Creating the Order of the Wyld only had been the first step. It was an act of sheer arrogance and confidence, relying on the system to accept the meaning and the fickle narrative weight and fill in the gaps. But I wanted more.

I had snuck in the mentioning of the Raven into the vows of the knights to be, to cement my involvement in the order. I would knight them, come their return to the Needle, and needed to prepare a similar ceremony for the occasion, which was...still very much disenchanting when you knew what you were doing and the rest of the world, not privy to the secrets of kings, did not.

I had not inherited the arrogance of my ancestors when it came to ruling, the Last Flight of the Raven had made sure to erase any feelings of grandeur, but if you were not one of those born into the self-perception that anything around you is there, by right of the gods, to serve you, these ceremonies would make you sick. But they were necessary, and so I swallowed the lump of sickness down I felt while manipulating my subjects into their new roles.

The system was made this way, lest we forget it. I was playing within the rules, I might like it or not, but the system was a playground for the mighty and something completely different for all of the rest. I was not sure if oppressive is the word, but it was...limiting. It could be a guiding light, a godsend, and a crutch, but in the end...so could be tyranny for those profiting from it.

Back in my Demesne, I planned to represent the knightly order, and any that followed, in another distinctly different place from my refuge. And since I already had the Valley of Swords formed, a place dedicated to the art of fighting, it felt right to represent the knightly order sponsored by me in the same location.

I had created a pseudo-religious order, not in name, function, or anything, but with a connection through the backdoor so to speak, so I build the statue of a knight, as I imagined a proud and mighty Free Knight of the Wyld to look, not in polished steel, but in worn mantles and boots, eyes scanning the horizon for new adventures and dangers to protect Ravenport from. And instead of a shrine he would pray at, he had a Raven on his shoulder, as a companion and friend in dark times. That was how I saw myself. To represent the Wyld, I gave the knight sharp canine teeth as I had seen some of the Wyldlings have.

“Now what?“ I murmured, carefully placing my finishing touches on the statue.

“Do you feel the connection? The fighters have sworn their lives... not only to you, but there should be some resonance there. If not, you should look for it. Remember the feeling you got when the boy prayed to you? It should be similar, but much more recognizable. There is a difference in quality between praying and actually swearing your life to a cause, after all.“ Lily explained as she inspected the statue.

I closed my eyes and searched for it, concentrating my mind on the connection between the knights and me, and finally my statue. And there they were. 25 motes of light, shining in the darkness behind my closed eyes. They were not praying to me, but we were connected.

“I can feel them.“ I whispered. “They are alive.“ The Broken Lands was not a friendly place to traverse, as I knew better than most, and the fighters were ill-equipped to handle the dangers lurking above and below them in the open space. That is why I had sent the [Hunters] with them.

Well, that and because the [Hunters] needed quests too. They would not be making good knights, but I had something similar planned for them as well.

“Then that is it. The knightly Order of the Wyld is created and the system will recognize it. It may be generic, but I do not think so. The circumstances of their creation and the part the men and women took in the liberation of Ravenport is too meaningful. I reckon they will receive interesting Skills as they level.“

“As I have understood, I now can gift those following me with Skills?“

“Quite right. Although I would wait with that and reward exceptional deeds. But I could imagine that even entering the order could grant you a Skill. That could be very wasteful in the future though, when you have less control over who gets knighted.“

“But I‘ll have to do something, don‘t I?“

“Well, the system is a simple beast. Do something meaningful and you will receive the class. That means that every one of those 25 knights will receive a level, maybe even more, as a [Knight] the day they return. That is power that basically came for free for you. That is not nothing. And nothing you can exploit, I reckon, because these fighters truly are something special with a connection to you and Ravenport. In the end, the system is catering to the individuals. Yes, you can coax and trick it, even make it do things as you want to if you know how, but those men and women truly believe in the cause. They truly swore their life away. It is their meaning that counts, not yours. You just open up opportunities.“

“I wonder what else I can force to be.“ I mused, thinking about roles I could dish out like meat at a campfire. “I am a ruler after all. Not a true king, but the next best thing.“

“I am sure there are certain roles that can be supported or even created by the decree of a mortal ruler alone. And those are bound to get stronger Skills. But it does matter indeed that you are no king. There is a difference. As if the system acknowledges your right to rule the refugees, but waits to see how stable you are.“

“I am an interim ruler? Well, yes. That is what a Lord Protector is, after all.“ I put a finger on my chin in thought as I answered my own question.

“I have made a decision. I have created the order to protect my subjects, for no other reason. I have saved up all that Essence for this. They need it.“

And that was that. 1000 Shards got crushed, and the enormous sum of 5000 Essence swelled in the lake of my Demesne, as I led that power to the statue, while Lily advised me what to do. What was the most practical Skill I got? The most basic, most useful Skill, I could use in any number of situations? And, to be fair, I could afford to buy 25 times? The answer would have been [Stonehide], But that cost 500 EP times 25...that was out of my league, albeit not by much anymore. a couple more thousand and...no, there was no way I would land another comparable quest in the short term, to make up for it. I wanted to give them a Skill now.

I had one more option lying around in my Skill Book I had earned a long time ago. I would first need to learn it, but it could be amazing for a group of [Knights]. [Brothers in Spirit]. It was the Skill I had earned as the system had rewarded my ritual of brotherhood with Cogar with the title ‘as enemies became friends‘.

I studied the Skill in detail, as far as my tome let me. It was a Skill that would never fade out its usefulness, as it improved the teamwork, coordination, and even communication between sworn brothers. And that‘s what [Knights] were, were they not? It would reinforce bonding and working together and could have unforeseen positive benefits down the line. It would set an example on how the culture of the order was meant to develop. And the best part was that it only cost 255 Ep to weave, thanks to my Unity. It was one of the first times my Unity truly came in handy because I could not really have afforded the 6375 EP otherwise. Now, I still had some savings left after the investment in my knights.

The plan was made, the Essence was ready to be woven. It was going to be a long night.

The days, and especially the nights the fighters were gone, would be nerve-wracking because the forces I had left to fend off any dangers with was shrunken down to me and two dozen fighters and [Harpooneers] who had not taken the oath.

To prevent any disasters, I made my way up the Needle, towards the Wyldling camp in the Broken Lands, to request assistance for Ravenport, while its fighters were occupied. That was what allies were for, after all.

In the weeks we had continued the work in the Broken Lands, the path I now took was easy to travel, compared to the last time I had come here. The bridge was sturdy, rope with wooden planks, and the next handful of isles that followed had been made accessible with ladders, bridges, and all sorts of ropes. Rope, one of the most plentiful resources you had access to if you owned a graveyard for big sailing ships.

Those ropes had been used in almost any enterprise we were undertaking. I would go so far as to say that the structures made out of ropes added a certain flair to the attractiveness of the surroundings of the Broken Lands. They fit just right in with the vines and roots that connected the rocks and isles. The more rope bridges and ladders that went up, the more territory became useable by Ravenport and the Wyldlings, cutting back on the accidents in the meantime.

The Wyldlings had built their camp on one of the bigger islands, holding a pair of mountains that they could more easily defend. I had not thought about it much, as I had my own problems to deal with, but the Wyldlings must have a hard time adapting as well. Sure, they were used to the Song of the Wyld to an extent, but they knew neither mountains nor floating isles, where prey was harder to come by than in the forests and plains of their homeland.

They never even had used bows in warfare, before invading the Empire of the Sun. They would handle it better than we would, being used to living in the wilderness, but they had to adapt. And now their leader, who had taken them from their home and led them into the Heart of the Wyld and beyond, was gone with their best warriors to gather more.

I knew the warrior who had taken over leadership in the absence of Cogar, Bagga was his name, but I had never visited and thus had not much contact with the more recently arrived Wyldlings, who might not know about me and my standing with the Bear Clan.

I arrived at the outer palisades of Beardale, as they had called their settlement, and saw mostly tents, sewn together from a plethora of animal hides, scattered about in the shadows of the two mountains to the side. But there, using the mountainside as part of their architecture, they had begun erecting wooden structures, huts, and shelters.

The Wyldlings were still as colorful and varied as ever and had lost none of their intimidating presence and bodily changes I had learned to fear as a margrave. They did not show any signs of wariness or alert, as I strolled right into the middle of them, looking for familiar faces. Which were precious little, considering the number of Wyldlings that resided in Beardale. Even under just a quick estimation, I reckoned there to be a couple of hundred Wyldlings around me right now. Most of them women, children, and the elderly. The fact that most of the warriors had left their clans to join the Snake Clan and participate in the invasion had not changed and was represented here.

But there were others. [Hunters], [Cooks], craftsmen, and everything else that did not fight for a living. [Shamans] as well, as it turned out.

“To see you in our camp? That must be a sign from the Totem Beasts.“ Kara said, while her white-blonde short hair was pushing through a group of Wyldlings that were busy holding up a tentpole, that was in the process of being driven into the rocky soil.

“Kara. As always a pleasure to meet you.“ I smiled, but it never reached my eyes. What should I think of the prodigy [Shaman] of the Snake Clan, who had met me and thrown me into a trap filled with skull-spiders to question my motives, before begrudgingly working together with me to throw down her brother, Barak Bloodbraid? I was not sure. I still mistrusted her, and the lack of a word of apology from her lips still made me mad. But then again, it was a difficult time for anyone involved, and we were all coping in a different manner.

“Follow me.“ She said abruptly and turned towards her tent, high up over the camp on a little plateau. As I entered, she sat crossed-legged on a floor of hides and was busy making a fire and lighting a few rough torches.

“It is one of our bigger problems. Light. We have fire like no other, but the wood here is moist. We need to dry it first and need so much of it. How do humans fight the night? I never see your people coming with axes and going with wood.“ She looked up at me while I took my seat, accepting the earthenware she gave me.

“Oil.“ I said, drinking from the hot tea of indiscriminate origin. “Gathered by hunting whales, giant beasts of the ocean. We have plenty in the shipwrecks we found. The oil gets burned in lamps. We can share. The oil easily, lamps not so much. We cannot light true fires in our shelter, it is made completely out of wood.“

She nodded thoughtfully, sipping her own tea, then focussed me with an inquiring gaze. “The Song is changing. Or has changed in the time I wore that amulet of yours. Now, it is growing frantic. And it whispers secrets into my ear.“

“Secrets like what?“

“Secrets like you trying to take ownership of what is not yours. Of children chained and power taken.“ She held up her hand. “Now, I know the Song of the Wyld now. I can control it. And see truths, many of them, but only one will become reality.“

“What do you mean?“

“You are seeking something which is not yours. It is ours if anyone has a right, and I do not deny you. I want to be a part of it.“

“I will agree or disagree when you say something I can understand.“

“You seek something of power. That much I know. I want to go with you.“

The guardians? Was she talking about the elemental keys?