3rd Person POV – Yoshiya
The great hall of Korvath, though still standing, bore deep scars from the siege. Cracked stone columns leaned under their own weight, banners hung in tatters, and the lingering scent of smoke clung stubbornly to the air. Makeshift lanterns illuminated a large round table hastily repaired with wooden planks. Around it gathered the fractured leadership of the city — soldiers with bandaged arms, seasoned adventurers hardened by loss, and civic officials with worry etched across their faces.
Yoshiya sat beside Omina near the table's edge, still feeling the dull ache in his shoulders from the pauldrons he had crafted the night before. The boar hide felt heavier now, as though it mirrored the burden settling on everyone's backs. Seikaku leaned quietly against the wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp as ever.
At the head of the table stood Tamaki Yume, the mayor of Korvath. She was a woman in her mid-thirties, her presence steady and composed despite the exhaustion in her eyes. Her simple yet formal attire was marked with soot, but her voice was clear — the voice of someone who had led through crisis before.
"Let's begin," she said, hands pressed against the table. "Korvath stands, but barely. Before we speak of revenge, we must speak of survival."
A hush fell over the hall. Rick Kaiser, armored in shining steel despite the soot-stained air, stood beside her. Hilaria Lachen, the red mage from Dargath, crossed her arms and observed the room like a hawk sizing up a battlefield.
A parchment map of Korvath and its surrounding regions was unrolled across the table. It was marked with ink — hastily drawn lines where walls had crumbled, X's where food stores had burned, and notes scrawled in multiple hands detailing casualties and shortages.
One of the surviving captains spoke first. "The western wall's almost completely down. If there's another attack, we won't hold it a second time."
Another adventurer followed, "Our alchemical reserves are spent. No more healing salves. Even the temple's supply of herbs is exhausted."
Yoshiya glanced at Omina. She didn't speak, but her eyes tightened. They'd seen it firsthand — the healers working until they collapsed, the triage tents overflowing.
Tamaki nodded grimly. "The granaries were set ablaze during the final push. We've got maybe three days of rations left if we stretch it thin."
Hilaria stepped forward, tapping the map. "This is no longer just about Korvath. If this city falls, the northern passage to Dargath is open. Valeria will use this as a launch point to strike deeper."
Her tone was sharp, cutting through the rising murmurs like a blade. Rick then cleared his throat, his voice calm but commanding.
"Which is why," he began, "Hilaria and I must return to Dargath immediately. We need to rally reinforcements — not just soldiers, but supply convoys. If we wait for bureaucracy to move at its usual pace, you'll be overrun before winter."
That landed like a hammer. Tamaki looked at him squarely. "How long?"
Rick didn't flinch. "Two weeks to organize. Another week for the march. Three, if the roads remain secure."
A long silence. Yoshiya could almost hear the collective heartbeat of the room — anxious, uncertain. Three weeks was a lifetime if Valeria struck again.
Tamaki's gaze swept over everyone, firm and deliberate. "Then Korvath must stand for three weeks. No excuses. No faltering."
The quiet strength in her voice was striking. Yoshiya felt something shift in the room — not a lessening of fear, but a sharpening of resolve.
She continued, "I was born here. I watched these streets grow, watched the mines give this city its breath. I refuse to let it end here, buried under stone and ash. If Dargath will bring its army, then Korvath will give them something worth arriving to. We will rebuild, defend, and endure."
Applause didn't break out. Instead, heads straightened, backs stiffened. It was subtler, but more powerful. Soldiers adjusted their posture. Adventurers met each other's eyes with quiet understanding.
Rick stepped closer to Yoshiya and Omina. "We leave a contingent of my knights here," he said. "Elite, disciplined. They'll hold the line with you until we return." He placed a gauntleted hand on Yoshiya's shoulder — firm but respectful. "I've heard of what you accomplished during the siege. It's an honor to fight alongside you."
Yoshiya straightened unconsciously. "We won't let Korvath fall."
"I'm counting on that," Rick replied with a faint grin.
The meeting continued into logistics. Tasks were assigned: Yoshiya was to coordinate healing and defensive wards; Omina, with her tactical mind and duelist speed, was to lead rotating patrols outside the wall. Seikaku volunteered for resource expeditions into the surrounding forests — dangerous but necessary.
Tamaki's leadership shone through the chaos. She outlined resource redistribution plans, coordinated with guild leaders, and even accounted for the miners trapped beneath the western ridge. Her calm, strategic tone cut through every potential argument before it could spiral.
As the council drew to a close, lanterns flickered low, casting long shadows across the map. Yoshiya remained seated for a moment, staring at the inked lines on the parchment. The enormity of the task pressed down on him like the stone above their heads.
Korvath was broken, but not beaten.
Omina touched his shoulder lightly. "Heavy thoughts?"
He exhaled slowly. "We've been fighting monsters. Now… we have to build a city."
She smirked faintly. "Then let's build it stronger."
Rick and Hilaria departed at dawn the next day, their banners vanishing into the northern mist. As the city awoke, so did its defenders — not with cheers, but with quiet determination. Every hammer strike on stone echoed like a promise.
The weight of stone was heavy. But they would bear it.