The glittering portal remained open for far too long. Theo got more uncomfortable the longer the Bridge remained open, even after Fenian drove his Karatan team out from within. The Elven refugees seemed to march in an endless line, more than the original promised number. Alise and her administrators desperately tried to keep a count of heads, but it was impossible. The Bridge finally closed with a snap, the darkness from within retreating in moments.

“That’s a bit more than 250,” Tresk said, nodding to the crowd.

As Theo went down to greet the new members of Broken Tusk, he noted what a terrible state they were in. Gaunt eyes and sunken cheeks revealed the truth of the matter. Each Elf, even the children, were emaciated. Many were scarred, burned, missing limbs, or wrapped in bandages all the same. But hope glimmered in their eyes, burning against the reality of war.

“My dear friend!” Fenian shouted, dismounting his carriage. Galflower snorted her disapproval. “Apologies for the excess of refugees. We fared far better in the escape than expected.”

“Fenian,” Theo said, grabbing the Elf by the shoulder and pulling him to the side. “These people look horrible.”

Fenian nodded, lowering his voice. “Things were bad, Theo. The empire was hunting down members of the Wavecrest family. They’ve been living in a cave.”

“Damn,” Tresk said, cradling Alex.

“Alise!” Theo shouted. “Get on it. Process everyone.”

That snapped the administrator out of her stupor. She stood, looking over the crowd with a pained expression. She scurried down the wall after that, ordering her group of junior administrators around.

“You’ll want to meet their patriarch,” Fenian said, turning on the spot to snag an older-looking Elf.

The man was as gaunt as the others, his brown hair showing streaks of gray. Upon seeing Theo, he bowed at the waist. “Gaeleithia Wavecrest. Unwitting patriarch of House Wavecrest. Please, call me Gael.”

“Fine collection of half-dead Elves you got there,” Tresk said.

“More than half-dead‌,” Gael said, rising to give a pained smile. “We have business to discuss. Please… The children.”

Theo nodded his head to the administrators. Bob was among them, helping the children aside to get food and water. The alchemist spotted more than a few of his healing potions being administered.

“We’ll go to the town hall,” Theo said, leading the way back into town.

Gael’s steps were uneven. While Fenian flaunted his grace, the leader of House Wavecrest stumbled with every step. Tresk was there to support the man as they went while Theo was busy rolling the situation over in his mind. He should have expected it to be this bad. They weren’t running from a pack of cuddly bunnies, they were fleeing a civil war. The destruction of their house. But Broken Tusk was prepared, the way it always was. They’d over-prepared for a reason, he reminded himself.

Gael sunk into a chair in the town hall. Theo remained standing while Tresk ran security in the area, disappearing into the shadows. The alchemist signaled his golems, instructing them to monitor the refugees. Just in case.

“Broken Tusk welcomes her newest citizens with open arms,” Theo said, producing a [Stamina Potion] and a month-old bowl of wolf meat stew. Gael took both and ate without words. “I’m afraid you’re out of the empire, and into a worse situation.”

“I’m sorting that out,” Fenian said.

Theo leveled his eyes at the trader. “I’ve already sorted it out. The Southlands Defensive Alliance is formed, and we’re ready for whatever undead horrors you’ve unleashed.”

“I have nothing to do with the undead,” Fenian said.

“Uh-huh.”

“Honestly. Well, I have plans for them. But they moved on their own,” Fenian said.

“Do your plans involve destroying the kingdom?” Theo asked.

“Nope.”

It was hard to be mad at Fenian. Theo had plenty of time to prepare for whatever crap he was pulling, and it only benefited them. If the insane Elf could destroy the kingdom, everyone in the south would be better off. Assuming he made good on his promise to bring sailors and shipwrights.

“Where are my shipwrights?” Theo asked.

“Among the refugees,” Fenian said. “I picked them up along the way.”

“We can’t thank you enough,” Gael said, looking much better after his potion and stew. “You won’t regret this, honored mayor. Those who remain in House Wavecrest aren’t noble by birth. We’re workers.”

“Old Gael here was a carpenter,” Fenian said, slapping him on the shoulder.

Theo had seen the name on the incomplete manifest. It was a grim thought, but everyone who was left alive in the house was worth taking into Broken Tusk. They were workers, a few artisans, and craftsmen.

“So we have a problem,” Theo said. “What is the empire going to say about me taking in House Wavecrest? They’ve allied with Veosta, so we’re just waiting for them to come knocking.”

“They’ve allied with Veosta?” Fenian asked, raising a brow. “Really? Well, they’ll have to slog through fields of undead to destroy your alliance.”

“I’m always disappointed when I’m better-informed than you, Fenian,” Theo said, sighing and dropping into a chair. “Please tell me your plan is for the betterment of the world.”

“It absolutely is,” Fenian said, withdrawing a spouted clay jar and four stout glasses from his inventory. He set them down on a table, pouring out wine and handing it out. A single glass remained for Tresk to take at her leisure.

Theo sipped the wine. It was tart, almost unpalatable, but he drank.

“One piece at a time, alchemist,” Fenian said. “Is the Lord of Sand still here?”

Khahar appeared, looming over the group. “I’m happy to see what’s left of House Wavecrest alive.”

“Honored Lord,” Gael said, bowing. “You flatter a dying house.”

“Dying no longer,” Khahar said. “Not behind these walls. Not with these people.”

“Not with the alliance formed,” Theo corrected. “Fenian’s undead will break against Gronro-Dir. House Wavecrest has to do its part to guarantee the safety of our domain. I just need to know your people will put in the work. Once they’ve recovered, of course.”

Gael stood, looking much more hale than before. He bowed again, rising to meet Theo’s eyes with a fierce gaze. “By my life I swear it. You’ll question how you lived without Wavecrest brawn in your town.”

Theo nodded. But it wasn’t good enough. He drew up a contract for Gael to sign, something similar to the one he agreed with Alise on. The text detailed House Wavecrest’s willingness to integrate into the town, and never bring harm to Broken Tusk by any means. Intentional, or otherwise. Once the leader of House Wavecrest signed it, the alchemist was happy. Alise and Gwyn had the arduous task of getting the other Elves to sign the contract.

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“Just like that, huh?” Theo asked, turning to Fenian. “You moved a faction of Elves across the sea in moments.”

“A special request to Uz’Xulven,” Fenian said, his face going dark. “At significant cost.”

“We’re in your debt forever, Southblade,” Gael said.

Fenian turned, grinning. “I know.”

Theo let that hang in the air. He didn’t have the will to confront what that meant. Perhaps these Elven matters should be left to the Elves. Once Gael had recovered enough, they left the town hall and found an orderly line of refugees forming outside the eastern gate. Every member of Broken Tusk was along that train of Elves, administering food, potions, and tea to soothe their weary spirits. The smiles that hung on their faces spread a sense of warmth through the alchemist’s body.

“This is the Guildmaster of our Adventurer’s Guild,” Theo said, introducing Gael to Aarok. “And the captain of the guard, Luras. Azrug is our Lord Merchant, and over there you’ll see Lady Administrator Alise.”

“This is quite the sight,” Gael breathed.

“Wait until you see this,” Azrug said, gesturing north.

A cloud of dust rose from the north over the rise of earth. Even in the light of day, Zarali’s purple runes glowed to battle the choking dust. One of Azrug’s carriages raced down the dirt path, almost throwing its portly rider along the way. Theo couldn’t believe it when he spotted the driver. Alran Cherman held onto the reins, his pale face dripping with sweat. He pulled alongside the train of Elves, tossing wooden crates to the ground and shouting invitations.

“Food for all!” he shouted. “Eat your fill!”

“Part of the deal,” Azrug said, laughing. “We settled on an open-refugee policy. As long as they sign your magic contract, they get full citizenship to any of the 3 towns. The moment Alran learned we wanted to help Rivers, instead of conquering it, he became a humanitarian.”

“Lord Slug,” Alran said, pulling his cart up to Theo and Azrug. “Which arm of mine shall I cut off to take this carriage off your hands?”

“You’re welcome to use it for a while,” Azrug said, waving him off. “Don’t complain to me when it runs out of power in your power-starved region.”

“I shall complain,” Alran said, dismounting the cart and patting the Karatan on their heads. “Mayor Spencer. I see your refugees have arrived.”

“They have, Mister Cherman,” Theo said, bowing his head. It was hard not to feel humbled in the presence of so many people coming together. “We appreciate the help.”

“Indeed. I have more supplies to distribute at the head of the line. If you’ll excuse me,” Alran said, bowing and leading his cart by foot toward the gate.

Theo watched as the Elves dug through the boxes hungrily. He winced, thinking back to the famine that struck Earth. It was a tale too close to home, and he didn’t care to relive it. Unlike back then, there were magical means to make sure these people were always fed. They’d have well-paying jobs the moment they recovered. Clean water, food, and shelter in the meantime. But none of it mattered if they didn’t get the damn harbor working.

“Fenian, walk with me,” Theo said, gesturing toward the harbor.

“Certainly.”

Azrug and Gael stayed behind. Theo felt Tresk lurking somewhere in the shadows as they approached the harbor, finding Sledge in deep conversation with a group of 20 Elves. Even without inspecting them, or asking for their professions, the alchemist knew they were sailors. They had the look of old salts about them.

“You call this a harbor?” an Elven woman shouted, her laugh booming over the waves. “Might as well be a damn duck pond. And who are you to say what I can build, shorty?”

“I’ll show you short!” Sledge shouted, swinging at the woman.

Fenian moved in, far faster than a normal trader should have been able to move. He scooped up Sledge, and tossed the Elven woman to the side. Each motion was more graceful than anything Theo had seen. Every footfall was a silent, purposeful thing that routed the fight before it started. He stood, dusting his frills with a grin on his face.

“Now, we’re going to play nice,” Fenian said. “May I introduce Laedria Wavecrest. Master Shipwright and all-around pain in the ass.”

“A pleasure,” Laedria said, rolling her shoulders. “Me and little Sledge here were just ironing out some details. I’m your new shipwright. And I’m not impressed.”

“You’re welcome to return to Tarantham,” Theo said.

Laedria wore simple shirts and slacks, dirty and torn from their ordeal. She kept her brown hair short, and her blue eyes had a sharp edge to them. But there was a tiredness in those eyes that betrayed her boisterous words. Like the other refugees, she was tired. Like most Half-Ogres, she needed a good knock on the head to get her mind straight.

“Nope,” Laedria said, giving one resolute nod. She marched over, holding her hand out for Theo to shake. “I understand you, mayor. Laedria Wavecrest. Running from war and happy for any safe harbor.”

“A pleasure,” Theo said, shaking the woman’s firm hand. “While I’m happy to see you and your workers eager to get to it, you need to rest.”

“There’s no rest for us, mayor,” Laedria said. “Just running, killing, and dying. If I don’t get my hands on a delightful piece of cured timber here in the next few minutes, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Theo turned, gesturing to the towering Ogre Cypress trees. All eyes followed, lingering over that forest. “That is Sledge’s source of lumber. Look around and use your eyes before you talk with your heart. I’m guessing even Tarantham doesn’t lay claim to such magnificent trees.”

“They don’t,” Fenian put in, laughing. “Scrawny little oaks.”

“Not sure how well cypress does for boats,” Laedria said, sighing. “But let’s do it. I’m not waiting a second more.”

“Fine,” Theo said. “Things are going to be busy, so stick to the planning phase. Let the administration staff know what you need, and you’ll get it.”

“Got it.”

Theo and Fenian stuck around in the harbor for a while. Sledge and Laedria tried to fight again, but they broke off before drawing back their fists. The alchemist ordered a single [Lesser Copper Golem] to tail the new shipwright with instructions to break up fights if they happened. The pair got on well after a while.

“How are things in Tarantham?” Theo asked, leaving the harbor with Fenian.

“This happens often with the Elves,” he said with a weak shrug. “My house had the same sort of purge. We accept it as a fact.”

“That sucks,” Theo said. “But not my problem. This is great for us. We’re useless without that shipwright. Once we have boats in the water, we’re opening trading lanes.”

“Good idea.”

Fenian was happy to help with the refugees, intending to stay in town for a few days. The trader had a hard exterior at most times, but held a clear soft-spot for his countrymen. Under the guidance of the administrators, the refugees were processed quickly. Theo found his way to Mudball Fundamental a few hours into the procedure, standing outside the play yard to watch the new children. Once they had food in their bellies, all worries about the world they just left vanished.

Bob remained in the play yard, shouting at overzealous Broken Tusker children when they got too rough. Elf children didn’t play like Half-Ogres, or Marshlings, but there were enough Human kids at the school to make things run smoothly. Once the parents of the children were released into the town, they came to watch everyone play with a mixture of pride and sadness. Some openly cried near the fence, but the alchemist took them as tears of joy. But this wasn’t a refugee camp. This was a full integration of a fallen house. It was nothing like those camps on Earth.

The children invented a game on the spot. It was like Earth’s version of tag, but with Broken Tusk rules. Someone was the monster, and all the others were regular people. Whoever played the monster got a ball of mud. Once another child was hit with the mud, they became a monster, and so on. During the hour that Theo watched, the rules changed to include force fields, freezing powers, and more that he couldn’t follow. It devolved into a yard filled with dirty kids, so the alchemist handed over a flask of [Cleansing Scrub] before moving on.

Theo reserved his desire to work on alchemy projects to check in on everyone throughout the day. Sledge and Laedria were at her workshop, going over the details on the boat project. Most refugees took the chance to rest, finding their shared residences and sleeping for the day. Only a few Elves worked so close to their ordeal. Xam organized a massive feast, setting out tables in the streets and inviting everyone to join. But Alise came to find the alchemist, pulling him into a meeting with Aarok, Luras, Gwyn, and Azrug. Tresk joined them in the town hall with Alex cradled in her arms.

The administrators had reports to deliver. Each of the new 290 residents signed the contracts without complaint. Most didn’t read it, just agreeing and shambling off to their new homes. From the window of the meeting room, Theo could see the new citizens feasting in the streets. He made a mental note to invest in a bard, or someone who could play music for these events. The constant shouting of celebration was nice, but it could use some music.

“We got a few gems,” Aarok said. “Some hardcore adventurers to bolster our roster.”

“Mean sons of bitches, more like,” Luras said, brooding in the corner. “They might fit in better at Gronro.”

“No spellcasters or priests?” Theo asked.

“Absolutely none,” Gwyn said. “We’re talking about a house of 50,000 people. Reduced to 290. They’re lucky to have survived from the stories I heard.”

“I want everyone to force these people to rest,” Theo said, thumping a finger against the table. “They need time to process this crap.”

“You think so?” Tresk asked. “That’s not what you did.”

Theo drummed his fingers on the wooden table, letting his claws chip away at the surface. Tresk was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Working hard was a great way to forget past losses. It gave him a chance to work through it at his own pace, coming to terms with things while being useful. Perhaps being of use to the town would give them a new purpose, washing away that foul taste of defeat.

“Fair. Encourage them to take a break,” Theo said. “Now, is anyone else starving?”