Chapter 20: Aftermath at Aurellian

The scout’s urgent footsteps echoed down the stone corridor as he burst into the chamber where Aurette and Seralyne stood discussing their dwindling supplies.

“Patriarch! Lady Aurette!” the scout called out, his breath ragged from the rush.

Seralyne’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Speak quickly. What news do you bring?”

The scout bowed slightly, steadying his voice despite the tension. “The storm has finally settled. Since last night, we have kept watch over the enemy camp.”

Aurette leaned forward, her gaze sharp. “And?”

“They have not moved yet,” the scout reported. “But their preparations have intensified. We see them tightening ranks, readying weapons and supplies. Their calm is deliberate—waiting for the right moment to strike.”

A cold silence settled over the room. Seralyne’s jaw clenched as she exchanged a glance with Aurette.

“This was to be expected,” Seralyne said quietly. “The storm may have kept them at bay, but now the threat looms larger than ever.”

Aurette nodded, a steely resolve in her eyes. “We cannot wait for them to choose the time and place. We must prepare—strengthen defences, rally our people, and gather our forces.”

Seralyne turned to the nearest attendant. “Send word immediately to the captains. Assemble the council. We will meet in the war chamber at first light.”

She looked back to the scout. “Continue your watch. Report any change, no matter how small. We cannot afford surprises.”

The scout dipped his head in acknowledgment and hurried out to resume his vigil.

Aurette exhaled deeply, turning to her mother. “It feels like the calm before a storm that could tear us apart.”

Seralyne’s voice was steady, though lined with worry. “Then we must be the storm’s answer—united and unyielding.”

Later, after the council meeting had been arranged and preparations were underway, Aurette found herself alone with her mother in a quiet corner of the hall.

Aurette’s voice was measured but firm. “Mother, I think it’s time we ask for help from Aeldenmarch.”

Seralyne’s eyes flickered with hesitation. “The clans of Caelrhime have always stood on their own. Asking for aid could be seen as a sign of weakness.”

Aurette shook her head gently. “It’s not weakness to recognize when you need allies. We face a powerful enemy—Vaerond and his forces. If we want to survive, we cannot do this alone.”

Seralyne studied her daughter, seeing the determination in her eyes.

“I have already joined hands with King Caelan of Aeldenmarch,” Aurette continued. “He stands against Vaerond too. If we call on him now, he will send support. We can fight together.”

A long pause followed, Seralyne weighing the truth in Aurette’s words. Finally, she gave a slow nod. “Very well. If there is a chance to protect our people, we must take it.”

Aurette smiled faintly, relief washing over her. “I will write the letter myself.”

She retrieved parchment and ink, her hand steady as she penned the message: a plea for aid, a recounting of the threat, and a request for reinforcements.

Once finished, she folded the letter carefully and handed it to one of the fastest scouts. “Take this to Aeldenmarch. Here is a map given to me by Caelan himself—use it to find the safest path.”

The scout bowed deeply, a silent promise in his eyes. “I will not fail you, Lady Aurette.”

With that, he turned and vanished into the early morning mist, carrying the hope of Caelrhime’s survival in his grasp.

The battle had come to an end, the air still heavy with the scent of smoke and dust. Aurelian’s streets bore signs of conflict, but the town itself stood firm, its defences holding strong.

Caelan rode steadily through the clearing battlefield, eyes sharp as he scanned the scene. Despite the skirmish, Kael and his men remained largely unscathed, tending carefully to the few injured soldiers. Nearby, Raye stood with his men, their armor scraped but intact, faces showing fatigue but no grave wounds.

Fallen enemies lay scattered across the field—Vaerond’s strike force had been decisively repelled.

Dismounting, Caelan approached the two figures he sought.

“Raye.” His voice carried relief and authority.

Raye looked up, nodding in respect. “Your Majesty. We held the line well.”

Kael stepped forward, dusting off his gauntlets. “King Caelan, it’s an honour. Thanks to swift strategy and brave men, we kept casualties minimal.”

Caelan met Kael’s gaze. “I’m impressed. You and your men fought with precision.”

Kael shrugged modestly. “The men are strong—and so are you, for sending timely reinforcements.”

Raye added, “The enemy underestimated us. Their losses are heavy, but our men stand ready for whatever comes next.”

Caelan nodded firmly. “Good. This victory is important, but the war is far from over. We must remain vigilant.”

Kael and Raye exchanged determined looks, ready for the challenges ahead.

Caelan surveyed the town as the last of Vaerond’s forces were driven back. Dust settled over Aurellian, but the streets remained intact, and the people were safe—for now.

“How many civilians and soldiers do we have here, Kael?” Caelan asked, his voice steady but commanding. “And how many are still able to move?”

Kael thought for a moment. “Around three hundred civilians took shelter here, and about one hundred fifty soldiers remain battle-ready. Another fifty are injured but stable—they can’t fight but can move within the town.”

Caelan nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a solid number for a rendezvous point. We’ll move back to Aeldenmarch at first light tomorrow. Tonight, we rest here—but I want full guard rotations. Secure the perimeter and keep watch. No surprises.”

Kael saluted. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

As night fell and the campfires flickered, the men settled in for a much-needed rest. The crackling flames cast long shadows, and Raye sat close to Kael, beginning to share everything that had transpired over the last three days.

“I fought with Aurette against Vaerond,” Raye began quietly, “but… we lost. We didn’t even put up much of a fight—no real challenge.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Aurette? You fought alongside her?”

Raye nodded. “Yeah. She’s strong. But even with her help, we couldn’t turn the tide.”

Kael frowned, then asked, “What made Vaerond so strong? His attacks were heavy and precise, like he knew exactly where to strike.”

Raye took a deep breath. “It’s because of something called Aura. It’s a power that warriors can awaken inside themselves—it boosts strength, speed, even endurance. Vaerond has mastered it. His strikes weren’t just skilful; they were enhanced by Aura. That’s why they hit so hard and so accurately.”

Kael’s brow furrowed in thought. “Aura… I’ve never heard of it.”

“I only just started learning to control mine,” Raye said. “It’s still unstable, but I’m getting there. It explains why Vaerond was so far beyond any fighter I’ve faced before.”

Kael nodded slowly, the weight of this knowledge settling in. “That explains a lot. We’re going to need to be ready for warriors like that.”

The conversation shifted, and Kael began to recount the recent troubles in Aurellian. “Two nights ago, a tribe from the Western Veil—the Dornari—tried to raid the town. They failed, but not without cost. There were some casualties among the soldiers and civilians, though nothing catastrophic.”

Raye nodded grimly. “Sounds like they’re getting bolder.”

Kael sighed, staring into the fire. “They are. We’ll have to be ready.”

The night wore on with quiet conversations and the steady watch of sentries. Dawn was still hours away when the camp fell into a heavy, exhausted silence.

As the first pale light of dawn crept over the horizon, the group prepared to leave Aurellian behind, making their way back toward Aeldenmarch—ready for whatever lay ahead.