Chapter 133 – The Newcomers
The Hollow had never been so full of voices.
The wide clearing just within the gates buzzed with activity as the nomads were ushered inside. Tired feet stumbled on cobblestones, children clung to their mothers, and worn eyes widened at the sight of the towering palisades, the stone buildings, the glimmering forges that spat smoke into the summer air. For many, it was the first sign of permanence they had seen in years.
Kael stood tall before them, his cloak shifting lightly in the breeze. He raised his hand, and the murmurs faded into a hush.
"You've walked far," Kael began, his voice steady but carrying warmth. "You've bled and suffered more than any people should have to. Here in the Hollow, you'll find food, clothes, and shelter. But you will also find purpose. Not today. Not tomorrow. You'll be given time to recover, to acclimate, to see that this place is more than walls. When you're ready, you'll work beside us, as equals."
A ripple of relief and gratitude passed through the caravan, some falling to their knees, others clutching children closer.
Kael's gaze swept across them, then fell back to Saekaros, who stood near the front with his child clutching at his robe. "Until then, rest. You are safe."
Within the hour, the Hollow was alive with movement. Council members directed groups of townsfolk to prepare shelters in the lower district—an unused cluster of longhouses once reserved for overflow storage. Women carried baskets of bread and broth to the newcomers, while apprentices handed out patched but serviceable tunics and boots. For the first time in weeks, the nomads ate until their bellies ached.
Kael walked the lines personally, checking in with each cluster. Children stared up at him in awe, whispering behind their hands. A young beastkin girl reached out to tug at his cloak, and Kael knelt to speak softly with her until her mother, eyes brimming with gratitude, pulled her back.
It was not long before Kael turned to the council hall, where the true meeting awaited.
The council chamber was tense, the long oak table crowded with members leaning in, watching Kael stride in with Saekaros at his side. Behind him came two figures—a tall beastkin woman with silver hair pulled into a loose braid, and a boy no older than twelve, his mixed features a delicate blend of lizardkin scales along his jaw and beastkin ears atop his head.
"This is Saekaros," Kael announced, his tone firm, cutting off the whispers before they began. "He is the leader of the nomads, and he speaks for them."
Saekaros inclined his head. "I am honored to stand among you."
Kael gestured to the woman. "This is Seraya, his wife." Then to the boy. "And this is Ralven, their son."
The boy gave a shy nod, clutching at his mother's hand.
The council regarded them with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. Fenrik leaned forward, arms crossed, his eyes sharp. "What do they bring besides hungry mouths?"
Kael motioned, and Saekaros lifted the heavy chest that had been carried earlier. With care, he opened it, revealing stacks of books bound in leather, scrolls tied with string, and loose sheaves of parchment.
"These," Saekaros said, his voice carrying pride, "are the works we carried when food ran thin, when steel grew scarce. Histories of fallen kingdoms. Studies of the arcane, from the simplest spells to the most complex theories. Records of science—healing, construction, alchemy. Maps, some old, some drawn by our own hands as we traveled."
He rested his clawed hand atop the nearest volume. "Knowledge, preserved at great cost. It belongs now to the Hollow."
The council stirred. Murmurs swept the chamber. Science. Magic. Alchemy. Words of power.
Thalos grunted, breaking the silence. "Books won't swing a sword."
"No," Saekaros agreed calmly. "But books will teach men how to forge better swords. How to heal when battles are done. How to grow fields to feed armies. Knowledge builds the foundation upon which strength rests."
The lizardkin's gaze shifted to Kael. "You understand this, I think."
Kael gave a small nod, then looked to the council. "We've leaned on trade too long. With what they've brought us, we may teach our people more than how to fight or till soil. We may learn to thrive."
The debate stretched on, suspicion clashing with hope. But as the council slowly quieted, Kael stood, bringing the matter to an end.
"They will rest. When ready, they will work. And these books will be safeguarded here in the Hollow's library." His eyes flicked across each council member. "This is decided."
Reluctant nods followed. The matter was settled—for now.
That night, Kael stepped out into the cool air, his cloak brushing against the stones as he descended the steps of the council hall. To his surprise, Thalos and Fenrik waited at the bottom, the pair deep in hushed conversation until Kael approached.
"Thoughts?" Kael asked bluntly.
Thalos folded his massive arms, tusks catching the moonlight. "Don't like it. Too many mouths. Too many strangers. Makes a camp noisy. Noisy camps die easy."
Fenrik snorted, shaking his head. "I'll admit, they don't look like much. Ragged folk, bones sticking out of their skin. But I've seen the way they look at Saekaros. That's not the look of beggars. That's loyalty. And loyalty can be forged into something useful."
Kael's gaze lingered on them both. "And what of you, Thalos? Will you give them a chance?"
The ogre grunted. "Chance, maybe. But if one of them stirs trouble, I'll put them down before they draw a second breath."
Fenrik smirked. "He means he'll try."
Thalos bared his tusks in what might have been a grin—or a warning.
Kael allowed himself the faintest smile. "Then we'll watch them closely. But I think… they may prove themselves yet."
The three stood in silence for a long moment, the Hollow alive with the distant sound of new families settling into old homes. For the first time in weeks, the air seemed to hold not just tension, but possibility.