As Adarin's little flotilla returned to the port, he could only barely stop himself from gawking. Liora and the two tiny terrors were less subtle. Kelvin stood next to him and whistled.

  "Didn't expect it this many so soon."

  Adarin made an expansive gesture. "You will come to see that the Order doesn't engage in half measures."

  At a quick glance, over two hundred ships crowded toward the port, rowers pulling them to long, dilapidated docks that had been rapidly repaired. A stiff breeze blew in from the Great Lake upriver, and Adarin studied the bustle. People were disembarking, the undead pushing wheelbarrows laden with supplies and lives.

  If even half the ships carried a hundred passengers, that meant close to twenty thousand souls. This is going to triple our numbers. He shook his head. This explosive growth will either make us kings or burn us down spectacularly.

  Liora made a gesture next to him, her voice laced with distaste. "Oh look, it's Jacqueline."

  Jacqueline floated above the port, flanked by two robed mages. Liora’s glare made clear she hadn’t forgiven her. Petty. Picking fights with her master’s newest prodigy.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the rolling thunder of Princess Jacqueline's voice.

  "Welcome, welcome, settlers, to the retaken city of Portguard. It was once described as the jewel of the Holy Land, second only to the Holy City itself. You are the tip of the spear, the first after the soldiers to set foot into this untamed land."

  She raised her hands and gestured. The gesture lacked Rüdiger’s bombast but carried a disarming naturalness.

  Liora sniffed.

  Marquardt and Kelvin watched with rapt attention, whereas Devin and Gavin had already gone back to fussing over Gisela, apparently engaged with some array of runes and hissing at each other.

  Adarin's eyes widened fractionally as Gavin drew a knife and waved it while arguing with Devin. Do I step in? No—just their usual way of talking.

  He refocused on the speech that had gone on all the while.

  "...behind the safety of the city walls, do not think that lessens your task. We are fragile right now. Only unity will bring strength, and we need to establish the basics of this beautiful nation of ours. Many of you are the children and grandchildren of those who fled the Holy Lands when the green-skinned menace came as a tide down the mountains. Rest assured your ancestral land will be reclaimed. Most of the Greens have been wiped out and evicted from the Portgard region. Work hard. Work together. Build one nation under magic. Welcome to the Republic of Bone."

  Cheering and applause erupted from the vessels as Adarin's carrack slipped into one of the three military docks. He snidely noted that the other four ships of the flotilla had to wait anchored out in port together with the many other vessels.

  Kelvin tipped his teeth with a nail. "She is intense. Interesting. One of the consuls you told me about?"

  He turned to Duchess Viola, and the Duchess inclined her head. "Indeed. Consul of the Land. The only one holding this position so far."

  Adarin smirked inwardly. Well, Viola, you are going to be surprised if you hear about Rüdiger's plans for that last position. Can't wait to see everyone's faces.

  Adarin made another gesture. "Liora. Wrap up affairs here in the port. Oversee the new arrivals."

  He reached out to the girl whose eyes were beginning to widen. "Don't worry, you got this. Just think what I would do and what is the most efficient thing. Think like a healer. You will be my second in command in many respects, so people need to get used to you being in a position of authority."

  "Thanks, Adarin." She smiled broadly at him. Then she clapped her hands, straightened her face, and began walking down the decks, giving commands, organizing the transport of the wounded she had merely stabilized and not healed.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Adarin made a circular gesture with one of his manipulators. "Duchess, Count, Kelvin, with me. It is time to meet the overlord of this city."

  Without looking back, Adarin took the lead as soon as the gangplank dropped.

  The four of them marched through the bustling streets, through the chaos of settlers, cargo, and luggage. Skeletal and living worked together with zombies to tear down houses. More lots were cleared, and tents were set up. They came across squads of evokers and masons tirelessly evaluating the state of old buildings, condemning them for demolition or clearing them for habitation.

  I guess Rüdiger is shocking the locals with his love of building codes. Or—what he’s doing here is also keeping everyone busy. Keeping everyone in work. The demolition project will consume endless labor. Is that part of the plan? He shrugged. Either way, as long as it keeps all of this from toppling in the wrong direction.

  Finally, they reached one of the main arteries leading through the port districts to the Spire. Duchess Viola and Kelvin were talking, the Duchess catching the half-goblin up on affairs of state and what had recently happened. Kelvin’s eyes darted from side to side. He made appreciative noises and asked leading questions, keeping the Duchess going. He’s good. Dangerous and pragmatic. I’m not sure how much the Duchess is playing along, or how much she understands she’s being used.

  Count Marquardt soon cleared his throat. “With the expedition to Dreyrivers, have you already considered who you will take with you?”

  Adarin allowed himself a wolfish smile in the privacy of his mind, then turned to the Count. “I can’t say I have. I was rather busy fighting tree spirits recently.”

  The Count chuckled. “Well, that certainly was an interesting experience. My head is still hurting whenever I think about the singing, the humming.” He shook himself as if trying to get rid of water or dirt stuck to his cloak. “And you really subjugated those creatures?”

  Adarin shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s the correct term for what happened, but I was granted the gift of the willow. I felt all the willows on the Great River, how they have shaped the land for thousands of years.”

  The Count whistled and nodded. “A grand gift from the system. Such are rare on the E Tier.”

  Adarin glanced over, studying the tattoo on the Count’s arm. Rebel Leader, Level 29. He narrowed his eyes. “Count, you have an extraordinarily high level. How did you survive whatever happened in Northgard?”

  He shrugged. “I presume the same way Rüdiger survived. Rejecting a core isn’t too complicated a process. It’s just that I had years of combat experience against shamans and dark—” He caught himself, swallowing before the word wizards escaped.

  Adarin smirked to himself. Unwise choice of words given his current employers.

  “Mages,” the Count continued lamely. “I just think many of the powerful never consider it an option because it is such a dangerous defensive technique and so costly that it is almost never worth it.”

  Adarin nodded. So the count is skilled in the ways of levels. I wonder what sort of magic he practices? They passed by streets filled with the clanking of hammers on stone as walls were broken down and parts of buildings came crashing down. Stone, wood, and lumber were extracted and hauled to new construction sites.

  “Tell me, Count, whom would you have me take to Dreyrivers?”

  The Count didn’t answer, but his eyes narrowed and he glanced to the Duchess.

  Adarin nodded to himself, smiling. He wants her shipped off, buried in the wilderness, far from power.

  I truly haven’t given this any thought. Really should have. Adarin was about to answer, to deflect and assemble, when suddenly the sounds of screaming and chanting could be heard.

  “Death to the Greens! Death to the Greens! Death to the Greens!”

  Adarin held up a manipulator, but Marquardt made a dismissive gesture. “Probably just a protest. The Order soldiers should take care of it soon. Nothing we need to concern ourselves with.”

  Adarin’s eyes narrowed. Too quick to dismiss it. Viola’s eyes widened and she turned to Kelvin. “Sir Adarin, we need to investigate this. What if there is civil unrest?”

  “Indeed.” Adarin gestured, letting Duchess Viola take the lead. He and Kelvin followed, and after hesitating for a moment, Count Marquardt fell in behind them.

  They reached one of the side markets that had probably once sold specialty goods. Two beams from a construction pile had been lashed between houses, crude gallows rising over a mob herding two dozen half-orcs beneath them. Three already stood with nooses around their necks while the crowd pelted them with stones. A woman almost stumbled but caught herself at the last moment.

  Great. A lynch mob. Just what I needed to make my day brighter.

  Adarin groaned, ratcheted his volume up to maximum—the safe maximum—and screamed:

  “Cease this at once and explain yourselves now!”

  The hostile eyes of over two hundred people, most of them newly arrived settlers though a significant fraction clearly native Portguardians, turned on him. They held rocks, tools, and utter hatred in their eyes.