Dahlia stared up at the small hole in her ceiling, watching as the light slowly made its appearance. It was as if her vision was clouded in dark blue, the edges and interior of her hut unrecognizable as shapes. The only thing she was certain of was that of the small opening that revealed the sky. Purple clouds signified dawn's approach.

The shaman turned away from the sight, her eyes shutting as she shifted in her bed. She reached out in hopes of someone to pull her in, but her hands met nothing but the cold. That side of the bed was empty and would be for the coming weeks. Dahlia doubted that it'd ever be filled again.

'You have to get up. The people need a leader. Helen won't do it, and Seamus barely has a hold on his own people. Not even Felix or the council can step in. You're the next best thing they have for a Jarl.'

Dahlia clenched her hands into tight fists. Deep inside, fear blossomed slowly. It ate her from the inside, threatening to topple her nerves. Yet she remained stoic and tried to push it down, deep inside her soul. Unfortunately, there were times when she couldn't ignore it. Times like these mornings. Every day, Dahlia feared that her time was done and that the orcs had grown impatient. She shook at the thought of a courier knocking at her shack's door with news of the imminent battle.

'Yet, what good will hiding from it do? Pick yourself up, Dahlia, and lead these people through this siege.'

With a heavy sigh, Frue Dahlia slipped out of bed. She went through the motions of dressing herself, discarding some of the trinkets she usually wore. These people would expect a leader, not a Shaman. Dahlia intended to live up to the expectations. She slipped on her long dress, the wool skirt hanging far past her knees. It was uncomfortable, but she knew better than to challenge tradition. With a huff, Dahlia pulled on a warm tunic over the dress, followed by her belts and sash. After that, she put on a thick shawl that brought her enough warmth to warrant sweat.

Dahlia brushed her short hair back, making sure that it was at least presentable. After that, she glanced over at the nearby table, where a small golden band lay for her. It had been forged in a rush, made specifically to her size. James never wore a band like this. He never really had the time or money for it. Not that it made much of a difference. People around Yorktown knew who he was and his position.

However, they did not know that Dahlia was taking over his position. They wouldn't care about his female companion taking over for him. A shaman at that, too. So Dahlia wore the band and the clothes. All to put on a familiar face for the people. They knew of Jarls and Frues and how they appeared. Golden band and noble clothes. That was all that was needed for Dahlia to garner the attention.

The Frue fixed up her sleeves, making sure they hid the tattoos that ran across her arms. She fitted on gloves and boots and mentally prepared herself. She frowned a little as she thumbed a small bone necklace. With a sigh, she put it on, hiding the trinket underneath her shirt and dress for no one to see. After making sure her golden band was on right, Dahlia turned and left her small hut.

It was time to see if their time was up.

"What do we do?"

Haggard ignored the question as he stomped through the Raven Keep, his footstep pronounced as heavy thumps. The guardsman behind him looked around nervously, his face stricken with worry as he followed Haggard through the Keep's halls.

"Sir Haggard?" the guard asked once more, meek voice almost drowned out by the larger man's footsteps.

Haggard stopped his walk, almost allowing the young man to run into him. The guard stumbled back, almost in fear, as he watched the drifter turn to him with furrowed brows. "What's your name?"

"Ch-Chancey, sir," the guardsman answered.

"Chancey?" Haggard asked with confusion. "Azurvalian?"

"Third generation, sir," Chancey answered. "My first name is Gunther."

"Gunther it is then," Haggard muttered to himself. Then, to the guardsman. "What we do now, dear Gunther, is fight! We fight to save Yorktown! That is what we do."

Gunther went pale at that, his lips quivering to try and speak. Before he could, however, Haggard was already well on his way to the Keep's innards. To the War Room.

The doors burst open loudly, Haggard's massive hands shoving guardsmen aside as he stepped in. A table was at the center of the War Room, flanked by chairs that surrounded it neatly. The 'War Room' was nothing more than a former meeting room that the Thieves Guild had used back when they had owned this building. It sat neatly in the depths of the Keep, hidden by multiple corridors and hallways that twisted around almost as if they were the building's innards. It lay beyond the main secret room, where a balcony overlooked an expansive landing that looked suspiciously like an open court.

Nowadays, most of the rooms—the ones that survived the fire—were repurposed to fit the needs of a Keep, including treasury, storages, training grounds, and, of course, a 'rec room' added by Jarl Holter himself, filled with things to pass the time. Like the makeshift 'foosball' table James had spent a worrying amount of time constructing. Thankfully, the effort was well worth it. The guardsmen here particularly liked that addition to the Keep.

Back in the War Room, the main table wasn't as full as its initial purpose intended. Only three seats were occupied, their owners being that of the Wizard Nathan, Councilwoman Nora, and that gnome Wheaton. Haggard initially had trouble remembering their names. He was a fighter foremost and only recognized the strong.

Nathan was easy enough to remember. Both he and Haggard had fought together during the Battle for Vindis. Nora and Wheaton, however… Well, Haggard had learned fast that calling them 'Annoying Woman' and 'Old Gnome' was a mistake that could end badly for him.

Regardless, Haggard had plenty of time to recognize names, as he spent the last month stationed in Vindis' Raven Keep to vet the city guard and assist Nora in her duties. Basically, he was just a bodyguard. A bodyguard who was itching for a chance to go fight. And gods did the chance arrive.

"You rat bastards!" Haggard shouted as he stomped into the room, Gunther rushing to try and stop him. The guard proved little in slowing his approach. "Yorktown is in danger and you lot decide to not intervene?! What kind of coward shit is this?!"

Nathan turned to Haggard with a worried look, his brow furrowed. "Haggard, the decision wasn't made lightly. We've reviewed the situation from a multitude of angles and possibilities. The best option for us is not to intervene. Not unless we want to lose all we have left of the Raven Clan."

"It was a… difficult choice," Nora agreed with a mutter. She didn't even look Haggard in the eye, her gaze downcast as she avoided him.

"Are you all insane?" Haggard asked. He stepped up to the table and slammed a fist on it. "We are the calvary for Virtus' sake! Yorktown depends on us to come and help!"

"With what army?" Wheaton spoke up. The gnome leaned in from his boosted chair, his gaze meeting with Haggard's. "Most of our forces are in Yorktown. While Vindis' city guard is at our disposal, we cannot simply send all of them into a fight with an enemy they do not have experience with. Orcs are deadly, Haggard. Each one is worth the strength of at least two men."

"And I'm worth thirty of them," Haggard growled. "We can take them! With Aldren's guardsmen and a portion of Vindis' own, we can take them!"

"Haggard," Nathan spoke up again, voice somber. "We scried the numbers. There are hundreds of orcs surrounding that island. Our own numbers are at least eighty men. That's being generous. Not even mentioning our lack of ships."

"So we call in a favor from the other clans!" Haggard shouted. "Olafson or even fucking Villtur! They can help!"

"With how things are between our clans?" Nora asked. "While he did unite them, James did so under a forced pact. They're not willing to help if the end result means the fall of our clan. They could be seeing this as a chance to escape the pact James has them in."

"Besides," Wheaton spoke up. "They're not willing to listen to us, mere underlings. Only Jarl Holter has the authority to call them in for a meeting. So, we're on our own."

Haggard went quiet at that, his jaw grinding as he contemplated their words. He wanted to curse them all, to tell them to go to hel for their choice. Yet he held that part of himself back. It would do no one any good to lash out like that. He needed to think about the situation.

'The first thing any sane man should do in such a situation is to gauge their resources and needs. What do we have, and how can we use it to achieve victory?'

Haggard recalled those words. They were echoes of a life long ago, back when he was a younger man. They had always helped him in these types of situations, especially when lives were on the line. First, they needed to assist Yorktown in fending off the orcs from attack. Second, they had eighty men that were ready to fight for them.

What else did they have?

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"Haggard?" Nathan called out, snapping the drifter from his thoughts.

"Is that dwarf blacksmith of yours still testing out that project of his?" Haggard asked suddenly. "The metal wand one."

The Wizard blinked at that, brow furrowing as he processed the question. "That's top secret," he said slowly, hands on the table as he stood up. "How did you…?"

"I'll be seeing you," Haggard said his farewells with a grin, his hand gesturing a half-baked wave as he turned around. Almost as fast as he came into the War Room, Haggard left like an apparition out of a bard's plays.

Dahlia Astera was a Frue. A replacement of the Jarl that had once looked over this island. Technically, her duties didn't change much. Even before James' absence, Dahlia handled some of the clan's responsibilities. On the surface, James' role was mostly authorizing major changes, political disputes, and diverting resources between major departments of their clans. Dahlia was the one who made sure those choices weren't made half-heartedly, advised funds, and patched up any cracks within any agreements and promises the Jarl made. In some way, Dahlia was preparing herself for the role of Clan Leader.

As for the other burdens of responsibilities, well they were already handled. Felix and Helen were responsible for guardsmen and island defense, and Nora and Otis handled the clan's taxation and funds. They had also hired some scribes from Vindis before the siege, thanks to Falrick's foresight. The old Wizard had vouched for hired pens, and his suggestion paid off in full.

However, most of those duties seem to dwarf in comparison to one in particular. Island defense. Dahlia needed to act on the siege the town had found itself in. A siege that was never supposed to happen. Despite security measures put into place by James and Helen, the orcs had somehow managed to bypass it all and destroy whatever outposts the White Raven clan had posted in the island's perimeter. Not many casualties, thank the gods, but Dahlia knew that small blessings would be for naught in the coming days.

She needed to focus on defending the island and making sure they didn't starve to death while doing so. Yorktown's resources were stretched thin, the trapped merchants and visitors taxing their food stores heavily. Even if this kept up for another couple weeks—which was generous—the town would probably fall to half-starved madness before the orcs even made groundfall.

It didn't help that they were in the midst of Frost; most of their food stores a mix of dried fruits and salted meats they packed back during the first half of Gale. Dahlia remembered thinking the packed warehouses would be too much back then. Now, she regretted not entertaining James' idea of 'canned' food. Another idea that was still a work in progress.

Dahlia sighed as she rubbed the side of her temple, her gaze on the town around her. Windows were boarded up, and men and women were carrying tools and spare lumber for barricading the harbor and northern waterfront. Dahlia had seen a similar sight over a year ago. Back when the marauders had first sieged the small island. That seemed like a lifetime ago now.

The only difference now was that they were acting on orders rather than paranoia spawned by the fear of marauders. Their fear was still there, but the people handled it a bit better. This was not their first bout with looming danger.

Dahlia gave one of the men a grim nod as he spotted her, his features lightening a little at the sight of her. It wasn't much, but Dahlia knew that her presence raised morale around the town. With the absence of their Jarl, they needed to know that there was still someone willing to watch over and protect them. Even if the odds looked grim.

Dahlia turned her gaze toward the direction of the longhouse, where she was sure Felix and Helen awaited her arrival. They would have to prepare the island for invasion.

"It's like a game from my homeworld," James had said when he pointed at the roughly drawn map of Yorktown. This was back when they were setting up backup tactics for the next time Yorktown would be attacked. "Defense. You put some outposts, divert guardsmen to vital areas, and prep up scouts to spot any ship within our territory. When they do spot someone, you hole up and prepare tactics. In some ways, it is similar to some war games I used to dabble in. Only without monkeys and balloons, I guess."

Dahlia had no idea what that last part meant, but her brain recalled it regardless. Perhaps she was beginning to miss his Earthly sayings and nonsensical words. She bit her lip hard at that thought.

'Best not to think about him.'

Time was the essence and the Frue would be wise to focus all of her attention on making sure this town saw the end of this siege safely. That was her duty, passed down by the man she loved more than life itself.

When Dahlia entered the longhouse, she was greeted by a smoldering fire pit that barely had any life left in it. Most of the ambient light in the building came from the spell crystals that had Illuminate in them, their charges enough to last for weeks, thanks to Dahlia's improved spellcasting and Falrick's design. They filled the dark room with a warm yellowish glow, doing a better job of illuminating the space than the fire pit they usually used.

Before the pit was a long table where they had most of their meetings—or feasts whenever the occasion arose—the surface of which currently displayed a roughly drawn map of Yorktown, points of interest marked with red. Three of the chairs around the table were occupied by the only people who were capable of defending this island.

Felix sat on the left, eyes glued on the parchment as he bit his fist. He didn't even seem to notice Dahlia. Helen sat across from him, a furrowed look as she examined the map. She was the first to note the Frue's entrance. Between both of them was Falrick's figure. The Wizard's wide-brimmed hat was tilted downward, hiding his features as he gripped the edges of the table. Silas was nowhere to be seen, his place possibly being with the orcs as they fortified the northern section of the island.

Dahlia walked up to the table, feeling every bit exposed in her formal garments. She was so used to the rugged clothes and cloak she always wore, her shaman trinkets and wards granting her comfort. Most of those were now either tucked under her attire or outright abandoned back in her hut. She sighed as she sat, her brow slick with sweat as it stuck to the golden band that wrapped around her head.

"Most of Yorktown's perimeter is defended," Felix started first, his voice echoing in the eerily silent longhouse. "We have a small field of barbed wire as our first line, peppered with caltrops courtesy of the New Aldren craftsmen. Some areas haven't been tended to yet since we're waiting on Falrick's rune defenses."

"Those will take a bit more time," Falrick muttered with a sigh. "I need to personally activate each one. That alone will take up most of my day. Not to mention, they only last for five days maximum. That cursed Cloud of Dissonance domain is interfering with the runes."

"Best we get those done today," Helen said. "We probably won't have five days, honestly. No need to worry about upkeep."

Falrick shook his head, scowling to himself. "I think it is best we focus on warding runes. A protection domain is needed to hold off the brutes if, when, they decide to attack. I don't really see why we would waste time randomly setting Fireball rune traps on the shores."

"They were James' idea," Dahlia finally spoke. She leaned forward, her hand reaching into the small satchel she kept on her. With a quick motion, Dahlia pulled out a few pieces of parchment. On them was the sloppy handwriting of the Outlander. Random scribbles and circles, all of them pointing out defendable areas in Yorktown and the rest of the island. Most had notations, with almost illegible handwriting, that described ideas and tactics for defending.

Dahlia wasn't sure when James came up with these ideas or when he decided to scribe them, but she guessed it had been soon after the last Yorktown battle. He had shown them to her not long after Vindis, his reasoning being that he wanted to explore options and perhaps even implement some of his ideas in the near future.

It seemed now that the near future was closer than anyone realized.

Dahlia placed a finger on one of the more common ideas scribbled on the paper. Next to the drawn Barbed Wire fields was something James labeled as 'Pressure Mines.' He presented them as tiny Xs, all of them peppered among the gravel beaches and forests. The initial idea involved the artificer grenades, but after that venture went nowhere, James instead decided on modified Fireball runes.

"Fireball runes aren't exactly easy to make, especially modified ones," Falrick grumbled. "At most, I can craft perhaps twenty a day. That map shows hundreds of placements."

"Then we do it in rotation," Dahlia said. "I can learn Fireball. I've advanced enough in my studies to add it to my spell list."

Falrick shook his head. "No. Learn Heal and other restoration spells. You're one of the few healers on this island that can use restoration magic. I can handle the placements and rune crafting on my own. Might be hard, but I'll manage."

Dahlia frowned at that but gave a regretful nod. "Fine. But let me know if I can help. I'd rather not have us skimp out on defenses, spell reserves be damned."

"What's this?" Helen spoke up, her finger pointing down at a section of James' scribbles. It detailed the northern and southern forests, with rows of lines drawn. Dahlia raised an eyebrow at that, her eyes searching the hastily written descriptions.

Dahlia read aloud the description to the room, skipping tangents and other illegible writing. She skimmed over the notes as she read, brow furrowing in realization. She looked up at Helen, who had a bit of a grin on her lips as she, too, read the descriptions.

"This might be possible, even with the time constraints," Helen said. "Granted, not as many or deep as the ones in the notes, but…"

"It's doable," Dahlia finished with a nod. "Freyja's mercy, how haven't I noticed these notes sooner?"

She was so busy trying to implement Pressure Mines and Barbed Wire that she failed to notice the other tactics James had thought of. Granted, not all were possible. But this? This was something that could give them an edge over any orcs who decided to raid the northern and southern shores.

"It's settled then?" Felix asked. "We can get the orcs on this in the next hour. Hel, pitch in some of the guardsmen, and we'll get the northern forest covered!"

"It's not a bad idea," Falrick agreed. "I won't be able to place down the Fireball mines beyond those lines, but I think it'll be fine. Barbed wire would probably do the trick better."

"Then we're all in agreement," Dahlia said with confirmation. She stood from her chair, her charcoal pencil pointing at two of the lines drawn in the northern forest. "After the orcs secure the shores, have them and some of the men dig these areas out. We can't cover the whole forest, but with some finessing, we can funnel the invaders."

Everyone gave a nod at that. Even Felix's normally crestfallen expression changed to that of a determined and hopeful look. Dahlia had to hold back a smile. While it was good to hope, it was also dangerous to promise a solution. This was something that she had no idea would work or not. Something from Earth's own history. It made the Frue think about the world her Jarl had come from.

'I wonder what cycle of violence inspired this,' Dahlia thought as she looked over the scribblings from the Outlander.

Trenches: Dig deep, preferably to the height of one man. I think it's probably smart to dig ditches ahead of the main one. Fill it with caltrops or wooden spikes. Maybe pressure mines if we have access to those. Have a field of barbed wire in front of the trenches to slow down any attackers. Place dirt hills ahead to prevent them from seeing it. Archers and spell casters should hang back, perched high above. Anyone else by the trenches needs to be equipped with runes and pikes. Very important that they know close-quarter fighting.

Side note: I don't like the idea of using these in a raid. It's too bloody, messy, and not even tested here. Best we use this as a last resort, like, say, in another siege.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.