The return of the Army of the Wastes was not a procession; it was an earthquake. The ground trembled under the weight of the captured royal wagons and the tread of the mighty warhorses. The citizens of Oakhaven, who had sent their soldiers out with nervous prayers, now greeted them with a roar of visceral, triumphant pride that echoed off the canyon walls. When the first Oakhaven Dragoon, clad head-to-toe in gleaming, captured plate armor, rode through the gates, the city erupted.
This was a victory that could be seen, touched, and felt. The plunder was laid out in the Marketplace, a breathtaking display of wealth and power. Stacks of steel swords, piles of chainmail and plate, barrels of royal flour, and casks of wine from the kingdom's vineyards. It was the hoard of a dragon, slain and looted. The sight of it erased any lingering doubt or fear from the minds of the populace. They were not rebels; they were conquerors.
That evening, I convened the Confederacy Council in the now-hallowed Market Hall. At the head of the great table sat myself, Anya, and Grak. Behind us stood our lieutenants: Borin, Kai, and Ulf. It was a council of kings, forged in the fire of a shared, impossible victory.
"Today, we celebrate," I began, my voice ringing with a strength I had never known before. "We celebrate our dead, who bought this victory with their lives. And we celebrate the birth of our nation, which was baptized in the fire of Fort Drakon."
My first act was the distribution of the spoils. This was a critical test of our new alliance. Greed could poison our victory.
"The kingdom tried to divide us with their demands," I declared. "We will be united by our generosity. One third of all arms and armor captured at the fort belong to the warriors of Ironpeak, who were our hammer." Grak's men let out a thunderous cheer, their chief nodding in grim approval. "One third belongs to the riders of the Ashen tribe, who were our eyes and our serpent's sting." Anya inclined her head, a rare, genuine smile touching her lips. "And one third shall remain with Oakhaven, to arm the shield that protects us all."
It was a distribution of perfect fairness, cementing the loyalty of my allies more effectively than any oath. We were not a city with client tribes; we were a true confederacy of equals.
My second act was to deal with the nearly two hundred prisoners of war we had marched back from the fort. They were brought into the square, a terrified, defeated mass. I stood before them, not as a conqueror, but as an administrator.
"You served a king who sees you as expendable," I told them. "You now stand in a city that sees you as a potential asset. You have two choices. You can spend the rest of your days as prisoners, laboring to strengthen the walls of the nation that defeated you. Or, you can renounce your old allegiances, swear an oath of loyalty to the Wastes Confederacy, and earn your place among us as free citizens. You will start at the bottom, working the fields and the quarries, but the path to full citizenship is open to any who are willing to walk it. In Oakhaven, your value is not in your blood, but in your labor and your loyalty. Choose."
This offer of a path to freedom, of a life in a city that was so clearly thriving, was a weapon more powerful than any sword. Dozens of the prisoners, common levies with no real love for the distant king, immediately knelt and swore their allegiance. Their integration would be a long process, but we had just increased Oakhaven's population and workforce by a third in a single day.
That night, a feast was held that dwarfed all previous celebrations. We roasted the royal garrison's salted pork over massive bonfires. We drank the King's own wine. The three peoples of our Confederacy—the farmers, the miners, and the nomads—mingled, sharing stories of the battle, their different languages no barrier to the shared experience of their victory. An Ironpeak warrior admiringly examined the intricate carving on an Ashen bow. An Ashen rider listened, fascinated, as an Oakhaven farmer explained the miracle of irrigation.
I stood on the balcony of the Market Hall, looking down at the vibrant, joyous chaos. We had done more than defeat an enemy. We had created a new culture, a unique fusion of the disparate peoples of the desert, united by a common cause and a shared hope. The system was silent, its quests and rewards a pale reflection of the real, tangible nation being born in the firelight below. The taste of victory was sweet, but I knew it was just an appetizer. The main course, the King's full, unrestrained fury, was yet to come.