As Alex walked through the various streets of the captured villages and settlements, the large masses of Gnolls always crowded around to make way for him through the narrow streets.
Alex's name and his new title had been completely disseminated; by this point, practically everything that had happened in both meetings was common knowledge.
Alex had never considered the consequences his words would have on the masses; rather, he only focused on the long term and his general well-being. He had never thought carefully about other issues. For this reason, he was completely taken aback by the new rumors he had heard. He would have expected some resistance to his new title; however, what had actually happened was that the Gnolls now strutted proudly as subjects of their new king. Although there was a new sense of unity among the different races, suggestive comments still occasionally arose.
"Why didn't the lord just declare himself king of the Dwarves?" a drunken Dwarf challenged Alex.
"I can't simply declare myself king of a people," Alex replied.
"And how did you simply declare yourself king of the Gnolls?" asked a Dwarf woman recently rescued from enemy prisoner camps.
"The Gnoll matriarchs conducted a grand ceremony to summon me. Many matriarchs were involved, and they offered many blessings in exchange for obtaining me. They demonstrated to Glamoria enough conviction and in sufficient numbers to accept the fact that I could be their king," Alex replied calmly as he tore a piece of meat from the spit.
"And why haven't our leaders done the same? Can't we do it?" asked the same Dwarf woman.
"I doubt the Lords of the Depths would agree to perform such a ritual," the drunken Dwarf replied.
"Pah, those old farts cling to the honor earned by their ancestors. Name a single Lord who has truly done anything for our cities. We lost them all due to their incompetence," another drunk Dwarf shouted.
The mood began to heat up quickly among the Dwarves, so Alex intervened strategically.
"What were the cities like?" he asked.
At the mention of their former cities, the faces of all the Dwarves old enough to remember them lit up; each had different emotions, but there was enough excitement in all of them.
Almost fighting to explain, the Dwarves stumbled over each other to describe to Alex the splendor of their cities.
"The Dwarven metropolises were a marvel to behold. Carved directly into the mountains, these underground cities were a labyrinth of tunnels and chambers, each more impressive than the last. The stone walls were intricately carved with reliefs that told the story of the Dwarves, their battles, their achievements, their lineage."
"The streets were lit by lamps of luminous stone, giving everything a soft and ethereal glow. The buildings, carved from the same rock, were sturdy and majestic, with high arches and wrought iron doors. The dwellings were equipped with all the comforts you can imagine."
"The heart of each metropolis was the council hall, a vast chamber adorned with stone pillars and a throne carved into the rock itself. Here, the Dwarven council ruled, advised by their nobles and wise men."
"But what truly distinguished the Dwarven metropolises were the forges. The forges were the soul of the city, where Dwarves worked metal with a skill unmatched by any other. The sound of hammer against anvil echoed throughout the place, a symphony of sparks and steel, the language of metals. Here, the finest weapons and armor were crafted, so resilient and sharp they could cut through rock itself."
"The Dwarven metropolises were a testament to the resilience and skill of the Dwarves, a monument to their pride and tenacity. Despite being underground, they were anything but dark and gloomy. They were bustling with activity, full of life and laughter, a place where Dwarves could truly feel at home."
Each Dwarf took their time to pour their hearts into the descriptions, conveying something that truly filled them with pride about their metropolises. Alex could feel the strong communal bonds the Dwarves had with their kin, as well as with their own city.
"If it's not possible to reclaim them, someday we will build our own," Alex responded calmly as he took a sip of the strong wine the Dwarves drank.
"Building a metropolis takes a long time, lad," one of the quiet and sober Dwarves said.
"You don't look too old for that to matter," Alex said simply.
"It's not about age," the Dwarf replied instantly.
"And then what is it about?" Alex asked, knowing the answer, but only to help this Dwarf express his frustration.
"We've lost all our metropolises; there's no way to build a new one," the man replied.
"Why not? Don't you have the will to create something new? Have you lost your Dwarven spirit?" Alex replied, somewhat intoxicated by the strong wine.
"Boy, never insult the Dwarven spirit. We built the greatest cities this planet has seen. No one but the Dwarves can, and we can't anymore. Without our great metropolises, we don't have the resources to build another," the Dwarf replied angrily.
"Let me ask you something: how was the first metropolis built without help?" Alex looked at the Dwarves.
Everyone remained still in their place; what Alex said was true. Their earliest ancestors to tread this land arrived with nothing to their name; even their own tools had to be created, and slowly they made their way to create the fabulous cities they had described earlier.
The Dwarf who had been in a heated argument wrinkled his face as if he had swallowed sour lemon, and he couldn't hold Alex's gaze, taking a bottle of wine and drinking as if there were no tomorrow.
"Perhaps not today or in the years to come, but I have no doubt that the time will come when you must decide to try to reclaim your ancient metropolises or build new ones. Whatever your decision, if it's within my power, I would like to help, although perhaps it's too naive of me to want to take on even more challenges with all the challenges we already have. Nevertheless, know that my intention is present," Alex told them as he got up from the fire to walk a bit.
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The Dwarves were left behind with Alex's sincere words; it was a promise that meant nothing, mere words in the wind, a mere breeze, and yet somehow managed to warm the hearts of all the Dwarves present. For so many years, they had suppressed their feelings, patiently waiting for one of their leaders to speak those same words to them, to speak of the recovery of their heritage, or of the possibility of expanding their glory. However, their society had been in decline for years, they had been adrift for too long, and that single breeze was enough to ignite a flame with the power of hell in the hearts of the Dwarves.
The number of people who recognized Alex was striking to him. The main reason was that he was the only human in a place full of other races. However, this never ceased to impress him. As he walked through the streets, Alex could see longing in the eyes of the Gnolls, as well as other sensations among which hid dark things. After all, the Gnolls' curse still lingered, and they were grouping together more and more.
Alex entered a room in the settlement where Atasha and Atarra were heatedly discussing issues of Gnoll internal politics, a discussion that came to an abrupt end when they saw Alex enter.
"Do you need something, lad?" Atarra asked.
"I have received certain medicines from Athena, the Lightning Protector fulfilled her part, now it only remains to use it to heal my soul," Alex replied.
"That process is slow and safe and you can do it yourself, sir, unless you are thinking of carrying out a direct operation on the soul on our part," Atasha asked, sensing where the conversation was going.
"That's right, we don't have time to take it slow, or rather, I don't have time. If I don't restore the state of my soul soon, it will destroy itself," Alex replied, taking off his upper body clothing and sitting in the middle of the room.
Slowly, the Human began to place around him the things he had received as prizes for the matriarchs to use, as well as other magical artifacts they had acquired from their expedition and certain medicines that the trading company had brought upon their return. Alex decided to go all out, even if it might be a waste of materials; after all, there was nothing more precious than the soul.
Both matriarchs immediately put their little quarrels aside and called all their assistants, gathering their personal resources that they thought might help in the operation. The matter was complex and costly, but for them, Alex was well worth the investment.
With Alex at the center, both matriarchs began to draw detailed concentric symbols, completely absorbed in their task, advancing from opposite sides slowly while their aspiring matriarchs helped to draw the general parts of the outer circles, and those more skilled showcased themselves performing the finer details, albeit at a much slower pace than both matriarchs.
It was in these moments that one could glimpse Atarra's veteran status slightly, if one had a sharp enough eye to realize that the old matriarch was progressing slightly faster, using slightly less internal energy to carry out the work. Nonetheless, seeing the younger matriarch slightly inferior in skill to one of the oldest matriarchs spoke volumes about Atasha's real and future ability.
To Athena's amazement, both matriarchs carried out a detailed and meticulous ritual circle with patterns so intricate and precise that it was hard to believe they were doing something so improvised. If the rest of the "civilized" nations were witnesses to the level of the ritual being performed, they would be horrified, as this level was comparable to the highest echelons of the Human magisterium, the Elven High Rabbit, or the Dwarven Rock, the highest and most prestigious magical institutions of the various races.
The movement in the room alerted all the major players, and although the matriarchs did not notify anyone, eventually all the relevant actors arrived to witness how the ritual slowly unfolded.
The sky slowly began to darken.
The newcomers were increasingly bizarre?
Without knowing how, when, or why, the alpha of the Moonstalkers suddenly appeared in a corner next to Lunaria.
From the opposite side was Athena, who began to move her head quickly from side to side, as if possessed, until finally a yellow glow replaced her usual white, the Lightning Protector had descended upon her.
Beside her from the black shadows, a small lizard appeared, growing until it reached the height of an iguana.
"Protector Karan, what brings you here?" Athena spoke with her normal voice.
"You can't deceive me with those simple tricks; it will be impossible for you to mask what is happening here," simply responded the slave of shadows of the black dragon.
Torel looked with some apprehension as powerful beings crowded in; this cabin that could normally hold large gatherings now seemed strangely small, suffocating.
A small one from who knows what tree emerged from the earth and perched near the entrance.
"There are too many eyes; even if we try, we won't be able to hide anything," Karan told a troubled Lightning Protector.
"I understand," Athena finally responded reluctantly, accepting her inability.
From the depths of a lost, forgotten, and inaccessible temple, a doll of a girl missing many parts looked intrigued, tilting her head and twisting her body at different angles trying to look at what was in front of her in a different way until finally murmuring.
"Could it be that with just that he's attempting it?"
From the five great cities, their greatest mages, as well as the strongest people from those cities, felt their skin crawl.
"What's happening?" they murmured, looking towards the southern part of the Iretar forest.
The forest slowly fell silent, and the birds dared not fly, not even the insects made a sound.
All the alphas of the forest could feel that something was about to happen, unfortunately, not all of them were invited.
From the northern range of the peninsula, in the tallest tower of Minas Erat, the Archon of the Kron felt the great confluence, a concentration of powers so diverse was like a display of nuclear bombs with different colors, impossible to miss... or not to worry about.
"Perhaps we have left the rats too calm," said the Archon.
"My lord Archon, our forces are mostly occupied, we have expanded until our lines have become very thin, your choice to leave it aside was undoubtedly correct," replied a young man with a butler's appearance.
"Perhaps it was the right choice at that time, but now things have changed," the Archon reflected on the circumstances and finally looked at the table full of his children, at least those worthy to serve in the army, the only ones who really mattered to him.
"Arban, you head south," his father finally proclaimed.
The youngest of the boys got up from his chair.
"Yes, father, which company shall I lead?" the boy asked with some apprehension.
"None," the father simply said as he turned his gaze southward.
The brothers began to throw evil glances at each other; it was clear that the boy had made too many mistakes and now his father was sending him to die, which gave them that satisfaction in others' misery.
"Without an army, I can't defeat my enemy," the boy said, trembling.
"You don't need an army," the father replied.
The boy's heart almost stopped completely upon hearing his father's words, and his brothers' cruel smiles widened even further.
"And you don't need to defeat anyone either."
The room immediately fell silent, and all the boys looked at their father bewildered.
"Haven't you studied Mak Tar's history in your martial philosophy classes?" the father asked, astonished by his children's lack of understanding.
The youngest replied, "Yes, father, we have studied Mak Tar, but he's not one of the great conquerors; why would we focus on him?"
"Silly boy, if he's not a great conqueror, then why is his story carved in the Enchiron?" the father asked, annoyed, not as a superior officer dissatisfied with his subordinate, but rather as a father whose children disobey him.
The boys thought and searched for an explanation that would satisfy their father's question and expectations, because why would a guerrilla warrior's story be engraved on the same stone mural where the great conquests of the greatest members of Kron society were engraved?
"In these moments, the Kron only need time, boy; your conquest will not be to bring new lands to our race, your conquest will be to give time to your brothers," he finally replied after seeing that none of his sons could come up with the explanation.
"I understand, father, I will gather my escort and depart as soon as possible," Arban replied.