The war room smelled of ash and iron. Adrian stood at the head of the long oak table, his armor catching the flicker of torchlight. Maps, reports, and sketches of battle formations were strewn across the surface, their edges curling and marked by smudges of ink. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Conversations among the generals had quieted the moment Adrian entered, his commanding presence silencing even the boldest among them.But silence wasn’t what disturbed Adrian. It was the report he held in his hands. The faint tremor in his fingers was barely noticeable, hidden under the gauntlets of his armor, but it was there. The report had confirmed his worst fears.There was a traitor among them.His sharp blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the expressions of each of his trusted men and women. Some stood stiffly, others avoided his gaze altogether. Victor, his closest strategist, was the only one who met his eyes without flinching. Adrian allowed himself to trust Victor—for now."V

The campfires crackled under a moonless sky, casting fleeting shadows across Adrian’s tired face. He stood in the center of his war council, surrounded by trusted commanders. The battle for Blackwater Ridge had taken its toll, and while they had claimed victory, whispers of dissent had begun to poison the air. The pressure of leadership weighed heavier with each passing day.Adrian traced the edge of his battered sword with a calloused finger. "We've been pushed to our limits, but we cannot falter," he said, his voice firm despite the fatigue that gripped him. "The Ridge was only the beginning. If we hesitate now, all we’ve built will crumble."General Kael, a seasoned warrior with a scar that ran from his temple to his jaw, stepped forward. "The men are weary, Adrian. They need rest, supplies, and reassurance. Morale is fragile."Before Adrian could respond, a scout burst into the tent. "My lord, urgent news!" the man panted, his face pale. "A splinter faction of our troops has turne

Adrian stood at the edge of the northern encampment, gazing out at the icy tundra as the morning frost glistened like a sea of diamonds. Behind him, the gathered warriors of Clan Frostspire busied themselves, preparing for the march south. Their newfound allegiance marked a turning point, but Adrian knew that uniting them with his fractured forces would not be simple.Eira approached, her long silver hair catching the faint sunlight. "You’ve earned the respect of my people, Adrian," she said, her voice steady. "But respect is only part of the equation. Convince them that this alliance will benefit their future, or their loyalty will falter."Adrian nodded. "I understand. They’ll see that this isn’t just my fight—it’s all of ours."Eira smirked faintly. "Then let’s hope your actions speak louder than your words."A Tenuous AllianceThe march southward was grueling. The combined forces of Frostspire and Adrian’s army traveled under harsh conditions, their supplies stretched thin. Tensio