The gates groaned as they swung open just enough for Kaavi and Viktor to step inside. A damp chill hung in the air, the thick wooden walls cutting off the howling wind outside. As soon as they crossed the threshold, the heavy gates slammed shut behind them, sealing them within the town’s defenses.

  Viktor glanced around, his breath hitching at the sight before him.

  The town was nothing like the quiet villages they had passed through before. It was a fortress in the making.

  Tall stone walls encircled the settlement, weathered by time but reinforced with hastily erected wooden barricades. Narrow streets stretched out before them, filled with people moving in a chaotic rhythm—blacksmiths hammering weapons late into the night, soldiers dragging sacks of grain to makeshift storerooms, townsfolk reinforcing wooden palisades along weaker sections of the walls.

  The sharp scent of burning wood mixed with the iron tang of hot metal and the faint, musty odor of unwashed bodies.

  Viktor tugged at Kaavi’s sleeve.

  Viktor: "They look… scared."

  Kaavi’s gaze swept over the town. Not scared. Prepared.

  Kaavi: "Fear can break men before a battle even begins. But these people aren’t running. They’re getting ready."

  A group of soldiers approached, their chainmail clinking softly with each step. The leader, a middle-aged man with a thick beard and a scar running across his cheek, scrutinized them before gesturing toward the inner district.

  Soldier: "Follow me. The Baron will decide what to do with you."

  Kaavi nodded, falling into step behind the man. Viktor hurried to keep pace, his boots crunching against the frost-covered cobblestones. As they walked, his gaze darted to the faces around him—people young and old, all hardened by the looming threat of war.

  As they moved deeper into the settlement, the streets became wider, lined with stone buildings with steep, slanted roofs. Wooden beams jutted out from upper floors, and narrow alleyways wove between tightly packed homes. Most windows were shuttered, but the flickering glow of candles and hearth fires seeped through the cracks.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The heart of the town was built around a central plaza. A well stood in the middle, covered by a wooden shelter, while a large stone hall loomed over everything else—the Baron’s residence.

  Viktor glanced around, eyes lingering on the people working tirelessly. Women huddled together, their hands busy mending cloaks and stuffing wool into torn boots. Young boys no older than him carried buckets of water, struggling under their weight. One boy, his face smudged with soot, nearly dropped his bucket. An older man rushed over, steadying him with a firm grip and a quiet word of encouragement.

  Viktor clenched his fists. These boys were his age, yet they were already playing a part in this war. He wasn’t sure if that made him feel weak—or guilty.

  A blacksmith’s forge roared in the distance, the rhythmic pounding of metal-on-metal blending with the murmur of anxious voices.

  Viktor bit his lip.

  Viktor: "Do you think they have a chance?"

  Kaavi exhaled, his breath forming a thin mist in the cold air.

  Kaavi: "That depends."

  Viktor: "On what?"

  Kaavi’s gaze flicked toward the outer walls.

  Kaavi: "On whether they have the will to survive."

  Viktor frowned but didn’t press further.

  The soldier leading them snorted.

  Soldier: "You speak like a man who’s seen war."

  Kaavi didn’t respond immediately. He let the sounds of the town settle around them before speaking.

  Kaavi: "I’ve seen enough to know how it ends for those who hesitate."

  The soldier grunted.

  Soldier: "Then you’ll understand why we don’t trust outsiders right now."

  Kaavi gave him a sidelong glance.

  Kaavi: "If I were your enemy, you wouldn’t have seen me coming."

  The soldier stiffened. The men flanking him exchanged uneasy glances.

  Viktor swallowed. Why did he say that?

  The soldier’s grip on his sword tightened, but then he let out a short, humorless laugh.

  Soldier: "Cocky, aren’t you?"

  Kaavi didn’t reply. He simply continued walking, as if the conversation no longer interested him.

  Viktor kept his head down, pretending not to hear the muttered curses from the escort. He stole a glance at Kaavi’s expression—calm, unreadable. Yet there was something in his stance that made it clear: he had meant what he said.

  The Baron’s Hall was built from heavy stone blocks, its entrance flanked by two guards clad in steel plate. A massive wooden door, reinforced with iron bands, loomed before them.

  The escort came to a stop.

  Soldier: "Wait here."

  Kaavi remained silent, arms crossed, while Viktor shuffled his feet, glancing around. Despite the tension, curiosity tugged at him.

  He leaned in slightly, whispering.

  Viktor: "What kind of person do you think the Baron is?"

  Kaavi exhaled.

  Kaavi: "We’ll find out soon enough."

  A moment later, the doors creaked open. The silence that followed was thick, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows over the stone floor.

  The guards stepped aside.

  Guard: "Enter."

  Kaavi stepped forward without hesitation, and Viktor followed.

  The heavy doors closed behind them.