Chapter 230 – Seeds of Strength
The echo of the Festival of Freedom lingered in the Hollow for days. Laughter still carried across the market square, the banners still hung from the new stone arches, and children still recounted the games they had played long after the lanterns were extinguished. Yet Kael knew that joy, however vital, could not be their only foundation.
On the morning the council reconvened, the air in the chamber was sober but not heavy. Each member had found their role in the weeks since the slavers' defeat, and each now carried the weight of their responsibilities with purpose.
The long table was filled—Rogan with his arms crossed, massive frame barely contained by his chair; Thalos calm and observant, a quill in hand; Varik leaning back, boots on the edge of the table until Lyria shot him a withering glare; Azhara serene, her hands folded neatly in front of her; Saekaros humming softly under his breath until Kael called the meeting to order.
Kael rose slowly, resting his palms against the table's edge. His voice was steady, carrying not just authority but thoughtfulness.
"Our festival reminded me of something," he began. "We've come far. Too far to only look inward now. The Hollow is strong, but strength is meaningless if it cannot endure. I've been considering… expansion."
At once, the word stirred murmurs. Rogan raised a brow. Thalos tapped his quill against parchment. Even Azhara tilted her head slightly.
Kael continued. "I don't mean conquest. Not forced expansion. I mean this: there are demihuman settlements scattered across these lands. Some are small, vulnerable, forgotten by the kingdoms. Others, stronger, but alone. We've proven here that a united people can endure. So why not extend that hand?"
He let the silence stretch, watching their reactions. "We offer them vassalage. Not chains, not subjugation. But alliance. Protection, in exchange for loyalty and labor. If they agree, we grow together. If they refuse, we respect it and move on. But it is time the Hollow stopped being an island surrounded by wolves."
Saekaros was the first to speak, his voice deep and resonant. "You would ask me to speak for the people. Many will agree. Some will be wary. But… it is a noble vision. And it gives hope to those who have none."
Rogan's lips split in a half-grin. "More warriors. More hands to hold steel. You'll find no complaint from me."
Thalos, however, frowned. "Noble, yes. But dangerous. If we extend ourselves too quickly, we risk overreaching. A single weak link could be exploited by enemies more cunning than the Iron Brand."
Kael nodded, expecting the counter. "Which is why I bring this to you now—not as a command, but as a seed. Something to think on, something to weigh. We need not decide today."
Varik leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "And what of strength? You spoke of it as though you had more in mind than numbers."
Kael exhaled, his gaze sweeping the council. "I do. Our people survived famine, raids, slavery. But survival isn't enough. If the Hollow is to stand against kingdoms, against monsters, against whatever hell the world throws at us, then every man, woman, and child must be able to endure. Not just soldiers. Everyone."
The chamber was silent.
Kael's voice deepened, his conviction hard as steel. "We train them. Strength. Magic. Endurance. We make every individual as capable as they can be. If they have magic, they learn to wield it. If they have arms, they learn to fight. Farmers and masons need not become warriors, but they should at least be able to defend their homes. No more lambs waiting for wolves. Everyone in the Hollow should be a wolf."
Rogan slammed his fist against the table, rattling mugs. "Yes. This, I can stand behind. Too long we've been prey. Let them become predators."
Thalos' quill stilled. He studied Kael carefully. "This would change everything. It would require teachers, time, and discipline. It would blur the lines between civilian and soldier."
Kael met his gaze. "Do you doubt we have the people capable of teaching? Do you doubt we have the will?"
Thalos hesitated, then shook his head slowly. "No. But I caution you: raising a generation of wolves can make them restless. You must ensure loyalty binds them stronger than pride."
"I'll see to that," Kael promised.
Lyria, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "If we do this, it will make us formidable. But it will also paint us as a threat. Other kingdoms will notice."
"They already notice," Kael countered, his voice sharp. "The Hollow exists, and that alone makes us a threat to them. Better they fear us for our strength than for rumors. Better they think twice before ever setting foot on our soil."
Her eyes softened, though her voice did not. "And you don't intend to make this a decision for today?"
Kael shook his head. "No. I want each of you to think on it. Speak with your people. Let the idea settle. We've built something lasting here—I won't risk it on rashness. But I will not sit idle while danger festers around us."
The council murmured again, each voice distinct—Rogan's gruff enthusiasm, Saekaros' thoughtful caution, Azhara's gentle agreement that stronger bodies meant fewer sickbeds, Varik's sharp insistence that secrecy and training could go hand-in-hand.
Kael raised a hand, silencing them. "Good. Let it settle. We will revisit this in time. But remember my words: wolves, not lambs. If the Hollow is to survive, it must be built on strength."
He sat, and the council shifted into other matters: crop yields, new homes being constructed, the success of the forges. Yet Kael noticed how each of them lingered on his words, their eyes distant, already turning the possibilities over in their minds.
When the meeting ended, the air outside was warm, the Hollow alive with laughter and work. Kael paused at the threshold, looking over the people who had become his family, and whispered to himself:
"Wolves, not lambs."