Chapter 8: Temple of Power
At the conclusion of their intense meeting, the council finally reached a unanimous decision: they would follow Lucien's plan to cancel the sacrifices and prepare for war.
Before dispersing, Elowen leaned forward, her voodoo doll bouncing on the table as she addressed Elder Alaric. "I'll need a meeting with your general—after breakfast time." She said firmly, leaving no room for argument.
Alaric nodded briskly, already rising from his seat. "it's done, I'll arrange it immediately."
She then turned to Elder Gawain. "and send a messenger to Liora. Tell her to meet me and Agapios at Solara Temple at noon."
With that, the group disbanded, each member rushing to fulfill their respective tasks, before jumping to their pillow and warm bed. The weight of the decisions hung heavy in the air, but there was a flicker of hope—a fragile light that might guide them through the chaos ahead.
The next day, Elowen found herself seated across from the kingdom's general, with Elder Alaric quietly observing nearby.
The general, a grizzled man with more scars than teeth, puffed out his chest proudly when Elowen inquired about the army's capabilities.
"our archers? Arguably the best among the remaining human kingdoms, it's only second to now-gone 'Ironhelm's Longbowmen'!" he declared, thumping his fist against the table for emphasis.
Then, after a pause, he added sheephisly, "as for the rest... well, let's just say farmers aren't drilled for combat."
Elowen smirked faintly, clearly amused by his bluster. "good. Your archers will be crucial. Have them stockpile arrows—and plenty of fire—tipped ones. We'll need them ready for what's coming."
Her tone grew serious as she continued. "your infantry will serve as the vanguard. Drill them hard because if 'plan A' fails, they'll have to hold the line long enough for us to regroup."