Chapter 211 – Beneath the Quiet
Spring in the Hollow should have been a time of renewal. The markets expanded with fresh goods, the forges rang with hammer and steel, and the fields—dark and damp from thaw—promised a strong planting. Yet beneath the cheer, something gnawed unseen.
The Iron Brand's game was patient and cruel, and each week brought some new cut, small enough to be dismissed, sharp enough to leave a scar.
The Escalation
It began with the sheep pens. One morning, a farmer found three of his animals dead, their throats neatly slit. There were no wolf tracks, no signs of struggle—only the blood pooled in the mud.
Not long after, a storage shed near the southern watchpost went up in flames during the night. The guards swore they saw nothing until it was already too late.
By the next week, two patrols vanished in the northern woods. Search parties recovered only splintered shields and a broken spear, as though the men had simply been swallowed by the forest.
Each act was small compared to war, but together they were needles digging under the Hollow's skin. People whispered in taverns, wondering if the land itself was cursed. Some began to say the Hollow had grown too quickly, drawing the wrath of jealous gods or vengeful kings.
Kael heard every whisper. And each one weighed on him like stones tied to his chest.
Council Tensions
The council hall felt more like a battlefield than a chamber of strategy.
"This is coordinated," Varik snapped, leaning forward with his fists on the table. "No wolf slits throats. No accident burns sheds this clean. Someone is probing us, weakening us before the killing blow."
"You see conspiracies everywhere," Thalos countered, his voice hard but weary. "Yes, the incidents are troubling. Yes, they may be linked. But to assume an enemy we cannot see is to risk tearing ourselves apart with fear before any blade is drawn."
Fenrik growled from his seat. "Fear is already spreading. Walk the streets, Thalos. You'll hear it in every tavern and workshop. Our people are looking to us for answers."
"And what answers do you propose?" Thalos shot back. "That invisible slavers creep at every door? That nameless armies poison our wells? We cannot rule by rumor."
Kael raised a hand, shadows curling faintly at his fingers until silence fell. "Enough. Both of you are right. This is not chance. But neither will I let us fracture under paranoia. We will answer whispers with vigilance."
A Risky Decision
That night, after the council adjourned, Kael lingered in the hall with Varik. The lanterns burned low, shadows deepening across the carved stone walls.
"You're certain," Kael said quietly.
"As certain as I've ever been," Varik replied, his sharp features unreadable in the dim. "This reeks of planning. Of patience. Whoever they are, they want us softened, doubting, easier to chain when the time comes."
Kael nodded, jaw tight. "Then we need eyes beyond these walls. If there's a hand moving against us, I want to know whose."
"You're sending me." Varik didn't phrase it as a question.
Kael's lips curled into a humorless smile. "You were always the best at vanishing into the world. If anyone can find their trail, it's you."
Varik leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "And if I don't return?"
"Then I will know what we face is far more dangerous than even I feared." Kael's tone left no space for jest.
For the first time in years, Varik allowed himself a grin. "Dark comfort, but comfort all the same."
The Hollow's Unease
Word of Varik's departure never spread—Kael made sure of it. But even without knowing, the people felt the absence.
Markets carried on, but with tighter lips and sharper eyes. Farmers kept watch over their fields at night, pitchforks at hand. Children no longer roamed as freely, called home by anxious parents before dusk.
The Hollow had survived hunger, cold, and the trials of its early years. But this was different. This was an enemy no one could point to, no flag to rally against. Just wounds in the dark.
Kael's Burden
Late one evening, Kael stood on the wall of the Hollow, looking out at the moonlit fields. Lyria joined him, wrapping her cloak tighter against the night air.
"They're afraid," she said softly.
"I know," Kael replied. His shadows stirred restlessly at his feet, echoing his unease. "But worse than fear is doubt. I can carry their fear. I can shield them from it. But if they doubt us—if they doubt me—the Hollow will crumble from within before any enemy strikes."
Lyria touched his arm gently. "Then don't let them see your doubt. Not even me."
Kael turned his eyes to her, searching. But she only looked back with quiet strength, her pale hair gleaming in the moonlight.
He didn't answer. Because deep inside, he wondered if she could already see the cracks.
Beyond the Horizon
Far from the Hollow, the Iron Brand moved in silence.
Sarya poisoned another stream. Darak's raiders destroyed a merchant caravan bound north, leaving nothing but broken wheels and blood in the mud.
Each act was meant not to break the Hollow outright, but to tighten the noose. To make the council question, the people whisper, the defenses strain.
Malreth the Chain-Lord studied his maps by firelight, his eyes cold and certain. "Let them plant their fields. Let them believe spring brings safety. By summer's end, they will be ours."
And somewhere, already, Varik's footsteps were fading into the wilds—seeking the truth Kael needed, or vanishing into the jaws of the enemy.