Roar Of The East

The command center, a castle clawing at the sky with arrogant towers and flags flapping like defiant tongues, housed both the town's pulse and its ruler, the enigmatic Commander. Though unseen, his presence echoed in every stride of the escorting soldiers, their murmured gossip painting a picture of a man feared and revered in equal measure.

As they neared the castle's iron maw, a roar ripped through the air, drawing the warrior's gaze to the castle's heart – a sprawling garden where a crowd danced around a spectacle both brutal and enthralling. At its center, a lone figure – the Commander himself – locked in a primal dance with a bear twice his size.

Despite the chaotic symphony of growls and cheers, the Commander moved with a predatory grace, every muscle a coiled spring. He was a storm in human form, wielding the chain leash like a conductor's baton, subjugating the beast with controlled fury. The crowd roared approval, each cheer a hammer blow echoing in the warrior's chest.

Finally, with a masterful sweep, the Commander brought the bear to heel, the chain a taut leash on its primal rage. The cheers reached a crescendo, washing over him like a tidal wave. But the Commander, eyes like chips of ice cutting through the frenzy, turned his gaze to the lone stranger in his midst.

The warrior met that gaze unflinchingly. No soldier dared step between them, the air thick with anticipation. In that silent standoff, unspoken questions crackled like lightning: who was this warrior who dared intrude on the Commander's domain?

"Why are you here, warrior?" the Commander boomed, his voice tinged with suspicion and a hint of grudging respect.

The warrior met his gaze with unwavering resolve. "I'm looking for someone." he replied, each word measured. 

The Commander chuckled, a dark rumble that sent shivers down the spines of the onlookers. "Everyone whispers of shadows and secrets in this age. Who is it you chase?"

"Your soldiers told me that you know where Netron is," the warrior pressed on.

Pausing momentarily, the commander continued with disinterest, "Even if I knew the name, why would I tell you?"

In a determined effort to elicit the desired information, the warrior stuck to his fabricated story.

"The reason I'm looking for him is that I want to take revenge. The look on your face shows that you don't like that name very much."

"So?"

The warrior pressed on, his fabricated story laced with a hint of truth. "I seek vengeance. His name curls your lip like a bad wine, does it not? Tell me, is he not your enemy as well?"

The Commander's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps. But a viper's enemy does not make you its friend."

He studied the warrior, seeking the lie beneath the mask. "There's a saying my ancestors whispered: Judge a warrior by his steel and the glint in his eyes. If they speak truth, then trust may bloom. Does yours?"

The warrior held his gaze, refusing to break. "My intentions are true, even if my path is not. This Netron, you say he's a serpent cloaked in moonlight, a silent killer?"

"Ruthless. A whisper in the dark, fangs dripping with the king's blood. Two weeks past, he danced a cruel ballet with steel, took our King's son from this world."

Then the man continued, "Two weeks ago, he was commissioned by the enemy state and killed the son of our king. We believe that the reason they did this was…"

The warrior cut him off, a sharp guess slicing through the tension. "War."

"But this is not an ordinary war; our states are the largest in the world, and when the alliances join the war, then our war will be heard all over the world. This means thousands of deaths."

"But if you tell me where this venomous shadow coils, I will claim your king's blood as my own."

The Commander hesitated, his gaze distant. "Rumors whisper he's sworn allegiance to the enemy king, bound by some dark pact."

The warrior's eyes gleamed. "If this war you paint is the storm coming, then the kings will be its lightning rods. I'll wait for the flash, and catch him in the storm's eye."

The Commander snorted, a grudging respect battling his skepticism. "Sharper than I expected, warrior. But catching whispers in a hurricane will be no easy feat."

"Why is that?" the warrior pressed, anticipation humming in the air.

The Commander leaned in, his voice a low growl. "The enemy king commands a guard unlike any other. Goros they call them, a wall of iron and tusks. Elephants, larger than houses, are trained to crush bones like dry leaves. Attack the king directly, and they'll send you flying like a feather in a gale."

The warrior looked at the commander seriously, still having hope in the war, "Tactics can be forged in the fires of challenge, Commander."

"Recently, our king made a request from the allied state in the east. And on top of that, they made a powerful weapon that would surpass the elephants. But the enemy king must have learned this information too because he besieged the allied state in the east." 

The Commander paused, his eyes meeting the warrior's with a flicker of desperation. "We are shackled here, our own borders ablaze. We cannot spare a single spear to their defense."

The warrior, face grim, saw the opportunity presented by their desperation. "Then my offer stands," he declared, his voice ringing with steel. "I will fight alongside your men in the East, turn back the enemy's siege, and earn your trust. In return, you will guide my blade to Netron."