Marcos quickly discovered that recruiting mercenaries was the easy part.
The hard part was convincing them that I wasn't completely crazy.
"Let me see if I understand correctly," said Garrett, sitting on a log as he watched Marcos literally create blocks out of thin air. "You can... manifest building materials. Out of thin air. Without limit."
—Correct —replied Marcos, stacking stone blocks as if he were playing with giant Legos.
—And you can also do magic. Like... real magic. Not tricks.
—Also correct.
—And you decided to use these literally divine powers to... reclaim an abandoned valley and build a fortress?
-Yeah.
Garrett looked at his men. They were all looking back at him with the same "what have we gotten ourselves into?" expression.
—You know that with that power you could, I don't know, conquer Pentos in an afternoon. Or become the richest mercenary in the world. Or literally anything else.
Marcos stopped building and turned towards them.
"Do you know the problem with conquering a city like Pentos? You then have to govern it. And governing a city where everyone hates you because you conquered them is an administrative nightmare." He gestured to the valley around him. "This, on the other hand, is a blank slate. There's no pre-existing politics. No factions. No offended nobles. I can build something from scratch, with the rules I decide. And when it's ready, THEN I expand."
"Expand to where?" asked one of the mercenaries, a skinny guy named Torren.
"Eventually, all of Essos. And then, we'll see." Marcos smiled. "But first, I need a solid foundation. That's why I need you."
"There are ten of us," Garrett pointed out. "Ten against the world."
"For now. But you'll see: when people hear there's a place where the pay is good, there's plenty of food, and buildings appear out of nowhere, they'll come on their own." Marcos returned to his construction project.
My job is to create something so impressive that people WANT to be a part of it.
"That sounds like a very long-term plan," commented another mercenary, an older man named Baelor.
"The best empires are built with long-term plans," Marcos replied. "Rome wasn't built in a day. The Spanish Empire took centuries. I have time."
"And what do we do in the meantime?" Garrett asked.
Marcos stopped building and looked at them seriously.
"For now, I need you to patrol the perimeter. This valley is our territory, but it needs to be defended. I also need you to help me identify what else we need: how many people, what kind of skills, what real-world resources (not the ones I can manifest) we're going to need." He paused. "And most importantly: I need you to start thinking like soldiers in an army, not like hired mercenaries."
Because that's what they're eventually going to be: the foundation of my imperial army.
The ten men remained silent.
It was a serious proposal.
Finally, Garrett stood up.
—Okay. Let's give it a try. But we need to know more about you. Where are you from? What's your real goal? Why are you doing all this?
Marcos considered how much to reveal.
"I come from very far away. So far away you wouldn't believe me if I told you." That was technically true. "My goal is to build an empire that won't collapse for the stupid reasons all empires collapse: internal betrayal, corruption, administrative incompetence, lack of resources. I want to build something that lasts. Something just." He made eye contact with each of them. "And I'm doing it because I have the power to do it, and it would be a waste not to try."
Garrett nodded slowly.
"Well. He's honest, at least." He looked at his men. "What do you say?"
There were murmurs, but eventually everyone nodded.
"Good," Garrett said. "We're yours, Marcos Vidal. At least for now. But if this gets out of hand..."
"You have permission to leave whenever you want," Marcos interrupted. "I'm not going to hold anyone against their will."
That's rule number one in this place.
That seemed to surprise them more than any demonstration of magic.
The next three days were a whirlwind of construction.
Marcos worked from dawn till dusk, and the mercenaries (now officially the "Astoria Guard," a name Marcos invented on the spot and everyone accepted because no one had a better idea) watched with growing fascination and terror.
DAY 2:
Marcos built:
Four additional watchtowers at the corners of the wall, each fifteen meters high
A basic barracks for the guards: ten beds, common area, kitchen, bathroom (with a drainage system that definitely shouldn't work but did).
A warehouse for supplies
An improved well in the center of the settlement with a water pump (modified Minecraft "water pump" block)
The mercenaries watched him work as if it were a circus show.
"It's like watching the gods create the world," Torren murmured.
"If the gods created the world with square blocks, that would explain a lot of things," Garrett replied dryly.
Marcos also began to teach them basic concepts of military training.
"Okay, listen to me," he said, with the ten men lined up in front of him. "I know you're experienced mercenaries. But mercenaries fight for money and retreat when things get tough. Soldiers fight for something bigger than themselves."
"Like what?" Baelor asked.
—Like the idea that you're building something that will last. That your children and grandchildren will live better lives because you were here. —Marcos walked in front of them—. I'll be honest with you: eventually we're going to be at war. Against magistrates, against city-states, against kingdoms. But we're not going to fight like barbarians. We're going to fight with strategy, discipline, and superior technology.
"Technology?" Garrett frowned. "We only have swords and spears."
Marcos smiled.
-For now.
DAY 3:
Marcos built:
An internal secondary wall, separating the residential area from the training area
A blacksmith shop (although it didn't have a blacksmith yet, it was just the beginning)
A stable for Rocinante and future horses
An administration building that was basically his personal office
He also started experiments with hybrid technology: Minecraft + magic.
For example, torches in Minecraft never went out. So what happened if you combined them with amplification magic?
Result: torches that illuminated three times more than normal and could be activated or deactivated with a mental command.
"Intelligent lighting in the Middle Ages," Marcos murmured with satisfaction. "I'm a genius."
He also discovered that he could use Minecraft's "Redstone" to create basic circuits. These weren't actual electrical circuits, but rather magical logic circuits that responded to specific conditions.
He created an automatic door for the main entrance of the wall. When someone approached, it opened. When they moved away, it closed.
The guards tried it about fifty times, fascinated.
"It's witchcraft," one of them declared.
"It's engineering," Marcos corrected. "Well, it's technological sorcery. Ingeniousness. Technicism." He paused. "Okay, I don't have a name for it yet, but it's cool."
DAY 4:
Marcos woke up to Garrett knocking on his door.
—Boss, we have visitors.
"Visitors?" Marcos stood up quickly. "More mercenaries sent by magistrates?"
—No. Civilians. A family.
Marcos went outside and saw, indeed, a family of five standing in front of the entrance to the wall. A middle-aged man, his wife, two small children, and an elderly woman who was probably the grandmother.
They had a cart pulled by a donkey with all their belongings.
Marcos approached.
—Good morning. Can I help you?
The man looked nervous.
—Sir, we heard rumors in Pentos. Rumors that someone was building something here. A new settlement. And that... that they were looking for people.
"The rumors are true," Marcos confirmed. "But how did you hear about this so quickly?"
"One of the men you sent to investigate returned to Pentos talking about a sorcerer who builds structures out of thin air and pays in gold." The man swallowed. "We're farmers, sir. We lost our land because we couldn't pay our debts to the magister. We were heading south, looking for work anywhere. But if there's an opportunity here…"
Marcos looked at the family.
They were desperate. Thin. Tired.
They were exactly the kind of people I needed: people willing to work hard for an opportunity.
—What are their names?
—Lysor, sir. My wife Mela. My children Torrin and Jessa. My mother Alya.
"Welcome to Astoria, Lysor." Marcos gestured inside. "We have space. We have food. And if you're willing to work the land, there's plenty of work to be done."
Lysor's eyes welled up with tears.
-Oh really?
"Seriously." Marcos turned to Garrett. "Assign them one of the houses I built yesterday. And bring them food from the storeroom."
—Understood, boss.
As the family was led inside, Marcos stood there, thinking.
"It's started," he murmured. "People are going to start arriving."
And he was right.
That same day, three more people arrived: an unemployed carpenter, a blacksmith looking for a new start, and an elderly woman who claimed to be a healer.
The next day, five more arrived.
Next, eight.
The rumors were spreading faster than Marcos expected.
DAY 7:
One week after claiming the valley, Astoria had:
34 residents (not counting Marcos)
10 guards (the original mercenaries)
A functional blacksmith (named Gendros, no relation to Gendry)
Two carpenters
A healer (Elia, who turned out to be surprisingly competent)
Several farming families
A complete stone wall with five watchtowers
Fifteen residential buildings
Basic infrastructure functioning
And more were still arriving.
Marcos was in his office (which was basically a room with a large table and a map of Essos that he had drawn from memory) when Garrett walked in.
—Boss, we have a problem.
—What kind of problem?
—The "very annoying magistrate" type. There's a large group approaching. About forty men. All armed. With the banner of Magister Vrennis.
Marcos sighed.
—Already? I thought it would take at least two weeks before they mustered up the courage.
—Apparently, the rumors about us made him nervous.
"Good." Marcos stood up. "Time to set a precedent."
He climbed the wall with Garrett. From the top, he could see the force approaching. Forty men, just as Garrett had said. All in leather or light metal armor. Spears, swords, a few bows.
It was a considerable force for a minor magister.
They stopped fifty meters from the wall.
A man on horseback, dressed in elegant clothes and wearing more jewelry than strictly necessary, rode ahead.
"Attention, illegal occupiers!" he shouted in a high-pitched voice. "I am Magister Vrennis of Pentos. These lands belong to me by right. You have one opportunity to surrender peacefully and leave the area. If you resist, you will be removed by force."
Marcos peered over the wall.
—Hello, Magister! I am Marcos Vidal, ruler of Astoria. First of all, I want to clarify something: these lands were abandoned when I arrived. There was no sign, no garrison, no presence to indicate ownership. So I claimed them under the law of terra nullius: no man's land.
—There is no such law in Pentos!
"But it exists in my legal system. And since this land is now under my jurisdiction, it's the law that applies." Marcos smiled. "Besides, I built all this in a week. How long have you 'owned' this land? Decades? And what did you do with it? Nothing. I, on the other hand, built a functioning community. I'd say that gives me more right to claim it."
Vrennis was visibly furious.
"I don't care about your arguments as a foreigner! This land is MINE! And if you don't leave, I'll drag you out by force!"
Marcos looked at Garrett.
—What do you think? Should I give them a scare or a direct show of power?
"A show of force," Garrett replied without hesitation. "If you just scare them, they'll come back with more people."
"Good point." Marco turned to Vrennis. "Magister! Last chance! Withdraw your men now and we'll forget about this! If you insist, I'll teach you a lesson about why you shouldn't bother people with magical power!"
"ATTACK!" shouted Vrennis, clearly believing that Marcos was bluffing.
The forty men charged towards the wall.
Marcos extended both hands.
Her eyes shone crimson red.
And the ground in front of the wall exploded.
It wasn't a fiery or destructive explosion. It was earth manifesting itself, creating a secondary wall in front of the first in literally three seconds. A wall ten meters high, twenty meters long, completely blocking access.
The soldiers stopped dead in their tracks, staring at the new structure in terror.
"WHAT...?" Vrennis was pale.
Marcos didn't stop there.
With a gesture, he created stone pillars that rose from the ground around Vrennis's forces, not to harm them, but to demonstrate absolute control. The pillars rose and fell like waves of stone, completely encircling them.
"THIS IS WITCHCRAFT!" someone shouted.
"No!" Marcos corrected, his voice magically amplified so everyone could hear him. "This is POWER! And this power protects Astoria! Now, Magister Vrennis, I'm going to give you one last chance! Withdraw your men, return to Pentos, and forget about this land! If you come back, I won't be so kind next time!"
The stone pillars were removed, leaving the soldiers free to move.
But neither of them moved for a full ten seconds.
Finally, Vrennis, his face red with humiliation and fury, shouted:
-WITHDRAWAL!
The forty men turned around and fled as if they were being chased by demons.
Vrennis followed them, but before leaving, he shouted:
"This doesn't end here, stranger! We magistrates of Pentos do not forget!"
"Great!" Marcos replied. "Take your time! By the time you get back, I'll have twice as many defenses!"
When they disappeared into the distance, Marcos slumped down, sitting on the wall.
—Holy shit, that was intense.
Garrett laughed.
—Chief, you have just publicly humiliated a magister of Pentos. This will have consequences.
"I know. But I needed to establish dominance. If I let them walk all over us now, they'd never take us seriously." Marcos stood up. "Besides, now they know we're not an easy target."
Down below, in the settlement, the residents had seen everything. They were silent, processing what they had just witnessed.
Then Lysor, the farmer who had arrived first, began to applaud.
Others joined in.
Within five seconds, everyone was clapping and cheering.
—ASTORIA! ASTORY! ASTORY!
Marcos felt something warm in his chest.
Pride.
Not personal pride, but pride in what they were building together.
"We're going to make it," he murmured. "We're really going to build something big here."
Garrett patted him on the shoulder.
—For your own good, I hope you're right. Because you've just made some powerful enemies.
—They wouldn't be the first. And they definitely won't be the last.
That night, Marcos was in his office, updating his master plan.
UPDATED PLAN - BUILDING THE EMPIRE
Phase 1: Establishment (60% COMPLETED) ✓ Acquired territory (Astoria - East Valley) ✓ Basic infrastructure (walls, towers, buildings) ✓ Initial population (34 civilians + 10 guards) ✓ Established resources (blacksmith, carpenters, healer) ✗ Formal government system ✗ Structured economy ✗ Trained army
Phase 2: Consolidation (IN PROGRESS)
Expand population (goal: 200 in one month)
Army training (I need instructors)
Establish legal system
Create internal economy
Defending against annoying magistrates ✓ (one eliminated)
Phase 3: Expansion (FUTURE)
Establish diplomatic relations
Trade with neighboring cities
(???) Daenerys Targaryen (8 days remaining before the wedding)
Strategic conquest (long term)
Marcos leaned back in his chair.
Eight days.
In eight days, Daenerys would be sold to Drogo.
And Marcos still didn't have a clear plan of what to do about it.
Intervene directly? Rescue her? Offer her asylum?
All options had risks.
But doing nothing was also a choice. A choice to let a girl suffer because she was "part of the canon."
"No," she said aloud. "I'm not going to let it happen. I'm going to find a way."
There was a knock at the door.
-Forward.
Elia, the healer, entered. She was a woman of about fifty, with gray hair and sharp eyes.
—Mr. Vidal, please excuse the intrusion.
—It's not intrusion, Elia. What do you need?
—I wanted to thank you. For giving me a place here. —She paused—. And I also wanted to ask you something.
—Ask whatever you want.
—Is it true that you can create... anything? Materials, food, everything?
—Basically, yes.
"So..." Elia hesitated. "Could I create medicines? Medicinal herbs are expensive and hard to come by."
If I could...
Marcos straightened up.
I hadn't thought about it.
He mentally opened his Minecraft inventory.
He navigated to the potions section.
There was everything: healing potions, regeneration potions, strength potions, speed potions...
"Elia," he said slowly. "I think you've just solved a problem I didn't even know I had."
-Mister?
"We can create medicines. Medicines that work instantly." Marcos smiled. "We're going to have the best healthcare system in the known world."
Elia opened her enormous eyes.
—Are you... are you serious?
—Absolutely. We'll start experimenting tomorrow. You tell me what's needed to treat common illnesses, and I'll see what I can create.
—This is going to change everything.
—That's the plan.
When Elia left, Marcos was left alone in his office.
He looked out the window towards Astoria.
Lights (Minecraft torches) illuminated the settlement.
I could hear distant conversations, laughter, people living.
A week ago, this was an empty valley.
Now it was the beginning of something much bigger.
"Seven more days," he told himself. "In seven days, I will meet Daenerys Targaryen. And I will change her destiny."
In Illyrio's mansion, Daenerys suddenly awoke from a strange dream.
He had dreamed of fire.
But not destructive fire.
Protective fire. Warm. Like a refuge.
And in the center of the fire, a figure I couldn't clearly distinguish.
But I felt it was important.
Very important.
[END OF CHAPTER 6]