295. Interlude – Peripheral Consequences

295. Interlude – Peripheral Consequences

295 - Interlude - The Aeonic Landas Era

Landas

Commander Argo looked and noticed unusual expressions in his fellow elves.

They didn’t have the old expressions of exhaustion, or anger, or joy.

Stress.

His fellow elves struggled to keep up with the demands of their new rulers. Fortifications were constructed at breakneck pace, the old farms rebuilt so quickly. The visitors. The divine guides. Argo, in his heart, thought of them as the messengers of heaven.

It was hard.

His people were so used to subsistence. So used to existing scraping by, that the messengers of the Tree God had to teach and reintroduce many new skills. Even the art of building better homes, or processing tools, or recording information.

Landas lost so much of its old administrative abilities and knowledge. But, the change brought by the messengers had been swift, so swift that his people, now no longer existing under the threat of the demons, struggled to adapt.

Stress.

They were all listening to the centaur, talking about recording information, city design, and city administration. Things they never thought about. It didn’t matter when things could get destroyed.

But now, they had to design for permanence. They had to rebuild their military ability, and they were all, truly, stressed.

The old elven soldiers were now trained by the messengers. They were veterans of war. Many of them were old too, and survivors of many demonic attacks.

But they survived without regimented training. They gained their levels, often learning from the older soldiers, and from each other. Their methods and styles all contained habits that didn’t always work.

Now the Valthorns came, and truly, they were a thorn in their backside.

Yet it was not defiance. His people were not defiant. They knew how different the power level were.

Every single messenger Argo met was level 100 and more. They were stronger, their equipment and tactics were well honed. In some ways, they were truly anti-demonic specialists, and they wanted to train them to be like them.

The Valthorn Lord present came with a small army of expertly built golems. A [Golem Master] of some sort, and somehow, the laborers worked to rebuild the city.

“Nunarnusk must be rebuilt quickly and better.” The man said. “And unfortunately, many of you lost the skills to do it. We will have to bridge the gap. But first, we need all the old designs out of your old archives!”

Nunarnusk was an ancient city, and the druids’ magical roots pierced the ground and revealed many such old structures hidden after centuries of war. Many of them were hidden under debris, and over time, forgotten. Their people were too busy surviving war after war that the brief periods of peace didn’t grant them much respite to even think of archaeology.

Stress.

The elders squinted and cracked their heads trying to decipher text from the old days that they struggled. Some of them were written in old White Elven that none of them truly could say they still understood.

Even though the [system] naturally bridged the speaking language, and often granted knowledge of the current lingua franca, the written system drifted over the centuries, and that drift meant old text started to lose legibility after sufficient amount of drift.

But the messengers insisted that they dig anyway.

The messengers were not all warriors. Some were clearly mage-scholars, fascinated to pour over new text and subjects never before seen by their kind.

Commander Argo was nearby when he saw a group of them discuss. They spoke fairly audibly that Argo heard them loud and clear. “Our goals for the excavation are to locate old maps and find old spells. From those old maps, we then locate places of magical study. If we are lucky, we may be able to learn new spells that were previously unique to the White Elves. We will have to leave the originals here with the White Elves as per our caretaking agreement, but what we learn, we take and add to our library of spells. We will also extend our coverage outside of Nunarnusk, if there are any strong leads. Understood?”

The rest of them nodded.

Old spells. Argo wondered to himself what old spells did the White Elves know. A part of him wondered whether he should consider it sacred and sacrilegious to let these newcomers go through their history..

But the locals had no strength to resist them.

Nunarnusk and the many capitals were all home to great elven mages during the pre-demonic age.

Though the messengers clearly came to help, it seemed that they also had ulterior motives of their own.

***

Roskor was a hive of activity, as new areas for housing were built seemingly overnight. Gigantic trees turned into homes littered the outer ring of Roskor’s original fort, all meant to house the tens of thousands of refugees that now called Roskor home. Follow the latest novels at novelhall.com

Refugees.

Novorosk looked out of a small door. It was normally closed, but these days, there was no risk. The view was of a Roskor that was changing.

A warrior would have no place in a time of peace.

“I want to.” Novorosk said.

Samuel nodded. “You worry for your team.”

Novorosk wanted to say no, but then nodded. “Yes. I- I still wonder whether my place is here or there. Or whether I should even-”

“You should join the Valthorns. I’ve seen what they want to do, and they still need more soldiers. They need far more than you can fathom.”

“Why?”

Samuel looked up, there was a ceiling on top. There were fading paintings made by the old White Elves from an older time. “There are thousands of worlds out there, many of them like ours, struggling to hold on. They all need help. You received help, Warleader Novorosk. It is time to do your part, and help those who are in need.”

Novorosk looked at Samuel. He heard of the same briefing, and understood what it meant. “I know. I- I just need some time to tell my team.”

“They will understand, just as how the rest of the heroes understood I needed time. I, too, was not ready to face the demon king again.” The two exchanged glances, and Novorosk understood that Samuel was still afraid of the demon king. The demon king cursed him in their first confrontation, and even though he successfully fled, the curse deteriorated and left him in a near-comatose state, with the Cherry spirit tree trying its best to keep him alive.

The warleader sighed. To the hero, the hero must think his own fears as just something small. “I will.”

“Good. I’m done. I will have to speak to the mages. Can you call them?” Samuel took out a crystal spherical object that quickly made itself at home.

Novorosk felt its magical energies spread out, and another magical protective layer emerged over their Fortress. It wouldn’t be enough to cover all of Roskor. Not with all the new settlements outside its old walls.

But it was just an additional layer of security. An insurance.

“I’ll call them in, Hero Samahiro. Please wait.”

“Good. I hope the next time I see you, it’s when you are in a different set of uniforms.”

Novorosk chuckled at how quickly the elven hero switched allegiances. But he was right. The world is much bigger than he thought. He’d speak to the Druid Falin later, and see whether he could be a new member of the Valthorns.

***

“I’ve been wondering when you would ask.” Druid Falin had a schedule where he visited each of the different elven cities. There were only about thirty large surviving elven cities, and Roskor was one of them.

“You know?”

“You’re not the first, Warleader Novorosk. The Valthorns are already vetting those who wish to join.”

“How- how many asked?”

“About a hundred for now. We expect more to join, eventually.” Falin patted Novorosk on the shoulder. “I can’t give you any special benefits, but you’ll have to join the training system. Once you’re sufficiently trained, you will be sent to where Aeon sees fit.”

Novorosk shuddered. “I see.”

“Many will fail. Being around Aeon is a difficult thing, and minds need to be made of sterner stuff.”

Novorosk remembered the sensation of having his mind assaulted. It was something that still lingered until today.

“But many of you are warriors who lived a life of protecting your homes. If you do it for the right reasons, and so, I think you will find it easier.” Falin said.

“I do?”

“Those that put themselves out there must be willing to burn a bit of themselves.” The druid said.

Novorosk didn’t understand. “Why?”

Falin smiled. “Because you will be digging deeper into yourself, all the time. You will try to be more, do more. We burn a little bit of ourselves so that together, we shine brighter.”

Novorosk thought that sounded familiar. It was a sensation he remembered. He nodded. “I look forward to it.”

Falin tapped him on the shoulder again. “I hope to see you soon, Warleader Novorosk. Be prepared for transport.”