Chapter 132 – The Declaration of Eisenwald Citadel
The morning sky over Eisenwald was clear, thin clouds drifting above the mountains that walled the valley. The thunder of war drums had long been replaced by the clanging of hammers in forges, the rumble of wagon wheels, and the shouts of merchants in the market square. A land once drenched in blood now bustled with life again, but Fenrir knew this peace was fragile.
He stood on the balcony of his old manor—the modest stone house that had once served as the heart of Eisenwald. Its moss-covered roof and cracked walls bore the scars of time. It was functional, but far too small for the Crimson Wolf who now commanded six territories under his banner.
Today, all of Eisenwald had been summoned. Farmers, craftsmen, traders, soldiers, and children alike crowded the main square. Red banners embroidered with the snarling wolf fluttered from poles along the streets. Fenrir could feel the anticipation thick in the air.
This would not be just another speech. Today, he would lay the foundation of a new era.
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When the city bells tolled thrice, Fenrir stepped onto the wooden podium. Behind him stood Kael Morgenstern and twenty Crimson Knights, their black-and-crimson armor gleaming under the sunlight. To his right, the division commanders—Darius Holt, Selene Aestra, Garrik Stormhoof, Lyra Nightshade, Roland Ironarm—stood in formation, their presence lending weight to the moment.
Fenrir raised his hand, and silence fell instantly. His voice rang across the square, deep and commanding.
"People of Eisenwald!" he began. "We have won wars. We have shed blood. We have united lands once torn apart. But victory without a foundation is nothing but an illusion. If we wish to preserve what we have built, we must rise above the ruins we inherited."
He gestured toward the old manor behind him, its dull stones paling in comparison to the red banners that now defined Eisenwald.
"From this day onward, I—Fenrir Eisenwald, your Viscount—declare the construction of a new fortress: the Eisenwald Citadel. A bastion of stone and steel. A beacon of strength and unity. A symbol of our rising future!"
The crowd erupted. Cheers of "Long live the Crimson Wolf!" thundered through the square, mingling with the blare of trumpets.
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At Fenrir's signal, architects from the capital unrolled massive parchments. The people gasped as sketches were revealed:
Towering spires, sharp and elegant, piercing the heavens.
White granite walls, polished to shimmer under sunlight.
Dark-red wooden carvings, intricate and noble, framing balconies and arches.
A grand hall, capped with a black dome, vast enough to host thousands.
Iron gates, engraved with the snarling wolf of Eisenwald.
Inner gardens, with stone paths, fountains, and statues of heroes.
Murmurs of awe rippled through the crowd. Children pointed at the drawings, imagining themselves running through its courtyards. Craftsmen whispered about carvings and stonework, while soldiers grinned with pride at the thought of defending such a fortress.
Fenrir's voice boomed again: "This Citadel will not be a palace for one man's vanity. It will be a fortress—a place to shield our children, a seat of justice, a heart from which we strike at those who dare threaten us. Eisenwald is no longer a small barony. From this day, we are equals among the powers of the realm!"
The square trembled with applause and chanting.
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Later, inside a large command tent, Fenrir gathered with his generals and the chief architects.
Darius Holt crossed his arms. "A citadel of this scale will take years, my lord. Resources, manpower, and coin—how will we sustain it?"
Fenrir leaned forward, eyes sharp. "We already hold the means. Falkenrath's iron mines, Altenburg's forests, Drachenfels' granite quarries. The labor of six territories will fuel this. As for gold—" He glanced at Kael. "Our reputation is enough to draw investors. Merchants from the capital already bid for contracts, eager to profit from Eisenwald's rise."
Selene Aestra added softly, "More than stone, this Citadel will anchor the people's faith. They must see that their sacrifices were not in vain."
Kael's gaze lingered on the sketch. His voice was low but steady. "This fortress will be more than a den for wolves. It will be their fangs."
Fenrir smirked faintly. "Exactly."
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Outside, the atmosphere was electric. Craftsmen argued about carvings for the gates. Farmers volunteered wagons and oxen to haul stone. Children ran about, chanting "Build the fortress! Build the fortress!"
But not all faces were joyful. At the edge of the crowd, visiting minor nobles whispered nervously.
"If such a citadel rises, Fenrir's power will eclipse ours entirely…"
"He was just made a Viscount, and already his influence threatens the Marquisate."
"This must reach the Dukes at the capital."
Fenrir knew whispers would spread. Let them. The Citadel itself was meant to be a declaration—not just of strength, but of ambition.
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By afternoon, the people gathered on a small hill overlooking the Eisen River. This was the chosen site: high ground, commanding a view of valleys and trade routes. From here, the Citadel would watch over the land like an unblinking sentinel.
A polished stone, engraved with a wolf's head, lay before Fenrir. He raised it high, his voice carrying to the farthest edge of the crowd.
"With this stone, we lay the foundation of Eisenwald's future! May this Citadel stand longer than our lifetimes, guarding the strength and glory of our descendants!"
A roar of approval surged through the air. Drums thundered. Trumpets sang. Fenrir lowered the stone into place, sealing it into the earth.
One by one, Kael and the commanders placed smaller stones around it, a sign that this endeavor was not one man's will, but the collective vow of Eisenwald.
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Night fell. The city glowed with torchlight, voices raised in song and celebration.
Fenrir stood once again on the balcony of his old manor, gazing at the hill where the foundation stone rested. The outline of the Citadel-to-be seemed almost alive in his mind's eye, rising against the starry sky.
His hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He whispered to himself:
"Today we laid stone. Tomorrow we forge destiny. Eisenwald will rise higher than all who ever doubted us."
Above him, the constellations shimmered bright, as though blessing the dawn of a new age.
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