The air was heavy with heat and slls. The large tent I had erected at the center of the camp trapped both the moisture of the canvas and the scents of freshly scraped parchnt.
The ink I used to draw my plans stained my fingers, leaving dark smudges on the map spread out before . Sketches piled up on the corners of the table: road plans, irrigation channels, mines... It was still ssy, hastily scribbled, but in my mind each line was already taking shape.
Around , a dozen young people. Two or three from each clan, boys and girls, none older than twenty-five winters. Their eyes flicked from my ink-stained hands to my lips, as if they feared missing a single syllable. They weren’t scholars yet... but they would beco so.
The silence was heavy, broken only by the creak of the canvas and the crackling of embers in a brazier at the back. Finally, one of them spoke.
— Lord Sora... why choose the young? asked Thomas, a tall dark-haired youth with ssy hair, one of the Ivory Fangs. So elders know the land and its customs better.
I lifted my eyes to him. His still-youthful features carried a rare frankness: he spoke not out of provocation, but out of genuine concern.
I let a brief silence pass, taking the ti to set down my pen and wipe my hand on an already blackened cloth.
— Because this world is changing, I answered. The elders know how to survive yesterday... but not how to build tomorrow. You will carry that knowledge. You will be the roots of a tree that does not yet exist.
A few murmurs ran through the young ones. So lowered their eyes, others straightened, stung with pride.
To my left, a tall red-haired girl leaned slightly forward. She was from the Blazing Sands clan. Her delicate hands clutched her knees, nervous, but her gaze shone.
— And if we fail? she asked. If we’re not strong enough?
I held her gaze. Her na was Mira, I rembered: Sae herself had recomnded her to .
— Then I will burn your failures with you, I said plainly. But if you succeed, your nas will live on when those of the elders are already erased from the stones.
A shiver ran through the tent. This was not a light promise — but both a threat and an oath.
I placed both hands on the table; the maps had crumpled under the pressure of my fingers.
— Look. Here... the Split Spine. It’s the key. The water resting there will feed the entire valley. We will dig canals, carve lines in the rock to irrigate the lands. Not for a single clan. Not for a single chief. For all.
Heads bent. So frowned, unable to imagine what I ant. Others, like Thomas, seed fascinated, their eyes fixed on my sketches.
A thin boy from the Red Rocks clan timidly raised his hand. His black hair stuck to his forehead, and he seed uneasy about daring to speak.
— But... if the water is shared, who decides its use? What if one clan takes more than the others?
I smiled despite myself. At least he asked the right questions.
— You. You all. The Council of Seven. Each clan will have its voice. No more, no less. That is the order I want to build.
A murmur of astonishnt ran through the ranks. The word "council" sounded new in their mouths, like a seed planted in still-virgin soil.
I looked at them one by one, their young faces anxious, eager as well. And despite the fatigue, despite the weight of what I had been tracing alone through endless nights, a spark passed through . For the first ti, it was no longer just my scribbled maps shaping a future... it was them.
— Look here, I said, tapping the flat of my hand on the Split Spine. It’s not just a stream. It’s an artery. From here, we will draw the water that will feed the entire valley.
The young ones leaned over the map. In their minds, I knew, it remained abstract. So I painted them a picture.
— Imagine trenches, wide and straight, dug by hundreds of arms. Carriers transporting water to reservoirs, then redistributed to the fields. Not your lands alone will thrive, but all of them. No more hunger from one clan to another. No more disputes over a well.
A heavy silence fell, until a voice rose. yra, the scholar from the Abyss clan. Her short black hair frad a sharp, severe face.
— But why feed beyond our needs? she asked, narrowing her eyes. If we have enough, why waste?
I stared at her for a mont, then smiled.
— Because a people who have more than they consu can trade. And a people who feed their neighbors... never lack allies.
A shiver ran through the assembly. I had deliberately emphasized the word allies. They all knew what it ant, in a Gorge where each clan had known only enemies.
I picked up the charcoal and drew several circles on the map, further down in the valley.
— Second point. Here, here, and here. Granaries. Not for one clan, but for all. Stores of wheat, dried at, roots. Enough to survive famines, sieges, harsh winters.
Kael, a broad boy from the Howling Rocks clan, frowned. His muscular arm rested on the table as if trying to press his weight into my idea.
— But in case of war, won’t these reserves be looted? It’s an invitation to pillage.
I leaned toward him, my fingers resting on his drawn circle.
— That’s why they are doubled, hidden, protected. And centralized. What we call vulnerability, I call resilience. If one granary falls, another will hold. If one clan collapses, the others can survive.
I paused, letting them digest it. So nodded, others kept their faces closed, but all understood at least one thing: I was not dreaming. I was planning.
I leaned against the back of my chair. The acrid sll of burned charcoal mingled with the subtler scent of the youths’ sweat around . They held their breath. The air vibrated with this strange tension between fear and excitent.
And I already saw the canals spreading, water running through the stone, granaries built of thick bricks, filled with sacks and jars. I saw a people who, for the first ti, would survive together.
When the eting ended, I pushed the map aside with a gesture and stood. The tent flap snapped behind as I lifted it to exit, and the harsh sunlight made squint. The scholars followed, hesitant, as if crossing the threshold exposed them to sothing greater than themselves.
Outside, the panorama spread before us.
Where, just weeks ago, there had been only dust and chaos, the first signs of a new order now appeared. Hundreds of n traced a straight line with picks and levers. Flat stones, torn from the mountain, were already aligned, forming the base of a paved road. A road that would soon connect the clans. Dust rose in acrid clouds, mixed with the foren’s shouts and the tallic clang of tools.
Further on, huge logs had been planted in the ground, marking the outlines of future warehouses and barracks. One could already see the first rises of stone walls, crude but solid. And at the center, on a natural height, square foundations erged: the embryo of a fortified city, the heart I wanted to impose on this fractured gorge.
Lioren, a youth from the Mists, stopped dead, crushed by the scope of the vision. His voice, when it rose, betrayed as much fear as skepticism.
— Lord... what if the clans refuse to share their strength?
I looked at him. His eyes searched for a flaw, a doubt. There would be none.
— Then they will quickly understand that their strength alone is nothing against a unified army, I answered, my voice harder than I intended. But...
I took a breath, my fingers tightening on my belt
- if everyone receives more than they contribute, who would dare refuse?
The silence fell for a mont, only broken by the crash of a stone tipping into a trench. The young ones around watched the workers, the sweat, the dust, the hoarse shouts. These were no longer words on a map. This was real, tangible.
I let my eyes run over the site one last ti. The road was born beneath their feet, warehouses anchored to the ground, and the future city already raised its skeleton. All this, in a few days. I heard soone behind murmur: It’s impossible... Perhaps. But what was impossible yesterday is no longer so today.
We descended further, where the air thickened with dust and heat. The scholars followed in silence, clutching their coats as if the rock itself watched them. Around a freshly carved wall, the steady rumble of pickaxes and the clinking of chains grew sharper.
The gallery opened onto a vast cavity, still raw, where torches fixed in the cracks cast flickering light. Dozens of miners, bare-chested, their skin blackened with soot and streaked with sweat, struck the rock with an almost military precision. Foren circulated among them, whip in hand, ensuring the rhythm never faltered. The air slled of heated iron and damp dust, a heavy, almost suffocating scent.
And in the midst of this disciplined chaos, the veins of abyssium glimred. Dark shards, threaded with silvery and bluish reflections, detached from the stone like fragnts of stars torn from the sky. Each piece seed both light and heavy with invisible force. The young scholars stopped, mouths agape, hypnotized by a spectacle none had ever seen.
Yren, from the Split Spine, was the first to break the silence. His voice echoed in the cavern, almost incongruous amid the hamring of tools.
— Why not sell the abyssium imdiately? Our clans would beco rich.
I placed my hand on one of the veins, my fingers brushing the stone still warm from the miners’ labor. I felt the energy vibrate under my palm, subtle but undeniable. I took the ti to turn to them, fixing each in turn before answering.
— Gold feeds a generation, I said in a calm, almost low tone. Abyssium equips an army. And an army protects the gold for a thousand generations.
I paused, letting my words carve themselves into the ambient clamor. Then I resud, sharper:
— First we will forge our own weapons. Then trade will follow.
A heavy silence settled behind . The scholars exchanged uncertain glances. I read in them both fear and a form of excitent they dared not admit. The idea of holding in their hands a tal that defied magic, that resisted nearly everything, shook their certainties.
One bit their lip, another looked away. But none dared to contest. Deep down, they knew I had just laid the foundations not of re wealth, but of supremacy.
When we left the depths of the earth, daylight blinded for a mont.
The central plain of the Gorge stretched before us, vast and buzzing with activity. Colorful tents rose in disciplined circles, separated by paths already paved with rough stones. Between them, more massive stone bases rose, promises of warehouses, towers, and walls to co. The sll of sweat and ash mingled with the acrid scent of dust crushed under hooves and boots.
Everywhere, n labored. So dug, others raised rudintary fras, while a few steps away, a group trained with spears, Nyss’s sharp shouts echoing like whip cracks. Syra moved among the ranks, adjusting one warrior’s stance, correcting another’s grip, her gaze harsh but asured. Varkash, anwhile, just shouted, her voice roaring above the tumult, like a hurricane that knew no fatigue.
Further on, Sae held council under an improvised awning, bent over parchnts hastily annotated by a scribe. She received ssengers from the clans, her low but authoritative voice cutting short any unbalanced negotiation attempts. Kaelira, anwhile, had taken charge of resource extraction. Already, convoys of dark blocks returned, neatly cut and stacked like black bones. And on the horizon, I knew Raknar watched over the Split Spine, ensuring that the water, the lifeblood of this Gorge, would never be taken back.
I raised my hand to the whole scene, and the scholars, still following , stopped to contemplate this moving tableau: a disciplined horde becoming a city.
— See, I said, each man spends a week building, a week in his clan, and a week training. They rotate endlessly. Each learns to build, to protect, and to nourish.
I turned to them, my gaze catching Elwen, the scholar from a small clan called Crescent, her clenched jaw betraying a question she finally dared to ask.
— In a year, I continued, every warrior will also be a builder. That’s the difference between a horde and a people.
Elwen inhaled slowly, then asked in a clear but harsh voice:
— And the n, Lord? What place will they have in this order?
Silence fell around us. Even the scholars held their breath, fearing a brutal or condescending answer. I gave a brief smile, but without softness.
— They are no longer dominated, I answered without hesitation. Here, anyone with strength or intelligence will find their place. Male or female, it doesn’t matter. The one who builds, the one who defends, the one who thinks... they belong to this people.
I let a mont pass, then tapped the rough map in front of us with my finger.
— This is the only way for this Gorge to beco more than a refuge. It must beco a heart. And a heart does not beat with only half of itself.
The scholars exchanged troubled glances. So nodded, others stayed silent, still hesitant to break centuries-old customs. But I saw, in the eyes of several won present, a new fla — raw, wild, and almost provocative.
Night enveloped the Gorge, but in the distance, the fires did not die. Dozens of red points pierced the darkness, fragile but real traces of a city in the making. One could still hear hamr blows, voices, the creak of wood: the clans were building, together.
I stood on a promontory, eyes fixed on this organized chaos. In my mind, I already saw further: paved roads, disciplined armies, ramparts raised against the world. This was no longer just a valley of clans. It was a beating heart.
In my vision sothing familiar appeared:
[System – LUST v2.01]
Mission accomplished: Unite the tribes’ gorge.
Reward: 5000 shop points; 4 levels
I exhaled, low:
— It all begins here.
A brief silence, then my jaws clenched.
— And nothing... nothing will be able to stop it.
my eyes darkening with rage.
- Not even you, Aedan!
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