Rise of the Horde

Upon receceiving the chieftain's command,Adhalia set out to make her arrangements. Using her ability, she quickly dessimated her arrangements. All those above the Foruth Realm of Power were ordered to make their move in keeping watch over the capital.

Unbeknownst to the current queen of Ereia, and the bickering officials of the kingdom, a new force had just joined the struggle for control over the kingdom. The lowest chamber of the Sand Palace, now teeming with creatures of grotesque apperance, their bodies emmtting a dark aura of death.

The demoness, free to roam the palace started making her move. Servants and guards were disappearing one by one, they were being replaced by her shapeshifting minions. The demons were beginning to take post in certain locations of the palace which would allow them for a quicker takeover of the place.

Syvis quickly made her way towards the chambers of Queen Elara, "Our rivals are beginning to be more active than before, they are active everywhere around the capital", she reported, her voice filled with alarm. Their rival organization, the Eye in the Shadows had never veen active like this before, most of the time they would just mobilize a few of their members to make a move.

The queen placed the scroll that was on her hands on the table. Many more scrolls were neatly stacked not far away from her. The scrolls contained reports and details about their faction's operations, such as their income and expenditures, detailing the establishments that were in their control and many more. Their group had been operating in the kingdom's capital for almost four years and had been always at odds with their deeply rooted rivals, the Eye in the Shadows.

"Any news on their goal?" the queen asked. The current situation that they were in was precarious one, they have to thread carefully lest they get exposed and be destroyed. They knew that they were not welcomed by many because of their lineage, especially humans. The orcish invasion was something that they have never considered. They thought that the orcs to the north would never dare to come south and launch such an assault that would endanger the entire kingdom.

"So far, the only thing that we can infer from their movements is that they are gathering information from the state of the kingdom with more focus on the palace, the noble houses and the walls" Syvis replied. She had been tailing the familiar figure among their rivals for most of the time which allowed her to gather such information.

"Is there a possibility that they are in cahoots with the orcs, and are scouting the city's defenses and our ability to hold out against a siege?" the queen asked after thinking of the possibilities why their rival organization were that active.

"It's possible... There were rumors that the destroyed House of Darkhariss was making a comeback under the leadership of the previously missing Lady Adhalia. People are saying that the wronged noble house were being aided by Faerush and the king was being punished for his wrongdoings. They say that the orcs are tools being used by the god of the sands to mete out punishment upon the royal household", Syvis' words carried a hint of conviction as she spoke.

"Should we try and impede their progress?" the queen's most trusted sister added. They were fairly capable of giving the Eye in the Shadows a lot of trouble with their numbers. "There is no need to do that... Let them do what they want... Just make sure that our sisters would be safe in the upcoming chaos." Elara replied then turned her gaze on the stack of scrolls.

The barrier that was surrounding the capital was giving off a more intense light than before. Magical energies originating from the four magic towers in the corners of the city were fortifying it with the provided magic crystals from the royal treasury.

Commander Ishaq and his group arrived by noon. They made a beeline towards the palace but the court officials gave them some trouble. Many of them gave the commander an earful, saying that it was his fault that the king was now in the state that he is at because if his failure to uphold his duties to defend the kingdom fromthe orcish scourge.

Isma almost slaughtered them all right there and then. They were exhausted from the journey and the raids that they have laubched against their enemy's supply lines. The eyes of the riders filled with dark circles was a testament of the many sleepless nights that they have been through, just for the frontline to have a better chance of keeping the enemy army at bay.

"Calm down..." Menna put a hand on Isma's shoulders, pulling him back and prevenging him from charging forward. He too wanted to slash those old fools berating them. "Just let me be. I'll smash their heads open and see if they really have brains inside their thick skulls." Isma declared, his anger very apparent in the flames dancing in his eyes.

Ishaq gave him a glance, "Enough..." he muttered which silenced Isma. "Our goal is to make sure of the king's safety", he continued. Isma had no other choice but to let it go.

After hearing the harsh words of the officials on one ear and letting it out on the other, Ishaq ordered for his riders to take their rest, they needed to recover their energy for the impending battle.

Two more days passed with the orcish horde still by the territory of Baron Ragab. They were solely focused on recovering from their wounds.

There were times that the orcs who joined the patrols witnessed some action against the team of scouts being dispatched from the capital. The Drakhars being slower than the orcs had no other choice but to watch the orcs who were them, dismantle the group of scouts.

The morning sun painted the camp in hues of gold and ochre, illuminating the dust that hung heavy in the air. Khao'khen, his serious face etched with the weariness of constant vigilance, strode through the encampment, his gaze taking in each warrior. He saw the stoic faces of the veteran warriors, their eyes filled with the quiet strength that came from years of battles fought and won. He saw the raw, untamed energy of their Ereian allies, their eyes filled with the hunger to prove themselves. Each warrior was a piece in the intricate tapestry of war, a thread woven into the fabric of this campaign.

He stopped at the makeshift infirmary, a crude tent erected hastily from scavenged materials. Inside, healers tended to the wounded, their faces grim but determined. He watched them work, his gaze lingering on the young soldier, his leg shattered, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and resignation. Khao'khen felt a pang of empathy, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He knew that such injury would deny the warrior of future glory upon the battlefield, his days of being in the chaos of battle was all over. This was proof that even the most hardened warrior could not escape the tragedy of war.

His gaze drifted to the outskirts of the camp, where a cluster of tents stood apart from the rest. It was there, in those tents, that the shamans and the mages, worked together due to the arrangements of the ongoing war, were finally able to unlock some of the secrets of the captured magic cannons.

Roars of the cannons' immense power had reached him, their attack unleashed devastation upon the the vast field of sun outside the walls. He had witnessed them before, the arcane energies humming within their magical shells, a latent power waiting to be unleashed. Now, the shamans, with their ancient knowledge of the arcane, were working alongside the mages, their minds attuned to the subtle dance of magic, to harness that power.

He could feel the shift in the air, a thrumming tension, a palpable anticipation that hung heavy over the camp. It was as if the very fabric of reality was being stretched taut, ready to snap with the slightest provocation. Khao'khen knew that the cannons, once unleashed, would somehow change the nature of the upcoming battle, a shift that would reshape a bit the course of battles as they knew it. The thought sent shivers down his spine, a strange mix of fear and excitement. Was this the power that would lead them to victory? Or would it be the very instrument of their destruction?

He turned away from the tents, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The future stretched before him, uncertain and full of possibilities. The weight of his responsibility, the fate of his people, pressed upon him, a burden he carried with a solemn heart. In the distance, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the camp. As darkness fell, a sense of foreboding settled upon him, a premonition of the storm that was brewing.