Chapter 66: Chapter 66: The Inheritance of the Archer’s Temple

“So fast?” Roland exclaimed as he stood before the newly built temple, a mix of surprise and admiration on his face. The structure before him, covering nearly 1,000 square meters, had been completed in just a day. It seemed impossible, even for Ladir.

Ladir chuckled, stroking his beard. “Your Highness, it's not all me. The city guards were quite the help. The key areas of the temple, where the magic lines are engraved, are solid, but the rest... well, it's just simple stone. I provided the materials and worked on the core, but the guards did most of the heavy lifting.”

Roland eyed the modest temple. It was far from grand, lacking any of the intricate details or grandeur he remembered from other temples. “And it works? The inheritance process... it’ll function properly?”

Ladir nodded confidently. “It’s basic, but it will serve its purpose. The core magic is intact. The temple’s simplicity won’t affect its effectiveness.”

Roland turned to the knights standing guard nearby. “Gather all the Batanian archers here.”

The knight saluted. “At once, Your Highness.”

Before long, the Batanian archers arrived and bowed before Roland. "Your Highness!" they called out in unison.

"At ease," Roland said. “This is the Archer Inheritance Temple. You must quickly master the skills you’ll gain here. Our city’s survival depends on it.”

The archers exchanged uncertain glances, but marched forward, ready to accept their fate.

"Wait! Only six at a time," Ladir interrupted. “There isn’t enough room for all of you to awaken together.”

Roland frowned. "A limit on the number of people?"

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Ladir sighed. "Yes, Your Highness. This temple is just a rough draft. In a fully developed temple, there would be room for all, but this... well, we’re working with what we have. Only six can use the hexagram at a time, and without proper materials, the magic only stretches so far."

Roland nodded in understanding. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. “And no mentor, I assume?”

Ladir winced. "Right, no inheritance mentor. They’ll have to figure out everything on their own."

Roland sighed. In a perfect world, a skilled professional would guide the archers through the process, helping them master the skills more quickly. But they didn’t have that luxury. This was war, and they were making do with what they had.

The first group of six archers sat cross-legged within the hexagram, releasing their fighting spirits. The stone statue at the center of the temple began to glow softly, emitting waves of energy that spread through the room. But, as Ladir had warned, the energy dissipated just beyond the hexagram, barely reaching the outer edges of the temple.

After half an hour, the archers remained in their trance, unmoved. Roland watched with a mix of hope and frustration. He turned to Ladir. “I’ll wait outside. Send them to me when they finish.”

Ladir nodded, understanding Roland’s impatience. “Of course, Your Highness.”

As Roland stepped outside, he spotted Carlos sprinting toward him, urgency written all over his face. Roland’s heart sank. If Carlos was rushing like this, it could only mean one thing: the orcs.

“What’s happened?” Roland asked, dreading the answer.

“The orcs in the north have suddenly increased their speed,” Carlos reported. “They’re trying to cross the Lonely Mountain to attack Elub. The dwarven cavalry has already begun intercepting their vanguard.”

Roland’s jaw tightened. "So, they aren’t giving us the time we need.”

Carlos shook his head grimly. “No, Your Highness. They plan to strike before winter’s end.”

Roland took a deep breath, his mind racing. “Then we’ll fight. Better to face them now, so that come spring, we can focus on rebuilding and farming. Prepare the soldiers. We’ll be ready.”

---

Inside the command tent, Vervill lounged in a chair, casually sipping coffee. “The half-orc army is on the move, I take it?”

Roland shot him a look of disapproval. “You’re an elf king, try to act like it.”

Vervill shrugged, unfazed by Roland’s admonition. “So, what’s the plan?”

Roland didn’t hesitate. “We defend the city. Rapid City’s walls are our greatest asset. The orcs won’t expect us to stay put, but that’s exactly what we’ll do.”

Vervill raised an eyebrow. “Defensive strategies may work for now, but knights belong on the battlefield, not cowering behind walls. You know that as well as I do.”

“I know,” Roland admitted. “But we’re short on archers and rangers. Even with your elves, we don’t have enough long-range support. The knights will need to plug any gaps in our defenses.”

Vervill frowned. “We lost 14 elves in the last battle. We’re down to 135.”

Roland’s expression darkened. “We can’t afford any more losses. Tell your elves to protect themselves. Every archer we lose leaves a hole in our defenses.”

Vervill nodded solemnly. “I’ll make sure they know. But what about the future? We need more archers—more long-range fighters.”

Roland stared out at the horizon, his frustration mounting. “I know. After this war, we’ll find a way to increase our numbers. We’ll train new units if we have to.”

For now, though, they had to work with what they had. The orcs were coming, and Rapid City would stand—because it had to.