Rise of the Horde

Elara, catching their incredulous looks, simply shrugged. "I will wait. Wait for the King to wake, and then, perhaps, we shall discuss our options together."

A hush fell over the room. The Queen's words, delivered with a chilling calm, sent a ripple of shock through the men. They had expected her to take charge, to lead them with a fiery spirit, to rally their hopes and ignite their courage. Instead, she offered a different kind of strength, a patient resilience that was both disconcerting and strangely reassuring.

The men looked at each other, their faces now a mixture of confusion and a dawning understanding. They were not used to this kind of leadership, this calm in the face of a storm. But perhaps, they thought, perhaps this was the strength they needed, the strength to weather the storm, not with brute force, but with a quiet determination and a faith in their King's eventual return.

The air in the room remained tense, but the bickering had ceased. The Queen had spoken, and the men, though puzzled, understood that their Queen would not be rushed. She would wait. She would hold her ground. And perhaps, they thought, she would show them all a way forward, one that they hadn't considered before.

Unbeknownst to the officials, Queen Elara harbored a different strategy. She was determined to protect her sisters, unwilling to risk their lives for a kingdom that wasn't truly theirs. As the tension in the throne room hung heavy, Elara's gaze remained steady, her expression a mask of calm.

Little did they know that the Queen's true plan lay hidden beneath her serene exterior. She intended to bide her time, waiting for the opportune moment to act. Should the need arise, she would not hesitate to flee the kingdom with her sisters, seeking a new life away from the impending storm.

Elara's devotion lay with her sisters, and she was prepared to make difficult choices to ensure their safety. As the officials grappled with the Queen's unexpected response, a mixture of confusion and understanding washed over them. Her decision to wait ran counter to their expectations, but it also offered a different kind of hope—a reminder that sometimes, strength lies not in brute force but in endurance and unwavering faith.

Queen Elara, her burgundy robes trailing behind her, briskly exited the meeting chamber. She offered a curt nod to the assembled nobles, their faces reflecting a mix of deference and veiled resentment. Reaching the private corridor leading to her chambers, she caught a glimpse of Syvis, her dark hair glinting in the dim light. Syvis, ever vigilant, was waiting by the entrance, her expression unreadable.

Elara's gaze lingered on her trusted advisor, a flicker of weariness crossing her features. She knew Syvis's watchful presence was a testament to the constant threat lurking beneath the veneer of peace. Their real identities, a secret known only to a select few, remained a constant source of worry. They had been forced to disperse, hiding their true identities, adopting lives that concealed their lineage.

The queen's mind drifted to the bustling taverns where her sisters were stationed. Most of them, cloaked in the anonymity of serving drinks and attending to patrons, were living on the edge of exposure. Their true identities, if revealed, would condemn them to a life of servitude, worse even than death. The burden of their shared secret weighed heavily on Elara's shoulders.

As Elara approached, Syvis stepped forward, her eyes sharp and discerning. "The reports are in, Your Majesty," she said in a low voice. "The taverns have been unusually quiet lately, the war had greatly impacted the number of our patrons."

A sliver of worry etched itself onto Elara's face. The war was of no concern to them as long as they don't get exposed. "Any news of a disturbance?" Elara inquired, her voice tight with concern.

Syvis shook her head, "None, Your Majesty. But... I sense an unease in the air. Perhaps the orcs would figure us out."

Elara felt a tremor of apprehension. It was not the first time Syvis had sensed an undercurrent of fear. These whispers often preceded trouble, a storm brewing on the horizon. "We must be vigilant, Syvis," Elara stated, her voice firming, "Our sisters must remain safe. We must find ways to protect them all."

As they moved down the corridor, the weight of responsibility pressed upon them both. The queen, burdened by the mantle of leadership, and her trusted advisor, bearing the burden of vigilance. Their real identities, a silent force woven into the fabric of the kingdom, continued to live in the shadows, their fate hanging by a thread. Each day was a precarious dance, a constant struggle to stay hidden, to protect their own, and to keep their true identities safe from the prying eyes of those who sought to control and exploit them.

*****

The morning after the victory celebrations, Khao'khen convened a war council, the raucous cheer of the previous night replaced by a somber determination. The keen chieftain, ever strategic, proposed a plan to infiltrate the kingdom's capital, Ishtar, to gather intelligence on the current state of their adversary.

Faynah,yet to make her contribution, offered to deploy her network for the mission, her resources well-suited to the task. Her organization had people stationed around the capital.

Khao'khen's warriors, though eager for battle, were still recuperating from their recent wounds, and he knew their strength must be conserved. The chieftain's curiosity about the totems and their power remained, and he saw this infiltration as an opportunity to further explore this mysterious connection between belief and ability.

He instructed Faynah to keep a watch for any weak points that could provide easy access into the kingdom's defenses. As Faynah embarked on her clandestine mission, Khao'khen's thoughts turned to the golden wolf totem, a symbol of his authority and the horde's collective belief. He wanted to understand more about the concept behind it, and find ways, for it to be of further help to the horde.