Special Note: The Prologue to the entire series, posted back on 5/2/2025, was for some reason deleted somewhere along the way. It was restored 10/13/2025. I apologize to any readers who missed it. It gives context on game mechanics and setting going into Chapter One, and I do recommend reading it.

We entered the taproom, set with wide windows and benched tables instead of chairs, and I saw Sir Horn’s group dominating a corner in their armor and weapons scattered about, clearly ready for some sort of trouble to manifest. Given that pretty much every one of them was Hellenar, and Hellenar weren’t even supposed to be carrying weapons, that was a clear show of their confidence in doing as they pleased hereabouts, even with a major fort for the Archduke’s soldiers just down the road.
“Lady Edge!” he called out instantly upon seeing me, all heads turning as our colorful group came in through the doors. “Clear off that table, lads, and let them have a seat!” he said cheerfully. “She’s the one who recommended Ninez here to us, the elfin I met up in the Bleaklands!” he told them all happily.
Initially wary features cleared up quickly after hearing that, and the knights hastened to get their extra gear off the neighboring table to make room for us. The innkeeper and his serving wenches descended rapidly upon us, greeting everyone enthusiastically once we were known to be considered friends of the local hero.
Introductions were made all around, a bunch of younger Hellenar of both the area and drawn to the place by the reputation Sir Horn was forging as he adventured about the area, dealing with things that had been bedeviling the local populations with frankly bewildering speed.
Tales were soon flowing back and forth, other people were drifting in to enjoy the entertainment of Zanzyrans and the local heroes trading stories, and soon enough everyone was informed of what Sir Horn had been up to.
Ninez, who looked remarkably similar to a Colorajo elfin, had erected a keep for Sir Horn less than a mile to the south of the town of Culm, clearly establishing a defensive strongpoint on a hill near the main road leading into the town, and thereby silently asserting that he’d be taking governance of the town over sooner, rather than later. This had naturally made the local Siricilans in power very nervous, along with Fort Lumlriz nearby, as his keep was instantly a better defensive fortification than their own!
But who it really pissed off was the Black Wolf Baron, because Sir Horn was gathering forces to himself that were directly spitting in the faces of the Marquis and his troops, both nifloid and otherwise. Tales of undead, bandits, lots of werewolves, goblins, orcs, ogres, Iron Chain slavers, and raiders coming from the Black Wolf Barony to the southeast were soon peppering our ears with energy and verve.
Tales were also being related of how the new settlers were doing.
Plans had been adjusted after learning of just how bad the population problem was in Warsherz, with over half the nation basically wildlands disputed and claimed by nifloids in numbers, and the ‘civilized’ portion groaning under the weight of incompetent, fractured locals, and racist and corrupt conquerors. It was a place ripe for change, competency, and focus, and Sir Horn was tapped to do the job.
His initial settlers were a mix of independent Moorsfolk and Elbers relocated from their devastated lands. The first were ornery free-minded and independent folk who wouldn’t knuckle under to anyone readily, and the latter were coming off a period of slavery and wildly committed to never being subjugated like that again.
Neither were afraid of orcs or goblins in the slightest, as their beast-men ancestors had come in all shapes and sizes, and had not only been fought off, but exterminated! After the example I’d set for them, they basically considered the humans of the modern age soft for not dealing with the threat, and were totally willing to do so for me.
The Siricilans coming in stank of the same kind of racist superiority that the Khirifi had, and that kind of arrogance had usually ended in violence.
The men of the Horn had their free will, but they also had learned very hard lessons about sticking together against common foes and not letting prejudices and blood feuds rule their lives. It was a new land, a new beginning, and they had a chance to do things right here. They were seizing it with both hands, and making waves as they did so.
The rather harried commander of Fort Lumlriz nearby had once ridden out in a show of force with his troops, and found his cavalry facing a disciplined pike square with supporting longbowmen and very well-armored knights flanking them that threatened to wipe him off the field.
He’d turned around and headed home rather than cause trouble, returning to his base to find Fort Lumlriz no longer had any exterior walls, the keep itself completely exposed to any force that wanted to ride up to it. Towers, battlements, gates… they were all just wiped away and gone during the night… although the keep itself somehow had repaired a lot of its outer stonework and was actually looking rather fresh and new, as were the smithy, garrison, and the stables.
The thoroughly intimidated commander had issued a formal apology to Lord Horn, recognizing his authority over Culm and his settlement nearby.
Two days later, he was hauled out of bed to find the walls of his keep returned, except they were half again as tall, and the interior dimensions had doubled, no, quadrupled somehow, with the existing buildings moved about without disturbing anyone, and all the stonework was marvelously engineered.
There was also a nice letter addressed to him saying that Lord Horn would be in frequent communication with him about coordinating efforts against the local bandits, nifloids, and slavers. The commander had caved instantly, oaths to the Archduke or no, and had actually been rewarded with several crushing attacks on the local tribes and brigands that plagued the area that had done even more to raise the morale of his men. If word of the new Lord Horn didn’t make it into his official reports to the Archduke, well, that was fine. Let His Highness Warsherz send his spies out to make a report on their own.

Ninez had done good work on the Keep of the Horn, as it was now being called. It was a large and sprawling fortification capable of easily housing the entire local population of the settlers around it, pretty much all of their cattle, and it had room to spare. Getting the reserves up would take time and money, but she was also helping with the clearing of the farms and setting up the agriculture, which I and thus she had a LOT of experience in doing. The orderly farms were attracting their own kind of attention, as was the first Iron Tractor Construct she had put together to help with breaking up the ground, using printed parts from the fabber now in place at Innspot and just enchanting it up with an independent magical power source, basically Gearsmithing it.
With more pulling power than several horses and adamantine-sheathed plowshares, the Tractor could rip open a lot of ground without much trouble, to the delight of the farmers who it saved so much labor for. The attachments to harvest grain and potatoes were already on the way, and everyone was looking forward to seeing them at work.
Permanency spells and magical effects did absolute wonders for raising the floor, you just needed a willing high-Level Caster around to do the things.
Also, Cryptomancy did wonders for helping raise castles from nothing basically overnight, too, with Shaping Stone off Elemental Command Rings helping fine-tune everything. Ninez had plenty to fill her days without ever leaving the area, and that polite show of power in wiping away Fort Lumlriz’s walls meant nobody was testing her magical prowess in this area.

“So, rewarding work, Horn?” I asked him later that night in his study, magical flames crackling on wood that would never be consumed, brandy in our hands. It wasn’t good wine country, but it had the potential for good vodka, so a distillery was already being set up.
“The very best, Lady Edge,” he smiled gratefully. “Watching people come together to build something, instead of tearing at one another with old feuds, has been the most gratifying thing in my whole life. I do not think I or the people here can thank you enough for your guidance and your aid.”
I dismissed it calmly. “It all just creates more trouble, as I understand Guy and Buck have been discovering.”
He just nodded slowly, gesturing in the direction of Ninez’s chambers. “Vampires and werefolk are hiding out here, much as they seem to be doing in Zanzyr, and they spread so easily. Ninez has had to deal with fourteen cases of infection in just the past two months, and I had to track one roving pack for nearly fifty miles before catching them, the bastards.” He took a drink of the brandy. “I’ve killed nearly forty just in the ride around Culm.” Basically about twenty miles, give or take. “I could not believe the problem was so bad. And of course, an ancient vampire in the old keep to the east, turning hapless explorers into vampire spawn and minions and sending them back out into the world-!” His hand shook on his goblet with his anger.
“You’ve let the werebears be, I trust?” I chided him calmly.
“Any families were given the right to declare a territory and establish themselves as its protectors, with the caveat that they had to actually defend it from intruders. The land along the swamp to the west is basically theirs, we’ve marked it off, and they’ve done a good job keeping the creatures in the swamp at bay. I’ve a pack of Hounds who run the circuit regularly and keep track of intruders, especially from the Marquis.”
“Ah, yes. I trust you have something final prepared for him,” I said darkly.
“You probably haven’t heard any new tales of his court mage,” Sir Horn smiled thinly. “Ninez caught that bastard Hurgle in his chambers and arranged for a rather powerful necroic explosion, turned a third of the castle guards into undead who ripped into and through the rest of them before the Marquis managed to kill them, also setting his keep on fire, and really demoralized the men fighting for him.”
A hostile Wizard-level mage was not something I would want my civilians to put up with, so Ninez being a little pro-active was definitely a good thing for a total rat bastard. “Didn’t off the Marquis himself, I see.”
“Oh, no. He’s going to be an object lesson. On the side, Awakened Hounds make incredible spies, you know?” he smiled.
“I do,” I nodded. And they could Swear an Allegiance Oath, too. Nobody really looked askance at dogs, so Hounds could eavesdrop shamelessly, go places normal folks could not, and were largely trusted to just be good and faithful companions where humans might be suspected.
They made for an extremely good scouting and spy network back home. Making a Rapid Awakening Stall that could Awaken three Hounds or Horses a day was one of the great secret strengths of this settlement, as it was for the elves of Erendyl back in Zanzyr.
A pack of ‘wild’ Hounds patrolling the edges of a settlement, or setting themselves up in the Black Wolf Barony/March (the idiot couldn’t keep his title straight), was largely beneath notice, and as long as they didn’t attack humans or cattle, nobody cared.
They also naturally loathed most werebeasts, and would hunt them with relentless passion if they caught scent of them. That they would also pick off orc and goblin raiders, scouts, hunters, and scavengers was also a given, and a huge reason for the drop-off in random nifloid attacks in this area.
“The Black Wolf Baron can’t make a move with troops that we don’t know about, and the Hounds have been breaking down his communication network with his agents. The ability of Hounds to actually communicate with one another and convey smells through the Markspace is incredible for identifying them just by their tracks!” Sir Horn said enthusiastically.