Chapter Sixty-Eight: The First Whispers at the Border
The Hollow had grown quiet again in the weeks since Kael's speech and the people's rallying cries. Winter clung to the land, heavy snows blanketing roofs and fields, but the Hollow thrummed with life. Smoke curled from forge chimneys, laughter echoed in the communal halls, and children — goblin, elf, human alike — raced each other across the frost-hardened square.
Yet even amid that warmth, shadows pressed closer.
The Scout's Report
Kael stood at the overlook, Umbra sitting beside him like a black statue of muscle and menace. Snowflakes gathered in the beast's fur as his golden eyes fixed on the forest below.
Behind Kael, bootsteps crunched. Fenrik, clad in furs and mail, strode forward with three scouts in tow. His wolfkin ears twitched uneasily.
"My lord," Fenrik said, dipping his head. "Scouts returned an hour ago. They've seen unusual movement on the borders."
Kael turned, his cloak swirling around him. "Unusual how?"
The scout — a young elf with a scar across his brow — stepped forward. His voice was steady but edged with unease.
"Humans, sire. Not soldiers — not organized. But not merchants either. Groups of five, sometimes ten. Armed, but moving in the treelines, watching. One of our patrols tried to approach. The humans vanished like smoke before they could close in."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Too careful to be farmers. Too cautious to be bandits."
"Too bold to be innocent," Fenrik muttered.
Kael nodded once, dismissing the scouts. "You've done well. Rest. Eat. The council will hear of this."
The scouts saluted and left, leaving Kael with Fenrik and Umbra. Snow swirled between them.
"They're testing us," Kael said softly, his voice more growl than words. "Someone wants to see how we react."
Rumors at the Market Stalls
Later that afternoon, Kael walked through the market square, where tents sagged with snow and braziers burned to keep vendors' hands warm. The Hollow's market had grown into a true hub, with dwarf-smiths hawking blades, elves trading furs, and humans selling jars of pickled vegetables and salted meats.
Kael moved slowly, not as king but as one of them. Merchants paused their chatter to bow, though he waved them back to their business with a faint smile.
Two human merchants, cloaked in wool, glanced at him nervously as he approached. They had come with the last caravan from outside — traders who'd decided to stay rather than risk the winter roads. Kael fixed them with a calm but firm look.
"You've traveled farther than most here," Kael began. "You've heard things. Tell me what people say of us beyond these woods."
The older of the two men, with gray streaking his beard, shifted uneasily. "Your Majesty… it's not all kind, I'm afraid."
"I expect no less," Kael said, folding his arms. "Speak plainly."
The merchant swallowed and did.
"Some call you saviors. They say you've built a haven for outcasts, a place where coin and birth don't decide a man's worth. But others…" He hesitated. "Others call you a tyrant. A beast in man's skin. They say you killed guildmen, burned bandits alive, and crowned yourself king of monsters."
The younger merchant chimed in quickly, voice tight. "They say adventurers are coming. That there's coin to be made in your death — in our deaths, if we stand with you."
Kael's eyes darkened, fire flickering in his irises for just a heartbeat before he mastered himself. He exhaled slowly, his voice low and steady.
"And do you believe these things?"
The older man shook his head quickly. "We've seen you walk among your people. You bleed, as they do. No tyrant builds wells or forges. No beast risks his life to save others. But belief doesn't matter outside these walls. Rumors are a stronger currency than silver."
Kael inclined his head, thoughtful. "Thank you. Both of you. Keep listening. Bring me what you hear. In return, you'll always have my protection."
They bowed deeply, visibly relieved.
Back to the Council
When Kael entered the council hall that evening, the air was already sharp with tension. Thalos stood near the firepit, arms crossed like stone. Lyria leaned against the table, her bow at her back, eyes narrowed. Druaka sat across from her, her expression unreadable, tusks catching the firelight.
Fenrik had already spread the scouts' report across the table. Circles of charcoal marked sightings of the humans along the Hollow's borders.
"They're watching us," Fenrik growled. "Like wolves at the edge of the fire."
"Not just wolves," Thalos rumbled. "Spies. Paid men. Adventurers, maybe. I've seen this before."
Kael stepped to the table, his presence pulling every eye to him. He set his hand on the map, voice calm but firm.
"The merchants confirm it. Rumors spread like wildfire beyond our borders. Some call us heroes. Others call us beasts. Either way, the world is looking at us."
Silence hung heavy. Then Druaka spoke, her voice low and steady.
"Let them look. If they come, they'll see strength."
Lyria's gaze flicked to Kael. "Strength is not enough. If adventurers come, they won't come for peace. They'll come for coin and glory. We'll be forced to kill them… and every corpse will bring more."
Kael met her eyes, then looked back to the council as a whole. His voice dropped into that quiet, commanding tone that always stilled the room.
"Then we must decide. Do we hide behind our walls and hope they lose interest? Do we strike first and confirm their worst fears? Or do we stand open and unflinching — daring them to test us, and proving that Ebon Hollow will not break?"
The council murmured, unease thick. Kael straightened, shadows flickering faintly at his heels as if his power was answering his mood.
"We cannot control what they whisper. But we can control what they see when they come."