I nod and step forward, positioning myself in front of the table. The soldiers' eyes are on me, some of them skeptical, others curious. I take a deep breath and begin explaining everything, starting with how Talia and I first encountered the Shadowfell in the dragon den. I describe the overwhelming number of animal-slaying quests that flooded the guild in Arroyo, the strange behavior we witnessed in the villages, and the dark presence that spread through Eldoria. I don't hold back any details.

  As I speak, I sense disbelief growing among some of the soldiers, their expressions betraying their doubt. To help them understand, I activate my gauntlet, projecting a holographic image of the Shadowfell absorbing the dragon's life force. Gasps echo through the tent as the hologram plays out the scene before them. Even Alduin's face tightens with unease.

  I continue the story, explaining how we encountered the cloaked figures and fought them off. I show the holograms of the figures dissolving into black goo in the throne room, their sinister presence undeniable. Ragnar flinches at the sight, and a ripple of fear passes through the gathered officers.

  When I finish my explanation, I emphasize the urgency of the situation—the dungeons that held the Shadowfell's powers, the seals that have been broken, and the final seal that still remains to be discovered. Silence hangs in the air for a moment, the weight of my words settling in.

  "How do we stop this creature?" one of the officers finally asks, his voice tinged with concern.

  "I possess weapons that can kill the Shadowfell," I reply, my gaze steady.

  "And you alone will kill it?" another officer asks, skepticism creeping into his voice.

  "No," I say, looking over at Talia and Apollo. Talia meets my gaze and gives me a small, confident smile. "I'll have my friends with me."

  Bjorn, now fully dressed in his royal armor, steps forward with a determined look on his face.

  "Is everyone present?" Bjorn asks one of the officers.

  "Besides the search parties, all are accounted for, your majesty," the officer replies.

  Bjorn nod and gazes at his officers. "Then we'll leave soon. We are to head back to Eldorith. I want riders sent out to every one of our outposts. Elaria is not our enemy. All are to stand down immediately," he tells his officers.

  "But what of our food shortages?" another general asks, a note of concern in his voice.

  "I will help," Alduin says suddenly, stepping forward. "We have a large surplus of grain and medicine in Elaria. I'll gladly hand it out."

  Bjorn gives Alduin a grateful nod. "Thank you."

  "In the meantime, we must prepare for the worst," he commands, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "I want this encampment broken down. We march back."

  One officer, younger and still green in the face of such threats, furrows his brow in confusion. "The worst?" he echoes, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

  Another officer, older and battle-hardened, steps forward, his face set with worry. "What exactly should we prepare for, your liege?" he asks, a note of tension tightening his words.

  I step forward, looking each of them in the eye, my voice steady as I reply. "The Shadowfell can send its followers anywhere. You should prepare for an attack on the cities of Eldoria, and... perhaps even the capital itself." My words hang in the air like a dark omen, drawing grim, unsettled looks from all the officers. Even Talia, standing beside me, looks at me with an expression of renewed concern. Bjorn and Alduin's faces tighten, their jaws set in grim determination.

  "When we were on the run," I continue, "we came across crows that seemed to act as its eyes and ears. If those birds can be controlled by the Shadowfell, I wouldn't be surprised if there are other creatures in its grasp."

  One of the officers, who has been overseeing patrols along the camp perimeter, frowns thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, it's been... strangely quiet. I haven't come across a single animal in some time." His gaze darts around, and several of the other officers nod in agreement, realizing the oddness of it only now.

  Alduin turns to me, his expression troubled. "If I send out supply caravans with aid, do you think it would target them?"

  I nod, my voice low but sure. "Most likely. The Shadowfell's purpose is not just to control but to spread despair and destruction, to create chaos and erode any hope of stability. Anything that helps your people rebuild could be seen as a threat to its plans."

  The gathered officers exchange uneasy glances, murmuring among themselves as the gravity of the situation sinks in.

  One of the older officers steps forward, his voice filled with a dark certainty. "And soon... soon it will be at full strength." His words settle over us like a shroud, the quiet crackling of the nearby fire the only sound breaking the silence as we brace ourselves for what is to come.

  An officer steps forward, brow furrowed with thought, his eyes scanning the faces around the tent. "What if we sent our forces to Elaria?" he proposes, his tone cautious but hopeful. "We could secure the supplies we need and spread our troops across the kingdom. With our numbers in position, we'd stand a fighting chance if the Shadowfell does launch an attack."

  The suggestion hangs in the air, and several officers nod thoughtfully. But another officer, his voice pragmatic and wary, interrupts. "But if we do that, it would leave our cities exposed. We need to head back and reinforce our defenses," he insists, his gaze shifting to me. "If what you say is true, Ryu—if the Shadowfell could send its forces anywhere in our cities—then we'd be leaving our people vulnerable."

  A collective sigh ripples through the tent, tension thickening as the officers wrestle with the difficult choice. The silence is heavy, broken only by the murmur of voices and the faint rustle of maps and parchment. Bjorn and Alduin's faces are drawn, their expressions reflecting the weight of leadership and the fear of missteps.

  Another officer, an experienced commander with a steady, firm voice, speaks up. "Then I suggest we divide our forces," he says, his tone resolute. "We send the majority back home to fortify our cities and protect the people. The rest can head to Elaria to secure aid and supplies."

  The officers exchange glances, the logic of the plan settling over them like a balm. One by one, nods of agreement pass through the room, each officer committing to the course of action. Bjorn and Alduin share a silent glance, both kings nodding in approval, their decision made.

  Bjorn places a hand on the map spread out before him, his voice calm but commanding. "It's settled, then. We divide our forces—half to protect the cities, the rest to gather the supplies we need." He looks around, his gaze steady. "We'll give our people the best chance we can."

  Bjorn turns to Alduin, his gaze steady and voice firm. "I suggest you do the same with your forces, Alduin. Divide them. Send some back to reinforce your cities, and the rest to gather supplies and support where needed."

  Alduin meets Bjorn's gaze, his face a carefully maintained mask of control. Yet, beneath that calm exterior, I can sense the ripple of unease tightening in his posture, mirrored by the slight clench of his hands resting on the table. His nod is measured but slow, a hint of hesitation glinting in his eyes as he considers the weight of the decision.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Yes... yes, I will see to it," he says, his voice steady, though the uncertainty lingers just beneath the surface. "Our cities must be protected." He looks down at the map laid before him, a flicker of worry crossing his face as he traces the kingdom's borders with a gloved finger.

  The silence that follows his words is heavy, and I can feel the tension pulsing through the room. It's not just Alduin who's uneasy—every officer in the tent, every warrior who's heard tales of the Shadowfell, stands here grappling with the enormity of what lies ahead. There's a collective sense of apprehension, the kind of quiet dread that settles over a battlefield before the first strike.

  Talia, beside me, shifts slightly, her face taut as she observes the scene. Even she, who has shown such resilience through every hardship, holds a flicker of concern in her gaze. Her hand unconsciously moves toward her father, a small gesture of solidarity, and I see Alduin's expression soften, if only slightly, at her support.

  Bjorn clears his throat, breaking the silence, his voice filled with determination. "Then let's waste no more time," he says, his tone a command that reverberates through the tent. "We all know what's at stake."

  "Yes, your majesty," The officers say together and bow before leaving the tent.

  I reach into my pouch, fingers brushing past a few tools before I find the small communicator I had set aside for King Bjorn. Its metallic surface glints slightly in the daylight as I pull it out and offer it to him.

  "Here," I say, handing him the device.

  Bjorn takes it, his large hands carefully holding the small communicator. He turns it over a few times, inspecting it with a puzzled expression. I can tell he's never seen anything quite like it before. "What is this?" he asks, lifting it closer to his eyes as though trying to make sense of its purpose.

  "That's a communicator," I explain, stepping back slightly to give him space. "You can use it to contact me directly. Let me show you how it works."

  I raise my wrist and speak into the communicator embedded in my glove. "Hello."

  Then my voice emits from the small device in Bjorn's hand, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. He looks down at the communicator, astonished. "What amazing technology this is!" he exclaims, continuing to turn it over in his hands. He seems fascinated by its sleek design, studying every detail with newfound appreciation.

  I smile a little, seeing his amazement. He finally looks up, meeting my gaze. "Thank you," Bjorn says, a tone of genuine gratitude in his voice. "This will be most useful."

  I nod, pleased that he understands its value. "Just use it if you need me. I'll respond as soon as I can."

  Bjorn then approaches me extends his arm. "Thank you, Ryu, for stopping me from making a terrible mistake."

  I grasp his arm and shake it firmly. "Don't thank me yet, your highness. The Shadowfell is still out there."

  Bjorn and Ragnar nod in agreement, their expressions somber as the reality of the situation settles in. The officers leave slowly, their orders received, and now it's just Bjorn, Ragnar, and the rest of us. Bjorn turns to me, his expression both weary and resolute.

  "Give me that list again," he says, his tone measured.

  I pull a folded piece of parchment from within my cloak and hand it over. Bjorn unfolds it carefully, his eyes scanning the detailed requests, his brow furrowing slightly as he reads.

  "That is... quite a lot of materials you're asking for," he mutters under his breath, glancing at me with a mix of concern and intrigue.

  I meet his gaze evenly. "Can you acquire them?"

  Bjorn pauses, studying the list once more, tracing each item with his thumb as if weighing its feasibility. After a moment, he nods, folding the parchment with a curt motion. "Commander Anderson!" he calls out, his voice firm.

  A broad-shouldered man stops and steps forward, responding with an efficient salute. His armor, though worn, is well-maintained, bearing the marks of countless battles. His face is rugged and scarred, with a square jaw and graying hair cropped close. His piercing blue eyes reflect a sharp intelligence, and he carries himself with the no-nonsense air of someone accustomed to leading men into battle.

  Bjorn hands him the folded note. "Have these supplies brought out to Ryu and his companions," he orders, his voice unwavering.

  Commander Anderson accepts the note, his eyes flicking to me for a moment before he gives a respectful nod. "At once, your liege." He turns and strides out of the tent, his posture rigid with purpose.

  We wait patiently, and sometime later, we gather by the entrance of the cave. The morning has advanced, casting a soft, golden light over the landscape. Spread out before us is an impressive array of supplies—everything I'd requested. Stacks of metal ingots glint in the light, each one carefully organized by type: iron, steel, mithril, and rare metals with a faintly magical sheen. A set of mana crystals, some raw and others already cut into precise shapes, lie arranged in velvet-lined boxes, their faint glow casting colorful reflections on the cave walls.

  An anvil stands near the entrance, solid and robust, the surface smooth from countless strikes. Alongside it are an assortment of tools, each crafted with care: hammers of various sizes, chisels, tongs, and a sturdy pair of leather gloves. To one side, I see the disassembled parts of a portable forge, carefully laid out piece by piece, from the hearthstone to the bellows and the grates.

  Bjorn steps back, nodding approvingly as he surveys the array of supplies. "I trust this is everything you asked for?" he asks.

  I give a small smile, nodding in gratitude. "Yes, this will do perfectly."

  One by one, I begin to summon the items into my pouch of holding. The crystals vanish, absorbed into the pouch with a faint shimmer, followed by the metal ingots, each one disappearing with a slight hum. The anvil requires a bit more concentration, but with a focused thought, it, too, disappears into the depths of the pouch. The forge parts vanish next, piece by piece, until the clearing is empty once more, the weight of our supplies tucked away within the enchanted space.

  Talia stands by, watching with a mix of fascination and relief, her gaze drifting to the now-empty area in the camp.

  Commander Anderson reappears, saluting once more before addressing Bjorn. "All requested items have been delivered, your liege," he reports, his gaze shifting briefly toward me, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

  Bjorn nods in acknowledgment. "Good work, Anderson. Return to your duties."

  The commander salutes again, then turns sharply on his heel, disappearing back toward the camp. Bjorn looks at each of us in turn, his gaze thoughtful, almost contemplative.

  "May these supplies aid you in the task ahead," he says solemnly. "For the sake of Eldoria and beyond."

  I incline my head respectfully. "They will. Thank you, Bjorn."

  Bjorn meets my gaze, his expression softened with a rare vulnerability. He shakes his head slowly. "No... thank you," he says, his voice low and filled with sincerity. "If not for you, I would have razed all of Elaria in my search for answers. I would have wiped out my own kingdom." His eyes reflect the weight of that potential destruction, the guilt of what could have been. "Now, because of you, my people can finally get the aid they need."

  A heavy sigh escapes him, and his shoulders drop, tension he'd been carrying for days visibly leaving his frame. "I am sorry, Ryu," he says, his voice filled with regret as he looks from me to my companions. "I blamed you and your friends for the calamity that's torn through my people. I see now how wrong I was."

  I nod, accepting his apology with a small smile. But my curiosity gets the better of me, and I ask, "How did you come across this information in the first place?"

  Bjorn pauses, his gaze turning distant as he tries to search his memories. His brow furrows deeply, frustration visible as he struggles to recall. "I... I don't know," he finally admits, his voice laced with bewilderment. "I could swear I remember, but now... it's as if the memory has been wiped clean."

  He looks back at me, worry clouding his features. "You don't think it's... the Shadowfell? Could it be why I can't remember?" His face pales slightly at the thought, his eyes darting with a sudden unease. It's as though he's confronted by an unseen force, one that's stolen his memories right from under him, leaving him vulnerable.

  "Maybe," I reply, noting the grim possibility. "The Shadowfell's influence is subtle and insidious. I wouldn't be surprised if it can manipulate and erase memories."

  Bjorn lets out a heavy breath, his eyes narrowing as he considers the magnitude of the enemy we're up against. Then, resolutely, he pats me on the shoulder, a firm and reassuring gesture. "Regardless, I'll spread word among my people that you and your companions are not to blame. I'll make sure they know it's the Shadowfell behind this devastation."

  I hesitate, considering the implications. "I wouldn't do that," I say gently, meeting his gaze. "The last thing your people need is the knowledge that the monster they thought was only a fairy tale is all too real. It could incite even more fear."

  Bjorn looks conflicted, but he nods slowly as understanding dawns. "You're right," he says quietly. "The truth, for now, can remain a mystery." He takes a steadying breath, then looks at me with a newfound respect. "Best of luck, Ryu," he says, extending his hand.

  I clasp it firmly, feeling the strength in his grip as we exchange a look of mutual respect. "Thank you, Your Majesty. You've been more of a help than you know."

  Bjorn releases my hand and turns to Talia, offering her a warm smile as he crosses over to her. "And you, Talia," he says, holding out his hand. She accepts it with grace, and he gives her hand a gentle shake, nodding his appreciation. "You've stood by him through everything. Your courage has not gone unnoticed."

  A faint blush colors Talia's cheeks, but she inclines her head. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

  Finally, Bjorn looks toward Apollo, his expression reserved but respectful. He gives the droid a single nod, to which Apollo responds with a mechanical nod of his own, his red photoreceptors glowing softly.

  Bjorn and Alduin shake hands, both sharing an expression of relief and gratitude as they say their goodbyes. We say our goodbyes too, and soon, we head back to the speeder. Alduin admires it once more as he climbs in, Alduin settling beside Apollo.