The forest woke gently. Mist clung to the ground in soft veils, drifting between the roots of ancient trees. The air was cool and sweet, carrying the faint tang of damp earth and wildflowers. Birds trilled in the canopy above, their songs weaving into the hush of dawn.
Alaric opened his eyes to this world of quiet grace, yet his chest was tight with the echoes of the night before—the clash of steel, the snarls of wolves, the taste of blood on his tongue. His body was sore, every muscle aching from the battle and the feasting that followed, but his mind… his mind was clear. Clearer than it had ever been in his old life.
He sat up slowly, watching as faint shafts of sunlight pierced the mist, golden spears scattering the shadows. A new day, he thought. The first day of what I swore to achieve.
The promise he had spoken at the feast—his dream of building a land where race and birth mattered less than merit—still burned in his chest. Words had power, but promises were chains. He could feel that weight now. Heavy, binding, yet strangely welcome.
When he stepped from the hut, Leon was there, silent and immovable as always. The man was like a shadow carved from steel—where Alaric walked, Leon followed, his presence a constant reminder that he was no longer alone.
The settlement was stirring. Women emerged to tend fires, hunters checked their bows, children ran barefoot through the dew. Heads turned as Alaric passed, and to his faint surprise, smiles greeted him. Small nods. Words of greeting spoken with respect, not obligation.
He answered each with warmth, stopping to trade a few words here, a smile there. He asked after the elder's health, complimented a hunter's craftsmanship, and praised a mother's herbs drying on a rack. It was nothing grand—just small conversations. But each left its mark.
The elves had lived wary of humans all their lives, yet now, in this quiet morning, they began to see something else: a man who did not look down on them, who treated them not as tools or burdens, but as equals. And behind him loomed Leon, his silent, imposing shadow. The combination bred not fear, but trust.
Alaric not only got closer to the settlement Elves, but also gained two valuable pieces of information. He walked among the elves, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. He stood upon Meridia, the Untamed Continent, a land of savage beauty and boundless opportunity, far from the established powers. And he now knew the date: it was the 2nd of January, 1001 ED—the "Era of Divinity," a calendar imposed by the Radiant Church. He had arrived on the first day of the second millennium, a man with nothing, poised to rewrite history.
By the time the sun fully rose, the village's mood had shifted. Alaric was no longer merely a guest. He was becoming something more.
It was then that Chiftian Kaelen approached, accompanied by the priestess Lyra, and Behind them the whole Tamriel settlement.
Kaelen's expression was grave, his back straighter than usual. Lyra's eyes shone with quiet resolve. Together they stopped before Alaric, and for the first time, both bowed deeply.
"My lord," Kaelen said, the title falling naturally from his lips, "last night, after you slept, I gathered the representatives of our people. We spoke at length. We weighed our fears and our hopes. And we came to a decision."
Lyra stepped forward. Her voice was soft, but it carried the resonance of faith. "This place has been a cage of survival for us. We live each day fearing beasts, fearing raiders, fearing tomorrow itself. But when you spoke of your dream, I saw something greater. Not just for elves. For all."
Kaelen's gaze sharpened. "We wish to follow you, Alaric, as our Lord. To pledge ourselves to your banner, to your vision. We will be your people—if you will have us."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched. The mist swirled between them like smoke, as 30 elves bowed to Alaric.
Alaric's chest tightened. He had dreamed of this moment countless times in the game—subjects pledging loyalty, populations swelling, systems pinging rewards. But this was not a screen. These were living beings, offering their lives, their children, their futures.
He did not puff his chest, nor smile arrogantly. Instead, he inclined his head, his voice solemn. "If you give me your loyalty, I will bear it with responsibility. Not as a lord who rules from above, but as one who builds alongside you. I accept you—not as subjects, but as family."
A ripple passed through the gathered elves. Some gasped softly. Lyra's eyes filled with tears.
And then— [System Notification! congratulation for being the first Lord to gain subjects before founding a territory]
Subjects Gained: +30
Prestige +200
+100 Gold Coins
Reward: Golden Chest Acquired
He called up the new subject roster, as he finally was able to see their attributes and some were a pleasing surprise.
Most of the settlement citizens were those with ordinary potential and not much of a growth rate to talk about, numbered at 20. their Lifestyle focus: Gatherers, craftsmen and only the most basic tools, cooks, caretakers. These are the heart of the settlement. Elders with hands gnarled from a lifetime of work, mothers teaching their children to identify edible roots, young craftsmen painstakingly honing their skills with basic tools. Their Potential may be low, but their collective knowledge of daily survival—which plants are poisonous, how to tan hides, how to mend tools—is the essential bedrock upon which Alaric will build. Their loyalty, once earned, will be unshakable. Among them, two had caught Alaric's eye: the siblings Agis and Ava. Agis is 12 years old with a growth rate rated as Talented, while Ava 10 years old was better being rated as Exceptional, and even here intelligence was quite high for a child reaching 63.
The next group were those who are considered the corner stone of the settlement, all are rated by the system as having Advanced potential with ordinary growth rate, 6 are Excellent Hunters, Their natural marksmanship and survival skills have protected the settlement for years. Though not elite, they form the martial backbone and are prime candidates for Alaric's military transition plan, especially the one named Ryn who was the settlement hunter squad leader, with Leon guidance he'll have a bright future. The next 3 are all Civil Servant-type, two worked in logistics, Specialists in keeping food, tools, and hunting yields distributed fairly. They lack vision but excel in routine, reliable organization. and the last one is someone talented in administration, that being Kaelen. When Alaric saw his attribute panel, he understood why Kaelen was the settlement chieftain. As for the one Alaric was truly happy that came under his lordship was definitely the priestess Lyra.
Subject Name:Kaelen Tamriel
Title: -
Occupation: chieftain Tamriel settlement
Race: Elf
Potential Value: 44 (Advance)
Strength: 43
Intelligence: 81
Growth Rate: Talented
Specialties:
Prudent Administrator: Reduces resource waste and improves efficiency in early-stage settlement development by 15%
Evaluation:Once the respected leader of a splinter elf tribe, Kaelen led his people into exile after internal strife. Though weary from hardship, his wisdom and experience are invaluable. His experience in managing a displaced community is invaluable for any territory foundations.
Subject Name:Lyra Tamriel
Title: -
Occupation: Priestess Tamriel settlement
Race: Elf
Potential Value: 60 (Elite)
Strength: 25
Intelligence: 87
Ability Overview: Skilled in herbal medicine, spiritual rites, and morale-raising ceremonies. Enhances healing effectiveness in camp.
Growth Rate: Talented
Specialties:
Blessing of Serenity — Recovery of fatigue and minor wounds accelerated by +20% in her presence.
Evaluation:The spiritual heart of the community. Lyra's wisdom spans centuries, and her compassion is boundless. She was the first to see the profound truth in Alaric's dream, recognizing it as the embodiment of an ideal she had held for generations. Her support is a moral and practical cornerstone for a territory.
Alaric's lips curved in satisfaction. Ordinary workers built the foundation of stability. Advanced talents formed the framework of growth. And rare talents… rare talents were the jewels of nations.
"These are no mere refugees," he murmured. "They are the seeds of a dynasty."
Later that day, the first leadership meeting convened inside Kaelen's hut.
The participants were a few: Alaric, Leon, Kaelen, Lyra, an elder named Thalan, and the strongest hunter named Ryn. Six in total—the first council of a nation not yet born.
Maps were scratched into bark sheets. Stones marked hunting paths. They spoke of food, of beasts, of terrain.
Kaelen and Thalan presented two possible sites for a permanent village—both within half a day's march. One near a shallow stream, another tucked into a grove.
Leon dismissed them both with a snort. "Too small. Too open. A village is not a camp—it is the root of a tree. If the root is weak, the tree dies. My lord deserves better."
At last, Alaric spoke. "Then we march. We leave this place and search for better. It will be hard, but with Leon to guard us, and our unity we will endure. Better to suffer now than die later."
Kaelen exhaled, then nodded slowly. "So be it." And thus, the decision was made. The settlement would move.
The days that followed tested them. Leon drilled the hunters relentlessly, transforming them from scattered individuals into a cohesive militia. He barked orders, corrected stances with sharp taps of his sword's flat, and arranged them into spear-and-bow formations.
Alaric, meanwhile, became the "driver of the ship." He organized resource distribution, asked questions about needs, learned names, remembered faces.
Their unity deepened. They hunted, they faced stray beasts, they shared meals. He notices Kaelen efficiently reorganizing the packing of supplies without being asked. At night, laughter returned. Agis trained with a wooden sword under Leon's watch, his small body sweating, his eyes alight with determination.
Then, on the fifth evening, a scout returned—not from a hunt, but from a wide patrol. His face was pale.
"Lord Alaric," he said, breathless. "Two kilometers east. A campsite. Too large for hunters. The fire pits… made by humans. And we found this."
He held out a crude iron badge, stamped with the image of a clenched fist.
Alaric's blood chilled.
He, Leon, and eight elves went to investigate. The campsite was barren now, but the signs were clear: multiple fires, large footprints, scraps of bone. Predators—but not beasts. Men.
Ryn observed, his face dark. "Scavengers. Not settlers. They prey on the weak, the unguarded. They've marked this place. They'll be back."
That night, Alaric called the entire settlement together. Even children came, their wide eyes reflecting the firelight. Fear thickened the air.
Alaric stood tall, Leon at his back. He spoke clearly, his voice steady.
"We scouted today. We found signs of men—not neighbors, but scavengers. They will return. And when they do, they won't ask, they take."
Faces paled. Mothers clutched children close. Panic stirred.
But Alaric raised his hand. His expression was unyielding, his eyes burning.
"Do not fear. Do not panic. If the sky itself falls, I will hold it for you. That is my oath."
Something in his words struck like lightning. Fear ebbed, replaced by a fragile yet growing resolve.
"We have two choices," Alaric continued. "We can turn back, live again in fear, or we can face this danger head-on. A known threat is better than shadows. To defeat it, we must understand it. For that, I need scouts."
He turned his gaze to two elves standing apart. They were not hunters, nor warriors—ordinary gatherers, skilled at navigating forests at night. Their names were Lirael and Dain. They had never been trusted with great tasks.
Alaric's voice was calm. "I trust you with this. You will scout the scavengers' trail. Learn their number, their strength. Then return. On your shoulders rests our future."
The elves' eyes widened. For a heartbeat, disbelief flickered. Then, determination hardened their faces.
"We swear," Dain said hoarsely. "We will return with answers."
And so, under the gaze of firelight, with the weight of fear and hope upon them, the first true mission of Alaric's fledgling people began.
The peaceful dream was over. The test was coming.