Kaen's sudden eruption of will and wrath caught the hill-chieftains completely off guard. Their plan had been simple — to join forces and pressure him into abandoning the idea of uniting his army in the upper Anduin Valley. But to their dismay, Kaen had seen through their schemes before a single word had been spoken.
And now, he struck first.
His presence burned like flame, and though the chieftains were men of strength and seasoned warriors all, none could ignore the weight of his spirit.
Still, pride and fear warred within them.
Ankharan, voice grim, spoke aloud:
"Do you intend to stand against all the hillfolk, Kaen?"
The others followed, voices sharpened with accusation.
"Lord Kaen, we honored your past deeds and welcomed you with a feast — yet your heart holds other designs."
"This tale of a dragon-slaying host is but a cloak! You mean to invade the Valley!"
"No outsider shall enter our lands! Not with arms! Not with armies!"
"If you mean to garrison your soldiers here, then do not blame us for what follows!"
Even as the fire still cracked with warmth, the mood between them turned cold as steel. The once-merry songs faded under the weight of sharpened glares and hostile words.
Kaen's gaze swept across them and settled upon a band of unfamiliar warriors — hillfolk bearing arms, all too eager to draw them.
His hand fell to the hilt of his sword, and he said coldly:
"Enough words. I will say this only once more: if blades are drawn, they shall not be sheathed again in peace."
Ankharan clenched his jaw, wrestling with his final decision. At last, he spat the words:
"Outsider powers will never rule this Valley. You have crossed a line."
The hillfolk's line? Kaen sneered inwardly.
It was not conviction that drove these chieftains — only fear. Fear of him. His name had become legend among the common folk and the hunting bands. He was the Monster-Hunter, the Guardian of the Upper Valley, the light in the dark when Orcs and Wargs prowled the wild.
So long as he remained a lone warrior, they tolerated him. Respected him. Even relied on him.
But now, he bore a crown. Now, he had command.
To them, he was no longer just a hero — he was a threat.
Much like a foreign king beloved by another nation's people, Kaen's return with power unsettled those who ruled. And so, from the moment he had set foot in the Valley once more, their minds had conspired against him.
Ankharan's eyes darted to the warriors he had placed strategically throughout the gathering — his confidence returned, bolstered by numbers and surprise.
"One last offer," he declared. "Leave with your men by sunrise. Swear never to set foot in the Valley again, and we shall let you go."
Kaen laughed — cold and sharp.
With but a thought, he sent a silent command to his Golden Guard and to Thorin and the Dwarves nearby:
Then he spoke aloud, voice ringing with authority:
"You are no longer worthy of your titles. Therefore, I declare this now—"
"I shall become King of the Hillfolk. And you… are deposed."
In a flash, Kaen drew his sword and cast forth a blinding light — a spell of illumination, searing and pure, burst from the blade, bathing the field in radiant brilliance.
A wave of mental force rippled outward, striking those nearest — Ankharan and the other chieftains — blinding them, disorienting their minds. They cried out, stumbling back with hands over eyes.
But the Golden Guard and the Dwarves, already warned, sprang into motion.
"On your knees! Do not move!"
"Silence! Lay down your arms!"
"Strike down the assassins!"
In its place came shouts, metal clashing, and cries of alarm. The celebration had become a battlefield.
When the light at last dimmed, Ankharan and the eighteen hill-chieftains stood encircled — each with a spear pressed to their throats. Their would-be rebellion ended before it began.
The common hillfolk, stunned and fearful, looked on in horror.
A band of nearly one hundred unknown warriors — brought by the conspiring chieftains — clashed with the Golden Guard and the Dwarves.
But unarmored and outmatched, they stood no chance. Against Kaen's elite troops, they fell like grain before the scythe. Some died. Some yielded. The rest dropped their weapons and fell to their knees in surrender.
Watching this unfold, Ankharan and the chieftains paled, dread blooming in their eyes.
"A demon… a dark sorcerer!" one of them stammered.
They had believed their surprise would overwhelm Kaen.
They had not foreseen this.
They had not understood who — and what — they stood against.
Elsewhere in the clearing, the Dwarves, who had only moments before been drinking and jesting, now moved with grim purpose. Under Thorin's command, they swiftly subdued Andric and the warriors at his side.
Andric, confused and furious, roared:
"What madness is this? We offered you our hospitality, and this is how you repay us?!"
Thorin pointed calmly to the fallen hillfolk warriors and replied:
"Ask your father why he had brought blades to a feast."
Andric turned, wide-eyed, toward the unfamiliar warriors — and realized in that moment that they were strangers, not from his tribe at all.
"Release them," Kaen called.
The Dwarves obeyed, letting Andric and his bewildered companions go.
Still unsteady with drink, Andric staggered toward Kaen, his face pale and stricken.
"My lord… tell me this is not true," he pleaded. "Tell me… you did not come to make war."
Kaen's gaze was steady, his voice calm.
"No…" Andric whispered, turning to his father. "Father… tell me you did not try to kill Lord Kaen…"
Ankharan said nothing. He merely sighed — a long, hollow breath — and in that moment, seemed to wither, as if ten years had been carved from his soul.
Andric shut his eyes in pain.
From the moment his father had refused to deny the charge, he had known the truth.
He dropped to one knee before Kaen and said solemnly:
"This is the fault of my father. These chieftains have betrayed a hero."
"I do not ask you to spare them. But as a son, I offer my loyalty — in exchange for my father's life."
"From this day forward, I swear myself to your service. Your will shall be my purpose."
Kaen placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"I accept your oath. You are a man of honor — a soul untainted. I will not see you harmed."
"Go. Return to the tribes. Tell them what has transpired. Speak my will."
"From this day forth, the hillfolk of the upper Anduin shall have no more chieftains. I shall be their King. And I shall shield them… all of them." Follow current novᴇls on novel·fıre·net