“A wise plan, my Lord!” praised Thargrim, clenching his massive fist.
“Give me a week, and I will ensure every blade and arrowhead is sharp enough to pierce the thickest iron armor!”
“Sharpness alone won’t suffice, Thargrim,” Elmir interrupted, stepping toward the stone table and focusing his sharp gaze on the map.
“If we strike from the cliffside above the valley, we need fire arrows—shafts wrapped in oil-soaked cloth.
The Orc tents below are made of dry hides and worn canvas.
A single spark will turn their entire camp into an inferno within minutes.”
Thargrim let out a deep, booming laugh that echoed off the ancient stone ruins.
“Ha!
A brilliant idea, Elmir!
Leave the pitch and incendiary mix to me—we have plenty of tar stored in our forge wagons.”
Aeryn, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke.
Her soft voice brought a calm composure to the growing heat of the war council.
“If we intend to burn their camp, we must also prepare for thick smoke and burn injuries,” Aeryn said, turning to Arthur with gravity.
“Lord Arthur, I will task our healers with preparing burn salves and restorative tonics in the medical tents.
We will also provide dampened cloths for the soldiers so their lungs are protected when we sweep through the valley.”
Arthur looked at Aeryn with deep admiration.
“Your attention to detail is remarkable, Aeryn.
The medical care of our troops is fully in your hands.
Do not hesitate to request extra hands if you need to gather wild herbs around these hills.”
“Thank you for your trust, my Lord.
Standing beside Arthur, Arandhir folded his arms, observing Elaroin, who seemed lost in thought.
“You look restless, Elaroin.
Does this one-week deadline interfere with your construction plans?” Arandhir asked.
Elaroin shook his head quickly, his braided reddish-gold hair swaying.
“Not at all!
Quite the opposite, Arandhir.
I was thinking…
if we have a full week before launching our assault, I can direct a crew to construct two simple wooden catapults atop the cliffs.”
Arthur’s eyes lit up.
“Catapult?
Can you truly build them in a week while managing the fortress work?”
“Easily, my Lord!” Elaroin answered proudly.
“Structural design is my craft.
I can delegate fifty woodworkers to assemble them under my direction.
Imagine…
before Elmir’s archers loose a single fiery shaft, we hurl massive rocks from the cliffs straight into the heart of their camp.
It will cause total chaos!”
“Make it so, Elaroin!
Build those catapults.
We will shatter their ranks before they even realize where the blow came from.”
With their strategy aligned, each commander held a distinct role.
Elaroin’s craftsmanship, Thargrim’s forge production, Aeryn’s medical foresight, Elmir’s scout intelligence, and Arandhir’s tactical command forged Arthur’s force into a formidable war machine.
“Then it is decided,” Arthur concluded, looking at the five leaders before him.
“Return to your posts.
Continue the construction, sharpen our watch, and prepare for battle in seven days!”
“By your command, my Lord!
For Amon Sûl!” they shouted in unison, their resolve burning bright before departing to their duties.
Seven days passed swiftly over the Weather Hills.
The summit of Weathertop—Amon Sûl—was no longer a forgotten ruin.
The foundations of the *White Castle of Radiance* were precisely excavated by Elaroin’s builders, while the ringing of steel from Thargrim’s forge echoed night and day.
True to his word, Thargrim forged over sixty sets of gleaming armor and fresh weapons.
Elaroin successfully assembled two sturdy timber catapults designed for easy deployment.
Aeryn kept the men in peak physical condition, while Elmir’s rangers finished mapping the cliff paths without alerting the enemy.
During this week of preparation, Arthur also received daily blessings from his System check-ins, gaining reinforcements of 30 archers and 50 Knights.
These men joined his growing garrison, with his weekly check-in reward still awaiting him the following morning.
Now, under the cover of a moonless night, the hour had finally arrived.