Knowing exactly what they were dealing with gave Kai an edge and he knew it. Every piece of information the orc had let slip gave him leverage to gather the tribes together. The very moment he shared it with Maari and Sahlira, he felt the atmosphere shift. At the same time, he realised that they were on an extremely strict deadline.

But it turned out to be a hidden blessing since it didn’t give any leaders time to drag their feet or get lost in pride and caution. He had solid grounds to press on the fact that they had to act fast. Maari and Sahlira agreed.

Thus, the discussion shifted toward the future plans. They drafted heralds to send word to every known tribe across the desert. The message that was sent was clear and open, they were taking on the orcs to save their children.

He knew that giving out whatever he had found out would prompt the tribals to stop rotting in their fears and move to act. Some, he expected, would be too afraid. Some would call it a trap, a fool’s errand. And he was right—not everyone came.

But more than he’d hoped for, did. They chose to gather at the City hall of the five tribe council. It was apparently located in the centre of the desert, and according to Maari, the council hall at its heart was the only building large enough to host so many chieftains at once.

The sun was just starting the climb when they began to arrive. One by one, the leaders entered the hall, and they were all flanked by guards bearing the marks of their tribes.

The council greeted each one. Formal words were exchanged, but the tension was clear. This wasn’t a festival or market day. This was war talk. The air inside the hall was thick with suspicion, hope, and something deeper—the weight of old wounds and lost sons.

Kai stood at the front, his gaze steady as tribe after tribe entered. He didn’t speak yet. Not until the room was full. Not until all eyes turned toward him.

Each tribe that arrived came bearing more than just banners and guards—they came armed with doubts. And before the meeting could even begin, the same questions echoed again and again across the stone walls of the city hall.

“Did you really capture an orc general?”

“Is Khorvash’s strength truly not divine, but stolen from a Mage’s tower?”

“Are our people really held inside that place?”

Kai had expected skepticism. What caught him off guard was how quickly that skepticism turned to unease the moment they saw him and his party. Loud whispers were exchanged—a foreigner? What was he doing here? And they’d been even more shocked to know that he was the one to interrogate the orc. More than one leader demanded proof, refusing to suddenly believe things. Narrowed eyes, crossed arms and accusations that came from a place of distrust were thrown at him one after the other. One even scoffed aloud, calling it blasphemy.

But Sahlira’s voice silenced them all, “I was right there when it happened,” she said. “I saw it with my own eyes. I heard what the orc said. Whatever information was given to you all is true.”

That shut them up for a moment. Even still, Kai could feel their heavy eyes on him.

He didn’t like it—but he understood it. He was an outsider, standing in the heart of ancient tribes.

By the time the final tribal leader set foot inside the hall, the sun was high, flooding through the openings in the roof and lighting it up. The doors shut behind the last guest with a groan of finality, and the meeting began without further delay.

Khalid stepped forward to speak. “You already know what brought us here,” he began. “For years, we’ve watched Khorvash rise in power, subjugating tribes, silencing rebellions—our men and women had died because of him! And our children…”

He let those words hang for a moment before continuing with a firm voice. That was the beginning of his speech and soon, he started briefing the leaders about what happened in the last week and why they were suddenly talking about going to war with the orcs.

Although the information had been spread among them before he spoke, it only made sense to give an official briefing.

“I already explained before that we now know that Khorvash is trying to climb up the tower where their newfound strength comes from. He’d only breached the ground floor, but had been blocked from climbing the tower due to enchanted gates. That’s what the abductions are for—he needs people who can read the runes and break the seals.”

Murmurs rippled across the room. Some leaned forward. Others scowled.

“If we strike now,” Khalid pressed on, “we have a chance to stop him. But if we wait—if he succeeds in unlocking the tower—then this suppression of ours?” He shook his head. “It might become something worse. Something like slavery, if it’s not that already.”

Kai scanned the hall, watching reactions like a hawk. A few of the leaders nodded, quiet agreement showing in their clenched jaws and somber eyes. But not everyone looked convinced.

A deep voice cut through the tension.

“And if we fail? We would die.”

All eyes turned to the speaker—a burly man with sun-darkened skin, long braided hair streaked with grey, and a beard like a lion’s mane. His arms were crossed, his voice laced with challenge. Kai recognised him as Panek from the earlier introduction when the man had entered the hall.

“We are dying either way,” another man said. He was older than most, with white streaks lining his thick black hair and sun-creased skin pulled tight over high cheekbones. “You know Khorvash. If he gains more strength, he won’t hide it. He’ll come down on us the moment we do something he doesn’t like—maybe because we didn’t give him as much in taxes, or say the wrong thing. Or worse, he’ll take us with him if he ever decides to go to war outside Ashari. And we’ll be nothing more than meat shields in his armies.”

A heavy silence followed.

That man had said what Kai had been thinking since the interrogation. Khorvash wasn’t building strength for defense—he was preparing for something greater, and he was willing to use every tribal child to get there.

But while the room wrestled with the weight of those words, Kai stayed quiet. It gave him time to do what he had come here for besides pushing the council—observe.

He let his eyes scan each of the gathered leaders, noting expressions, subtle twitches, body language. Some nodded quietly, already leaning toward war. Others said little but seemed ready to follow the majority if it meant their tribes would survive. But a few kept their arms folded too tight, their faces too still, eyes too cold.

Kai didn’t trust stillness in a room meant for movement. Especially not when Maari had warned him that some tribes had already sold themselves completely to the Duneborns—sworn loyalty to the orcs for food, weapons, or the illusion of peace. She had made sure none of those tribes were invited today, but even so, Kai knew there could still be spies among them. Those willing to nod along now and sell them out later.

That’s why Gareth and Ansel were quietly working in the background, eyes sharper than blades, ears wide open. And he hoped it would be enough.

Tension began to rise again. The meeting was slowly boiling over, voices turning sharp, arguments slipping into repetition. Those against the idea of an attack had dug their heels in, not with strategy, but fear. Fear to lose their lives and become something they didn’t want to be for orcs when they retaliate.

And then Panek finally snapped out the question that had been simmering beneath the surface.

“You’re asking us to start a war based on the word of an outsider,” he said, his upper lip curling. “You say there’s a Mage tower. That this is where the orcs strength comes from. But none of us have seen it. Not one. And you tell us it’s invisible?” He scoffed. “With all due respect, does that not sound stupid to anyone else?”

That earned him a few nods and murmured agreements.

“An orc already verified those claims,” Khalid emphasized his words again.

The burly man who’d been stirring the pot scoffed and spat to the side. “He could’ve been feeding you lies. Dying breath nonsense to throw us off. You’d risk all our tribes on that?”

And then—finally—he turned fully toward Kai. Up until now, the man had barely spared him a glance, like a scorpion circling but waiting to strike.

“And this man,” he said, voice curling with scorn. “Why is he still here? He already gave you whatever he got from the orc, didn’t he? You’re going to let a foreigner sit in on our war talks like one of us?”

Before anyone else could speak, Husam stood from his seat. “Because the Mage tower we’re talking about? It belongs to his mother. Valkyrie Kellius, a Magus.”

Panek blinked, thrown for a moment. But he recovered fast, slamming his hand on his lap. “One that no one has seen. One that’s invisible, apparently. This whole meeting is a farce. You all know it!” His voice grew louder, turning bitter. “You. All. Fucking. Know. It. You just want to feel like you tried something before we all bury our children’s names in the sand.”

That last line earned him more than just glares. A few people rose half from their seats, and suddenly noises arose. Hands tightened on armrests. Even the quiet ones, the ones still undecided, looked ready to speak.

“Why don’t I answer you, Panek?” Kai asked, looking at the man directly in his eyes. And everyone turned towards him.

Kai felt their stares crawling in his skin, but he ignored it. He stepped forward, hands at his side and spoke, “I’m Count Arzan Kellius of the Lancephil Kingdom. And yes, the tower we speak of belongs to my mother, Valkyrie Kellius. Some of you believe this. Some of you don’t and that’s fine.”

He took a breath and let his mana rise.

“But let me give you something you can believe.”

Mana surged from him, in countless silken threads of glowing blue, winding their way through the hall like veins of starlight. Gasps echoed across the chamber. A few weapons were drawn in reflex, but no one moved further as the threads wove themselves together midair.

And then, in front of them all, a map shimmered into being—made of raw mana, detailed and alive, hovering above the stone floor.

A perfect three-dimensional layout of the desert’s western region, marked by dunes, cliffs, and at the very center—floating above the sand was the tower.

“This,” Kai said, “is proof. Pulled from my astral space. Bound to me through blood and legacy.”

As soon as he said that, all the chaos from before died. Even Panek didn’t seem to have anything else to say.

“As you can see,” he said, now his voice was louder and clearer. “This is the tower I spoke of. I call it Valkyrie’s Tower, after my mother. It rests between these two peaks—” he gestured to the illuminated ridges glowing in the air—“hidden from normal sight by enchantments. During the interrogation with the orc, Zarak, I found out that the duneborns call this place the Palace of Belkhor.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Then, quietly, one of the older tribal leaders stood up—bald head wrapped in a grey scarf.

“I… I’ve heard of that place,” he said.

Dozens of heads turned to him.

Khalid narrowed his eyes. “What do you know about it?”

The man hesitated, rubbing his hands together. “Not much. Just tales. I’ve overheard orcs, a few times. They spoke of a holy ground. A sacred place. One no human could ever touch, no matter how close they walked.”

Maari leaned forward, brows furrowed. “It’s possible,” she said slowly. “They might believe that because the tower is truly invisible to those without the knowledge of its location. To them, it could appear divine. Untouchable and Khorvash might have created a story around it.”

The room buzzed again with whispers and thoughtful nods until Panek spoke again.

He slammed his hand on the table. “You’re just making it sound more mystical to cover the holes in your story!” he barked. “I’d rather believe that the orcs’ gods gave them strength than some foreigner spinning tales about an invisible tower.”

Kai held back his frown. Panek was continuing to become a thorn at his side. And Kai was almost certain that the man had come to the meeting to reject any initiative of a war from the start. No words of persuasion would affect him and he briefly wondered if he was the spy.

But well, he knew one thing that’d make even him take a step back and rethink.

“If Belkhor is helping them,” he said calmly, “why aren’t your gods helping you?”

That struck hard. The man’s expression twisted, jaw clenched, and he rose halfway from his seat. “Watch your tongue,” he growled. “You might be a Count where you come from, but out here, no one will care if you die in a tent before dawn.”

Before the tension could snap, a voice cut through it—low, sure, and unexpected.

“Step down, Panek,” Adil said.

All eyes snapped to him.

The young warrior stood with his arms crossed. “If you go against him, you’ll be on the ground before you know it. He defeated me.”

Gasps erupted through the hall like dry wood cracking in fire. A few of the leaders even stood, looking at Adil with stunned disbelief. Kai knew that Adil’s reputation was one that carried weight—there weren’t many in the desert who didn’t know of the sand-scarred warrior who had beaten challengers twice his age and had earned a title.

Kai didn’t bother correcting him. Adil had left out the part where he’d faced five tribal champions at once and won—but that didn’t matter. The message had landed and he’d not even expected that from him.

Finally, the meeting turned quiet again, with the weight of the truth sitting heavy in every breath.

Then Panek—now seated, but with a clenched jaw and raw bitterness in his voice—spoke again. “It doesn’t change anything,” he said. “We don’t want to go after the orcs. Not again.”

“We’ve had rebellions before. You all remember,” he said, scanning the room. “Every tribe that led them… burned. To the last child.” His voice caught for half a second, but he pushed through. “Even if we’re crawling in the dirt now, at least we’re breathing. You want to throw that away?”

A few leaders nodded, slow and stiff, while others looked down at their hands, faces heavy with something too close to guilt.

“So you’ll forsake your next generation?” Kai asked back. His eyes raked around the men and women, and planted on some who looked down in shame.

Yet no one answered.

Kai inhaled a sharp breath through his nose. “The orcs didn’t just kill—they took. Children. Sons. Daughters. They were the future of your tribes. Every one of you knows they won’t come back on their own.”

A murmur broke through the crowd. One of the leaders, with a dry and cracking voice, muttered, “We… we can’t abandon the children.”

Panek spun on him. “So we all die too?”

His eyes were rimmed red, and something deep trembled beneath the surface. He wasn’t speaking to argue anymore. He was speaking from a place already torn open.

“I’m devastated too,” he continued. “Both of my sons were taken. My wife hasn’t stopped crying since,” he went on, shaking his head. “But I have more than just a family. I have a tribe. Men and women who already buried too many. I can’t ask them to die for my sons. It’s not right. It’s not fair.”

His hand fell to his side, clenching into a fist.

“I don’t want to see Khorvash again. Not in dreams. Not in war. He’ll crush us like he always has.”

And for the first time, Kai looked at Panek differently.

He had expected a coward or a spy—a man too afraid to stand and one who had already given away his integrity. But what he saw now was something far heavier. A father making an impossible choice. A leader trying to carry the weight of dozens without collapsing.

Putting your tribe before your family—that took more than courage. It took sacrifice, and for a father, it was the hardest thing to do. And it explained all his doubts.

But Kai had already prepared for this. He had seen the fear Khorvash’s name brought, how it twisted the tribals’ hearts in dread. And he had made a plan because of it.

Because if they feared Khorvash more than death… then it was time to give them something greater to believe in.

“And I intend to take care of that problem,” Kai said, hushing the room again.

A man near the back scoffed. “What are you saying? If we lift a hand against the Duneborns, Khorvash will come down on us himself.”

Kai’s gaze didn’t shift. “He won’t… if he’s already dead.”

Heads slowly turned toward him, confusion and disbelief painted on nearly every face.

Khalid sat forward. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ll take on Khorvash myself with my party. You don’t have to move until he’s dead.”

More gasps and whispers followed, but Kai continued.

“I’ll send a signal once it’s done. When the orcs least expect it, that’s when you strike. Finish what they started. End their tyranny before it becomes your children’s future.”

For a few seconds, the hall felt like it had stopped breathing. Then came the looks—some wary, some sharp with doubt. Others, just pity.

Even Maari’s expression had shifted, her brows pulled tight in something like disbelief. Khalid stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

And then—of course—Panek let out a dry, bitter laugh. “You really think we’ll fall for that?” he said, half-glare aimed straight at Kai. “Stop joking. This isn’t some bard’s tale.”

“I’m not joking,” Kai said and shook his head.

“I don’t understand. Even if you’re strong—Count Arzan—Khorvash is something else entirely. The orc overlord isn’t just muscle. He’s cunning, ruthless, and we don’t even know where he is right now,” Khalid said.

“If you’re planning an assassination,” someone added from the side, “you’ll fail. You don’t have enough to go on. No maps. No movements. No guarantee he’s even at this tower.”

“It’s not an assassination,” Kai said, lifting his chin. “I’m not going to stab him in the dark and run.”

“Then?”

Kai swept his gaze through the room and started speaking, calling out his plan to kill Khorvash, to get control of his mother’s legacy.

***

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