Unity had been won on the road, but in the council chamber, it began to unravel.
Farmers sat stiffly on one side of the long table, merchants on the other. The high priest of the temple town glared at the warrior chief. Voices rose until the chamber shook with anger.
"The merchants cheat us, raising prices when harvests fail!" the farmers' leader spat.
"And what of you?" the jeweled guildmistress snapped. "You expect bread for free while we risk caravans to bandits!"
The warrior chief slammed his fist, rattling goblets. "While you bicker like children, who guards your walls? My men bleed, yet we are denied steel and pay!"
The priest's voice cut through, cold and sharp. "And where is devotion to the gods in all this? A kingdom without faith is no kingdom at all."
The room erupted-shouts, curses, fists pounding the table.
Saturo sat at the head, silent, heart racing. Weeks ago, he was fumbling through sword drills. Now he was expected to hold an entire kingdom together.
What do I do? he thought, clenching his hands.
Then, faintly, the King System stirred. A calm, otherworldly whisper echoed in his mind:
> [Insight Activated: Division breeds ruin. Balance breeds loyalty. Assign roles fitting to strengths.]
Saturo rose. The noise fell to a hush. His voice, steady and sharp, cut through the tension.
"Enough. You demand fairness, yet each of you pulls only for yourselves. If we continue like this, we'll collapse before an enemy even strikes. I will give you what you want-but also what this nation needs."
He looked first to the farmers' leader.
"You will oversee grain storage and distribution. No one starves while others hoard. But you will report directly to the council."
To the merchants' guildmistress:
"You will manage trade routes and taxes. In return, tariffs will be reduced, but caravans will contribute soldiers and supplies for defense."
To the warrior chief:
"You and your men will form the King's Guard, protectors not just of battlefields but of the people. You will receive steel-but also accountability. Misuse of arms will be judged by this council."
Finally, he turned to the priest.
"And you, High Priest, will serve as Keeper of Records, preserving both faith and law. You will guide the people's spirit, but faith will never be used to chain those who believe differently."
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Discontent lingered-but so did surprise. Saturo wasn't taking sides. He was weaving them into one fabric.
The warrior chief grinned, slamming his chest in salute.
"Hah! At least the boy has spine. I'll serve."
The guildmistress narrowed her eyes but bowed her head.
"Fair terms... for now."
The farmers muttered, but their leader nodded.
"If the king ensures no mouth goes hungry, we'll trust him."
The priest remained still the longest, then finally whispered,
"Perhaps... the gods do walk with you."
The tension ebbed-not gone, but restrained.
As the council ended, Saturo leaned back, exhausted. Garron clapped him on the shoulder with a rough hand.
"You handled that like a king."
Saturo let out a shaky breath. Inside, he whispered to himself:
"No... I handled it with the System's help. But maybe... maybe I'm starting to grow into the crown."
---
The council chamber was calmer now, but Saturo knew that peace was fragile. Arguments had been silenced, not solved. The kingdom would hold only if its people had something stronger than fear tying them together.
That night, staring at a map lit by candlelight, Saturo whispered:
"Walls and swords can defend us for a season. But roads, trade, knowledge... those last generations."
The King System pulsed again, offering visions of possibility.
> [Insight: A ruler builds not only armies but futures.]
Saturo declared the creation of the Royal Academy, a place where promising youths could study combat, aura, strategy, and letters. Garron scoffed at the idea of teaching "weaklings," but Saturo stood firm.
"Even a farmer's son with a spear can change the tide of war if trained. Even a merchant's daughter can guide trade if taught. We will not waste talent."
Liora smiled, offering to oversee the education of scribes and healers. Slowly, students from each settlement began to gather-some nervous, others eager.
Saturo ordered the construction of roads linking all five settlements. It was grueling, expensive work. Farmers grumbled at losing labor, merchants worried about lost profits, but Saturo personally traveled to the worksites, encouraging the workers.
When the first stone road connected Dornvale to the trade hub, merchants gasped at how quickly goods moved. Caravans tripled, and for the first time, settlements felt less like rivals and more like pieces of one body.
The roads had bound the settlements together, but Saturo knew the truth: their kingdom was still a candle in the dark. Beyond their borders stretched valleys, forests, mountains-and nations they had never seen.
One evening, as the council discussed grain yields, Saturo interrupted, eyes fixed on the worn map spread across the table.
"This map is nothing but guesses and hearsay," he said, tapping the parchment. "If we do not know the world, we will always be its prey. From this day forward, we will chart it ourselves."
The room fell silent. Garron raised a brow.
"You mean to send scouts? Risking lives for drawings?"
Saturo nodded.
"Not just drawings. Knowledge. Rivers, mines, fertile plains, trade routes, even kingdoms. Every piece of land not known is a weapon that could one day be turned against us."
Liora smiled faintly.
"Wisdom itself can be sharper than a sword."
Saturo ordered the formation of a new corps: the Royal Scouts. Fast riders, hunters, and survivalists volunteered. Some were veterans, others young thrill-seekers drawn by adventure.
Saturo himself oversaw their oaths:
"Bring back truth, not glory. The land itself is our enemy until we learn its secrets."
Equipped with journals, compasses, and carrier hawks for messages, they rode out in every direction.
Months passed, and reports trickled in:
To the north, endless pine forests where ruins of an ancient city lay hidden.
To the east, mountain ranges rich with iron, but guarded by monstrous beasts.
To the south, fertile plains-but claimed by a banner of a foreign kingdom.
To the west, desert lands with whispers of nomadic tribes and wandering sorcerers.
Each report widened Saturo's understanding-and his unease. They were not alone.
-
Months later, the scouts returned, sunburned and scarred, but alive. Saturo stood as they spread the new map across the chamber.
The settlements, once lonely dots, were now a center-surrounded by forests, mountains, plains, deserts, and distant nations marked with banners.
Garron whistled low.
"Looks like our 'kingdom' is but a seed in a forest of giants."
The guildmistress leaned over the parchment, eyes gleaming.
"Trade routes. Rivers. If we move quickly, we could dominate the crossings."
The priest muttered a prayer.
"So many unknown gods... so many chances for heresy."
Saturo placed his hand on the map, heart pounding.
"This... is the true beginning. If we wish to survive, we must not only grow strong-we must grow wise. For every crown beyond these borders may belong to another like me."
---
That night, Saturo studied the map alone. His aura flickered faintly in the candlelight as he whispered:
"This land is no longer a mystery. It is a challenge. And I will not let it swallow us."
The flame wavered... as if the world itself was listening.
---