Halfling War Camp – Makeshift War Room, Dwarven Frontline
The tent flaps burst open.
"General!!!"
A young halfling scout stumbled inside, dirt-covered and breathless, sweat clinging to his forehead.
The Halfling General turned sharply from the war map. "What is it!?"
"Gilikan Town! It's been conquered—by an unknown force!"
The general's expression hardened.
"Unknown!? What force!?"
The scout trembled slightly, still catching his breath.
"The flag flying over the town… it's black, with a golden emblem!"
The room fell silent.
No one spoke.
The general narrowed his eyes.
"…Black with gold…? That's not Human. Not Dwarf. Not even Halfling."
"What about our garrison there!?" he barked.
The scout shook his head.
"We don't know, General! No communication. And we couldn't get close!"
The general slammed his fist on the table.
"Why the hell not!?"
"The town is heavily guarded! Soldiers patrolling the perimeter. Full formations. We tried scouting from a distance."
