The morning dew still clung to Fenwood's wooden palisade when Roland Farter awoke, lantern light fading as dawn's pale fingers brushed the sky. No sleep had visited him—his mind churned with the events of the last battle and the seer's prophecy echoing in his thoughts. He dressed in silence, tightened his boots, and emerged onto the training yard, where recruits limbered up and archers practiced volleys.
Above the clamor, a town crier's bell tolled in the square. With Talia and Lira at his side, Roland made his way through the winding corridors of the keep to the market plaza. There, a hastily scrawled notice had been posted:
> Hear Ye! Public Hearing Tonight at the Keep's Great Hall
Topic: Rumors of the Dark Lord's Return—All Who Value Ardenia's Safety Must Attend
A crowd gathered — farmers in woolen shawls, merchants with their early wares, and armed militia in battered armor. Roland mounted the steps of the platform to clear a path for Sir Alaric, who approached, steel-clad and resolute. As the hero mounted the dais, a hush fell.
"People of Fenwood," Alaric began, his voice carrying beyond the plaza, "we have repelled bandits, quelled conspiracies, and fortified our walls. Yet rumors swirl beyond our gates—talk of a larger threat: the Dark Lord's return."
A woman near the front gasped. "We heard his generals massing in the Iron Pass!"
Alaric raised a hand. "I will speak plainly. Spies report the Dark Lord's banner—black dragon on crimson—hovering over vast encampments. His forces gather for a renewed assault on Ardenia's heart."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Roland felt the quiet tension grow into panic. He gripped the edge of the platform.
Alaric continued, "We cannot face him again divided. Tonight, in the Great Hall, I call for every lord, every guildmaster, and every citizen with courage in their hearts to speak. We must unite, share intelligence, and forge a plan to stop this threat before Fenwood falls."
Cheers rose, but underneath them simmered fear: the Dark Lord's shadow loomed larger with every story. Roland scanned familiar faces—villagers he'd trained, scouts he'd led, and common folk who hung on every word. Their safety weighed on him.
After the proclamation, Roland and the scouts dispersed to spread the word. By midday, messengers galloped to neighboring keeps; runners distributed leaflets down country lanes; Riders of the Dawn (Fenwood's courier guild) readied relays. Everywhere, talk turned to the Dark Lord.
Roland met with Talia at the armory. "I counted five fugitives wearing the Dark Lord's crest on last night's prisoners," she reported. "And one confessed he'd seen banners even deeper in the forest."
He frowned. "We're too close. If his forces bypass Glenmere and descend on Fenwood en masse…" His voice trailed off.
Lira joined them, her staff resting on her shoulder. "We need more eyes. I propose scouting parties at each cardinal point—north at Iron Pass, east toward the Marshes of Mourning, south along the river route, and west into the foothills."
Talia nodded. "And we'll post lookouts on every tower. If they move, we'll know."
Roland exhaled. "Do it. And send word to Serrin's Riders—if they can spare a dozen lancers, we'll need mobile response teams."
They divided tasks: Talia organized the archer posts, Lira mapped patrol routes, and Roland drafted dispatches to Glenmere and the capital. His pen trembled as he wrote of rumors and impending doom, knowing the weight those words carried.
As dusk fell, Roland returned to the Great Hall, where tables were set for the public meeting. Torches blazed, casting flickering light over tapestries depicting Ardenia's history of unity in crisis. Lords and ladies arrived—some wary, some resolute. Merchants and guild leaders filed in behind them, filling benches along the walls.
Sir Alaric presided at the front. Roland took his place among the scouts at the back, ready to maintain order and offer support if needed.
Alaric rose. "I thank you for coming. Let us begin with reports from Fenwood's scouts."
Roland and Talia exchanged glances. They had crucial intelligence: bandit scouts aligned with Dark Lord's forces moving west of Fenwood, strange magical flares seen at night. They would speak next—laying bare the threat so everyone could act.