Trosty City

With his plan forming in his mind, Arthur knew that he needed to delegate some tasks before setting out for Trosty City with Eamon. Then He tasked his Advisor, Elara, with developing the village while he was away. Since they weren't going to fight this time, he suggested Elara to use the army as labor to gather resources and build houses and walls.

Understanding the task, Elara nodded, her expression determined. "Understood, my Lord. I'll oversee the resource allocation and the construction of basic houses and walls as you've instructed. We'll ensure that the village continues to thrive in your absence."

"Very well, then," Arthur said, his voice steady. "Let's set out, Eamon."

Eamon nodded, his troubadour spirit undeterred. "I'm honored to assist you, Lord Arthur. I'll do my best to support you in whatever way I can."

After their preparations were complete, Arthur and Eamon departed from the village towards Trosty City.

...

Frostholm Region, at city hall of the Trosty City.

The lord, a stout and dignified dwarf, sat at the head of a long, ornately carved table. His brow was furrowed with worry, and his gaze was fixed on the map of the Frostholm Region spread out before him. The officials and generals took their seats, their expressions mirroring the unease that hung in the air.

"We should prepare for the Frost Moon City's conquest," the lord began, his voice heavy with concern. "Frost Moon City have set their sights on our Frostholm Region. Their conquest to become a Province threatens our very existence."

A grizzled general spoke up first, his voice laced with determination. "My lord, we cannot allow the Frost Moon City to trample over our Frostholm Region. We have our own army, and we should use it to defend our lands."

A chorus of agreement followed, some nodding with conviction while others shared uncertain glances.

However, an older official raised his hand and cleared his throat. "While I admire your spirit, General, we must not disregard the vast difference in power between our city and the Frost Moon City. They have been established for centuries, whereas we are still in the early stages of development. Our forces are not yet prepared for a full-scale war. We need allies, but our attempts to secure them have failed. We are at an impasse."

Another official added to this sentiment. "However, our attempts to form alliances with neighboring civilizations have been met with silence or hostility."

"Impossible! They should be aware of this situation!" the same old official expressed his anger.

"They seemed to have submitted to Frost Moon City." the other official informed the situation.

"What? Even Crolant City?" another official interrupted in surprise.

"As for Crolant City... we have lost contact with them..." said the other official with a face full of contemplation.

The general's fists clenched as he listened, frustration etched across his face. "Are we to cower before them, then? We can't afford to wait for them to strike first!"

A murmur of agreement swept through the room, but a dissenting voice arose. "We must also consider the possibility that the Frost Moon City is deliberately luring us into a trap. Launching an all-out attack without full knowledge of the situation could lead to disaster."

The room fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of the decision ahead pressing down on everyone present. The lord, his face etched with a mix of concern and contemplation, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the map as if searching for answers.

The lord's gaze remained fixed on the table, his thoughts shrouded in contemplation. The responsibility of making a decision that could shape the fate of their city weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Eventually, the lord raised his hand, silencing the room. His silence spoke volumes, and the tension in the chamber grew even more pronounced. The officials and generals exchanged glances, each waiting for their leader's decision.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, The Lord finally spoke, his tone resolute. "This decision is not one we can make lightly. I propose we postpone this meeting until we have gathered more information. We will reconvene once we have a clearer picture of the situation."

The officials and generals exchanged glances, a mixture of disappointment and understanding in their eyes. With a nod from their lord, the meeting was adjourned, and the attendees filed out of the chamber, each burdened with the weight of their city's uncertain future.

...

As the doors closed behind them, one of the official, Thoren lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the grand table. A heavy sigh escaped him as he contemplated the gravity of their circumstances.

He was known throughout Trosty City as the best architect, a reputation earned through years of dedication and mastery in constructing structures that stood as both functional and aesthetically pleasing. But today, even his renowned skills felt insufficient to solve the complex puzzle that Frost Moon City's looming threat presented.

Disappointment gnawed at him as he walked out from the city hall. The streets of Trosty City were bustling with activity, but Thoren's mind was still preoccupied with the weighty matters discussed in the meeting.

The decision to postpone the meeting had left him frustrated, as he believed that time was of the essence. The possibility of an imminent attack from Frost Moon City weighed heavily on his mind, as the enemy could strike at any time.

As he walked, a fleeting thought crossed his mind – the temptation of retirement, a life away from the pressures of leadership, where he could immerse himself in his architectural passion without the burden of city politics and the looming shadow of war.

He walked through the cobblestone streets, lost in thought, until he arrived at his home.

The sight of his wives and children brought a small smile to his face, momentarily easing his frustrations. They greeted him warmly, their presence a reminder of the things that truly mattered in his life.

"Welcome home, dear," one of his wives said, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Father's home!" his youngest daughter exclaimed, her bright eyes filled with joy.

Thoren tousled her hair affectionately. "I missed you all," he said with a genuine smile.

Thoren's children clustered around him, their excited chatter filling the air. He ruffled their hair affectionately and allowed himself to be enveloped in their warmth.

As they gathered around the table for lunch, Thoren's mood began to lighten further. The familiar routines and love shared between family members were a balm for his weary soul. They chatted about their days, shared stories, and relished in the simple pleasure of each other's company.

During the meal, his son piped up, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Father, can we go watch the bard's show at the city park later?"

Thoren considered the request, his gaze flicking between his eager son and his other children. He knew that spending time with his family was a precious gift, and he couldn't help but smile at the idea. "Of course, my boy. We can go together after lunch."

His children erupted in cheers, and his wives exchanged knowing smiles. Thoren's heart swelled with gratitude for the love and happiness that surrounded him.

After the meal, they made their way to the city park. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, creating a soothing ambiance. A crowd had already gathered around a makeshift stage, where two bard stood on the stage.

Soon, they found a spot to sit and eagerly awaited the two bard's performance. As the two bards began his show, a hushed anticipation settled over the crowd.

The bard with the lute strummed a few notes, the gentle melody hanging in the air like a delicate thread. His fingers danced across the strings, conjuring a soft and melodic tune that seemed to resonate with the very essence of the story about to unfold.

With the lute's music providing the backdrop, the other bard stepped forward, his voice clear and melodious as he began to weave his tale. His words flowed like a river, each sentence carefully crafted to paint vivid images in the minds of the listeners.

The bard's voice carried a soothing cadence, his words laden with emotion as he told of the story of the Lord of Dawn Light Village and his ragtag bandit army who fought against the one thousand elven army from Moon Frost City. The crowd was captivated, drawn into the story's embrace as it unfolded before them.

~~~

As the final lines of the story were spoken, the lute's music gradually faded, leaving a resonant silence in its wake. The crowd remained still for a moment, as if holding their collective breath, before erupting into applause that echoed through the park.

~Claps

The bards bowed gracefully, their expressions reflecting the satisfaction of having transported the audience to the world of their story. The troubadour-style performance had captured the essence of the lord's journey, his triumph against the odds, and the unity that had propelled him to victory.

Amidst the applause, one of the bards wore a purposeful smile on his face as he locked his gaze on Thoren.

"Gotcha!"