. Farmers, traders, and a few rough-looking men sat hunched over their drinks, murmuring about the latest trouble.

Aric made his way to the bar and ordered a drink, catching fragments of nearby conversations. "Lord Harvin's men are pushing south," said one. "He thinks he can take the Crossroads and cut off the rest of us," another replied, spitting on the floor.

It was clear that the lords were manoeuvring, each trying to carve out a piece of Valoria for themselves. If this continued, there would be no kingdom left to save, only a patchwork of petty fiefdoms.

As Aric sipped his ale, a commotion near the back of the tavern caught his eye. A group had gathered around a single table, voices raised in a mix of frustration and admiration. At the center sat a dwarf, thick-shouldered and broad-chested, with a wild mane of reddish-brown hair and a beard braided with metal clasps. His eyes gleamed with intelligence as he held up a parchment covered in complex diagrams.

"I’m telling you," the dwarf was saying in a booming voice, "the stonework here is shoddy at best. If you want your walls to stand against more than a stiff breeze, you need a foundation like the one I’m proposing!"

Aric listened closely. This had to be Eirik Stoneheart, the dwarf engineer from the mountain city of Stonehelm, a master builder known for his skill with stone and iron. He’d heard of Eirik’s reputation, and this was a stroke of fortune.

Aric made his way through the crowd. "Master Stoneheart," he said, his voice steady but respectful, "your reputation precedes you. Might I have a word?"

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Eirik looked up, his eyes narrowing as he sized Aric up. "And who might you be?" he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

"Just a man looking to rebuild what’s been broken," Aric replied, his gaze unwavering. "And I could use a master builder to help me do it."

Eirik studied him for a moment longer before letting out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Rebuild, eh? You’re not the first to come asking for my help. Most of them are either fools or have their heads in the clouds."

"I assure you, I’m neither," Aric said. "The civil war left Valoria in ruins. I aim to change that. But to do so, I need men of skill and honor. Men like you."

The dwarf leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting to one of curiosity. "And what makes you think I’d be interested in joining your little crusade?"

Aric took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Because if the kingdom falls, there’ll be no need for master builders, only gravediggers. I’ve seen what’s coming, more bloodshed, more ruin. But I also see a chance for something better. Help me, and you won’t just be rebuilding walls. You’ll be helping to build a new future."

Eirik’s eyes bore into Aric’s, and for a moment, there was silence. Then the dwarf nodded slowly. "Aye, you’ve got a silver tongue, I’ll give you that. But I’m no stranger to the smell of bullshit. I’ll help you, but on one condition, I see your vision with my own eyes. If it’s as hollow as the others, I walk. Deal?"

Aric extended his hand. "Deal."

As they shook hands, the tavern door swung open with a sudden gust of wind, drawing everyone's attention. A tall woman, her hair the color of autumn leaves, strode in with a confident, almost regal bearing. She was dressed in traveling leathers, a cloak billowing behind her, and a finely-crafted rapier at her side. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the room.

Aric felt a shiver run down his spine. He knew who she was, Lira Windrider, a diplomat and spy from Elysia, known for her cunning and her ability to bend the truth like the wind. She was not someone who appeared without reason, especially not in a place like Riversbend.

She approached the bar, her gaze briefly locking with Aric’s. For a moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them, both were here for more than idle chatter. She turned to the barkeep. "I’m looking for news," she said, her voice smooth and commanding. "Of the lords’ movements, and anyone with ambitions beyond their reach."

Eirik chuckled under his breath. "Seems you’re not the only one looking to rebuild," he muttered to Aric.

Aric nodded, his mind racing. If Lira was here, Elysia was clearly interested in the unfolding situation in Valoria. She could be a potential ally, or a dangerous opponent. He’d have to tread carefully.

Deciding to take the initiative, Aric moved closer to her. "News travels fast," he said with a slight smile. "Especially when carried by the wind."

Lira's eyes met his again, this time with a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "And who might you be, to speak in riddles?"

"Someone with a vision for Valoria," he replied, "and perhaps someone who could use your help."

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Interesting. But tell me, why should I trust you?"

Aric glanced around the room, lowering his voice. "Because if we keep tearing each other apart, there won't be a Valoria left to fight over. I believe we can find common ground."

Lira studied him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deceit. After a moment, she nodded. "Very well, Aric Thorne. I’ll hear you out. But know this, I play my own game, and I don't trust easily."

"Neither do I," Aric replied. "But perhaps we can change that."

As the three of them sat down to discuss the future, the tension in the tavern seemed to thrum with anticipation. The storm was gathering, and the first pieces of the new game were beginning to fall into place.

The journey to rebuild Valoria had found its first allies, and its first test.