Chapter 77: The Whispering Blade
The air in the council chamber felt heavy, laden with the scent of old wood and the faint tang of iron. Alex sat at the head of the long oak table, her fingers drumming a steady rhythm against its surface. Around her, the leaders of the newly united factions argued. Their voices clashed like swords on a battlefield—chaotic and relentless.
"We need to reinforce the eastern borders," barked Elric, a grizzled warrior from the Iron Fang faction. His scarred face twisted in irritation as he jabbed a finger at the map spread across the table. "The wastelands aren't as empty as they look. Raiders will exploit any weakness."
"We barely have enough men to patrol our current holdings," retorted Marelle, her fiery red hair falling in waves around her shoulders. She leaned forward, her sharp green eyes locked on Elric. "Spreading ourselves thinner is a death sentence. We need to focus on fortifying what we already control."