Chapter 130 – The Wind of Nomads
The council hall was heavy with the scent of parchment and smoke. Torches flickered along the walls, shadows dancing over the carved stone pillars that lined the chamber. The table before them was buried under ledgers and scrolls—figures of crop yields, new housing reports, mining projections.
Kael sat at the head, listening as his councilors spoke one by one.
"The forges are ahead of schedule," Fenrik grumbled, voice rough as gravel. "But the miners need reinforcements. Too many hours, too much strain, and they'll collapse faster than the tunnels."
"Our crops are growing," one of the elven farmers added, "but summer will test the irrigation. If we're not careful, half of what we planted will wither before harvest."
Arguments rose and fell like waves. The Hollow was growing fast, maybe too fast, and with each success came another problem that demanded more labor, more planning, more hands.
Kael rubbed his temples, exhaustion pressing behind his eyes. And then—
The room fell away.
The voices of his councilors dimmed into silence. The smoke from the torches thickened, curling toward him in twisting shapes. His vision swam, until he was no longer in the council hall but standing in an endless stretch of windswept plains.
A line of riders crested the horizon. They were not knights, nor soldiers, but nomads—clad in furs and leathers, their banners marked with symbols Kael did not know. Their eyes gleamed with wary intelligence, their weapons sharp, their mounts powerful. They carried no siege weapons, no engines of war, but the weight of their presence was undeniable.
Kael's chest tightened. He could feel them—not hostile, not yet, but not weak either. They were a tide, and tides could shift.
The vision shattered.
Kael blinked back into the council hall, his fists clenched on the table. The others were staring at him.
"You saw something," Thalos rumbled, his single eye narrowing.
Kael straightened slowly. "The nomad clans," he said, his voice firm though his heart still pounded. "They're coming. Within days. They'll reach our borders just as spring fades into summer."
The chamber erupted.
"Nomads?" one councilor spat. "They're raiders, Kael. Savages who live by taking what they want. If they're coming here, it's to pillage."
"Or to test our strength," Fenrik growled. "If they smell weakness, they'll bleed us dry."
Lyria, seated at Kael's side, raised a hand for silence, but Kael spoke before she could.
"They will not attack without reason," he said, his voice steady. "If they come in peace, then we answer in kind. If they come with blades, then we'll defend our people. But we cannot afford to strike first."
"Peace?" another councilor barked. "Is it wise to open our gates to strangers when the kingdoms already turn against us?"
Kael met his gaze evenly. "Is it wise to turn away potential allies when every enemy circles like wolves? We've built something strong here, but we are not untouchable. If they bring trouble, then they won't stay. But it costs us nothing to listen."
A silence stretched, thick and uneasy. The weight of his words lingered, their logic undeniable even if their caution screamed against it.
Thalos leaned back, his great arms crossed. "And if you're wrong?"
Kael's jaw tightened. "Then I'll be the first to meet their blades. But I will not condemn them without cause. Not when the Hollow was once nothing but cast-offs and exiles. If I had been turned away the way some of you would turn them, none of us would be here now."
That silenced even the harshest voices.
Lyria gave him a small nod, approval flashing in her eyes. "Then it's decided," she said. "But we should not be blind. We'll need eyes on them before they reach us."
Kael looked to her. "You'll go. You and Varik. Together you'll find them, scout their intentions, and bring word back before they stand at our gates."
Varik, who had been quiet until then, tilted his head. His pale eyes glimmered with that calculating coldness he always carried. "A spy and a warrior. A fair pairing. If they mean peace, we'll know. If they don't… we'll know that too."
Kael gave a short nod. "Then prepare. You leave at dawn."
The council meeting adjourned, but the murmurs did not fade. Some councilors still whispered of raiders, others of opportunity. Kael stood apart from them, staring at the maps spread across the table.
Nomads at his gates. Allies, enemies, or something in between—he did not yet know. But his vision lingered in his mind, sharp as the wind on the plains. The tide was coming, and he would meet it head-on.