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shout out to my big supporters;
Saidi_Jordan
Germaine 444
i heard you guys demand of me putting more action in the novel and trust me, you'll be served, and the aspect of kingdom building as well won't be ignored.
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The morning air was a jagged blade, cutting through the heavy leather flaps of the royal tent. Outside, the world was a silent, white wasteland, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of wood smoke and roasted meat.
Antares sat cross-legged on a low stool, his broad shoulders hunched over a small stone pit in the center of the tent. He had just returned from a walk around the camp socializing with the people around, and fine, powdery snow still clung to his wild, jet-black hair like diamonds caught in a raven's wing. With a practiced flick of his wrist, the Helios formed on his hand and he pointed his finger towards the wood and a focused beam of heat ignited the dried pine logs in the pit.
The fire hissed, then roared to life, casting dancing orange shadows against the crimson hide walls.
Antares pulled a blackened iron pot over the flames. Inside was a thick, hearty stew left over from the night before—venison from a gold antlered deer the hunters had brought in, mixed with pungent herbs and thick chunks of potatoes. As the stew began to bubble and pop, sending a savory steam into the rafters, Antares let out a long, weary sigh.
It had been one week since the Great Ascent. One week since four thousand souls had emerged from the dark into the blinding light of the surface. And in that entire week, Antares had barely moved more than a hundred yards from the center of the camp.
He served himself a generous portion in a wooden bowl and grabbed a handful of Celcane sticks, the long, fibrous reeds that grew in the damp crevices of the Godwall. They were salty and starchy. He dipped one into the hot gravy and bit down.
Crunchiness was perfect.
The sound was music to his ears. It was a sharp, satisfying snap that echoed in his skull, dragging a sudden, vivid memory from his previous life on Earth. French fries. Crispy, golden, salty fries from a grease-stained paper bag. For a moment, he wasn't a King in a world of monsters; he was just a guy sitting in a dinner enjoying a meal.
He chewed slowly, a faint, nostalgic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He made a silent, mental vow: once this kingdom was stable, once the Goblins were erased from the books of history, he would find a way to replicate that Earth-born comfort. He would bring "good food" back to his people, not just survival rations.
After finishing the meal, Antares wiped his hands and moved to a small, sturdy desk hewn from local timber. It was piled high with parchment and charcoal records. This was the only thing that kept him busy beside training the cold, hard data of his new empire.
He picked up the primary troop report, his eyes scanning the numbers he had memorized days ago.
Surface Expeditionary Force: 4,000 Total Personnel
* Combat Units (2,000):
300 Ashfang Warriors: The elite, the shadows, the killers. Led by Yajin.
1,500 Antman Regulars: The backbone. Stalwart, disciplined, and armored in the new iron-mandible plates.
200 Arcanis Mages: The newest addition to his tactical board. These specialists from the Arcanis clan were capable of manipulating ambient mana to create barriers or focused elemental strikes.
* Support & Logistics (2,000):
1,000 Foragers: The lifeblood of the camp, currently scavenging the lower slopes.
1,000 Specialists: Healers, scouts, and the "Communicator Antmen"—individuals with highly developed antennae capable of sending rhythmic vibrations through the earth to relay messages back to the settlement incase of emergencies.
Antares leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his armored weight. His brow furrowed. The numbers were good, but the morale was a different story. And the source of the friction sat right at the top of the command chain.
Yajin and Velas.
The two clan leaders were driving him mad. They had seen his father the previous King die in the fires of the Goblin wars. To them, Antares wasn't just a King; he was a precious, fragile relic that had to be kept in a box. Every time he suggested a scouting mission or a simple walk to the treeline, they looked at him as if he were a toddler asking to play with a loaded crossbow.
"Precaution," they called it. "A child's tantrum," they called his arguments.
Antares squeezed the report in his hand, his knuckles turning white. The parchment crinkled and threatened to tear. The "Original Antares" inside him seethed with a prince's wounded pride, while the "the current Antares" simply felt the suffocating weight of being babysat.
However, the previous evening, he had finally broken them. He had issued an Official Royal Order. No more suggestions. No more debates. Today, they were going to Stagfall Forest, the massive, dark treeline that began a few miles South west of the camp. They were going to hunt. They were going to walk. They were going to breathe. finally out of the camp.
That small victory tasted better than the stew he had just ate.
Antares stood up and began to dress for the venture. He donned his armor and Over it, he draped a heavy coat of brown bear fur to ward off the biting mountain chill. He sat back down by the fire, closing his eyes to meditate, letting his Knight Force circulate through his limbs like warm wine. from the reading he had done in the palace and consulting the twins, concluded that meditation was a good way of gaining control over his body and knight force.
A soft scuffle came from the tent entrance.
"Lord Antares?" Levi's voice called out politely. "May I enter?"
"Enter," Antares said, not opening his eyes.
Levi stepped in, kneeling instantly. "Sire, a scout has returned from the Godwall. He was part of the unit sent to find Lord Kael's missing sons. He requests an immediate audience."
Antares's eyes snapped open. The fire in the pit seemed to flare in response to his sudden spike in adrenaline. "Kael's sons? Is the news good or bad?"
Levi hesitated. "The scout refused to speak to anyone but you, Sire. He only said that the news must be delivered to the King directly."
A cold knot formed in Antares's stomach. Kael was his chief smith, the man who had forged the very armor he wore. If his sons were dead, the blow to the tribe's morale and Kael's heart would be devastated.
"Bring him in," Antares commanded. "And go find Yajin, Velas, and Yanrid. I want them here to hear this. Now."
Levi vanished. Moments later, he returned with a figure that looked more like a heap of mud than a man. The scout was aged by the journey, his armor cracked in places, his clothes tattered and soaked with frozen slush. His face was etched with a week's worth of exhaustion and terror.
"Sit," Antares said, his voice softening. He handed the man a fresh bowl of stew. "Eat. My generals are on their way. We will speak when everyone is present."
The scout didn't need to be told twice. He fell upon the food with a desperate hunger, his hands shaking as he lifted the bowl to his mouth.
Thirty minutes later, the tent felt cramped. Yajin stood with his arms crossed, his scarred face unreadable. Velas sat with a grim, regal posture. Yanrid stood near the exit, his eyes already calculating the logistics of a rescue mission.
Antares sat behind his desk, the flickering firelight making him look older than his years.
"Give your report," Antares said to the scout. "Be brief."
The scout stood up, wiping stew from his chin. His voice was raspy, but clear. "Lord Kael's sons... they live, Sire."
A collective breath was released in the room. Even the stoic Yajin seemed to relax an inch.
"We found them in a high cavern on the northern face of the Godwall," the scout continued. "They were wounded and starving, hiding in a crevice where the monster parties couldn't reach. But... there is a complication. The eldest boy is gravely injured. A abdomen wound that was bleeding him when we found them. We stabilized him as best we could, but he cannot be moved by conventional means. The journey down the mountain would kill him. I came ahead to bring the news while the rest of the unit guards their position."
A heavy silence followed.
"That is a relief," Lord Velas said, though his eyes remained troubled.
"Indeed," Yajin added. "But if the monsters in question find them, the boys are good as dead."
Antares looked at Yanrid. "Send a message through the communicators to Lord Kael. Tell him his sons are found. Tell him I give him my word they will be brought home."
Then, Antares turned to his generals. The "child" they had been babysitting was gone. In his place was a commander who saw the whole map.
"We will go to the Godwall in tomorrow," Antares stated. "We need to prepare medicinal supplies and a way for high-altitude transport."
He looked at Yajin. "Lord Yajin, while we have secure the boys, you will wait for Lady Sira. When she arrives with the diplomatic retinue, you will head south to the coast. The Redbeard Pirates are expecting a trade envoy. We need their goods and resources. I will meet you at the trading post as soon as I have finished the situation at the mountain."
Velas looked at Antares, his brow furrowed. "And who will accompany you to the Godwall, Sire? It is a treacherous climb, and we now know that the monsters there are active..."
"I will not be climbing," Antares interrupted. He looked at Yanrid. "Yanrid, prepare your best men. I want Levi and Eli ready as well. And I want every Antman who has successfully developed their insectoid wings. We are flying to their position."
The generals blinked. The winged variants were rare—a mutation that appeared in those who absorbed high-purity mana, and the tribe did not have plenty of those at the moment but luckily for Antares most of them were in the camp.
"Time is against us," Antares said, standing up. "The boy is dying. A mountain trek takes days not counting the time it would take to reach the mountain by walking up to there. By air, we can be there in day."
Understanding his logic, the generals bowed their heads. There was no argument this time. The plan was sound, risky, and exactly what a King should do.
As the meeting dispersed, Antares felt a surge of restless energy. He looked at Yajin and Velas, a mischievous, sharp-toothed grin spreading across his face.
"Now," he said, grabbing Eos from its rack. "Before we head to the Godwall, I believe I have an appointment with a forest."He said smiling much to his generals's displeasure "Let's go to Stagfall. I want to see what this world has to offer before I and my people start bleeding for it again."
He said getting out of the tent heading for the exit of the camp.