The late morning sun bathed the settlement as the remaining troops sluggishly prepared for the day's march. Squads that once numbered in the tens were now down to seven or eight soldiers each—every single one of them an elf. Their faces bore the exhaustion and weariness from the night before, yet there was a newfound resolve in their eyes, a hard-earned sense of purpose.

  As Elron walked through the settlement, inspecting the troops, he was greeted with stiff salutes and respectful bows from the elves who noticed his presence. He acknowledged them with a curt nod but kept his focus ahead, his mind wandering. When he reached a towering funeral pyre, the bitter stench of charred flesh hit him hard, making him instinctively raise his hand to pinch his nonexistent nose. Instead, he waved his hand in front of his face in disgust.

  Gazing at the smoldering pile of bodies, Elron murmured to himself, "If only it looked as bad as it smells. Pew."

  Unfortunately, this wasn’t the ideal place to collect his thoughts. He needed solitude, somewhere to gather himself before the speech. As he turned to leave, he collided with one of the three women who had been following him relentlessly since the purge. The woman stumbled and fell to the ground, quickly scooting back in fear, her wide eyes locked onto him.

  Elron sighed in frustration. “You don’t have to follow me. Go somewhere else, please.”

  The three women exchanged nervous glances. They looked around as if surrounded by sharks. Finally, the woman who had fallen gathered enough courage to speak. “We can’t leave you…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

  Elron grumbled under his breath before raising his voice. “Maris! Get over here!”

  In an instant, Maris appeared, sprinting toward him with a trail of dust in her wake. She skidded to a halt before him and snapped to attention. “Yes, my lord, what would you have of me?”

  Elron exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “I can't have these women trailing me around like lost puppies. Take them under your wing.”

  Maris eyed the dirty, frightened women, her expression conflicted. “I... I do not like having slaves, my lord.”

  Elron groaned, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead. “Doesn't the Goddess Ferah advocate for balance or something? Wouldn’t she want you to take them on for the sake of maintaining order?”

  Maris’s gaze hardened as she studied the tear-streaked faces of the women. After a long pause, she finally said, “Well… Ferah might see it as part of the natural order...”

  “There you go!” Elron interjected, brightening. “A natural order—like ants tending to their aphid colonies.”

  Maris’s brow furrowed in confusion, glancing from the women to Elron. “Ants and aphids, my lord?” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “Sure… I suppose.”

  Elron nodded with satisfaction. “Good. Do you know when the troops will be ready to move?”

  “At any time, my lord,” Maris replied, though a bit perplexed. “However at this rate, we won’t make it far before dark.”

  “Why does it matter if night falls? We’re an army of elves. We can see in the dark better than most. There's no reason to be worried about marching through the night.”

  Maris blinked, momentarily stunned. “I... hadn’t considered that. You’re right, my lord.”

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  Elron hummed with satisfaction, clasping his hands behind his back. “Good. You’re learning. Now, sound the horn, Maris. It’s time.”

  With a smile and a nod, Maris and her new attendants moved swiftly, and not much later, the deep bellow of a horn echoed through the camp. Elron strode toward the front gates, his steps measured, watching as soldiers disassembled and packed their things. Typically, specific companies would have been preselected for this task, but the usual order had been disrupted. Now, every elf seemed to be rolling up their own bags, tents, and supplies—except for the few who had acquired slaves and delegated the work to them.

  As Elron passed through the front gates and stepped onto the open field, the wind carried the scent of fresh grass, a faint relief to the tension that contantly gnawed at his mind. His gaze wandered over the landscape, desperately trying to focus on anything other than the daunting task ahead—addressing his soldiers. The weight of leadership, combined with the fatigue of restless nights, bore down on him. Even with his superior athleticism, his sleeplessness dulled his senses. He turned to watch as his troops began filing out of the settlement. The foot soldiers came first, followed by the archers, then the mage company, and finally, the cavalry and supply wagons. The usual din of orders and shouting faded, and all that remained was the low murmur of a disciplined army preparing for its next march.

  He snapped his fingers, catching what he assumed to be Kael’s nod of approval from the distance. A moment later, he felt the familiar tug of levitation magic lifting him off the ground, granting him a full view of his army—thousands of elves, all standing in formation, ready to follow him into the unknown.

  A nervous knot twisted in his gut as he looked over the sea of faces. This was the moment. A moment he had never dared to dream of, yet here it was, waiting for him to seize it. His voice, bolstered by a voice enhancement spell, boomed across the field.

  "Hello, my fellow elves! My brothers and sisters in arms!"

  The amplification startled him slightly, but he recovered quickly, forcing the unease away.

  “It was not long ago that I adventured across our great nation. I’ve seen the state of the country at large, from the tiniest of villages to our largest of cities, and it’s grim. Our people are being poisoned, cast aside, and hurt in more ways than can be imagined. But today, we change that."

  He paused, letting the words settle among them, his eyes scanning their figures.

  "Today, we mark the beginning of a new era—an era where the strong rule and might makes right."

  Another pause. Elron swallowed, his nerves still nagging, but he pushed through.

  "We march to the border from here. And when we arrive, you will have a choice. Those who wish to return to their homes, to their villages and their families, may do so with honor. But those who wish to change the fate of our kingdom—those who wish to bring the strength of elves back to its rightful place—will join me. We will march to the capital, and we will take what is ours."

  A wave of murmurs and nods spread through the ranks. Elron knew his army was already with him, but his next words needed to solidify their resolve. He needed them to believe that their cause was not just necessary but righteous.

  "Under the trees of our homeland, we will carve out a future built on strength and pride. No more will we bow to the weak and the corrupted. Our time has come."

  He looked out over them, feeling the weight of their anticipation, their loyalty, and the magnitude of the task ahead. They were ready—he could see it.

  Elron took a deep breath, his voice calm but forceful as he yelled, "For Aethoria! For our blood! For our future!"

  A thunderous cheer erupted from the soldiers, shaking the very ground beneath them. Elron lowered himself back to the earth, his heart still racing as he prepared to lead them toward their final destination—the capital, and the crown that awaited him. He knew the path ahead was fraught with challenge, but he was ready. They were all ready.

  As the echoes of the cheers faded, Elron’s mind raced ahead, contemplating the next steps. He turned to Kael, who had been watching nearby with a smile.

  "Let’s make sure everything is in order," Elron said quietly, his tone betraying a hint of exhaustion.

  Kael nodded with smug expression. "Your speech did the trick, my friend. The army is with you... all the way to Kaltar."

  Elron smirked. "Then let’s not waste time. The queen won’t wait for us."

  Together, they began their march, the distant trees of Kaltar looming in their future—a city that would soon tremble beneath the power of the righteous elves.