“All of Och Fir Nog’s leadership collapsed. By the time the smoke had cleared and the last Ravener-spawn gasped its final breath, folk realised that there weren’t anyone around to tell them what to do. And that’s about when everything went to shite and the whole realm collapsed within a fortnight, turning into tiny, squabbling kingdoms. Everybody that had two followers just declared themselves kings and queens even if they ruled over a single village.”

“Smokin’ hells,” Alex swore. “There must have been someone from Aenflynn’s family or court or army that could have taken power. There must have been somebody!”

“Well, there were a few, but they started gutting each other like there was no tomorrow!” Gwyllain chuckled. “Pompous bastards, it served them right! And anyone who even whispered a kind word about Aenflynn got poisoned the moment they gained even a sliver of power. Everyone blames our dearly departed lord for what happened. He’s the one that invited the Ravener to our realm, and if it weren’t for him, well…we’d still have a bloody realm! So don’t worry, Alexander, everyone’s too busy picking fights with one another, and they’re also too afraid of all of you to pick a fight with you. I reckon the realm won’t see anything close to ‘order’ for a good few centuries at the least!”

Alex’s jaw was hanging open. “Wow…uh, I guess that’s good for us, then. But why are you so happy about what happened? And how did you become an asrai of means?”

Gwyllain grinned evilly. “Like I said, a lot of asses died when you all came through Och Fir Nog like some destroyers of realms. A lot of very rich asses. When I got back after the dust was settling, I had this thought: “Gwyllain, I said to myself, you keep letting everyone run you about. You should get something of your own.” So, myself, and a few other fine folk raided every empty mansion, palace and castle in what remained of Och Fir Nog. We carried off a nice fortune while everyone else was hiding in the deepest holes, shaking and praying you wouldn’t come back.”

The asrai tapped the side of his head, grinning. “But, you see, I figured things out a bit better than they did. I figured that once you avenged yourself on the Ravener, and since you didn’t seem like the type to go about slaughtering folk for the sake of slaughtering folk. Even though you did drag me through some scary shite, you still treated with me kindly. So, that’s how I knew to scurry into all the mansions and get first pick of all the wealth that was left behind. Just so you know, I don’t go advertising my fortune, I just live a very fine, quiet life. I’m thinking that when someone with a good head on their shoulders turns up, someone who looks like they might make a good leader, I’ll fund them and get myself a nice cushy position in the new society.”

Alex laughed. “Sounds like you made out like a bandit!”

“I did, I did! And I’ve got you to thank!” Gwyllain chuckled. “Anyway, there’s some fine bottles of honey-wine I stumbled across in my search. Had Aenflynn’s seal on the cases, so I think they were meant for his private stock. Now they’re in my private stock, and I’ll share them with you, gladly! It’s the least I can do in return for my good fortune…and…” He looked sly. “Mayhaps I could call on you in the future. I’m sure you’d like some eyes and ears in the fae wild, since you are the terror that brought Aenflynn low! I bet you could keep me safe from any fool who might think to muscle me out of my fortune!”

Alex returned Gwyllain’s sly grin. “Well, that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“Good.” The asrai rubbed his hands together. “You know, for the first time, I’m glad I was tied to you at that windmill. To think when I first met you I was about to be a blue annis hag’s supper. Now look at me!”

He twirled in his new clothes.

“You know, I once told you that the Ravener time here in Thameland was called the Time of Plenty among us fae.”

Gwyllain leaned in, giving Alex a delighted giggle. He stuck his tiny hand out for a handshake.

Alex chuckled, taking the little asrai’s hand and shaking it.

“Well, Alexander—for me, at least—you brought the Time of Plenty to Och Fir Nog! Glad I met you, friend.”

###

“Representing King Athelstan, High Priest Tobias Jay, the Traveller and myself, I—St. Merzhin do declare this Church of the Traveller open for worship!” the Saint of Thameland’s voice rang out over Luthering.

The small man lifted a bottle of sanctified water, and smashed it against the stone. The building had been rebuilt, crafted atop the old foundation of the church of Uldar.

Cheers and excited applause erupted from the gathered crowd as Merzhin raised his hands.

“May the Traveller bless us, and may Thameland continue onward through a new age of wonder!”

The cheers grew even more enthusiastic, and Merzhin allowed himself a small, genuine smile as he looked over the village. In the nine months since the Ravener’s destruction, Thameland had developed and changed in ways that warmed the Saint’s heart.

And there were few places that demonstrated this more than the small village of Luthering.

…being… that it was not such a small village anymore.

Winter had come, and snow lay upon the rooftops of stout buildings of stone, standing around the rebuilt church, replacing many of the wood and thatch structures that once filled the village square. The battle against the Ravener had left Luthering devastated, little more than a burnt out-husk, but after many months of labour, a sprinkle of divinity, and a touch of magic, it was rebuilt better than it ever was.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Like many towns and villages that had been destroyed across the kingdom, when people rebuilt them, they rebuilt stronger. The realm, thanks to the dungeon core essence scattered across its wilderness, was awash with gold.

Lords, ladies and landed knights—Sir Sean being one—had gone out as soon as they could to gather up any dungeon core remains they could find on their own lands. Greymoor happily bought every speck, helping to fund the kingdom’s massive rebuilding plans.

The wizards even traded services for dungeon core essence, using their magic to help with the reconstruction.

With Claygon and his Ravener-spawn helping as well, it hadn’t taken long for Thameland to surpass its former charming character from the time before the final cycle had begun. With Claygon’s Earth Tillers renewing the soil, the fall harvest had been record breaking; the soil left by the Ravener-spawn seemed almost magical.

Thameland had changed, and was continuing to change.

More foreigners travelled the realm; adventurers and prospectors looking for leftover dungeon core essence. Wizards were common in the country, going from Greymoor and the Cave of the Traveller, to great markets in Ussex where they could buy dungeon core essence.

“The land will prosper. In spite of what you did, Uldar. The land will prosper,” Maezhin whispered, stepping away from the church as people flooded through the doors. The First Worship would be led by the Traveller herself, and Merzhin would have given a lot to be part of it.

But, he had a prior engagement to attend.

Alex had called for him and the other Heroes to come to the port in Generasi for something urgent. It wasn’t like the young archwizard to send them a message; usually when he wanted to talk, he would just teleport to them. After all, he could be in multiple places at once.

Something was different about today.

And Merzhin was dying to know what it was.

###

“Everyone, welcome!” Alex called, waving at the Heroes.

The four of them had just teleported to the port, and found their friend waiting there. The young archwizard waved them over with a smile as he stood beside Claygon, who was flanked by a number of human-sized brass golems.

“Welcome back, it’s been a while since you’ve all been to the city, right, since you’ve been so busy?” Alex asked.

“It has.” Merzhin approached the archwizard with the other Heroes.

The port was bustling with folk of all different races and species, and Merzhin remembered the shock he’d had when he first visited the city for Carey’s funeral.

“What are those?” Drestra asked, pointing at the sky.

Alex grinned, following her gaze. “Progress.”

The Saint looked up and gasped.

Slowly descending toward the docks were three immense flying ships…and three more were flying over the bay.

“Oi, Isolde was tellin’ me that flyin’ boats aren’t usually as big as those an’ that flyin’ ships gotta stay in the city ‘cos o’ all t’ mana they use.” Cedric squinted into the distance. “But I swear I’m seein’ flyin’ boats out over t’sea right now.”

“Yep, I see them clear as day.” Hart narrowed his large eyes. “Those are ships flying out there.”

“Yes they are!” Alex chuckled. “Shale and I decided to get into shipbuilding after talking to Lucia. With all the dungeon core essence we have, it seemed like a good idea to build a fleet of flying ships that can go anywhere, not just in places with ambient mana. That’s why I wanted you to wait with me here; I’m expecting a shipment, and after that, we can head to my lab. The others should be getting there soon.”

“Others?” Merzhin glanced at a nearby shrine.

It was a small effigy of the Traveller, wrapped in seaweed and pearls. Her hands were raised, as though she was blessing travellers heading out to sea.

He couldn’t remember seeing any shrines in Generasi the last time he was here. He’d been struck by the absence of them.

“Yeah, I’m calling everybody together that fought in the Ravener’s lair,” Alex’s voice dropped low. “It’s about…well, you’ll see when we get there. It’s not exactly something we can talk about out here.”

“No…we’ll want to…keep it…quiet…for now…” Claygon said, his voice just as low as Alex’s.

“Of course,” Merzhin said.

As they finished talking, a ship landed in the water beside the pier, sending up an immense splash of seawater.

“Whoooooa!” The selachar captain shouted, holding on to a mast near him as the crew braced themselves. “I hope I never get used to that! I love it!”

“You won’t be satisfied until Ek-U-Dari swipes us out of the sky and back into the water where we belong!” An identical-looking selachar shouted at the captain. “This is madness!”

“Fan-Dor! Gel-Dor!” Alex waved, grinning. “I guess you’re still disagreeing about the modifications I made to the Red Siren, eh?”

“We’re not disagreeing about anything!” the captain shouted. “Gel-Dor’s complaining and I’m ignoring him! A tale as old as time!”

The first mate shook his head. “Alex, the goods are ready for you to inspect! You want to get up here?”

“Right away!” Alex nodded to the others. “This should only take a few minutes.”

With that, Alex teleported onto the deck of the Red Siren, leaving Merzhin wondering why they were there.

###

“I bet you’re all wondering why I called you here,” Alex said.

He was standing at the head of a long table in his lab, and gathered around it were some familiar faces.

On the young archwizard’s left was Khalik, with Najyah perched on his shoulder, and beside them Isolde, Thundar, Grimloch and Bjorgrund. On his right was Theresa and Brutus, and the four Heroes of Thameland.

Behind him stood Claygon.

Everyone who’d fought the Ravener in its lair, aside from Asmaldestre the Unmaker, had gathered in his laboratory.

“You are acting very mysteriously,” Isolde said. “Is it for a reason besides needlessly dramatic antics?”

“Hey, they might be dramatic, but these antics aren’t needless,” Alex said. “Granted, I did always want to say something like, ‘I bet you’re all wondering why I called you here’, but I’m in a good mood and just finished pulling off the impossible. So I think I deserve a little amusement.”

“What do you mean?” Theresa asked.

Thundar looked at her sharply. “You mean, you don’t even know what’s going on?”

She shook her head as Alex pointed at the table.

Suddenly, several cases appeared; they looked like the type of cases that would hold wine bottles, except these were covered in protective glyphs.

“Careful,” Alex said. “If anyone even touches those cases without me or Baelin deactivating the protections…well you wouldn’t even want to know what would happen.”

He spoke a word of power, and each case opened with hiss.

The others gasped.

Within them were clear bottles of pure crystal, each containing a liquid that shone with a startling radiance.

Alex’s smiles and high spirits disappeared. He looked at his friends soberly.

“Alex…” Khalik whispered. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah, probably,” Alex said. “What you’re all looking at are actual, genuine elixirs of immortality. Baelin and I finally finished them last night.”

He watched them intently.

“My friends, you all have some decisions to make.”