Rise of the Horde

Chapter 451: Chapter 451

The wind whipped at their cloaks, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Two figures, cloaked in the deep blue of the Lazican night, raced across the windswept lands. They were seasoned spies, their movements practiced and precise, their gazes sharp and alert.

They had been sent ahead of the Lazican army, tasked with gathering an update on the information about the fortress near the border, a stronghold on the edge of the old Lazican territories to the south, now occupied by the Ereian invaders.

The last information that they had in their hands was from months ago. They had to ensure that the information that they had was precisely correct or if there were changes, they could inform their allies.

"How much further?" The taller of the two, a wiry man with eyes the color of storm clouds, asked, his voice strained.

The other, a woman with a face etched with the harshness of the mountains, replied, "Just a few more hours, if the gods are merciful. We will reach the fortress before nightfall."

They had been following the trail of the Ereian patrols for an entire day, keeping their distance, observing, and gathering intelligence. Their mission had been simple: gauge the strength of the fortress, estimate the number of defenders, and report back to their commander. But the reality on the ground was far more complex. Tortuga, once a proud Albernan bastion, was now heavily fortified, bristling with defenses they had not anticipated.

"The Ereians," the man said, his voice laced with surprise, "they have received some sort of reinforcements. The fortress is stronger than we thought."

The woman grunted, "We knew this was not going to be easy. The Ereians will not surrender the territory that they have conquered without a fight."

They had witnessed a steady stream of supplies and troops arriving at the fortress, a sight that had sent chills down their spines. The Ereians was clearly determined to hold their grip on the fortress.

They didn't know if it was an accident or by a mere coincidence, but they have witnessed the arrival, and the process of the Ereian reinforcement entering the fortress from the south.

"The commander needs to know this," she said, her voice grim. "We need to warn him. The siege will be difficult. Perhaps impossible with the number of soldiers we have in the army."

They pressed on through the night, the wind biting at their faces, the darkness swallowing them whole. The thought of the Lazican army, their comrades, marching blindly into a trap, fueled their pace.

They finally reached the Lazican camp at dawn, the first rays of the sun painting the sky with hues of orange and crimson. The camp was a sprawling encampment of tents and wagons, the air thick with the scent of wood smoke and cooking meat. Soldiers moved about, preparing for the day's tasks. The Lazican commander, a stern man with a face weathered by war, was overseeing the preparations, his expression grim.

The two spies approached the commander, their cloaks stained with the grime of their journey. They bowed low, their faces pale and drawn.

"My lord," the man said, his voice raspy. "We have returned from our mission."

The commander's gaze, sharp and piercing, landed on them. "Tell me," he said, his voice a low growl. "What have you learned?"

The woman stepped forward. "My lord, the fortress is stronger than we imagined. The Ereians has brought in reinforcements. They are determined to hold the fortress and keep control of it."

The commander's face remained impassive. "How many?"

"Twice the number we expected, my lord," the man said, his voice strained. "We cannot be certain, but we estimate at least twenty thousand men within the walls."

The commander's brow furrowed. "And the defenses?"

"The fortress is fortified, with walls more guarded than we expected. They have some sort of contraptions on the walls. The Ereians are clearly prepared for a siege, and they are ready to fight a long battle against us." The woman's voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with apprehension. The commander stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the distant mountains, his mind racing.

"The king's orders," he said at last, his voice a low rumble. "He wants Tortuga Fortress back. He wants teach the Ereians a good lesson, and put them in their place."

"It will be a difficult victory, my lord," the man said, his voice a whisper. "The Ereian commander is not a man to be underestimated. He managed to take away the Tortuga Fortress from the Albernans, and at some point also managed to have the nearby City of Desa under their control."

The commander nodded. "I know," he said. "But we will fight. We will win. We will reclaim Tortuga Fortress." His voice, though strained, held a steely resolve.

But deep inside, he was already doubtful of their victory. Twenty thousand soldiers inside the fortress, he knew that the meager seven thousand men that he had under his command wouldn't put much of a dent against the defenses of the Ereians.

The spies stood silent, their hearts heavy with the weight of their grim news. They had fulfilled their duty, and that was that. They knew that the army was about to face a fight unlike any they had seen before, and they have no desire to participate in such a fight.

"Rest," the commander said, his gaze softening. "The gods will guide us."

The spies bowed once more, their bodies weary, but they were still far from exhaustion. They knew that if they stay longer with the army, they would be sent out by the commander on almost suicide missions, next. They plan to leave as soon as they have rested enough, back towards the lands of the union.

They might be paid handsomely by the king of Lazica, but they had to stay alive in order for them to spend it. Although they are currently following the orders of the king, their loyalty lies not with the king, but with the coins that he was paying them to enlist their services.

*****

The air hung heavy in the grand hall of the Earl's former manor, a space now transformed into a meeting place for the leaders of the dark elves. Elara, the Queen of Ereia, sat at the head of a long, polished oak table, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames.

Beside her, Syvis, her second-in-command, seemed to be holding her breath, she seemed uninterested in the discussion.

Across from them, the two other leaders of their kin in Ereia, both with the same stark, dark features common to their kind, were whispering amongst themselves, their faces etched with apprehension.

"They are behaving differently," the one, whose name was Kaela, said, her voice barely above a whisper. "These orcs, I mean. They are..." he paused, searching for the right words.

"Seemed controlled," her sister Aella, finished. "Almost eerily so. They move with a precision we've never seen before."

Elara nodded, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "They are different," she agreed. "Not the savage, disorganized hordes we've come to expect. They have a structure, a chain of command that even the Ereians lack. But I doubt they are being controlled."

"They are, at the very least, not hostile," Kaela added, her voice soothingly calm. "That much is clear. Their actions during the rebellion... they were swift and decisive. And their cheiftain... he seems to have a different vision."

Aella scoffed. "Vision? These are orcs! They are driven by instincts, by bloodlust. This is an illusion, a facade. It will crumble. It always does."

Elara's eyes narrowed. "This is not the time for doubt, Aella. These orcs are our allies... well at least for now. We will behave and act accordingly to the situation. And perhaps we can trust them."

"Trust?" Aella laughed, a hollow sound that echoed through the silent hall. "Trust is a luxury we can't afford. We have seen what happens when we trust. We have seen the consequences of believing in promises that were broken. Trust is a dangerous thing."

"And fear is a deadly thing," Elara countered, her voice firm. "Fear leads to stagnation, to isolation. We cannot afford that. We are in uncharted territory. We need allies, and these orcs, despite their differences, have proven themselves willing to fight alongside us. At least they don't hate us like our real enemies, who were adamant in hunting us all down."

"Hope," Aella repeated, a cynical smirk twisting his lips. "Hope is a luxury we can't afford. It is the poison that weakens us, that makes us blind to the truth."

Syvis rose from her chair, her eyes flashing. "Aelaa! This is no time for your pessimism! We are in dangerous situation, a situation that might cost us all our lives! We need unity, not division!"

"And what unity?" Aella spat. "A unity built on fragile alliances, on promises whispered in the wind? A unity that could shatter at the slightest provocation? No. That's not unity. That's a trap."

"Aella is right," Kaela said, her voice cold. "We have been betrayed before. We have seen what happens when we trust the wrong people. We must be cautious. We must protect ourselves."

Elara sighed, the weight of her responsibility suddenly heavy on her shoulders. "We cannot afford to dwell on the past, on what has been lost. We must look to the future. Aren't you tired from hiding all this time?"

She paused, allowing her words to hang in the air, a silent challenge to her people. "I believe in the possibility of a future where we and these... orcs stand side by side. But I also understand the fear, the mistrust. It is a heavy burden, a burden we all carry. We must learn to trust others, to forget the past, and to believe in the possibility of a better future. It is our only hope."

Silence settled over the room, a heavy, oppressive silence broken only by the sound of the wind. The dark elves looked at each other, their faces a mixture of fear, hope, and uncertainty. The question hung in the air, unanswered, unspoken: would they be able to overcome their fears and forge a new path, a path of unity and hope? The answer, they knew, was not easy, and the future, shrouded in shadows, remained uncertain.