CHAPTER 323: CHAPTER 323 FREE

Riley continued managing his clan’s affairs and tending to his women, keeping the Rice Clan prosperous and orderly.

Life had settled into a rhythm over the past six months, but that calm was about to be shattered.

A massive contingent from the Osprey Clan arrived without warning.

Three thousand warriors strong, they advanced like a living storm toward the Rice Clan gates, their armor glinting in the sunlight and weapons gleaming ominously.

From the way they moved and the sheer size of their force, it was obvious they were not here for a simple visit.

Every man, every horse, every soldier radiated readiness for battle.

The Rice Clan gates swung open to welcome them, though the word "welcome" hardly seemed appropriate.

Inside, clan members rushed to prepare the grounds, organizing troops, servants, and guards to attend to the unexpected guests.

The air thrummed with tension; whispers and hurried footsteps echoed through the courtyards as everyone sensed the magnitude of the moment.

A formal meeting was called, and Riley was summoned to the main hall.

He walked through the corridors with his usual composed demeanor, though a quiet unease settled in his chest.

Entering the hall, he immediately noticed a man seated at the head of the visiting delegation.

The middle-aged figure bore a striking resemblance to his wife, Aurora.

It wasn’t difficult to deduce who this man was—the patriarch of the Osprey Clan, and his father-in-law.

Riley’s lips curved into a polite, confident smile as he approached.

"It’s good to finally see you, father-in-law," he said. "I’ll have someone call Aurora right away. She must be thrilled to see you again."

Aurora’s father’s expression remained impassive, a stern shadow crossing his face.

"Maybe later, Riley," he replied, his tone sharp and deliberate. "We are here for other purposes today."

The atmosphere in the hall immediately shifted.

The polite formalities dissolved into tension thicker than any blade.

The Osprey Clan’s men, disciplined and alert, sat in silent rows, their eyes flicking occasionally toward Riley, measuring him.

The air felt heavier, charged with anticipation, as if the walls themselves were bracing for the coming storm.

Riley took his seat at the table, keeping his composure as discussions began.

At first, the conversation skirted around pleasantries, clan politics, and past grievances, but it didn’t take long for the true purpose to emerge.

The words hit him like a cold wind: war.

Every syllable seemed to reverberate through the room.

Riley’s mind raced, analyzing the strength of his forces, the loyalty of his men, and the strategies he could employ.

He could see the calculation in the eyes of his father-in-law—the Osprey Clan had not come to negotiate peace; they had come for a call to conquest.

As the meeting continued, Riley remained outwardly calm, but inside, his mind was a storm of planning and anticipation.

This was no ordinary threat.

But with the immortal treasure in his possession, he reckoned this was a mere child’s play for him.

The meeting continued and Riley got bored.

He had been half-listening to the discussion, his thoughts drifting through strategies, troop placements, and potential weaknesses in the enemy lines, until his name cut through the haze like a knife.

His head snapped up, every sense alert.

"Okay, that’s a good plan, but I’ll have to make a slight adjustment," Alexander said, his voice calm yet firm, carrying the kind of authority that brooked no argument.

"Riley will be in charge of the Rice Clan’s warriors. He will lead my men in the field."

The room went quiet for a moment, the weight of Alexander’s words settling over everyone like a heavy cloak.

Riley could feel eyes on him—curious, questioning, measuring.

He swallowed, keeping his composure, though a spark of pride flickered inside him.

Aurora’s father, Gaben, frowned, his brow knitting in disapproval.

"Isn’t that a bit premature, Alexander?" he asked, his voice tight with concern. "This campaign is... crucial. In a year, the entire region will be under our control. Are we certain we can risk putting someone so young in charge of something so important?"

Alexander’s eyes glimmered, unwavering. "I understand your concern, Gaben. Truly, I do. But Riley is as strong as the rumors claim—and far more capable than anyone here suspects. His skill, his judgment, and his leadership... they are unmatched."

Riley felt a flush of heat rise to his cheeks.

He had heard the stories of his own reputation, exaggerated and whispered through clans like legend, but hearing Alexander assert it so openly before so many influential figures carried a weight of its own.

Gaben’s expression didn’t soften. "I don’t doubt the tales of his feats in combat, Alexander," he said slowly, "but those were isolated fights, controlled and precise. War... war is chaotic, messy, and unforgiving. It’s nothing like a duel or skirmish. People die. Plans fail. Discipline cracks. And beyond that..." He paused, letting the question hang, heavy and deliberate.

"Can he command your men? Will they truly follow him into the fire of battle, as equals or better, when the first arrow flies or the first formation breaks?"

The room seemed to grow heavier with his words.

Riley’s heartbeat quickened—not out of fear, but anticipation.

Every syllable was a challenge, every glance a test.

He could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on him, the unspoken expectation that he would have to prove himself not just with skill, but with authority, with strategy, and with the loyalty of those who would fight beside him.

Alexander leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the table.

"Gaben, I understand the stakes. But Riley has proven himself in ways that speak beyond mere words. If you are still unconvinced, then spar with him afterward. Judge him with your own eyes. You will see that he is capable—not only of fighting, but of leading."

Gaben’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "There is no need for a sparring match," he replied finally. "I do not doubt the tales of his past victories. But victory in combat is not victory in war. One can be unmatched in duels and skirmishes, yet fail utterly when commanding men through bloodshed, fire, and death. The question remains: can he inspire loyalty? Can he maintain order when chaos reigns?"

The words cut deep, not as an insult but as a gauntlet thrown down.

Riley straightened in his seat, his jaw tightening.

He could feel the eyes of both clans on him now—not just Alexander’s or Gaben’s, but every officer, every warrior in the room.

They were judging him, silently measuring his reaction, looking for fear, doubt, hesitation.

And there was none.

Riley’s voice was calm, steady, but carried the weight of certainty.

"I will not let anyone down," he said. "My loyalty, my skill, and my judgment are all yours to test. I will earn your men’s trust, and I will lead them to victory, or I will die trying. But make no mistake—I will not fail."

A tense silence followed.

The words had been said, the challenge accepted, and the room seemed to hum with unspoken recognition.

Alexander gave a small, approving nod, while Gaben studied Riley carefully, his expression unreadable.

The seeds of war had been planted, and Riley could feel the first winds of battle already stirring.

***

News of the coming war spread like wildfire throughout the Rice Clan.

The clanging of swords, the thud of boots on training grounds, and the harsh shouts of instructors filled every courtyard and alley.

Every man sharpened his skills with renewed determination, every formation practiced until it was almost second nature.

Fear and anticipation clung to the air like smoke.

For the wives, however, the news carried a different weight.

They fretted quietly for their husbands’ safety, wringing hands and whispering prayers.

They could not change the course of events, could not stop the war from coming.

This was their life, their lot in the world, and resignation mingled with dread.

Even so, they prepared in whatever ways they could—stocking provisions, tending to weapons, and whispering encouragement to their men, their voices trembling despite their best efforts.

Riley, amidst all the chaos, managed to find a rare moment of calm with his women.

They sat together in a quieter corner of their quarters, away from the clamor of drills and the bustle of soldiers.

The weight of the looming conflict pressed down on all of them, yet this brief pause allowed them a semblance of normalcy.

"So... how did your meeting with your father go?" Riley asked, his voice casual, but his eyes scanned Aurora’s face for signs of worry or tension.

Aurora pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to hide the unease she felt.

"It was... as expected," she said slowly, her voice carrying a hint of frustration.

"I would have preferred to see my mother instead." Her eyes darkened slightly at the thought of her father and his many wives, whose influence and presence always left her feeling uneasy.

Riley’s hand reached for hers, squeezing gently.

"You’ll be fine," he said quietly, though the firmness in his voice betrayed the tension he himself felt.

Aurora’s gaze softened, though worry still lingered.

"Take care, husband. And... come back for me. For us." Her eyes flicked briefly toward Edith, who stood silently to the side, listening intently.

Edith’s face remained neutral, but her hands clenched slightly at her sides, betraying the fear she tried to hide.

Riley leaned closer, pressing his lips to Aurora’s forehead in a fleeting, comforting gesture.

"Are you going to miss me then?" he teased lightly, wrapping an arm around her as he hugged her.

Aurora’s cheeks flushed crimson. She lowered her gaze for a moment, her lips parting slightly as she admitted softly,

"Yes." Her blush deepened, and even Edith’s neutral expression betrayed a faint flicker of concern at seeing her friend so vulnerable.

Riley’s gaze hardened with determination, his playful tone giving way to steel.

"Okay, that’s it," he said firmly. "You and Edith are coming with me."

Both women froze, their expressions a mixture of shock, disbelief, and fear.

War was no place for women—much less pregnant ones.

Aurora’s hand immediately went to her belly, a protective instinct she could not suppress.

Edith’s eyes widened, her voice trembling as she finally spoke.

"You... can’t be serious!" Edith exclaimed. "War isn’t safe for anyone, let alone for us!"

Riley’s eyes softened briefly as he looked at them, but his tone remained resolute.

"I am serious. We’re going into this together. If I’m out there fighting, I’m not leaving either of you behind. We survive together—or we fall together."

Aurora’s worry shifted slightly, replaced with understanding.

She could see the thought behind his decision—the careful planning, the desire to keep them close, the refusal to risk their separation in the chaos of battle.

Even so, her stomach churned with fear.

She knew all too well the reality of war, of blood, fire, and death that would be waiting for them.

Edith, still tense, finally spoke in a whisper, "And... how do you plan to keep us safe? Pregnant or not, we’ll be in the thick of it."

Riley’s hand brushed over hers reassuringly. "I’ll make sure neither of you faces danger alone. There will be guards, strategies, and contingencies. You’ll be with me—and I’ll never let anything happen to either of you."

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of his words sank in.

Outside, the sounds of preparation continued—the clash of steel, the shouted commands, the roar of warriors—but inside, the three of them shared a quiet, tense moment.

The reality of the coming war pressed down on them all, yet Riley’s determination shone like a shield against their fear.

Aurora leaned her head against his chest, drawing strength from his presence, while Edith’s hands remained clenched, her face pale but resolute.

Each of them felt the storm approaching, and though dread lingered in their hearts, they also felt the unspoken bond that would carry them through it.

Little did they know that the name Riley Rice would spread far and wide soon enough.