Over the next few months, concerning news kept arriving from the depths of Gomera Forest. The goblin invasion of the Elven homeland was steadily destroying their country, conquering settlements one after another. Despite their best efforts, the defenders couldn’t stop the onslaught. They kept getting pushed back, paying a heavy price for each square inch.

  The refugees that made it to Ashbourne through the snows were merely a sign of things to come. The Elves fled the devastation of their homeland, escaping in the last moments before the enemies overran their positions.

  It took nearly a month for the next group to attempt to cross the woods. They arrived North of the Duchy of Lindridge, in the sparsely populated Duchy of Wantage.

  Wantage was a wild place, filled with ancient woodland and rough hills. Most of the people who lived out there were shepherds and woodsmen, with individual hamlets often separated by entire days of travelling. It was a dangerous place, fit for those who wanted to get away from civilization. But it offered wealth and treasure in exchange.

  Timber from old growth forests were sought after in the entire continent. Woodcutters would ship the logs down the rivers, selling it to cities in the kingdom’s South. Then it would be turned into new ships and expensive furniture for merchants and nobility across the continent. The duchy also produced a lot of honey, wax, and pelts that the traders happily exported further.

  Entrepreneurs across the nation moved there in search of profits. It was an excellent opportunity for children in large families, too far removed to inherit anything from their parents’ livelihoods. Orphans, exiles, and other vagrants could also come here in an attempt to jumpstart their new lives.

  Unfortunately, the depopulated landscape was the perfect breeding ground for monsters and other beasts. The merchants and nobles who made their money in Wantage often hired adventurers to deal with these threats. Many moved permanently, spending their spare time scouring the woods for rare herbs and animal parts used for alchemical ingredients.

  Unlike the lands to the East, where the hills had been somewhat explored and were mined for iron and copper, Wantage was a slightly safer and more civilized version of Gomera Forest. Which still made it completely wild. This similarity was one of the reasons why Sofia decided to move there, along with a few of her people. There was plenty of space to make the Elves feel at home, even as they mourned the loss of their friends and families. And more groups were already on the way.

  Most traveled South as they fled from their homeland. They were hoping to reach their cousins close to Langogne’s border. Carlos’ group only arrived in Ashbourne by pure accident. They got lost on the way. However when they returned to Gomera, they told their compatriots about Varre’s offer to shelter anyone in need.

  The group that braved the snowy forest was led by a familiar face. One of the warriors who returned home together with Carlos, personally guided a second group to Logres. He remembered the path. But this would be a rare occurrence. Most civilians were told to travel along the foothills instead. It was the most direct path leading to Logres, that also strayed away from the heart of Gomera. The deadliest creatures could be avoided by heading straight for Wantage.

  Varre decided to use this situation as an opportunity. He sent a few of his magistrates North to examine the landscape together with Sofia and a few of her Elves. They searched for good locations to found new settlements.

  Most of the land belonged to various nobles already, but they were willing to sell it for cheap. They weren’t using it for much else and an increase in population could bring more profits their way. Camps and outposts were founded like this regularly.

  Many of the Elves were experienced hunters, herbalists, and foragers back home. By spreading them throughout this duchy, they could be employed to gather new ingredients for the alchemists and healers back in Westbridge. Their expertise would be invaluable in relieving the sudden growth in purchase orders.

  The plants and animals found here were a little different than back in Gomera, but the principles were largely the same. As new refugees showed up, they could be taken to an existing settlement. There, they could rest and recuperate, while trained physicians fixed up their wounds. Once they were healthy, they could move to another outpost and find new work.

  Sofia led this effort, but soon other Elves stepped up to assist her. Slowly, as the number of refugees grew into the hundreds, a small network of settlements began to emerge. Their location was decided by access to the various herbs as they were needed. Some were built further in the foothills, some close to lakes, or deeper in the woods. The duchy as a whole was still mostly empty, but these new strangers became a common sight in the trading outposts and towns of the region.

  Most of the elves were civilians, driven from their home by the goblin threat. Those who stayed behind would be killed or captured, so the choice was clear. Still a few warriors travelled with them, either to protect them on the way, or since they became too injured themselves to continue fighting.

  Their experience wouldn’t go to waste either. A few of these fighters were invited to the capital, where Duke Jan continued to train the new army to stop the goblin threat, if it ever decided to go after Logres.

  Sofia brought them all to Westbridge. She was slowly growing to a leadership position amongst her people. She was one of the few mages they brought along, and her language skills were improving. Her frequent conversations with Etty, and letters sent to Elvira helped tremendously.

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  Varre would participate in the first meeting as well. The elves would remain in Westbridge for longer, in constant discussion with the kingdom’s commanders, but the monarch wanted to know everything that they’ve learned.

  He met the warriors in the castle, where they were invited for a celebratory feast. The following morning, once they had rested after their journey, they were provided with wagons and the whole group traveled to the new army camp together.

  The king sat in a carriage together with Sofia. He watched with an amused expression as she observed the city with wide eyes.

  “Your capital is massive,” the elf pointed out.

  “It’s the largest city in all of Logres,” Varre replied, “forty thousand people live here, you know?”

  He knew it wasn’t much by Earth standards, but it was still an impressive number. The sheer amount of food that needed to be sent to Westbridge to feed everyone was staggering. Much of it was sent by the river, but hundreds of carts still moved through the city gates every day.

  There wasn’t any mining done in the area, so most of the people came here just because of the proximity to the court. Every noble worth his salt needed a manor in the capital. Those required leagues of servants, gardeners, chefs, and cleaning maids. They in turn needed housing of their own, carpenters, blacksmiths, tailors, and cobblers.

  Then the mage and adventurer’s guild acted as another anchor. These too were wealthy people who desired a certain level of service. They needed taverns, alchemists, enchanters, and armor smiths. And assistants of their own.

  There was a whole army of merchants ready to provide for everyone, even if the trading cities on the Southern coast were their true homeland. Still, many of the goods shipped from the North would be first processed in Westbridge before proceeding towards the ports. The river barges would then return with imported wines, silks, and spices, ready to be devoured by the aristocracy.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much stone before,” Sofia pointed out, “or brick.”

  “How big do the cities get back in your nation?” the king asked.

  “Our capital is a little larger, but most of the buildings are wooden,” she smiled, “we have enough trees to go around.”

  That made Varre curious. “And how do you feed everyone? We’re forced to ship food here by the river. Are your cities the same?”

  “Well, I’m not from the capital, but I know they also import plenty of goods,” Sofia admitted, “but our towns are different. Most people have space for a small garden, where they can grow some crops for themselves.”

  “And you have room for everyone?”

  “We don’t build as tall,” she explained, “or as dense. Only our nobility could dream of a house this high. That’s why our cities are so spread out. They’re beautiful… but hard to protect.”

  Sofia stared out the window at one of the buildings in the Craftsmen Quarter. It was four stories tall, so on the taller side of things, but it wasn’t that uncommon here. Major thoroughfares like this one were highly sought after so people tended to build upwards.

  The elf had been living in Logres for around half a year now, but Varre realized that she spent most of her time in small, isolated communities. Places like Ashbourne, or the desolate wilderness of Wantage. At best she had seen small trading towns up North. She had no frame of reference for how humans tended to build their cities.

  Or their fortifications.

  “Now that,” Sofia said, peering out at the city walls, “that is incredible.”

  The defenses looked formidable, even to the king who had been used to seeing them by now. The walls were thick enough to allow a wagon to drive over the top. They had to be, to survive a shot from a trebuchet or a sufficiently powerful explosion spell.

  The entrances were fortified even further. The gatehouses stuck out from the walls, making them even tougher to breach. There were two separate layers of portcullis, so even if an enemy managed to break the first one down, they’d have to contend with the second.

  Inside, murder holes were drilled in the ceiling over the narrow passage. Archers could be deployed on the upper floor and shoot down at anyone trying to bring a battering ram inside. If arrows wouldn’t cut it, mages could fire down spells, or in the worst case, civilians could stand there and throw rocks down at potential invaders.

  Then there was the moat. In some castles, the water used was filthy. The inhabitants would throw their waste down to it, discouraging any attackers from swimming across. Westbridge was different, since the moat was connected directly to the nearby river. Since the city was so large, it served as an additional source of fresh water for the population. Even if some of them still threw their trash into the water. Such was life in these times.

  “How can anyone even get through all that?” the elf asked, rhetorically.

  “That’s the point,” Varre smiled, “we don’t want them to.”

  “But is it even possible?”

  “Sure,” the king shrugged, “they’d lose a lot of soldiers, but they could always try an assault. The gates could be overpowered and broken down with enough force, or they could fill in the moat slowly during a prolonged siege and then get ladders across to the walls. But they’d need a massive army for that and they’d still suffer thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of casualties. It’s far easier to just starve us out.”

  Sofia nodded. “I see. And how long would that take? Feeding this many people…” she trailed off.

  “I’m not too sure,” Vare admitted, “I besieged another town last year and I was told it rarely lasts more than a few months. But Westbridge survived the winter without any major problems. That also took several months. Perhaps if we had the time to prepare, if we could get enough supplies in and get as many of the civilians as we could out of here, we could stretch that out into a year. Perhaps more. Or we could continue to send supplies over water if the attackers weren’t able to fully cut us off there.”

  “Let’s hope you won’t need to find out,” she replied.

  “That’s what we’re here to prevent,” the king said and stared at the open fields outside of the walls.

  The carriage went across the drawbridge and turned, following the newly build dirt road towards the growing army base. The two thousand soldiers training there would be the kingdom’s first line of defense.

  Then there came the nobility and levied peasants. Then foreign assistance and hired adventurers. Then other castles, towns, and villages. The walls of Westbridge were very important, as proven by the short siege during the civil war, but they were almost the last line of defense. If an invader made it all the way here, then that was a sign that the conflict was going poorly. Just as poorly as the Elves’ defense,

  Hopefully the lessons they learned from their own wars could save Logres, even if it was too late for them. If the goblins were stopped here, then their homelands too could be recovered some day. If the kingdom ever fell, the slim chance would devolve down to zero.