The light of dawn was clear and cold over Fangreach, sky a pale wash of gold and rose. I woke long before the torches sputtered, the echo of the Black Gate's fall still ringing in my bones. The Wolf‑King's first tide of spectral hounds had been scattered—but we had won it with difficulty, and now another conflict threatened. The war that was coming demanded more than a piecemeal defense: we needed an army forged from our unity and steeled in every form of combat the Alliance could bring to bear.
I donned supple leather in haste, my triple‑crescent sigil catching the light of my breastplate, and slipped from my chamber to the yard. Kael and I had planned a schedule of multi‑pack training—Silverclaw light cavalry with Blackfang shock infantry, Freeborn scouts attending Ironclaw heavy infantry, and Kael carrying out guerilla exercises and strategies under my command. This, I thought, would unite from four proud but separate traditions a single force.
