The council gathering was held beneath the canopy of Murkrest’s largest swamp oak, where thick branches spread out like a natural roof and gnarled roots formed benches for the gathered villagers and visitors. Flickering lanterns cast shadows that danced across the crowd, giving the clearing an almost sacred, mystical air. Agan and the other younger villagers, including Garik, Aska, Karu, and Nara, stood at the edge, watching the proceedings in silence.
Elder Saka, a figure known for her wisdom and strength, sat on a raised root at the heart of the assembly. Beside her was Darek, a stern-faced warrior whose experience in battle was etched into the lines of his face. Opposite them stood Rahn and Yava—two representatives from the Orc Tribe. Rahn was broad-shouldered and dressed in rough hides, his arms folded, while Yava, a shaman robed in dark green, held a staff adorned with feathers and animal bones, her gaze calm and thoughtful.
“We’re not here to waste time, Saka,” Rahn began, his voice a low rumble. “The empire’s scouts are testing our borders. If we wait too long, they’ll overrun us. My people are preparing, and I suggest Murkrest do the same.”
Saka nodded, unperturbed by his directness. “You speak of preparation, but war with the empire is not something we should rush into. Each step we take needs to be precise—one wrong move could bring their wrath upon all of us.”
Rahn scoffed, his tone defiant. “You’d prefer to sit and watch while they close in, then? Let them encroach on our land and take what they want? We’ve seen how they treat those who surrender—cities burned to the ground, people enslaved. If we want to keep our freedom, we need to be ready to fight for it.”
A murmur ran through the crowd. Agan glanced around, noting the mixture of fear and determination on the faces of the villagers. Even Garik, who usually treated council matters with casual indifference, seemed intent, his brow furrowed as he listened.
Yava’s calm voice cut through the tension, her words measured. “The spirits have guided us this far, Rahn. They warn us to act with caution, to watch, to wait. We are protectors, not conquerors. And our numbers are few.”
Darek spoke up, his tone gruff but respectful. “The Orc Tribe has strength, and Murkrest has defenses. But we can’t match the empire’s numbers or their firepower. If they come in force, what hope do we have in open conflict?”
Rahn’s mouth twisted into a half-smile, his sharp gaze shifting to Darek. “We don’t need to match their strength with brute force. We know this land better than they ever will. We use that to our advantage—set traps, hit them where they’re weak, cut off their supply lines. The swamp will fight with us if we let it.”
Darek tilted his head, considering Rahn’s words. Agan saw a flicker of respect in his eyes, and he realized that, despite the tension, the elder warriors saw merit in Rahn’s confidence.
Saka nodded slowly. “What you say has truth, Rahn. But we cannot act alone. An alliance with the other tribes may give us the strength we need. However, we must approach them with care. Many are wary of the empire, but just as many would rather avoid provoking them.”
“What of the Raksha Tribe?” Garik blurted, his voice loud in the quiet of the clearing. Heads turned to look at him, and he flushed, lowering his voice. “I mean… they’re known to work for whoever pays them, right? Can we trust them not to side with the empire?”
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A ripple of murmurs ran through the crowd. Rahn’s expression turned sour, and he glanced at Saka, who held up a hand, signaling for quiet.
“We cannot be certain of the Raksha Tribe’s loyalty,” Saka said, her tone careful. “They value strength and independence above all else. But they are not without honor. If we appeal to their sense of freedom, they may stand with us rather than under the empire’s rule.”
Yava nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “The Raksha are proud. They would sooner die than bow to a foreign power. If we offer them a role in protecting the swamp, they may see this as a chance to prove their strength without compromising their pride.”
Darek’s eyes narrowed, his expression wary. “But if the empire offers them gold and a chance to fight… they may see an alliance with us as a weakness. We can’t rely on them without guarantees.”
“Then we prepare for that possibility as well,” Saka replied, a firmness in her voice that quieted the crowd. “We proceed with caution and readiness. And if the Raksha turn against us, we defend our own.”
At this, Rahn inclined his head, a flicker of approval in his gaze. “Then let’s be clear—we begin preparing in secret, training those who are willing and ready to fight. We do not need an army, but we need scouts, fighters who know how to defend their land.”
Darek gave a sharp nod, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Any able young person should be ready. Those who want to join in training will have their chance.”
Karu shifted beside Agan, casting him a sidelong glance. “So that’s us, huh? Scouts and fighters.”
Agan gave a slight nod, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The thought of training to defend Murkrest was thrilling—but the idea of fighting against the empire’s forces was daunting.
“Will we be enough?” he whispered to Garik, who shrugged, his expression unreadable.
“We don’t have much of a choice, do we?” Garik replied, his tone grim. “It’s either that, or wait for them to overrun us.”
As the council deliberated further, Tarek approached the group, his gaze steady. “That’s the reality, Agan,” he said quietly, his tone calm but serious. “The council isn’t here to frighten you. But you’re part of this land, and it’s your duty to protect it.”
Agan’s chest tightened with pride and determination, the weight of his responsibility settling over him. Garik, Aska, and Karu seemed to feel it too, each of them nodding in silent agreement.
“We’re not fighting alone,” Tarek continued, his gaze intense. “The other tribes are preparing, and we’re all bound by a common goal—our freedom. The empire is strong, but they don’t know these lands like we do. And that gives us an edge.”
Agan felt a surge of hope at Tarek’s words, a glimmer of confidence amidst the uncertainty. They weren’t soldiers, but they were willing to fight for their homes, their families, and their way of life. And with the swamp on their side, perhaps they stood a chance.
As the council meeting drew to a close, Saka addressed the crowd once more, her voice carrying with quiet strength. “We are bound by our land, our people, and our heritage. And we are united in purpose. Together, we will protect what is ours.”
The crowd dispersed, villagers talking in low voices as they returned to their tasks, their faces etched with a mixture of worry and resolve. Agan lingered with his friends, each of them feeling the weight of the decision made here.
“That was… something,” Karu muttered, his gaze distant. “Feels like we’re really part of this now, huh?”
Aska nodded, her expression firm. “More than we ever were before.”
Garik looked over at Agan, a slight smile on his lips. “Guess we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other at training. Try to keep up, will you?”
Agan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his mouth. “Just don’t fall behind, Garik. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
As they made their way back to their homes, a sense of purpose filled them—a knowledge that, whatever came next, they would face it together. And in the heart of the swamp, the land they called home waited, its spirit watching over them, as ready as they were for the fight to come.