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Harry made quick work of magically repairing his burned tent before sitting down to eat a quick breakfast of dried meat and stale bread. After that, he took a quick, bracingly cold bath in a nearby stream before packing the tent away once more and looking out into the vast, empty clearing.
The first thing he wanted to do, the first real step in building his new home, would be to make a tower. It would serve the practical purpose of housing him and hosting any future visitors he might wish to entertain. More importantly, though, it would also house the newly created Ra's Eye.
It would be hidden, safe and secure, right at the very tip of the tower, with a specially designed conducting pillar going straight down the entire length of the structure, a pillar that would also cleverly double as the main support beam for the entire tower.
He would, of course, change the outward appearance of Ra's Eye, disguise it with layers of illusion and misdirection charms, to make it look less suspicious, even to other powerful sorcerers who might one day see it.
The tower, he decided, would also double as a powerful, awe-inspiring symbol to his new people, another tangible thing that would help to assert his right to rule.
That is precisely why he would make it almost entirely out of a strange, shimmering metal, a material of his own creation. Something that had never been seen or done before in this particular time, in this particular world. It would not look like the clunky, blocky buildings of his homeworld, or the crude, stone castles of this one.
He had a much sleeker, more elegant idea in mind. It would look like a thin, smooth, almost seamless pyramid, one that soared a thousand feet into the clear, northern air.
Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea how to actually make such a complex, and frankly, gravity-defying, structure in a way that would be structurally sound.
He might be able to do so with magic, with powerful, permanent transfiguration and reinforcement charms, but he wouldn't even know where to begin with a project of that sheer scale. Making the raw materials, however, should not be a problem.
He could, quite easily, magically create and sustain several large, highly efficient forges and have them constantly, tirelessly pumping out high-quality metals with almost no effort.
He already knew, from his previous explorations, where several large, untapped iron veins were located in these mountains, as well as some smaller deposits of silver, and even a little bit of gold.
He could certainly use some skilled miners and other craftsmen to help with that. But making all that raw metal into something usable, something refined and workable… that would take a lot of time, a lot of effort, and ass-loads of magic.
With a sigh, Harry looked at his five, now-attentive White Dragons and, with a silent, telepathic command, ordered them to stay put.
He doubted any of them would be able to disobey his magically enforced command, but just in case, he had placed subtle, but powerful, tracking charms on all of them. With that, he apparated away, leaving the frozen, silent clearing behind, heading further south, back towards the lands of actual, civilized kingdoms.
It wasn't long before he was standing once more on the high, windy peaks of the Dragon Mountains, looking down at the scattered, patchwork quilt of the Northern Realms.
There were tons of places he could start his recruitment drive, but the first one he had in mind would be the small, struggling, and rather desperate settlement of Duskband.
Duskband wasn't a real, established settlement, to be honest. The two hundred or so people who lived there were, for the most part, outcasts, refugees, and desperate souls who had nowhere else to go.
They used the harsh, unforgiving lands of the Far North as a means of meager income, either through dangerous mining operations in the mountains, or through carpentry, trapping, and other such trades.
The little, ramshackle huts they called houses barely kept them protected from the harsh, biting elements, and looked like they might fall over at any second. They were currently camped on the southern side of the mountains because it was the middle of the harsh winter season, making it almost impossible to live any further north.
But they wouldn't be able to stay here for too long either, otherwise, bandits would eventually find and rob them, or some greedy, local noble would, and try to tax them into oblivion.They would be the perfect, and most receptive, group to introduce first to his new, magically-warmed little haven.
They were already somewhat familiar with the harsh realities of the Far North, and they would be much more willing, he reasoned, to start a new, more prosperous life, due to the fact that they were constantly having to deal with unwanted hardship, with bandits and asshole Nobles constantly trying to rob and take advantage of them.
Harry apparated to a spot near the makeshift camp and walked into it, his demeanor calm and unthreatening. People seemed to be busy, working hard with their meager, winter-hardy crops and taking care of the few, scrawny animals they had.
He saw that he was getting strange, suspicious looks from the people, but they didn't approach him or say anything, they just kept a wary eye on him as they continued with their work. Eventually, a tall, broad-shouldered man approached him, his expression cautious.
"Welcome, traveler," the man said, his voice a deep, booming baritone. "I have not seen you in these parts before. What brings you to our humble camp?"
Harry looked up at the surprisingly tall and beefy man. He had a thick, fiery red beard and bright, intelligent brown eyes. Harry estimated him to be at the start of his forties.
As soon as the man had spoken to him, the entire settlement seemed to focus their attention on them. It was clear they had all just been pretending not to pay attention before, but their attempts at subtlety were practically non-existent.
"Greetings to you as well," Harry said politely, offering the man a small, friendly smile. "I am Hadrian Black. I wish to talk with the leader of this settlement, if that is at all possible." It was very important, Harry knew, that he not make anything he said sound like a demand.
These people, beaten down and wary as they were, would see it as him just being another powerful figure trying to take advantage of them.
The red-bearded man eyed him for a long, searching moment, before finally, with a curt nod, leading him over to a large tent that appeared slightly bigger than the rest.
Entering it, Harry found it to be only slightly warmer than the freezing air outside, and mostly empty, save for a simple bed, a few rough-hewn chairs, a small, wobbly table, and a small, locked chest where the man likely stored his meager belongings.
"So," the man said, his friendly demeanor gone, replaced by a much more wary, almost hostile one, as he eyed Harry up and down. "What brings you to me, little lordling?"
Harry's lips twitched upwards at the man's rather obvious, and frankly, clumsy, attempt to anger him, to get a rise out of him. "I wanted to give you an offer," Harry said, not rising to the man's bait and continuing on in his polite, respectful tone. "Well, perhaps it's more of a deal, really. A deal that I believe would be mutually beneficial to both of us. If you were interested in hearing it, of course."
The man frowned and looked on suspiciously at him, his arms crossed over his massive chest. Harry didn't let it bother him. He just continued to look calmly into the man's eyes, his own expression open and honest.
"Let's hear it then," the big man said back to him, his voice a low grumble.
"I will not beat around the bush," Harry said, getting straight to the point. "I am attempting to start a new kingdom. A kingdom of true equality, where everyone will be given rights, and everyone will be treated fairly, regardless of their station, or their race. I can do a fair bit of starting it up all by myself, but a kingdom, as you know, is nothing without its citizens. I am here to offer you, and all of your people, protection, and a real, permanent home, for free. I can make your crops plentiful, your animals grow strong and healthy, and your homes warm and safe. All I ask for, in return, is that you and your people join my new kingdom, as its first citizens."
The man looked at him for a long, silent moment. "Are you sick in the head, boy?" he finally asked, his voice flat.
"No," Harry said, his polite smile not wavering. "And I am not a boy. I am, in fact, much older than you are. I'm a sorcerer."
Immediately upon the admission of that one, single word, the man's eyes became guarded, hostile. "A sorcerer?" he repeated, his voice filled with a deep-seated suspicion and distaste. "A bloody sorcerer is trying to start his own kingdom now?" The man asked, as if the very idea of it was a personal, deeply offensive insult to him.
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If you want to read ahead by 15+ chapters from her you can visit my Patre-on.
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