Chapter 19: System Error and an Imperial Invitation
Personal System Calendar: Year 0009, Days 21-28 Month VI: The Imperium
Imperial Calendar: Year 6854, 6th month, 21st to 28th Day
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Faithful Surrender
August had somehow recovered physically, though the process had been anything but voluntary. The women of his household, led by Aunt Theressa and supported enthusiastically by Angeline, Betty, and Isabel, had taken it upon themselves to ensure his proper recuperation. They force-fed him nutritious meals at regular intervals, ignoring his protests that he was fine and could manage his own recovery.
Even August, accustomed to taking charge and maintaining control, found himself gulping in defeat when faced with their united determination. There was something simultaneously terrifying and touching about the way they had coordinated their efforts, taking shifts to ensure he was never left unsupervised long enough to do something foolish like attempt to return to training prematurely.
After the forced feeding regimen, they had mandated rest for several days, with only light exercises and physical therapy permitted as activities. August had chafed under these restrictions initially, his mind constantly turning to the dozens of tasks and responsibilities awaiting his attention. But gradually he had come to accept that the village was functioning well even without his constant input.
The council continued to meet and make necessary decisions. Chief Red coordinated security operations with the Imperial forces and Axel Martin. Jonathan Ross managed the militia's logistics and civilian affairs with his usual efficiency. Master Ben handled magical defenses and consulted on strategic matters. The department heads each fulfilled their roles competently.
August felt relieved by this realization, though it also carried a hint of bittersweet recognition. He had built systems specifically so the village would not be entirely dependent on him, but seeing those systems work so smoothly in his absence made him wonder if he was truly as essential as he had thought.
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Honoring the Fallen
One thing August insisted on doing, despite protests about his need for rest, was visiting each family of the fallen. He felt this was a responsibility that could not be delegated, a duty he owed to those who had died defending the village he had built.
For those who had families in the village, he made personal visits to their homes. He went to the patriarchs of the Greenfield and Archer families, men who had lost sons and nephews in the battle. August offered his sincere apologies, his voice thick with emotion as he spoke of his failure to protect their loved ones.
Then he met with the widows and children left behind. He assured them he would do better in the future, that he would find ways to prevent such tragedies from recurring. The words felt hollow even as he spoke them, promises made to ease his own guilt as much as to comfort the bereaved.
The families could not bring themselves to point fingers at their savior. They understood, intellectually if not emotionally, that August was not at fault for what had happened. He had saved far more lives than had been lost. Without his intervention, the entire village might have been destroyed. But they accepted his apologies nonetheless, recognizing that denying him this chance to express his remorse would only degrade his resolve.
They had heard that August visited the graves daily, standing there for hours in silent contemplation. Some had seen him themselves, observing from a respectful distance as he knelt before the memorial stones and spoke words too quiet to hear.
For the six who had no families in the village, August could only offer his apologies to their graves directly. He stood before each marker, recounting what he knew of the person buried there, acknowledging their courage and sacrifice. Then he visited their neighbors in the apartment building, giving them the same assurances he had offered to the families with deeper roots in the community.
This had become his routine during the recovery period. Visit the graves in the morning, speak with the families in the afternoon, and spend the evenings trying to understand what had happened to his Personal System.
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The System Problem
The loss of communication with his Personal System was deeply concerning, though in a strange way, everything still seemed to function. August could access his skills without difficulty. He could feel his mana flowing properly, could cast spells and use abilities just as he always had. Nothing felt fundamentally wrong with his capabilities.
But he could not access the interface itself. He could not check his status, review his skills in detail, or see what changes might have occurred during his transformation. The System was there, he could sense its presence like a familiar weight in the back of his mind, but it was simultaneously not there, refusing all attempts at direct communication.
Every time he tried to open the interface, the same message appeared in corrupted, barely readable text: [SYSTEM ERROR].
What August could not know was that the System itself had exhausted its resources fixing him over the past three weeks. From the moment of his transformation during the battle until his eventual collapse, the Personal System had been operating at maximum capacity, desperately trying to prevent him from being consumed by powers his body was not ready to handle.
It had taken no breaks, no rest periods, pushing itself beyond its designed operational parameters. The strain had been immense, and now the System required maintenance and recovery of its own.
Those administrators and technicians at System Headquarters had made the difficult decision to temporarily shut down certain functions. But not entirely, they could not risk leaving August without access to his abilities, but enough to allow for critical repairs and updates to be implemented.
The timing was complicated by another factor: August had already bypassed dozens of intended progression gates and reached the maximum player level of 50 for Personal System Level 2. This was unprecedented. The System architects had designed careful progression curves, expecting it would take years for any Prospect to reach such heights.
Now they had to prepare for the eventuality that August would soon attempt to upgrade to Personal System Level 3, entering an entirely new tier of capabilities and challenges. They had not even managed to fully develop and test all the intermediate content, and here he was already pushing toward the next major threshold.
It had been quite a headache for everyone involved. Administrator Magnus and Manager Dorothy were working nearly around the clock, coordinating with technical teams, testing new code, and trying to anticipate what other unexpected developments August might trigger.
But these concerns were theirs to manage, not August's. For him, the System error was simply an unexplained complication, another problem added to an already overwhelming list.
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The Dragonguards Arrival
August spent his days following this routine when the last day of the month arrived. It was a day like any other, morning exercises followed by visits to the memorial, until an unexpected development changed everything.
An Imperial delegation arrived at the village gates, but this was no ordinary group of soldiers or officials. They carried credentials and displayed insignia that made even the veteran Imperial forces stationed in the village snap to attention with respect bordering on reverence.
These were the Dragonguard, the elite Imperial Royal Knights responsible for protecting the Emperor himself and maintaining security in the heart of the capital city, Aethelguard. Their arrival at a remote frontier village was extraordinary, suggesting matters of the highest importance.
There were fifty-one individuals in total, a half-century formation that represented a significant deployment of these rare and powerful warriors. All of them held Master Rank as a minimum qualification, with several achieving the even more rarefied Grandmaster status. It was the standard requirement for acceptance into this most elite of military orders.
The Dragonguard could probably destroy entire kingdoms on their own if ordered to do so. Each member was a legend in their own right, warriors whose names were spoken with awe and fear throughout the Empire. But right now, they bore a different responsibility: delivering a message to its intended recipient.
The matter must be of extraordinary importance if the Emperor had dispatched the Dragonguard for this task rather than trusting it to regular military couriers or diplomatic channels.
At a distance, they bore the banner of their order, displaying the complex sigil that represented their allegiance and identity. The crowned Dragon Prince Chronusfyre Solumbra was depicted with wings spread protectively over a Golden Elm Tree. Crossed Arcane Staves and Emperor Janus's legendary sword Intertwined at the center of the composition, symbolizing the union of temporal and mystical power that the Empire represented.
The number XX was also prominently displayed, indicating they belonged to the Twentieth Dragon Cohort. The Dragonguard, numbering one hundred thousand strong across the entire Empire, was divided into twenty dragon cohorts of five thousand warriors each. Each cohort had specialized roles in the protection of the Emperor and the execution of Imperial will.
The Twentieth Cohort was responsible for handling external affairs that the Emperor deemed too complex or dangerous for the regular Imperial Army to manage. They served as troubleshooters, elite problem-solvers deployed when conventional forces were insufficient. Their presence here spoke volumes about how seriously the Emperor was taking whatever matter had prompted this visit.
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Giants Amongst Men
In the center of the formation rode the Grand Captain Commander of the unit. The Dragonguard were imposing figures, each standing nearly twelve feet in height when fully armored. Their leader was even taller by a foot, his presence dominating the landscape through sheer physical magnitude.
They wore massive suits of armor that made them appear as walking giants of destruction. The armor was not merely protective but also symbolic, each piece crafted with such skill that it transcended mere equipment and became a work of art and a symbol of power, that is to be feared and to be awed. Enchantments woven into the metal made them nearly invulnerable, while careful design ensured maximum mobility despite the weight.
But they were not on foot. Each Dragonguard rode a war beast bred specifically for their unique requirements. These were not normal thoroughbred horses but creatures of war that had been enhanced through generations of selective breeding and magical augmentation.
The beasts stood as tall as their riders, possessed eight massive legs instead of four, and carried muscle mass that made "huge" seem like an understatement. They were titans in their own right, capable of bearing their riders' full weight without compromising speed or agility. The ground shook with each step they took, a rhythmic thunder that announced their approach long before they came into view.
All Dragonguard members bore the family name of Draconis, having renounced whatever surnames they possessed before joining the order. To serve in this elite unit was considered a great honor, representing the pinnacle of military achievement. They had earned the privilege to witness the Emperor directly and to serve the people of the Empire in the most direct and meaningful way possible.
The Grand Captain Commander of this unit was named Lex Draconis. Like all his brothers and sisters in the order, he had given up his birth name and identity to become something greater, something that transcended individual ambition or family loyalty.
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The Village Response
The guards who first spotted the approaching procession reacted with alarm. They saw the massive figures, the war beasts, the sheer overwhelming presence of the force, and their training took over. They began ringing the alarm bells in quick succession, the pattern indicating a potential invasion or major threat.
But the Imperial soldiers stationed in the village recognized the sigil immediately. One veteran sergeant, his face going pale as he processed what he was seeing, began shouting corrections before panic could spread.
"These are not enemies! They are the spears and swords of the Emperor himself! They are from the Twentieth Dragon Cohort! Someone alert the Baroness immediately!"
One soldier ran at full sprint toward Baroness Hilda's quarters. She had established her command post in a section of the village that provided both comfortable accommodations and quick access to the defensive positions. The soldier burst into her office without ceremony, the breach of protocol forgiven given the extraordinary circumstances.
After receiving the breathless report, Baroness Hilda quickly donned her ceremonial military uniform. This visit was quite unexpected, and she felt unprepared for receiving such distinguished guests. The entire village was similarly caught off guard, scrambling to present a proper reception for warriors who served the Emperor directly.
As soon as she reached the village gates, properly attired and accompanied by her senior officers, she found the towering soldiers arrayed in disciplined and uniform formation. They had not entered the village, maintaining position outside the walls as protocol required until properly received by local authority.
Baroness Hilda stepped forward, her bearing confident despite the intimidating presence before her. "Greetings. I am Baroness Hilda Burnguard-Solmane, Captain Commander of the Imperial detachment stationed here. To what do we owe the honor of the Emperor's Spear gracing us with their presence?"
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The Grand Captain Commander
The Grand Captain Commander stood motionless for a moment, a statue of martial perfection. Imperial protocol was complex when it came to the Dragonguard. Technically, they were knights rather than nobles, but their prestigious order held a reputation entirely its own. They were considered equals or even superiors to most nobles in matters of military authority and Imperial business.
They were called gods among men, and the title was not entirely metaphorical. Their combat capabilities approached the divine, and their reputation for brutal but fair judgment was legendary throughout the Empire. To meet one was considered menacing under any circumstances.
The Grand Captain Commander reached up and removed his ornately adorned helmet. The crest featured stylized draconic horns and a plume made from the tail hair of his war beast mount. His personal coloring was a distinctive mixture of gold and black, marking him clearly as a commander. The rank and file behind him wore armor in black and red, a color scheme that made the distinction between leadership and soldiers immediately apparent.
As the helmet came away, it revealed the face of a veteran warrior. Scars crisscrossed his features, each one telling a story of battles fought and survived. He had streaks of white-silver hair mixed throughout his otherwise dark hair, giving him a distinguished appearance. From his outer appearance, he seemed to be a middle-aged man, perhaps in his forties or fifties.
In reality, Grand Captain Commander Lex Draconis was approaching three centuries of age. Extended lifespan was one of the many benefits that came with achieving Grandmaster Rank and maintaining that power through decades of service.
Despite his higher effective authority, the Grand Captain Commander spoke with appropriate respect toward a recognized noble of the Empire. It was a courtesy rather than a requirement, but one that the Dragonguard typically observed to maintain good relations with the aristocracy.
"Greetings, Baroness. I am Grand Captain Commander Lex Draconis of the Twentieth Dragon ,Cohort. I am here on the orders of Grand Advisor Solomon and on behalf of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Janus Cornwall. I have been commanded to personally deliver a letter to a man named August Finn."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled villagers and soldiers. "May I ask where he might be found, so that I may fulfill my duty and deliver this message?"
The words caused an immediate reaction. Everyone present turned to look at August, who had been standing among the crowd of villagers who had gathered to witness this extraordinary event. Dozens of eyes focused on him simultaneously, creating a pressure that felt almost physical.
August felt profoundly awkward with so many people staring at him. He was accustomed to being the center of attention during council meetings or training sessions, but this was different. These were the Dragonguard, legendary warriors sent by the Emperor himself, and they were here specifically for him.
He stepped forward, moving through the crowd with as much dignity as he could manage. His voice was steady despite his internal nervousness. "I am here, sir. I am August Finn."
Grand Captain Commander Lex Draconis studied him with eyes that had evaluated countless individuals over his long career. August could feel that gaze assessing him, weighing him, measuring his worth in ways he could not fully comprehend. It was the look of a predator evaluating potential prey, or perhaps a master craftsman examining raw material to determine its potential.
After a long moment, the Grand Captain Commander nodded slowly, apparently satisfied with what he had observed. He reached into a sealed compartment in his armor and withdrew a letter. The parchment was clearly of the highest quality, enchanted to be nearly indestructible. It bore multiple seals, including the personal seal of Emperor Janus himself, which glowed faintly with magical authentication.
"August Finn," the Grand Captain Commander said formally, his voice carrying to every person present, "I hereby deliver to you this letter from His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Janus Cornwall. It contains matters of importance that His Majesty wishes to discuss with you personally."
He extended the letter toward August, who stepped forward to receive it with both hands, recognizing the significance of the moment. The parchment felt warm to the touch, the enchantments woven into it creating a subtle vibration against his palms.
"His Majesty requests your presence in the Imperial Capital at your earliest convenience," the Grand Captain Commander continued. "You may bring a retinue of your choosing, not to exceed twenty individuals. Transportation, accommodation, and all necessary arrangements will be provided at Imperial expense. Your safety and that of your companions is guaranteed by Imperial decree."
The formal language and the weight of the invitation settled over the assembled crowd like a heavy blanket. This was not merely an honor but a summons that could not easily be refused. When the Emperor personally invited someone to the capital, declining was not truly an option, at least not without severe political consequences.
August stood holding the letter, acutely aware that his life was about to change in ways he could not yet predict. The Emperor of the most powerful nation on the continent wanted to meet him personally. The implications were staggering.
Behind him, he could feel the presence of his friends and loved ones: Angeline's concern, Master Ben's interest, Aetherwing's curiosity, and the mixed emotions of everyone who had come to depend on him. Whatever this invitation meant, whatever the Emperor wanted, it would affect not just August but everyone connected to him.
The Grand Captain Commander waited patiently for a response, his expression neutral but his eyes still assessing, still measuring. The moment stretched, heavy with possibility and consequence, as August considered how to respond to an invitation that was really a command, extended with courtesy but backed by the full power of the Elms-Arkanus Empire.