The next three weeks passed in a blur of activity. Elion divided his time between the manor and Millford, strengthening both locations while he wrestled with Mira's proposal. The shadow army grew steadily as opportunities presented themselves—bandits foolish enough to test Silverwood's defenses, monsters emerging from the Verdant Forest, even a few raiders who apparently hadn't gotten the message about the first group's fate.
By the end of the third week, Elion commanded twenty-eight shadow soldiers:
1 Shadow Orc Warrior (Knight Rank)
3 Shadow Dire Wolves (1 Knight, 2 Elite Infantry)
24 Shadow Scouts (Infantry, various human and beastkin)
It still wasn't a large force by any military standard, but each shadow was worth multiple normal soldiers. And more importantly, they were utterly loyal and effectively immortal—a combination that made them invaluable.
The money from selling the dire wolf materials had arrived, along with something unexpected: interest from merchants and nobles who'd heard about the "miraculous defense" of Millford Village. Apparently, news traveled faster than Elion had anticipated.
He sat in the manor's study—one of the few rooms still properly furnished—reviewing the letters that had arrived with the returning wagon. Mira stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning each document as Elion passed them to her.
"This one's from House Blackthorne," she said, holding up a letter with an elaborate seal. "They're offering a trade agreement—grain and livestock in exchange for protection services. Basically, they want to hire your shadow army as guards."
"And reveal their existence to a noble house?" Elion shook his head. "Too risky."
"Agreed. This one's from a merchant consortium. They want to discuss 'mutually beneficial opportunities' regarding the Verdant Forest's resources." Mira's tone was dry. "Translation: they want you to clear out the monsters so they can harvest timber and herbs without risk."
"Possibly worth considering, depending on terms."
"And this one..." Mira's expression shifted to concern. "This is from the Imperial Governor's office. They're 'requesting' an audience to discuss 'unusual reports' from Silverwood."
Elion's stomach tightened. The Empire had mostly ignored his father's failing barony—there was nothing here worth their attention. But if rumors about shadow soldiers had reached official channels...
"When?"
"Two weeks from now. At the provincial capital." Mira set the letter down carefully. "They're being polite about it, but this isn't really a request. It's a summons."
"Can we refuse?"
"Not without consequences." Mira's tails flicked with agitation. "The Empire doesn't like being ignored, especially by minor nobles. If you don't show, they'll send investigators. Or worse, troops."
Elion stood and walked to the window, looking out over the barony he was increasingly certain he'd have to abandon. "What do you think they want?"
"Honestly? They probably want to know if you're a threat or a resource." Mira joined him at the window. "A baron who can raise an army of undying warriors is either a valuable asset or a dangerous problem. They'll be trying to determine which."
"And if they decide I'm a problem?"
"Then they'll try to eliminate you." Mira's voice was matter-of-fact. "The Empire has dealt with rogue necromancers before. They have specialists for exactly this sort of thing—holy knights, purifier mages, sanctioned vampire hunters who know how to counter shadow magic."
The casual way she discussed his potential assassination was somehow more frightening than the actual threat. Elion turned from the window. "You think I should run. Accept your proposal and leave before they can act."
"I think you should make a decision." Mira met his eyes. "You've been putting it off for three weeks, but time's up. Either we commit to defending Silverwood and dealing with the Empire's scrutiny, or we take everyone willing to follow and find somewhere new."
Before Elion could respond, a knock at the door interrupted them. Garrick entered, his expression grave. "My lord, we have visitors. A group of refugees from the north, maybe thirty people. They're requesting asylum."
"Refugees from where?"
"Thornhaven, they say. The barony north of here." Garrick's jaw tightened. "Apparently, it fell three days ago. Overrun by monsters and raiders working together. Baron Thornwood is dead, the manor burned, and these are the survivors who managed to escape."
Elion and Mira exchanged glances. Thornhaven had been struggling just like Silverwood, but it was larger and should have been better defended. If it had fallen...
"Take me to them," Elion said.
The refugees were gathered in the manor's courtyard, a bedraggled group of men, women, and children who looked like they'd been traveling hard. They wore torn clothing, carried makeshift weapons, and had the hollow-eyed look of people who'd seen too much horror too quickly.
A woman stepped forward as Elion approached—middle-aged, with the calloused hands of a craftworker and a bleeding bandage around her arm. "Lord Crestfall? I'm Helena, former head of Thornhaven's weaver guild. We... we have nowhere else to go. Please, we'll work for our keep, we just need—"
"You'll have it," Elion interrupted. "Food, shelter, safety. All of it. Mira, see to their immediate needs. Garrick, double the watch tonight."
Relief flooded Helena's face, followed quickly by tears. "Thank you. Thank you. We thought... after what happened..."
"Tell me everything," Elion said gently. "What happened at Thornhaven?"
Helena's story was a nightmare. Raiders had attacked from the west while monsters boiled out of the eastern forests—a coordinated assault that overwhelmed the barony's defenses in a single night. Baron Thornwood had died trying to defend his people, and his son had fled with what treasury remained.
"The monsters weren't natural," Helena added, her voice shaking. "They moved together, like they were being controlled. And the raiders... they knew exactly where to hit, which defenses were weakest. Someone planned this."
"How many other survivors?" Mira asked.
"Maybe a hundred scattered throughout the region. We're just the group that made it this far." Helena looked at Elion with desperate hope. "We heard you defeated raiders, killed dire wolves. We heard you have... special protections. Please tell me it's true."
Elion glanced at the shadows pooling in the corners of the courtyard, where his soldiers stood invisible to normal sight. "It's true. Silverwood is defended. You're safe here."
As the refugees were led inside, Kael appeared at Elion's side. The mercenary had been in the village training the militia, but he must have ridden back when he heard about the visitors.
"Thornhaven's fall isn't random," Kael said without preamble. "Someone's consolidating power in this region, eliminating weak baronies."
"The Empire?" Elion suggested.
"Maybe. Or a rival noble house. Or even a monster lord smart enough to organize the forest tribes." Kael shrugged. "Doesn't matter who—what matters is that you're next on the list. Silverwood is even weaker than Thornhaven was, at least on paper."
"But we have the shadows."
"Right. Which means when they come for you, they'll come prepared." Kael's expression was serious. "This is the tipping point, lordling. You need to decide: fight here and risk everything, or cut your losses and run while you still can."
That evening, Elion called a meeting in the manor's great hall—a grand name for what was really just a large room with a fireplace and some furniture that hadn't been sold off yet. Present were Mira, Garrick, Kael, Lyssa, and Helena as representative of the refugees.
"I've made a decision," Elion said without preamble. "In two months, we're abandoning Silverwood Manor."
Garrick looked stricken. "My lord—"
"Let me finish." Elion held up a hand. "We're not abandoning our people. Everyone who wants to come with us can. We'll migrate to the coast, buy ships with what resources we have, and claim islands in the unclaimed seas. We'll build something new—a kingdom based on merit, not bloodlines. Defended by shadows, yes, but ruled by fairness."
"That's insane," Garrick said flatly. "Begging your pardon, my lord, but it's insane. Sea migration? Island claims? That takes resources we don't have and experience we don't possess."
"Which is why we have two months to prepare," Mira countered, and Elion realized she'd anticipated his decision. "We sell everything we can from the manor, recruit anyone willing to follow, and make contacts with ship captains. It's ambitious, but possible."
"Why two months?" Lyssa asked. "Why not leave now?"
"Because we don't abandon people," Elion said firmly. "There are still villagers in Silverwood who depend on us. Other refugee groups that might arrive, like Helena's. We'll spread the word: anyone who wants to join a new settlement has two months to prepare. After that, we leave together."
Helena spoke up, her voice tentative. "You'd really take all of us? The refugees, the villagers, anyone who wants to come?"
"Yes. In my new kingdom, what matters is skill and loyalty, not birth or race." Elion looked around the room. "That means human and beastkin, elf and dwarf, anyone willing to work for our collective survival. The shadows will protect us, but we build together."
"It's a nice dream," Kael said. "But dreams need money, and last I checked, you're still broke."
"Not for long." Elion pulled out one of the letters he'd received. "This merchant consortium wants the Verdant Forest cleared. I'm going to negotiate a contract—not for regular clearing, but for a major operation. My shadows eliminate the monster dens, the consortium pays premium rates and provides supplies for our migration."
"You'd bargain with merchants?" Garrick looked scandalized.
"I'd bargain with demons if it meant getting our people to safety." Elion's voice was hard. "Silverwood is dead, Garrick. It died with my father, maybe before. But we don't have to die with it. We can build something better."
Silence fell over the group as they absorbed his words. Finally, Mira smiled—a fierce, proud expression that reminded Elion why he valued her counsel so much.
"Then we have work to do," she said. "Two months to change everything. Let's get started."