295 - Interlude - The Aeonic Landas Era

Landas

Commander Argo looked and noticed unusual expressions in his fellow elves.

They didn’t have the old expressions of exhaustion, or anger, or joy.

Stress.

His fellow elves struggled to keep up with the demands of their new rulers. Fortifications were constructed at breakneck pace, the old farms rebuilt so quickly. The visitors. The divine guides. Argo, in his heart, thought of them as the messengers of heaven.

It was hard.

His people were so used to subsistence. So used to existing scraping by, that the messengers of the Tree God had to teach and reintroduce many new skills. Even the art of building better homes, or processing tools, or recording information.

Landas lost so much of its old administrative abilities and knowledge. But, the change brought by the messengers had been swift, so swift that his people, now no longer existing under the threat of the demons, struggled to adapt.

Stress.

They were all listening to the centaur, talking about recording information, city design, and city administration. Things they never thought about. It didn’t matter when things could get destroyed.

But now, they had to design for permanence. They had to rebuild their military ability, and they were all, truly, stressed.

The old elven soldiers were now trained by the messengers. They were veterans of war. Many of them were old too, and survivors of many demonic attacks.

But they survived without regimented training. They gained their levels, often learning from the older soldiers, and from each other. Their methods and styles all contained habits that didn’t always work.

Now the Valthorns came, and truly, they were a thorn in their backside.

Yet it was not defiance. His people were not defiant. They knew how different the power level were.

Every single messenger Argo met was level 100 and more. They were stronger, their equipment and tactics were well honed. In some ways, they were truly anti-demonic specialists, and they wanted to train them to be like them.

The Valthorn Lord present came with a small army of expertly built golems. A [Golem Master] of some sort, and somehow, the laborers worked to rebuild the city.

“Nunarnusk must be rebuilt quickly and better.” The man said. “And unfortunately, many of you lost the skills to do it. We will have to bridge the gap. But first, we need all the old designs out of your old archives!”

Nunarnusk was an ancient city, and the druids’ magical roots pierced the ground and revealed many such old structures hidden after centuries of war. Many of them were hidden under debris, and over time, forgotten. Their people were too busy surviving war after war that the brief periods of peace didn’t grant them much respite to even think of archaeology.

Stress.

The elders squinted and cracked their heads trying to decipher text from the old days that they struggled. Some of them were written in old White Elven that none of them truly could say they still understood.

Even though the [system] naturally bridged the speaking language, and often granted knowledge of the current lingua franca, the written system drifted over the centuries, and that drift meant old text started to lose legibility after sufficient amount of drift.

But the messengers insisted that they dig anyway.

The messengers were not all warriors. Some were clearly mage-scholars, fascinated to pour over new text and subjects never before seen by their kind.

Commander Argo was nearby when he saw a group of them discuss. They spoke fairly audibly that Argo heard them loud and clear. “Our goals for the excavation are to locate old maps and find old spells. From those old maps, we then locate places of magical study. If we are lucky, we may be able to learn new spells that were previously unique to the White Elves. We will have to leave the originals here with the White Elves as per our caretaking agreement, but what we learn, we take and add to our library of spells. We will also extend our coverage outside of Nunarnusk, if there are any strong leads. Understood?”

The rest of them nodded.

Old spells. Argo wondered to himself what old spells did the White Elves know. A part of him wondered whether he should consider it sacred and sacrilegious to let these newcomers go through their history..

But the locals had no strength to resist them.

Nunarnusk and the many capitals were all home to great elven mages during the pre-demonic age.

Though the messengers clearly came to help, it seemed that they also had ulterior motives of their own.

***

Roskor was a hive of activity, as new areas for housing were built seemingly overnight. Gigantic trees turned into homes littered the outer ring of Roskor’s original fort, all meant to house the tens of thousands of refugees that now called Roskor home.

Refugees.

“How much food do we have? Do we have enough to feed everyone?” Novorosk stared at crowds waiting outside their newly constructed canteens.

“Yes, yes.” One of the blood elves nodded with a bit of frustration. “Warleader, don’t worry about us. Food will take some time, but there is enough.”

“Enough? Sure?” It was so strange that the word ‘enough’ still seemed weird to him. It was hard to change from a mindset of scarcity.

For some, it was easier. For Novorosk, it was hard. He didn’t know what to say. He felt a little lost. The refugees all came to collect and eat food. The Valthorn druids blessed their farms and spawned new fruit trees. There were many new farms, and with more new produce there should be enough for everyone to keep their hunger away.

It wouldn’t be enough for luxury. Not yet. The druids and builders that came to Roskor focused on the staple foods, and together with the refugees, constructed new farms and plantations that would feed them all. It was enough to feed twice their current population, but the variety was still almost non-existent.

They would have to develop more farms with more interesting food varieties in the future.

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Novorosk watched, and wondered what he’ll miss in Roskor if he blinked.

***

“I’ve summoned everyone here to discuss a key topic for the future of Landas.” Druid Falin of the Valthorns stated, as a treefolk man appeared. They’ve never seen a man made out of a tree, and wondered whether he was some kind of mythical creature written in their ancient text. “This is Lord Kraveik, a senior noble lord from our world. He is visiting temporarily to assist with the economic aspects of Landas.”

There were old elves from every surviving city of Landas. Many of the surviving towns quickly consolidated, as most were barely surviving and eager to rejoin a larger society. In time, some will wander out again, but for now, the centuries of war left most elves eager to reconnect with their fellow elves.

“Coinage was lost from your old era.” Kraveik declared after what appeared to be weeks and months of pouring through ancient text with a small army of assistants and translators. “Most cities and Landasian settlements now function without coinage, everything through a pooled set of resources allocated by the elders. This is familiar to all of you, but that was not how things were in the old era, and your current favors and allocation system will not work once you become proper nation-states.”

What followed was Kraveik’s highly summarized brief on the economic history of the old elven empire era.

“On behalf of the Valthorns, we intend to restore the coinage system, and for now, we hope that all the different elves adopt a single-coin system until your world regains sufficient scale and industrial output. We will then use this coinage to trade with your cities for the resources each of your cities will then produce.”

The elders glanced at each other. They would have to produce something to trade with each other, because the Valthorn force concentrated on defenses, and basic needs. The Valthorns expansion also quickly flagged many potential resource sites, some containing the usual metals, some containing magical resources such as crystals and gems.

There were some rather basic questions from the elders. They asked why trade was needed when each of them were currently self-sufficient.

“Two main reasons. Quality, and levels. Specialization allows the creation of higher tier goods, which improves quality. It also raises levels, which allow for an individual to create even better tools and equipment. Trade is necessary, to allow each individual to have sufficient production volume. With sufficient production volume, the system recognizes their specialization and awards levels. Trade creates volume, volume creates improvements and experience, and the maker then gains levels. This is how our world’s industrial base gained power. We hope to replicate it to yours.”

Kraviek naturally omitted the part where this was only applicable to the lower level 100s, because the level gains from non-combat activities quickly plateau past level 70 to 90, depending on the type of non-combat class.

They weren’t there yet. Not with their current subsistence level industry.

It would take a decade or two to restore some decent level of trade. It was as much a ‘mindset’ and ‘habit’ issue, than just knowing the means.

***

“Warleader Novorosk, please, show me the old shield structures.” The hero Samahiro or Samuel finally visited their home. He was healthy, handsome as hell, and all the elven females watched him walk by.

Novorosk nodded, pleased to be useful. Novorosk hardly recognised Roskor now, with all the new structures added and old structures cleaned up.

“How are things?” Samuel asked. “The last time I saw you was on Treehome, my apologies for not visiting sooner. I had to gain some levels.”

“It is nothing. It’s not like the shields were used at all.” Novorosk said.

Samuel nodded, as they finally reached the shield structure. There used to be at least three to four mages here, all feeding their magical energies to support the shield structure. It was an ornate, historical object, made with a blend of metals and crystals, and left by a hero many, many centuries ago.

It was once their lifeline, and Novorosk swore to protect it with his life. Little did he expect to ever see a day that here it stood, unattended, unprotected.

He sighed. “If this era lasts, this thing will no longer be needed.”

Samuel shook his head, as he touched it. His star mana pool was larger now, much, much larger than it originally was. He easily fed his star mana to the thirsty object, and the two felt the energies of the shield regain strength. “The wider world is an unforgiving place. Very, unforgiving place.”

“It is.” Novorosk said. “How many such structures have you fixed?”

“A lot. I lost count. I was told to create new ones, just in case.” Samuel sat. “So, will you keep me company, Warleader?”

Novorosk nodded. “There is nothing much for a warleader like me to do. Other than train and spar with my fellow soldiers.”

For a moment, the two sat in peace.

“You should join them.” Samuel spoke after working for a bit, and a magical ball emerged before him. Samuel’s [Hero Forge] would create an additional set of defensive equipment, complete with instructions of use. Most defensive equipment also had a passive charging ability, but often the ambient energies are so thin that they take a while to charge.

Novorosk looked out of a small door. It was normally closed, but these days, there was no risk. The view was of a Roskor that was changing.

A warrior would have no place in a time of peace.

“I want to.” Novorosk said.

Samuel nodded. “You worry for your team.”

Novorosk wanted to say no, but then nodded. “Yes. I- I still wonder whether my place is here or there. Or whether I should even-”

“You should join the Valthorns. I’ve seen what they want to do, and they still need more soldiers. They need far more than you can fathom.”

“Why?”

Samuel looked up, there was a ceiling on top. There were fading paintings made by the old White Elves from an older time. “There are thousands of worlds out there, many of them like ours, struggling to hold on. They all need help. You received help, Warleader Novorosk. It is time to do your part, and help those who are in need.”

Novorosk looked at Samuel. He heard of the same briefing, and understood what it meant. “I know. I- I just need some time to tell my team.”

“They will understand, just as how the rest of the heroes understood I needed time. I, too, was not ready to face the demon king again.” The two exchanged glances, and Novorosk understood that Samuel was still afraid of the demon king. The demon king cursed him in their first confrontation, and even though he successfully fled, the curse deteriorated and left him in a near-comatose state, with the Cherry spirit tree trying its best to keep him alive.

The warleader sighed. To the hero, the hero must think his own fears as just something small. “I will.”

“Good. I’m done. I will have to speak to the mages. Can you call them?” Samuel took out a crystal spherical object that quickly made itself at home.

Novorosk felt its magical energies spread out, and another magical protective layer emerged over their Fortress. It wouldn’t be enough to cover all of Roskor. Not with all the new settlements outside its old walls.

But it was just an additional layer of security. An insurance.

“I’ll call them in, Hero Samahiro. Please wait.”

“Good. I hope the next time I see you, it’s when you are in a different set of uniforms.”

Novorosk chuckled at how quickly the elven hero switched allegiances. But he was right. The world is much bigger than he thought. He’d speak to the Druid Falin later, and see whether he could be a new member of the Valthorns.

***

“I’ve been wondering when you would ask.” Druid Falin had a schedule where he visited each of the different elven cities. There were only about thirty large surviving elven cities, and Roskor was one of them.

“You know?”

“You’re not the first, Warleader Novorosk. The Valthorns are already vetting those who wish to join.”

“How- how many asked?”

“About a hundred for now. We expect more to join, eventually.” Falin patted Novorosk on the shoulder. “I can’t give you any special benefits, but you’ll have to join the training system. Once you’re sufficiently trained, you will be sent to where Aeon sees fit.”

Novorosk shuddered. “I see.”

“Many will fail. Being around Aeon is a difficult thing, and minds need to be made of sterner stuff.”

Novorosk remembered the sensation of having his mind assaulted. It was something that still lingered until today.

“But many of you are warriors who lived a life of protecting your homes. I know you do it for the right reasons, and so, I think you will find it easier.” Falin said.

“I do?”

“Those that put themselves out there must be willing to burn a bit of themselves.” The druid said.

Novorosk didn’t understand. “Why?”

Falin smiled. “Because you will be digging deeper into yourself, all the time. You will try to be more, do more. We burn a little bit of ourselves so that together, we shine brighter.”

Novorosk thought that sounded familiar. It was a sensation he remembered. He nodded. “I look forward to it.”

Falin tapped him on the shoulder again. “I hope to see you soon, Warleader Novorosk. Be prepared for transport.”