Chapter 146 – Before the Banners Rise

  The decree was clear.

  All summoned adventurers were to assemble at Lethrain, the Baron’s main city, within seven days. From there, they would march west to reinforce Margrave Alaric Vaelor, the proud shield of Pinta’s western frontier.

  One hundred would depart from the frontier town.

  Ten notable adventurers.

  Eighty volunteers.

  And the rest—former adventurers, retired mercenaries, men too old for glory but too stubborn to let the young bleed alone.

  No one celebrated.

  But no one hesitated either.

  Preparations

  The town did not sleep that night.

  Corvix mobilized every connection he had. Bandages, gauze, clean water pouches, whetstones, spare blades—anything that could mean the difference between life and death. Nasha stayed by his side until dawn, quietly sorting supplies with trembling hands.

  Tomas baked without pause. Bread after bread after bread. Enough to fill half a wagon. Enough so no one from his town would march hungry.

  Suniel brewed potions in silence from dusk until first light. Recovery draughts. Anti-venom. Stamina elixirs. Bubble stays beside him, carrying ingredients without pause, refusing to rest.

  By morning, eight sealed crates were delivered to the caravan.

  No one said it out loud.

  But every crate was a prayer.

  The Farewell

  The entire town gathered at the guild hall courtyard.

  No one begged Ivaline to stay.

  They had already tried.

  Now they simply said—

  “Come back soon.”

  “We’ll be waiting.”

  And she answered the same each time.

  “I’ll return. Without fail.”

  No more arguments.

  No more attempts to drag her away.

  Only silence.

  Tomas held her shoulders as if she might fade if he let go.

  Corvix stood straight, eyes calculating routes, supply lines, fallback positions—anything to avoid imagining her falling.

  Suniel watched her longest.

  “We will not stop you,” he said quietly. “But we will hold you accountable.”

  Ivaline nodded.

  “I expect nothing less, Father.”

  For the first time—

  They did not see a child.

  They saw a warrior.

  And it broke something inside them.

  The Guard Post – Open Bonfire

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  That night, four men drank beneath the guard tower.

  Brannic.

  Edric.

  Edwyn.

  Harlund.

  No laughter. No boasting.

  Only firelight and cheap ale that tasted like regret.

  “She used to hunt for her own meal,” Brannic muttered. “that little girl now join the war.”

  “She’s fourteen,” Edric said hoarsely.

  “Still underage,” Harlund added.

  “Too capable for her own good,” Edwyn finished.

  Silence fell again.

  “This meat tastes awful.”

  “The ale too.”

  None of them blamed the cook.

  They blamed the world.

  The Orphanage

  Sister Alme tucked the last child beneath their blanket.

  Father Roud extinguished the final candle.

  They stood before the goddess statue together.

  “The children asked me,” Sister Alme whispered. “Will Miss Silver Ward return safely?”

  Father Roud said nothing.

  “She was so kind… even after we failed her years ago.”

  Tears slid freely down the sister’s face.

  “What sin has she committed to face war at fourteen?”

  Father Roud bowed his head deeper.

  “Then let us pray,” he said softly. “That she returns with her wife.”

  And so they did.

  Garrick & Mireya

  The house Garrick had finished paying off only yesterday felt too large that night.

  It was meant to be their beginning.

  Not a farewell.

  “If the decree didn’t arrive,” Mireya asked quietly from within his arms, “would you have embraced me like this?”

  “Every day,” Garrick replied without hesitation. “Not just because of war.”

  She huffed.

  “Ten years of cowardice.”

  “Strategic patience.”

  “Gutless.”

  She leaned into him anyway.

  After a long silence, Garrick pressed a small iron key into her palm.

  “If I don’t come back, it’s yours.”

  A sharp pinch made him yelp.

  “If you don’t come back,” Mireya said coldly, “I’ll tell our child their father was an irresponsible bastard who ran off to die after he leaves them inside of me.”

  “…That’s harsh!”

  “Then survive and explain yourself.”

  Her hand rested over her abdomen.

  Small.

  Fragile.

  Holding a future they have crafted together a while ago.

  They didn’t sleep much.

  At dawn, they kissed like it might anchor fate itself.

  “I’ll come back,” Garrick swore.

  “You’d better,” she said. “Or I and our child will haunt you.”

  Seraphine

  The moon was high when they sat alone.

  No speeches.

  No false courage.

  Just hands intertwined.

  “You looked so certain,” Seraphine murmured.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You hid it well.”

  They pressed their foreheads together.

  “Are you afraid?” Seraphine asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. So am I.”

  Emerald met ash-grey and blue.

  “If you die—”

  “I won’t.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “…Oh.”

  Seraphine smiled faintly through tears.

  “If you die, I’ll follow. So don’t.”

  “I won’t,” Ivaline answered more gently this time.

  That night, Seraphine kissed her first.

  And pushed Ivaline down.

  The morning after—

  Four Bastion stared at the marks along Seraphine neck.

  Seraphine turned bright red.

  “Nothing happened! We didn’t cross the line!”

  No one believed her.

  Even Ivaline avoided eye contact.

  Across the Barony

  Lightning Whip – Selene Viremont

  At Lethrain’s guild branch, Selene Viremont, Guild leader of this branch read the decree in silence.

  She could have stayed.

  Her position allowed it.

  Instead, she sealed the parchment and rose.

  “I will oversee the reinforcement personally.”

  Her gaze sharpened.

  “No one under my banner will die a meaningless death.”

  Her artifact flicker as if responded to her determination.

  Iron Flash – Rivel

  Rivel trained deep into the night.

  He replayed every lesson from Silver Ward.

  Distance.

  Tempo.

  Emotion.

  Prediction.

  His red runic spear carved arcs in the darkness.

  “I know you’ll come,” he muttered. “Show me how far I still have to climb.”

  The tip glowing read when he twirls it in motion.

  The Three Berserkers

  Under the moon, three Orcish warriors reunited.

  Gruthak – Steel Tusk.

  Gertakt – Iron Crush.

  Gretukt – Stone Hold.

  Bare chests collided in thunderous greeting.

  “We charge like before,” Gruthak grinned.

  “I break,” Iron Crush roared.

  “I hold,” Stone Hold finished calmly.

  War, to them, was not fear.

  It was purpose.

  Chronicle

  In the silence of Ivaline’s mind—

  Chronicle opened the crafting interface.

  Points: 400 / 400.

  Upgradeable skills available.

  Unclaimed abilities ready.

  He would not force her.

  He would not interfere with fate.

  But he would be prepared.

  If destiny turned cruel—

  He would record it.

  Legends often ended in tragedy.

  And he was a historian.

  A witness.

  But he could make one vow.

  To remain with her—

  From the dawn of his existence

  Until his final spark faded.

  She would never be alone.

  Departure

  When the caravan finally rolled out—

  No cheers followed.

  Only hands raised in silent blessing.

  Ivaline stood at the rear carriage.

  Fourteen years old.

  Armor polished.

  Eyes steady.

  She looked back once.

  At her town.

  At her fathers.

  At her wife besides her.

  And smiled.

  “I’ll be back.”

  The three fathers shift their gaze towards Seraphine.

  "Take care of our daughter, daughter-in-law."

  Seraphine's beaming with a smile.

  "I'll fathers, take care."

  The wheels began to turn.

  And the banners of war slowly rose on the horizon.