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VALORIA: RISE & REIGN
3. Shadows of the Past

3. Shadows of the Past

Aric Thorne stood on the crumbling bulwarks of the old fortress, his gaze sweeping over the barren landscape. The fortress, once a stronghold of Valoria’s defence, had been abandoned after the war, its walls cracked and its towers crumbling. Yet, despite its decay, it still held a commanding view over the plains leading to Solandis. It would serve as a starting point, a place to regroup, plan, and prepare.

Eirik Stoneheart and his crew were already hard at work, clearing rubble and judging the structural integrity of the walls. The dwarf had a keen eye for detail, barking orders and making notes on a scrap of parchment. His voice carried a mixture of authority and enthusiasm; he saw potential where others saw ruin.

"This place will hold, Thorne," Eirik called up to him, wiping sweat from his brow. "But it’ll take some work to make it ready for a proper defence. Give me a few weeks, and we’ll have something that can withstand a siege."

Aric nodded. "We’ll need it sooner than that, but do what you can."

Lira Windrider, standing beside him, watched the scene unfold below. Her presence was as commanding as ever, a mix of grace and intensity. "You've chosen well," she said. "This place has a certain charm, even if it’s half falling apart."

"Charm wasn’t my primary concern," Aric replied, though he couldn’t help but smirk. "But I’ll take what I can get."

There was a pause as they both looked out over the plains. Lira’s expression turned thoughtful. "You haven’t told me much about yourself, Aric. About who you really are."

He tensed at her words, feeling the weight of memories pressing against his mind like a storm cloud. "There isn’t much to tell," he said, though he knew it wasn’t the truth.

"People like you don’t just wander into a broken kingdom with plans to rebuild it," she countered. "You’ve seen war. You’ve fought in it. But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?"

Aric’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like digging into the past. But if he was going to ask for trust from those around him, he supposed he needed to offer some in return. "I was a soldier," he began, "fighting in battles I didn’t believe in, under banners that didn’t mean anything to me. I’ve seen good men die for causes they didn’t understand, causes that only served the ambitions of those who wielded power. When the civil war broke out, I saw it for what it was, a game played by the powerful, with the common folk as the pieces. I walked away from that life, but I never forgot what I saw."

Lira listened intently, her eyes never leaving his. "And now you want to change the rules of the game."

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"Not just the rules," he said, his voice firm. "I want to change the game itself."

She nodded, a hint of a smile on her lips. "You might just be the most dangerous man in Valoria, Aric Thorne."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden arrival of one of Eirik’s men, breathless and wide-eyed. "Milord, there’s a rider approaching. Looks like he’s coming from the west."

Aric’s instincts kicked in. "From Solandis? Or beyond?"

"Hard to say, milord," the man replied, "but he’s moving fast. Could be a scout."

"Keep your eyes sharp," Aric ordered. "And be ready."

Moments later, the rider came into view, a lone figure on horseback moving swiftly across the plains. As he drew closer, Aric could see the dust-stained cloak and the weariness in the way the man slouched in the saddle. Whoever he was, he’d ridden hard to get here.

The rider pulled up in front of the fortress gates, dismounting and stumbling slightly as he did. "I seek Aric Thorne!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

Aric descended from the battlements, motioning for the gates to be opened. As he approached the rider, he could see the desperation in his eyes. "I’m Aric Thorne," he said. "What news do you bring?"

The rider pulled a scroll from his cloak, his hands shaking. "From the west," he said. "From those who still remain loyal to the old ways."

Aric took the scroll, breaking the wax seal. His eyes scanned the hastily scrawled words, his expression darkening with each line. "Darius Blackwood," he muttered.

Lira’s eyes narrowed. "The warlord of Grimhold?"

"Aye," Aric replied, handing her the scroll. "It seems he’s been rallying forces along the western border, gathering those who are eager for more conquest."

Eirik, who had joined them, let out a low growl. "That brute? I’ve heard of him. More beast than man, that one. If he’s moving, it’s not for a pleasant visit."

Lira read through the scroll, her face growing grim. "He’s planning to seize Solandis," she said. "If he does, he’ll have a foothold right in the heart of Valoria. From there, he could push further, consolidate power, and declare himself king."

Aric nodded. "Which is why we need to prepare for his arrival. We can’t let him take Solandis, or this fortress. If he gains control, any hope of uniting Valoria will be lost."

Eirik clenched his fists. "Well, I didn’t sign up to let some warlord take what we’re building here. If it’s a fight he wants, he’ll get one."

Aric turned to Lira. "You said you play your own game. What’s your move now?"

Lira folded the scroll and tucked it away. "I’ll send word to my contacts in Elysia. If Darius is making a move, they need to know. And I’ll stay here, with you. For now."

Aric felt a strange sense of relief at her words, though he wasn’t sure why. "Good," he said. "We’re going to need all the allies we can get."

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the fortress, Aric felt the weight of his past pressing down on him again. The road ahead was dark, filled with uncertainties and threats. But he had taken the first steps. He had gathered allies, secured a base, and uncovered the first whispers of the storm to come.

But he also knew that shadows lingered, not just those of the past, but of the choices he would soon have to make. Choices that could shape the fate of Valoria and all of Eldoria.

In the distance, the wind picked up, carrying with it the faint scent of smoke and something darker, an omen of the gathering storm. And Aric Thorne, once a man without a cause, now found himself standing at the center of it