WIDA

Chapter 7: An Unexpected Visitor

The village continued to grow, slowly but surely. Word of their settlement had begun to spread, and more settlers trickled in—families from distant villages who had heard of the free land Wida had promised. It wasn't long before the village had doubled in size, and Wida found herself overseeing the construction of new homes, organizing resources, and making plans for the future.

But the more people they welcomed, the more visible they became. And it was only a matter of time before someone noticed.

It happened on a cool evening, just as the sun was beginning to set. Wida was overseeing the planting of a new crop field when a scout came running toward her, his face pale with urgency.

"Lady Wida!" he called out, his breath coming in sharp gasps. "There's a man approaching from the east—he's wearing the colors of the Gadir!"

Wida's heart skipped a beat. The Gadir. She had known this moment would come, but she hadn't expected it so soon. She turned to Obis, who had already moved to her side, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"Get the villagers inside," Obis ordered the scout. "And tell the others to be on guard."

The scout nodded and sprinted off to carry out the order. Wida glanced at Obis, her stomach tight with unease. "What do we do?"

"We see what he wants," Obis replied, his voice steady. "But we don't let our guard down."

Together, they made their way to the edge of the village, where a small group of armed settlers had already gathered. In the distance, Wida could see the figure approaching—a man on horseback, clad in the distinctive green and gold of the Gadir tribe.

As the rider drew closer, Wida's anxiety grew. What could the Gadir want with them? Surely, they hadn't come to attack with only one rider.

The man halted his horse a few yards away and raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "I come in peace," he called out, his voice clear. "I seek an audience with your leader."

Wida stepped forward, her heart pounding in her chest. "I am Wida, chieftain of this village. What do you want?"

The rider dismounted, removing his helmet to reveal a weathered, middle-aged face. His eyes were sharp, assessing, as they swept over the gathered villagers. "My name is Kadir, emissary of the Gadir tribe. I have been sent to deliver a message."

Wida exchanged a glance with Obis, her unease growing. "What message?"

Kadir's expression remained neutral as he spoke. "The Gadir have taken notice of your settlement. You have built your village on land that lies within disputed territory. The Gadir tribe claims that land by right."

Wida felt a cold chill run down her spine. This was exactly what she had feared. The Gadir weren't here to attack—they were here to claim their land.

Obis stepped forward, his hand still on his sword. "This land belongs to no one. It was unclaimed when we found it."

Kadir shook his head slowly. "The Gadir tribe does not see it that way. We are prepared to negotiate, but know this: if you continue to settle here without our approval, there will be consequences."

Wida's mind raced. She had known that settling in the valley would eventually draw attention from the surrounding tribes, but she hadn't expected a confrontation so soon. And now they were faced with a difficult choice: negotiate with the Gadir or risk war.

But Wida knew one thing for certain: she wouldn't give up the land they had worked so hard to build.

"We are willing to talk," she said carefully, meeting Kadir's gaze. "But we will not give up our home."

Kadir nodded, as if he had expected that answer. "Then you will speak with our chieftain. He will send word when the time comes."

With that, Kadir mounted his horse and rode away, leaving Wida and the villagers in a tense silence.

Obis turned to her, his expression grim. "This is only the beginning."

Wida nodded, her heart heavy. She had known this wouldn't be easy. But now, the stakes were higher than ever. The future of their village—and the freedom they had fought for—was on the line.

Several days passed in uneasy silence after Kadir's visit. The villagers sensed the tension in the air, and while life continued, there was an undercurrent of anxiety that couldn't be shaken. The knowledge that the Gadir tribe might march on them at any moment left Wida sleepless at night, staring at the dark sky, wondering what move she should make.

Would it be wiser to negotiate, to offer concessions to the Gadir in the hope of buying time? Or should they strengthen their defenses, prepare for a battle they could barely afford?

One thing was certain: the Gadir would not simply leave them in peace.

Wida and Obis spent long hours strategizing, discussing every possible outcome. They agreed that they couldn't rely solely on force. The village was still small, and while they had a few fighters, they were no match for a full Gadir force. Diplomacy would have to play a part, but it had to be handled delicately.

A clever opening gambit would give them an early advantage.

One evening, as they sat in the chieftain's hut, poring over a map of the valley, one of the villagers approached, a young woman with wide, fearful eyes.

"Chieftain," she said breathlessly, "there's someone at the gate. A stranger."

Wida exchanged a quick glance with Obis, her pulse quickening. Another visitor? Could it be more news from the Gadir, or worse, an attack?

She quickly rose and made her way to the village gate, Obis at her side. There, standing under the watchful eyes of the guards, was an elderly woman dressed in the tattered robes of a nomad. Her silver hair hung in loose waves, and her eyes were bright and knowing, as if she had seen a thousand lifetimes.

"I come with a warning," the old woman said, her voice raspy but firm. "The Gadir chieftain will come, but not for peace. He intends to crush your village underfoot."

Wida's blood ran cold.

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