Preparation For The End

The fortress was quiet today, snow falling lightly, and settling in a thick white layer across the walls and courtyards. Soldiers, citizens, and families gathered to honor the dead from the last patrols and skirmishes. The crisp air carried the scent of frozen earth and smoke as priests and priestesses prepared pyres and graves, incense drifting upward in thin spirals.

Akari walked along the edge of the gathering, her ears flicking at every whisper and murmur. Her gaze swept over the crowd, taking in expressions etched with grief, tension, and fear. Even small gestures - hands clenched around a loved one, a father gripping a sword tightly, eyes glistening with unshed tears - told stories of how close the losses had been. The memory of Noel’s blood, his sudden injury, the fight in the frozen wilderness, all clung to her, sharpening her awareness.

High Priestess Serina stepped forward, her robes rustling softly in the snow. She lifted her hands, invoking the gods for protection and guidance. Her voice rang clear and steady, commanding silence as the names of the deceased were read aloud. Some had families present, others had only comrades standing quietly beside them. Each name seemed to echo across the fortress, a stark reminder of the dangers that still lurked beyond the walls. The mood was solemn, tense, and heavy. Everyone could feel it: these attacks were only the beginning.

...

Noel and his squad approached the graves together. Noel’s pace was slow, his chest rising and falling with a heavy weight. He touched each headstone with careful respect, eyes reflecting on the moments of the past that led him to this present - and the pensive reflection of his future. Survivor’s guilt tugged at him, sharper than the winter wind.

Branek stood stoically, one hand resting lightly on Noel’s shoulder, the other clasped behind his back. His expression betrayed little, though Akari could sense the depth of thought in his stance. Lysandra, still in her mage robes, fidgeted with the edge of her staff, her laughter from earlier gone, replaced by a reflective, controlled grief. Her eyes were so far away. Ansel pressed his face to his palms at one point, mumbling prayers, his small gestures of support poignant against the silence of the fallen.

Akari sat in front of the graves, observing quietly. She noted each and every person, every number, and every name.

...

Later, the council convened inside the fortress’s main hall. Caldris, Seren, and Mira were present, standing at the back as the northern lords took the floor to discuss fortifying walls, securing supplies, and preparing for the coming siege. Rumors had begun circulating that the enemy’s numbers might rival the battle from a year ago. The room buzzed with tension, not just of strategy but of politics: subtle disagreements and silent jabs passing between the lords. The three council members could feel it even from their spots near the entrance - the pressure of leadership weighed heavily on every word. Lives were determined by their words.

Lord Halveth finally silenced the debate, the planning, and the arguments to clear his throat, addressing the room. “The dead have shown us the stakes. We cannot hold the North with only those already stationed here, especially accounting for the losses a year ago. Therefore, we will open the gates to all who come willingly to fight or to aid us in any way. Every sword, every skill, and every willing hand will be counted. Strength in numbers will be our shield.”

The announcement rippled through the council and gathered soldiers. Some exchanged determined glances; others looked apprehensive. The trio looked at each other. No matter who falls under their command, they would do their best to lead them to victory and another day.

...

Through help of magic and priority for transportation, the first recruits began arriving after a few days.

Four notable figures who would appear in Akari's life approached the gates, boots softly sinking on the snow. Each carried themselves with a distinct presence that immediately drew the attention of the fortress’s defenders.

Morrin, the hot-headed soldier from the South, strode forward with confident steps, eyes scanning the fortress as though already measuring its defenses.

Beside him, Darius Althier, a noble recruit from the Central Lands, moved more cautiously, adjusting his cloak against the wind, his hands betraying slight unease.

Ryoshin from the East followed with calm, calculating movements, her eyes taking in every detail of the walls, gates, and soldiers.

Finally, Father Tharen, a veteran priest from the West. He walked steadily, his staff in hand, and a small reassuring smile on his lips.

Branek nudged Akari, who was watching the first new people to arrive, gently with his shoulder. “Watch them,” he murmured. “First impressions matter, and these four will be the first of many joining us.”

Akari’s tail flicked once. She observed silently, noting their subtle emotions, gestures, and posture. Each had their own strengths, but she could sense that the siege would test them in ways nothing yet had.

The council welcomed the first recruits formally. Kael raised a fist confidently. “I’ve faced battle, but never in the North.”

Ryoshin’s gaze sharpened. “Be aware, or you will not survive.”

Darius swallowed, a flicker of anxiety passing over his face. “I will do my best. The North is… unforgiving.”

Tharen’s calm voice cut through, steady as the mountain winds. “Prepare your mind as well as your body. There is no other choice.”

Outside, snow swirled softly against the frozen walls. The gates closed behind the new recruits, signaling the end of the formal introductions. Inside, soldiers and council members alike prepared for the next stage. Akari’s gaze followed the newcomers, noting the tension and determination. She did wonder what reason these people would fight in a battle they could die.

Somewhere beyond the walls, the storm of the coming siege gathered its strength, and the fortress would need every hand to withstand it. The North was rising, and the first threads of the next battle were already being woven.