"Sinclair!! Where are you boy?" He could hear his father calling for him downstairs. It was unusual for his dad to raise his voice; he was the kind of man who preferred to seek someone out rather than yell through the house.
"Coming right down, one second!" Sinclair replied, giving Chewy and Leia an amused look before heading towards the door. Opening it, he found his parents just about to step inside.
"Hey guys, what's shaking?" Sinclair greeted them, sporting a slight grin. He knew they probably had questions, or something was up, but he played it cool, pretending like nothing was going on. Just a small slice of normalcy getting to tease his parents.
"You know the others are supposed to be back in less than an hour?" His dad asked with a hint of incredulity.
Sinclair blinked slowly, not having to feign ignorance. "What do you mean? The other humans? How do you know that?".
"Honey, you haven't seen the Cities System screen countdown yet, have you?" Amelia interjected, her tone laced with concern.
Sinclair let out a slight sigh, "I've been swamped with notifications and updates. I haven't had the chance to look at that screen. There's just so much to do and so little time."
Bruce nodded understandingly. "Well, according to the screen, we have 43 minutes left. Tell us what you need; the whole village is ready to lend a hand."
Sinclair appreciated their willingness to help. He quickly glanced at his notes. "I need to check on the resources I was supposed to gather. Also, I've been meaning to follow up with our allies, and I need to get in touch with Odin. Can someone update me on what's been happening in town while I was away?"
Amelia and Bruce listened attentively, ready to divide the tasks among themselves and the villagers. Sinclair felt a sense of relief wash over him, grateful for their support and the community's eagerness to help. With their assistance, he could focus on the pressing matters at hand.
Bruce began with the town updates, addressing Sinclair's concerns. "First off, the townspeople have been really proactive. While they might not have been as fast as you, they worked in shifts clearing out the wood and stone for the next wall. About half of those logs are already in place. We went ahead and paid for the creation of 7 more Barracks in those spaces," he explained.
Sinclair's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his eyes briefly glancing towards the housing district where he could indeed see the new structures. The sense of community achievement filled him with a mix of pride and relief.
"We've also got the framework for a blacksmith and a leatherwork shop/tannery set up. They should be done by tomorrow. They're basic, but with the tools the Beastkin brought, we'll have some functional shop space up and running soon after," Bruce continued, detailing the progress.
Sinclair felt a tinge of guilt for being so surprised. He had expected to shoulder much of the work, but the community's initiative was a humbling reminder of their collective strength and capability.
"I added a teleporter to our town," Sinclair shared, explaining his recent purchase. "It's part of a network that connects us to places like Thorsgild. Residents have access, and I've set a small usage fee to help with costs."
Bruce nodded, showing interest in the new development. "That's a significant addition. It'll change how we interact with neighbors and respond to situations."
"Yes, it really brings us closer to other communities and opens up new possibilities," Sinclair agreed, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. The support from his parents and the townspeople was a comforting reminder that he was not alone in this endeavor.
Amelia glanced around, her curiosity evident. "Where are the others? Victoria has already undergone her race upgrade and is quite thrilled with her new abilities."
"They stayed back to help the village we were aiding," Sinclair explained. "They're ensuring it's stable before they return. Should be closing out their quest soon."
Sinclair shifted the topic to the community's readiness. "How are things here? Is everyone prepared for the arrival of the humans?"
Bruce's expression turned thoughtful. "Well, there's a bit of nervousness. Historically, humans haven't always been the kindest to others."
"That's going to change here," Sinclair asserted with conviction. "Any form of discrimination or mistreatment is not tolerable. If I hear of anything like that, I'll address it decisively. We can't afford to repeat past mistakes, especially now."
Bruce and Amelia nodded in agreement, their faces reflecting understanding and support.
"By the way, how are your levels progressing? Close to 25 yet?" Sinclair inquired, shifting the conversation to their personal growth.
Bruce responded, "We're both in the low 20s. Expecting to hit level 25 once the new residents start getting involved in town activities. The experience we gain from town interactions and quests should get us there."
Sinclair nodded, pleased with their progress. "That's great to hear. What about Hrondir and his men? Did they return to their village?"
"Yes, they returned the same day we found you still in bed. He said he would send someone to represent the village but wanted to prepare it for the arrival of new humans. Since they're an established village they are supposed to get people as well." His dad told him.
As they walked around the town surveying the new changes, Sinclair pondered aloud, "Where do you think the people will reappear? There's no designated spawn point that I know of."
Amelia shared their thoughts, "We've been considering that. Our best guess is the field outside the gate. We're planning to head there now to see what happens."
"I'll come with you. It's important to start on the right foot with the newcomers," Sinclair decided, sensing the significance of this moment.
Their journey to the field was leisurely, punctuated by conversations with various townspeople along the way. These interactions, while brief and informal, were crucial in maintaining the sense of community and trust. Finally, they reached the rampart of the inner wall, with mere seconds left before the anticipated arrival.
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Spread out before them, several tables had been neatly arranged, manned by various beastkin and elves. Sinclair looked at his parents, his eyebrows arched in mild surprise.
"That's our welcome station," his father explained. "It's for registering the newcomers, collecting their names and classes for a census. The idea was Elder Dorgrin's, and we all agreed it made sense."
Surveying the area, Sinclair noticed that the elves, poised with their longbows, were mainly stationed on the wall. Their readiness was palpable, a tension that spoke of preparedness and caution. He approached the nearest elf, speaking in a hushed, reassuring tone. "Your people look remarkable. Thank you for your vigilance. However, I notice a certain tension. Please relay to your kin that no arrows are to be loosed unless it comes as a direct order from me."
His smile was gentle, yet firm, as the sunlight glinted off his striking yellow eyes. The elf nodded in understanding and quickly moved off to communicate Sinclair's directive to the others.
In the not-so-distant field, shimmering lights began to materialize, coalescing into a bright, solid patch of white. Within moments, the glow dissipated, revealing a couple of hundred people standing uncertainly. Sinclair noted with a hint of concern that the number was slightly more than he had expected. The new barracks would only accommodate an additional 280, and he mulled over the logistics of fitting everyone comfortably.
The gathered crowd, comprised of the newly arrived humans, appeared restless yet hesitant. They seemed unsure of their next steps, neither fleeing nor showing aggression. As Sinclair scanned various individuals at random, he noted their relatively low levels, none exceeding level 10. Their classes were typical—archers, rogues, fighters, and the like. Sinclair found himself curious about the complete list of classes that would eventually emerge from this group.
Realizing that the crowd was in a state of limbo, waiting for someone to make the first move, Sinclair decided to take the initiative. Without a second thought, he leapt from the rampart to the ground below. To him, the 15-foot drop was inconsequential, a simple matter of jumping out the same distance to avoid the tents below. However, his seemingly effortless descent caused a stir among the humans, who now regarded him with a mixture of awe and apprehension.
Sinclair maintained a composed demeanor as he approached the crowd, his palms facing them in a gesture of peace. Opting to stay in his human form and having stowed his weapons, he aimed to appear as non-threatening as possible.
"Welcome to Wolf's Run," he began, his voice calm yet authoritative. "I understand you've been through a harrowing experience and might have questions. We're here to help. If you could register your name and class at these tents, we'll get you all settled in. Then, we can go over the town's rules and get everyone acquainted."
Introducing himself as Sinclair Hagerson, the owner of Wolf's Run, he continued, "You've been brought here to be a part of our community. If there are any questions before we start, please feel free to ask."
At this, a man with a defiant stance and a group of followers emerged from the crowd, their expressions marked by skepticism. "What gives you the right to order us around? We're not your property. The System mentioned a starter town with available quests, not someone demanding our personal details."
Sinclair internally sighed at the predictable challenge. "Larry Trowlbridge, Level 7 Thief, as you can see I don't need you to give me anything" he addressed the man directly. "This isn't about control. It's about understanding our community's capabilities to better assist everyone. You're free to leave if that's your choice, but cooperation is for your benefit as much as ours."
Sinclair took a moment to assess the crowd before continuing, his gaze sweeping across the gathering. "There are wolf packs in that direction," he pointed, "about level 20-25. In the other direction, spiders, averaging levels 18-27. And behind us," he shrugged slightly, "I'm not quite sure yet. But the point is, this area presents some challenges, especially considering your levels."
Larry and his group stood silently, absorbing the reality of their situation. The stark contrast between their own levels and the threats surrounding them was evidently unsettling. Sinclair noted Larry's discomfort but remained focused on the broader picture - the safety and integration of these newcomers into Wolf's Run.
Once the initial tension eased, the crowd began to move, forming orderly lines at the registration tables. It took about an hour, but everyone's information was eventually gathered, and they were ready for a more structured introduction to their new environment.
Gathering everyone within the gates, Sinclair positioned himself centrally, facing the large semi-circle of new residents. His presence commanded attention as he prepared to address the group, outlining the rules, opportunities, and support systems that Wolf's Run had in place for them.
Sinclair stood before the newly arrived residents, holding the concise set of laws that had been collectively agreed upon by the council. He appreciated the simplicity of these rules, a stark contrast to the often convoluted legal systems of the pre-System world. His role as Lord Hagerson, a title that had recently appeared in his notifications, still felt somewhat surreal to him. He pinged Leia to remind him to discuss the specifics of this title with Odin, as it came with responsibilities and powers that were not yet fully clear to him.
"First off, I want to thank you for getting through that so quickly," Sinclair began, addressing the crowd. "As I said before, I am Lord Hagerson. This is our home, and hopefully, it will be your home too. There are some rules you will need to agree to abide by before coming in. Let me be clear about the consequences if you don't want to play nice. The rules here are different from what they were pre-System. You can choose to live harmoniously, grow strong, and contribute positively, or you can choose to harm others and hinder our growth. One choice leaves you happy and healthy; the other leads to your exile from the city, which, given your current situation, would likely mean death."
He continued, "The rules here are straightforward: No killing unprovoked. If you defend yourself and it results in the other person's death, that is on them. No stealing. Some of you might have classes that encourage thievery, but I advise against using those skills within our community. Stealing from your fellow residents will lead to your expulsion, as it undermines trust. Discrimination of any kind, racism, xenophobia, sexism, etc will be dealt with harshly. I know our old world had problems with that. It does not exist here. If you cannot abide by these rules you need to get up and walk that way." He finished by pointing in a random direction.
Continuing when no one took him up on his offer. "There are areas that are off-limits. The Town Hall and the ranch house are my personal properties. You're welcome to conduct business in the Town Hall, where most of our administrative activities take place, and where you'll find the quest board. We've constructed multiple barracks to accommodate you, each housing 40 individuals. We believe we have sufficient space, but we're prepared to expand if necessary."
He paused briefly, his eyes scanning the attentive crowd. "You might consider this a frontier town, meaning many of the luxuries you're accustomed to aren't readily available. If you desire certain amenities, I encourage you to either learn to create them or become strong enough to acquire them through your adventures. Our market crystal, accessible to everyone, has a nominal 5% sales and export tax."
Sinclair couldn't help but feel a sense of enjoyment as he laid out the groundwork for the newcomers. It was a unique opportunity to shape a community from its very foundation, and he was determined to make the most of it.
Sinclair addressed the newcomers with a clear and organized approach. "We have appointed Resident Assistants, similar to what you might know as RAs, for each barracks. They're here to help you with any questions you might have. Remember, they're here to provide information, not to serve as personal assistants." He made sure to emphasize this point, setting clear expectations.
He continued, outlining the practical details. "Each barracks is equipped with facilities — female on one side, male on the other. This should help maintain order and privacy for everyone."
Shifting the topic to something more positive, he added, "And to welcome you all to Wolf's Run, we'll be having a feast tonight, right in the center of town. It's going to be a grand affair, and I assure you, it's impossible to miss." His tone was warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the more formal aspects of his speech.
Sinclair scanned the crowd, noting their anticipation. Before concluding, he was almost done. Turning his attention to an elf holding a clipboard, he inquired, "How many did we register?"
The elf replied promptly, his voice carrying a tone of efficiency, "283, my Lord. We have manually verified each one for accuracy."
Sinclair absorbed the number — 283. It was a significant amount, more than he initially anticipated, but manageable. He mentally calculated the logistics, ensuring that their new community members would be comfortably accommodated.
With this final piece of information, he prepared to wrap up the gathering. "Alright, then," he said, his voice projecting clearly to the attentive crowd. "Please listen for your name when it's called, and follow the person who calls it. They are your Resident Assistant and will guide you to your designated barracks." His instructions were crisp and to the point, setting the stage for an orderly transition.
Sinclair's voice was steady, conveying the importance of his next statements. "There are two final pieces of information I need to share. Tomorrow, we will hold introductory classes for everyone who's interested. I highly recommend attending. If you decide to venture out and end up perishing in the wild because you skipped these classes, that responsibility lies on your shoulders. Secondly, I need all 283 of you to repeat after me, 'I swear to abide by the rules laid out here today.'"
This system-backed promise would make enforcing the rules more manageable. Sinclair was reluctant to establish a police force; he preferred a community built on mutual respect and understanding. His thoughts briefly shifted to the formation of an army under General Valthorn, pondering ways to encourage volunteers.
He watched as the notifications began to appear, a digital confirmation of each person's commitment. However, the count halted at 280, signaling that three individuals hadn't complied. "There are three of you who haven't agreed yet. I receive notifications about these things, so let's avoid unnecessary trouble," he announced, his tone firm but fair. He gave them a moment, ready to approach the elf with the clipboard for a name check. Just as he moved, the last three confirmations pinged in, saving him the hassle. A small sigh of relief escaped him, and he nodded appreciatively.
As Sinclair turned back to the elf clutching the clipboard, he gave a nod of acknowledgment. "They are all yours," he said, his grin reflecting a mix of relief and responsibility. With 283 new residents now under his care, the weight of his duties as Lord of Wolf's Run felt even more pronounced.
Determined to stay on top of things, Sinclair knew his next step was a conversation with Odin. There were likely many aspects of managing such a rapidly growing town that he hadn't yet considered. With Chewy and Leia at his side, he made his way towards the Town Hall, his mind racing with thoughts and plans.
The Town Hall loomed ahead, a hub of administration and decision-making for Wolf's Run. As he walked, Sinclair mentally prepared himself for the conversation with Odin and the myriad of tasks that still awaited him. This was uncharted territory, but he was ready to learn and adapt as needed for the good of his town and its people.