25. The First Strike Against Our Caravans

  Arlis’s record

  That night smelled of wet earth—the rain had passed barely an hour earlier.

  Our caravan—seven wagons, an escort of eight Silent Shadows, and three adult elves—was returning from Talvein.

  They carried herbs, moon sugar, and runic tools.

  White Wolf always says:

  — Fewer than five wagons is a target. More than five is prey.

  And the prey came.

  On the road, just past the bend by the old pine, the way was blocked by six armed men.

  Not bandits.

  Mercenaries.

  Swords too clean.

  Leather too expensive.

  Faces too confident.

  White Wolf later said:

  — They didn’t come to rob us. They came to show they could.

  Mirnan—the youngest among us—was with the Silent Shadows.

  He told it like this:

  — They stood calmly. Like hunters waiting for a beast.

  Not afraid.

  Not threatening.

  They just said:

  “Tell the forest folk their time is over.”

  And when the first of them took a step—the air trap triggered.

  White Wolf always sets them in advance.

  It worked perfectly.

  Mirnan continued:

  — Two went down, one twisted his leg.

  We regrouped in time.

  Wolf said, “Don’t kill them. Let them run.”

  The mercenaries realized this wasn’t an ordinary caravan.

  They withdrew.

  Fast.

  Too fast.

  It was a warning.

  When the caravan returned, the Council of Branches gathered immediately.

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  General Reim looked over the reports and said:

  — This isn’t an accident. It’s a contract.

  Gray Shadow added:

  — Baron Heirl. Or that new trader from the capital. One of the two.

  Sova threw the scrolls onto the table:

  — Yes, we’re growing. And we’re growing enemies along with it.

  White Wolf grinned:

  — I warned you. When you have meat, those who want a bite will come.

  Feris clenched his fists:

  — Then let’s strike first!

  Noise rose in the room.

  The young elves—our peers—were no longer frightened children.

  They had grown.

  They had hardened.

  They wanted to fight.

  But the General slammed his hand on the table:

  — SILENCE!

  And silence settled over the hall.

  Reim stood. His voice was like the rumble of an old oak.

  — We will not become prey.

  — We will not become slaves.

  — But we will not become predators who kill with the first blow either.

  We fought to gain freedom.

  Not to have it taken from us under the excuse of being a “threat.”

  We built the Forest as a home.

  And a home must be defended—not thrown into the fire.

  His gaze hardened:

  — We will show the world strength. But not with a sword.

  Strength is when you are respected, not feared.

  Gray Shadow supported him:

  — Right now, they fear us. That has to change.

  But the young elves were boiling.

  Feris, Rien, Tyrel, Mirnan—they had tasted blood, adrenaline, the feeling that they could.

  “We’re stronger than humans!”

  “We can crush the baron!”

  “We can take power!”

  I saw in their eyes what Zen always feared in the young—

  the desire for power without understanding its price.

  I stood.

  And said:

  — Mira-sama doesn’t want us to become war.

  We must be what she returns to—a home, not an army.

  They fell silent.

  White Wolf said quietly:

  — He’s right.

  Our generation is wild enough already. Only Zen held us back.

  Now the Council does.

  And for the first time, everyone calmed down.

  And then—

  A boy from Arden-Hall ran in, human, about twelve years old.

  He dropped to his knees before Sova and gasped:

  — His Highness… Prince Alverion… will be in our village in three days…

  He asks all traders to gather in the square…

  We went silent.

  A prince.

  The king’s heir.

  Someone who could decide everything—with a single word.

  Sova said:

  — This is a chance.

  The General replied heavily:

  — Or a trap.

  Gray Shadow:

  — Or both.

  But there was only one decision.

  The gathering turned political for the first time.

  Lienna said:

  — We need to speak. Openly. Honestly. Without hiding.

  Sova added:

  — But not all our cards on the table. Only those that benefit us.

  The General said:

  — And we must show that there are many of us. That we are organized. That we are honest. And that we do not want war.

  White Wolf added:

  — And that we’re ready to pay… but by rules, not under threats.

  Thus was born our first official proposal to the Crown:

  — We agree to pay tax.

  — But less than the barons.

  — Paid directly, by Forest caravan.

  — No intermediaries.

  — No extortion.

  — No “tributes” into someone’s pocket.

  — Everything fair. Everything transparent.

  Sova said:

  — If the prince accepts, we become allies.

  If not, persecution will begin.

  Everyone looked at the General.

  He said:

  — We are ready.

  Peace—if they allow it.

  Strength—if it’s required.

  But we won’t avoid the choice.

  The elves did not sleep.

  The adults.

  The children.

  All of us.

  Runes were lit on the walls. Weapons were checked three times.

  The Silent Shadows went out to scout.

  The healers prepared kits for any outcome—even the worst.

  But no one wanted war.

  Everyone wanted only one thing:

  “We have only just gained our freedom.

  We will not give it back.”