Bonded Summoner

Having reviewed the Conquest Map just before setting out, Jake was impressed with how much his people had accomplished on a world that had nearly fallen. They had won back the city of Rasengrad all on their own, uniting two factions and bringing the Conquest percentage back up over forty percent. The rate of Rift spawns had slowed, and they were making a steady crawl toward the halfway mark.

Jake, Bloodberri, Ophelia, and Nessa flew toward Rasengrad, traversing the frigid landscape rapidly through the air. The north was cold and full of flowing rivers and frigid lakes, a cold winter chilling the wind against their skin.

The other half of the family was closing Rifts in the South, as well as taking on another important task.

Rasengrad could barely be seen in the distance as a speck at this point, but they were nearly there. Berri said suddenly, “Not that many Rifts on that report, were there? If we split up into three teams, we’ll have Tartarus beaten and the world rescued in no time. Maybe even faster than The Burning Steps.”

Jake nodded from her back as she flew, and Nessa stayed on the lookout with Ira. “I’m truly impressed. Our people didn’t just buy time for us to arrive–they more or less won the world on their own.”

Nessa laughed. “Are you sure you want to say that? They ran into an Aspect on Morvalis.”

Blood’s eyes flashed, and she grinned. “Just one? They better bring ten if they want to slow us down. They will just become fuel for our rise.”

In many ways, his family’s plan to send Hearthtribe elites to this world was a test. If they could save and win a world nearly fallen, that meant they could win almost anywhere. It was proof of their people’s strength and their doctrine’s overall effectiveness. It was their guild’s charter showing its ability to stand against many challenges in the future.

When they left the First Tier, they had the grace period to really nail out their charter–the reward structure, operational doctrine, investment in people and worlds, and even things like their security protocols. Because after they left it, they could do little more than give out minor quests and simple communications down the chain.

After that, it would be much like the restrictions the out of Sector participants would experience–much like Nessa or the other Divine Descendants. They could not provide metagame information about how to perfect their guild any longer, lest they give up their bonuses and advantages that they needed to truly excel. The Subguilds would have to make improvements and choices entirely on their own. However, their guilds hadn’t truly gotten that much testing in the two-year grace period. Their people hadn’t acted autonomously without Clan Hart or, at the very least, Valtor’s guidance.

Of course, they won several worlds even through PvP scenarios in that time–before there was no going back. But it was easy to attribute those to just a few elites, allies, and special situations like Ariminum where Clan Hart had done the lion’s share of the work. The beastkin were the dominant member count by a significant margin, the Elysians and others not quite ready to contribute at that time in larger numbers.

Then, as things scaled upward into the next Tier, they often changed–it was like going from a high school sport to a college sport.

They were on another level with higher standards, more competition, and greater and even different challenges and metagame. With events like Fortress Assaults and Greater Rifts being more commonplace and so varied in their events, plus the risks of the dungeon itself, it was a lot more than just Monster Dens and Rifts.

Someone who was the best player on their team, an elite in their guild at an earlier Tier, could end up as a bench warmer–an average person in the next Tier. Could their odd harem guild really be just as successful at this higher level?

Thankfully, their First Tier Guild had proven rather effective in the past three years after the grace period had ended. They were set to claim three out of the five world Contests, while two would just be assists. None of the worlds they had involved themselves with had been lost, and this was with the wider spread of races from various worlds from Clan Hart’s kingdom.

Once again, Hearthtribe and likely Highlands itself would be Tiering up within the next year or so. This meant they would need to leave Subguilds behind to continue participating in lower-Tier contests without negatively impacting their members, losing their research bonuses, hurting their chances in PvP, and their contribution cap as a guild.

There were also member limits and concurrent contest limits, things Jake hadn’t originally thought would ever be a problem. But because they had been growing so rapidly thanks to the surprising beastkin participation and growth, he was thankful they went through the effort to create those Subguilds for different purposes and levels of commitment. He now somewhat understood the enemy guild’s behaviors and choices–the design aspects of them.

Rift Closure messages flashed in Jake’s Menu, Bree, Ruby, and Avalara closing a Rift with a nearby Battlegroup, while Fhesiah, Sati, and Tanda moved through the terrain together, concealed as unsealed Champions.

The Truth Seekers had uncovered new information about the betrayers already, and they were heading to sneak up on them quickly to capture them. They even brought a Priestess of Arawn on Valora to make sure they could get everything out of them–should they take the easy way out, they’ll find that it wasn’t so easy.

Capturing them would be an event Nessa would probably like to be there for, but meeting with Bramvalen leaders would be too. Especially because it was her frontman that, the last communication seemed to say, had done the best work. Jake was interested to learn more about this.

As they got closer to Rasengrad, they could see many refugees marching toward it with Adventurer or soldier escorts or large boats traveling down the rivers. It seemed those forced to flee the city were heading back, which was a bit of a surprise to Jake. He heard the city had been devastated by the saboteurs and waves of monsters.

There were also airships traveling both to and from the city, it appeared, heading out in various directions. Some were likely helping ferry some of these people to their destination or heading toward the Rifts that dotted the landscape.

Rasengrad was a large, semi-Viking-style city made of wood and stone, propped up against a mountain and lake. A keep sat higher than the rest, with a curved horn-like structure that pierced the sky.

The stone walls had largely been destroyed, with numerous holes in them, and the main castle wasn’t in much better shape, and many of the homes burned down. Jake had heard it was replaced by a crystal gem city, so seeing this here meant that they had chosen to restore the city.

He had remembered his choices for Life’s Haven. The restore choice did not include repairs to the original city when it was replaced by the strange stone undead amalgamation. Instead, it was a merging of styles choice that allowed for a repair and a hefty price in CP. However, he made that choice because it wasn’t meant to only be the mammalian beastkin’s restored home; it was meant to be Hearthtribe’s and any races that would call it home. And of course, preserve that portal the previous Adventurers had foolishly paid for.

Rasengrad was quite different.

Work was being done on the walls to repair them, it seemed, with both earth cultivators and runic casters from Love and Justice. The city was large, however, and so were the walls. It would take a lot of work.

In the center of the city, outside of the inner keep, Jake spotted Yiming with a tablet as he monitored and instructed numerous others moving supplies and working on repairing the walls. Jake’s party made their landing, arriving to speak with the Warrior Brotherhood leader. Because this would involve a lot of talking, Ophelia went ahead and sent Valora home and de-summoned her for now.

Yiming had smiled as soon as he felt their presence, turning to look at them. “Good to see you all–it’s been a while, Lord and Ladies. You made it just in time, Chief. We were just a few hours from taking off, now that we’ve repaired enough of the walls.”

“Good job retaking this place. Repaired enough, you say? It’s in shambles. I’m surprised you turned it into an HQ at all.”

Jake turned to the HQ building, which was going to be within the main keep’s walls, it looked like. They would add a special gateway arch with a short-ranged portal, making sure people could still access it from outside the main walls.

Yiming nodded. “It was for the best and a…choice that kept the natives’ heritage in mind. We didn’t want the Aesryn to feel slighted, even if it wasn’t the most tactical decision. Since the Theskarrians have theirs…so must the Aesryn, the third border HQ not favoring either side. As for the keep walls, we’re about to expend CP we earned from the retake to finish the repairs and upgrade them. Though…if you wanted to flex some magical muscle, this might be a good way to show your might and save us some,” he grinned.

Jake had figured the first thing Yiming was going to do was call out the native leaders and have him meet them. It wasn’t lost on him that Yiming asked him to do something else instead. Likely, he thought showing his people’s capabilities here would create a good first impression and some rapport with the natives in some way. That, or he just needed to buy some time, he supposed.

He shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got plenty of mana to burn, and I’d like to try some things out. Let me see those schematics.”

Jake took a look over the tablet and discussed with Yiming what they would need. It seemed they simply required a ton of conjured stone, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt if Jake did some enchantments. Since the blueprint was of his design, he had most of the information memorized anyhow.

The closer they got the physical structure to the result, the fewer CP they would be required to spend. They flew to a spot on the side of the keep, where natives were conjuring stone with Jake’s old spell rods.

Earth cultivators from Love and Justice then cut the stone, enhanced it, and moved it into place, where others enchanted it with runic scribes, etching the patterns. Then, they merged it together. A Mana Font was already in place, granting the conjurers plenty of mana to work with.

Dozens of mages were taking turns. Even with infinite mana, one could only spend so much time channeling it and casting spells before their mind began to fog.

Jake had, of course, made many improvements to the spell rods and had researched numerous spells that helped supplement the capabilities of them. And he no longer needed spell rods for himself, even if it made casting spells easier.

He transformed Pyros into his old Champion Staff of Hestia with a thought, letting it float next to him. It took on only a slightly different hue, the gem-like material of Pyros when it hardened a bit different from the old spear staff.

The runic prisms would soon, hopefully, be replaced by the special spell ring after they divined the last runes. But for now, he could use them to help speed up the repetitive casting task.

With a quick drawing of the runes in his mind and a flex of his will, a square portal to the void was opened, and a cubic block of stone appeared a quarter of an inch off the ground. The block thudded against the frozen floor.

He then shifted the prisms and performed a second spell, a pulse of mana running through it and shifting the block in ways difficult to see. Then he infused the block with mana to prepare it for their runic etching and moved on to the next, building out a section of the wall away from where everyone else was working.

Jake now knew how to conjure different kinds of stone, as well as how to do much of what the earth cultivators were doing–homogenizing and strengthening it. The second spell had removed air pockets and distributed the molecules within to be more structurally uniform. When he was done with it, the stone was better than if it was cut from a local quarry, able to hold much more mana and structurally sound.

Ophelia and Bloodberri brought out their spell rods and started doing the same.

Blood hummed. “I am looking forward to when Milord works out these spell rings and their many advantages, but I do wonder. Bypassing the need to shape the mana with our will and mental imagery should mean we spend less time doing it. Will our skills not suffer?”

“That’s a good callout, but spending less time focusing on shaping the runes should mean we can instead focus on other patterns and shaping. As it stands now, the multitasking necessary to cast spells is quite a bit. Drawing mana from afar, the fractal patterns to improve investment and strengthening the structure, as well as more complicated layouts for runes, is a lot to focus on in addition to shaping them and willing them into existence.”

Nessa joined the group with a spell rod of her own, straightening the blocks for the other girls with her limited mana. They quickly became a printing press for the huge blocks, rapidly creating them from their spell rods and building a section of the wall.

Ophelia noted, “This is just like old times, huh? We’ve done other rebuild operations since then, but to think it has been more than five years since we did that rush job for Cascadia. Though this is a first for Nessa.”

Berri giggled as she continued her casting. “And won Tanda over in the process, huh? That skeptical ravenwolf girl. I’m so glad she joined us.”

Tanda replied in their minds, [I was reasonably skeptical! But I may have…denied what the world and my heart was telling me for a little too long.]

Jake chuckled. “For a beastkin, maybe. It was only like a week or two. An eventful two weeks, at that.”

The party continued stacking the stone blocks for a time, moving down the wall and making great time. It had been under an hour, but eventually a group of figures emerged from the longhouse nearby.

It was Astalder, Jarl Eric, Geomarch Darren, and a handful of who Jake assumed were each of their advisors. For the Aesryn, a mixture of wizened older officials and Viking warriors, and for the Theskarrians, stocky tribal warriors mixed with their seers–a shaman-like folk that wore bones and leaves to go with the peoples’ body paint.

Astalder smiled as he approached with the entourage, his arms wide. “Clan Hart and Lady Nessa! So good to see you again, Boss. And you’ve got…a flame thing now. Charming! Er, wait a minute.”

The Norse berserker faltered, his jovial stride faltering to a halt. As he drew closer, he had to physically crane his neck upward. Jake, Ophelia, and Nessa towered over the native group. And that said nothing of the absolute mind-break that was Bloodberri–she had grown a bit as they moved through the Tier and was now a sixteen-foot behemoth with nearly fifty yards of armored tail. With it coiled near her, it made the warriors look like children's toys.

But it wasn't just their size. Jarl Eric’s seasoned warriors instinctively reached for their weapons, only to freeze, their hands trembling. Geomarch Darren’s seers dropped to their knees, weeping openly as they felt the overwhelming, suffusing warmth of true Hearthian Presences washing over the plaza. It was the crushing weight of absolute authority and strength, tempered by a bizarre mixture of maternal and fraternal sanctuary.

After their victory against the betrayers and the Tartarus plots, they saw it as pointless to hide it any longer. In fact, it would be weird if after so many victories they didn’t show some kind of substantial growth, both to their allies and enemies alike. With it so obvious they were hiding something, their enemies would try twice as hard to find it.

Astalder swallowed hard. “Third Tier? How? No, wait. Never mind.” He cleared his throat, desperately trying to regain his footing as a diplomat. “There are some people you should meet.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Jake smiled. Recognizing the sheer terror radiating from the native delegations, he tapped a Framework item on his belt. His massive, imposing form shimmered and compressed, shrinking down until his boots touched the frozen earth and he stood eye-to-eye with Jarl Eric.

It was a deliberate, vital gesture. Jake wanted to meet these people as equals, to look them in the eye without them having to strain their necks. But by leaving Ophelia, Nessa, and Bloodberri at their true, towering heights behind him, he achieved the perfect balance. He was offering the handshake of a peer, backed by the undeniable, terrifying shadow of an empire.

Astalder cleared his throat and smiled once again. “Allow me to introduce you all. This is Lord Hart and his ladies, whom I’ve told you so much about. Jarl Eric here is the surviving Jarl of Rasengrad, which makes him the leader of his people. The Aesryn fight hard and are masters of water and ice and have the blood of Norse warriors in them.”

He grasped Jarl Eric’s wrist, which shook on autopilot, it felt. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jarl Eric. My condolences for all those you’ve lost. Let me know if there’s anything your people require, and I’ll be happy to help. I saw there are many refugees heading here.”

Jarl Eric seemed to be distracted by a number of things, not knowing where to look. Between each of Jake’s wives and their Hearthian Presences and the fact that a portal would drop out a giant block of stone every few seconds between them, there was a lot happening.

“Ah? Oh. No, with your help with the escorts and the walls repaired and the lakes and rivers reachable, they should have everything they require. Thank you for your…generosity, and it is good to finally meet you, Lord Hart.”

Astalder continued, “And this is Geomarch Darren, the leader of the Theskarrian Tribes of the South. His connection to the world and the magic in it grants him this position, a unique existence among his people.”

Jake grasped forearms in a warrior’s shake with the tan-skinned, muscled man. Certainly, he could feel the man’s deep spirituality. It was a bit similar to some nature cultivators he met from Aetheris. “Good to meet you, Geomarch. I heard you made some difficult but righteous choices regarding some betrayers–the Talari visited you, and you took the high road. I appreciate that very much.”

The Geomarch had nearly been gaping at first too, but now he had already recovered. “And you, Lord Hart, for ending that threat. Thank you, and I appreciate all the help your people provided to protect our lands from the monstrous invaders. You stopped and rooted out those saboteurs, helping our peoples find peace. Hearthtribe showed up when our people needed them, and I will not forget that.”

Astalder cleared his throat. “We were just talking, and it seems they are still on the fence about joining Hearthtribe. They understand that with the impact we’ve made, you would be their Planetary Lord. They and their advisors have some concerns about the overall situation and what the benefits to such a deal would be.”

Jake turned to the two men, and now that they were talking in earnest, he stopped casting his spells to rebuild the wall, and so did his wives, the girls giving them their full attention.

“That so? Well, we’d be willing to address any concerns you might have. Every world and people is unique, with different values, history, and culture, and I’m sure your world and peoples are no different. But I’d like you to know that whatever your choice might be, Clan Hart and Hearthtribe are your allies so long as you don’t prey upon the weak and defenseless. You’ll have plenty of autonomy, and as long as you follow some guidelines, my people can be as hands-on or hands-off as you would like, and our protection is not contingent upon you accepting joining our guild. I think you’ll learn that you have the most to gain by working with us, but the choice is always yours.”

Astalder interjected, “Anyway, I’ve introduced you, and you’re talking–my job is done. Now..." He unslung his runic axes, the heavy blades catching the pale light as he rolled his shoulders. He looked directly past Jake, zeroing in on the golden-winged Valkyrie. “I believe I have a date with a beautiful war goddess.”

Ophelia let out a sharp, joyful laugh. Her wings flared out, radiant and glorious, as she manifested her massive halberd with a crackle of righteous lightning. “A date with my fist, more like. You've been having a bit too much ale and getting a soft stomach, Norseman. Let's fight!”

Astalder didn't need to be told twice. With a feral roar, he launched himself across the plaza, axes swinging. Ophelia met his charge head-on, her fist colliding with his weapon, letting out a shockwave of auril and holy lightning that rattled the nearby longhouses and sent a spray of snow into the air. The two danced as they took the fight away from the congregation, the two proving to be a quick distraction.

Jarl Eric’s eyes widened at that, and he looked interested to watch, but his jaw tightened. He glanced nervously at Darren, a look of paranoia flaring up despite Jake's comforting words. “Autonomy is a fine promise, Lord Hart. But words are wind. If we join your guild with all our warriors... what stops the South from using your multiversal resources to march on the North the moment your vanguard leaves our world?”

Before Jake could answer, Nessa floated over, her expression confident. Her towering form was clad in the immaculate, gleaming scaled armor, and her spiraling tail beneath her made her look like an untouchable goddess. The sheer, suffocating aura of absolute law radiating from her added to that and made the native warriors hold their breath.

“I do,” Nessa said, her voice echoing with the absolute certainty of a woman who had united warring cultivator sects. “As part of Hearthtribe or under Planetary Lord Hart, you do not surrender your crowns, Jarl Eric. But you do surrender your right to arbitrary war.” She looked between the two rulers, her gaze piercing. “We do not erase your borders; we secure them. Under my Justicars, neither the North nor the South can strike the other without answering to multiversal law. You keep your autonomy, and you gain the absolute assurance that your neighbor cannot stab you in the back while you fight the good fight.”

Jake couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as she spoke. Nessa hadn't just brought her immense combat strength and sovereign worlds to their union; she had brought much-needed infrastructure.

After dealing with the deeply entrenched cultists and betrayers on the Mystic Expanse and Aetheris, she had realized she couldn't be everywhere at once, nor could she always rely on borrowing Sati and Ruby to sniff out corruption. She had needed a dedicated force, and the things that happened later only made her build more and more into it.

She had originally formed a small cadre of elite investigators within Love and Justice to handle the mundane rot of native politics. Then, there was a corrupt Sect Patriarch one time that she had gotten lucky and Astalder had miraculously picked a fight with somehow. If not for him, she wasn’t sure what she would have done, and she realized she needed to grow them even further.

And after meeting Baron Jantaka’s truthseekers and dealing with the insidious, rule-bending plots of Framework enemies like Calix and Avaron, she had drastically begun to scale up their training even further. The Justicars were her answer, even if many were still in training. Her goal was to have operatives not only on all worlds Hearthtribe owned but also on all contested worlds or soon-to-be contested worlds. The latter was definitely a goal in the distant future, however, as that pool was frightfully big.

The Justicars were a highly trained police and intelligence network equipped with unique skill sets to root out native traitors, enforce treaties, and watch for multiversal interlopers. Now, backed by Hearthtribe's vast resources, she was expanding their ranks to protect all of their shared worlds, acting as the impartial, unyielding shield of their growing empire.

“My Justicars are completely detached from your local politics,” Nessa continued, her tone softening just a fraction, though her presence of justice remained absolute. “They have a neutral view about the history of the Aesryn or the Theskarrians and do not care for your land or wealth–they cannot be bought. They only care about the law, the protection of the innocent, and rooting out the corruption of Tartarus. They will be your neutral arbiters, whether your people join Hearthtribe or not.”

Darren’s eyes widened, and there was a look of profound relief evident on his face. But that fragile peace was almost instantly tested.

“Secure our borders? Does that mean freeze them exactly as they are?” an older Aesryn advisor barked, stepping forward. He wore a heavy fur cloak and pointed a weathered, scarred finger at the Theskarrians. “What of the Coldwind Valley? That territory was rightfully ours five hundred years ago, stolen by their southern subterfuge and cowardly betrayals! You would have us lay down our arms and allow this historical injustice to stand?”

Immediately, one of the Theskarrian seers bristled, her bone-adorned staff striking the frozen ground. “Stolen? Your savage ancestors slaughtered three generations of our farmers to claim it in the first place! And need I remind you of the Sun-warmed Plateaus that your people still illegally occupy?”

The tension in the plaza spiked in an instant, hands dropping instinctively to weapon hilts. Jake sighed internally. This was exactly the kind of petty, entrenched squabbling that held worlds back–the exact cycle of hatred Tartarus loved to exploit.

Before Jake or Nessa could speak, a shadow fell over the arguing advisors.

Bloodberri leaned forward, her massive form towering over the delegation. But instead of baring her fangs, Blood’s serpentine eyes softened just a fraction, her voice carrying the smooth, measured grace of a seasoned diplomat.

“Your ancestors' blood was spilled for those lands, and the pain of that loss is real. We do not diminish the suffering your people have endured,” Blood said, her tone respectful but carrying the absolute authority of Hearthtribe's queen administrator. “But five hundred years is a long time, gentlemen. If those specific lands were truly the only things that mattered to your survival and a true injustice you couldn’t bear, you would have traded blood to reclaim them centuries ago, rather than expanding elsewhere. Let us speak plainly–this is a matter of pride and resources, no matter what you dress it up as with your words.”

The advisors stiffened, ready to argue, but Blood didn't give them the chance. With a casual flick of her wrist, her Storage Ring flared.

A stone table and a cascading waterfall of multiversal wealth crashed onto it beneath her.

The native delegations gasped, stepping back as the pile settled. There were glowing, Qi-infused cultivator pills from Aetheris that hummed with heavenly energy. There were fist-sized, perfectly cut life-gems that radiated pure, healing warmth into the freezing air. There were stacks of pristine, runic-etched ingots forged by Ophelia and rare, shimmering beast cores from Aetheris.

Blood’s eyes tracked the Theskarrian seer, watching the seer’s gaze lock hungrily onto a pulsing life-gem from The Mystic Expanse.

“That gem catching your eye?” Blood purred smoothly, gesturing to the pile. “Hearthtribe has vaults full of them. More than enough to trade for a few miles of disputed dirt.”

The Jarl and the Geomarch stared at the impossible wealth, the anger draining out of the plaza, rapidly replaced by awe.

“Lady Nessa’s Justicars will hear both sides of your historical grievances,” Blood continued, gesturing gracefully toward Nessa. “If a debt is found to be owed, they will mediate a trade, restitution, or a compromise. And Hearthtribe will happily help fund that peace if applicable. Whoever gives up their claim to those old borders will be compensated with resources that will elevate their entire people for generations. We will buy your peace, and in return, you will gain prosperity you can scarcely comprehend.”

Jake watched with pride as his wife seamlessly pivoted into the grand strategy they had spent weeks designing. She had validated their pride, diagnosed the root of their issue, and put the solution on the table. This was exactly the kind of thing she had done in the past and why the natives of most of their worlds had been so cooperative, feeding resources and talent into their pipeline.

“Furthermore, when a world completes its Trial and earns potential, the warriors involved don't just get stronger. The world itself grows, and quite significantly due to our great strength, I might add. Performance in the Prime Instance matters.” Blood explained. “Through Hearthtribe’s incredible victories, we funnel earned potential back into our territories. Landmasses expand. New, magic-rich environments are birthed from the world's core. There will be greener pastures and wider rivers than your ancestors ever dreamed of. Though, of course, that last part is only for those who cooperate. The earned potential goes more to the places we consider home, our true allies, and friends that join us in the fight.”

Most guilds did not promise this. The time between their victories was often so long, and they may suffer several setbacks before having a big success. What would typically happen is the worlds would give over their warriors for a period, then when the Dungeon Raid concluded, there was often only a pittance to be shared among everyone. That often built resentment instead, when they couldn’t even feel the results of their efforts and sacrifices.

When Hearthtribe won, they won big enough to please all.

Blood smiled, a confident, sweeping expression that encompassed both native rulers and their entourages. “You provide us with a portion of Bramvalen's unique resources, such as your frostiron and native savage plants, and the bravery of your youth. In exchange, those youths will train safely in our Subguilds under commanders like Yiming or Seamus and earn superior classes and resources from Dungeon Raids and other events. Then bring that power and wealth right back home to defend your expanded borders, with the backing of true heroes. What you see on this table is merely a fraction of what Hearthtribe offers to its valued allies. I think the choice is clear, don’t you? Would you rather fight over a valley or share a golden age?”

Jarl Eric and Geomarch Darren stood absolutely speechless. The carrot Blood had just dangled was the size of a mountain. To reject it wouldn't just be foolish; it would be catastrophic for their people.

Before either man could manage a reply to the overwhelming offer, Astalder and Ophelia’s fight came closer once again, their sounds of metal clanging and roars of combat filling the silence that stretched between them. Suddenly, with a pulse of mana and a strong overhead swing, Astalder brought his twin axes down powerfully. But they were met with Ophelia’s kick, lightning, and auril enhancing her movement.

Jarl Eric and Geomarch Darren stumbled back from the sheer concussive force of the blow. They watched, wide-eyed, as Astalder–a man who had effortlessly butchered the arcane golems that had nearly broken their armies–was currently being pushed back by the laughing, golden-winged woman with her hands and wings tied behind her back.

“That's all the stuffy stuff out of the way, right?” Berri interrupted.

Blood's massive, imposing demeanor vanished in an instant. The slitted, calculating, serpentine eyes widened, sparkling with sudden, innocent enthusiasm. The terrifying administrator of a multiversal empire was gone, replaced seamlessly by the excitable Saint.

Berri reached into her storage and slapped a surprisingly neat stack of paperwork directly on top of the pile of priceless multiversal treasures.

“So you have been talking to Blood, and I’m Berri, you with me? This deal has nothing to do with any of that stuff, and while I want you to join Hearthtribe, even if you don’t, this is super important. You just need to sign these to enrich your futures.” Berri said earnestly, tapping the parchment with a claw the size of a short sword. No doubt, the Jarl and Geomarch had been somewhat prepared by Yiming and Astalder for the existence of this force of nature that was Bloodberri.

The two native rulers still flinched from her claw, and then they looked skeptically, bracing themselves for the inevitable catch. The Jarl eyed the paperwork nervously. “Enrich our futures? What... what is the tribute demanded within this contract?”

Berri frowned, crossing her massive arms over her chest, which only made her look more intimidating. “Tribute? There's no tribute! This just gives me the rights to buy land and build orphanages and schools in your major cities. You wouldn’t believe the kind of crap people have tried to do to stop me from helping kids–I will find someone willing to sell me land with this permission, don’t you worry about this.” She uncrossed her arms, her tail swishing happily. “Oh! And a couple of large, flat fields for baseball. You guys are going to love baseball.”

Darren blinked, bewildered. He looked at Jake, then back to the massive lamia. “Schools and… Baseball...? What is the true cost of this? I see there is a line about royalties?”

“The cost is that you let me do it,” Berri said, leaning down so she was uncomfortably close to the Geomarch's face, her tone suddenly entirely serious as her immense tail now moved to encircle the entire entourage, her bladed tail feeling incredibly imposing–a complete mismatch to the aura she radiated. “Children are our future. If all they know is war, and cold, and fighting over valleys, they won't have hope. I'm going to make sure they have food, education, and fun while preparing them for any challenges they might face. You don’t hate children, do you? Do we have a deal, or what? You should want this whether you join the Framework, or our Alliance, permanently or not. I will empower your futures, no matter what.”

It was somehow a threat and not, at the same time.

Jake simply smiled, leaning casually on his staff as the shockwaves washed over him. He turned back to the two stunned rulers.

“If we ever relinquish ownership of this world due to irreconcilable differences,” Jake said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the clash of steel and lightning, “my goal is that Bramvalen is ten times stronger, safer, and richer than the day we arrived. We don't rule from ivory towers; we're down here in the mud, building the foundations with you. And as you can see..." He gestured toward Ophelia, who just casually deflected another swing that would have cleaved a boulder in two. "...we have the strength to back it up.”

Eric and Darren shared one final look before turning back and discussing it with their advisors. Their fears were assuaged by Nessa, their greed satisfied by Blood, their hearts were moved by Berri, and their warrior pride deeply respected by the display in front of them, the choice was no longer a choice at all.

The two leaders came back and then said, “Lord Hart,” Jarl Eric said, bowing his head respectfully. “We bow to your strength and leadership. The Aesryn stand with Hearthtribe in the Prime Instance.”

Slots in the Prime Instance would only be granted to natives that fully cooperated outside of their personal capabilities and performance. They may make exceptions for someone…or something like Garona, who had plenty of capability to be worth bringing, but these two men were not good enough to make the cut otherwise.

It required that they establish oaths and more to be granted that opportunity for personal advancement. So this was good news that they had gone all-in.

“And the Theskarrians as well,” Darren agreed, bowing deeply. “Let us move on from the past and win back our world. With your guidance, I hope that we can show Tartarus some Theskarrian might for ages to come.”

Jarl Eric laughed. “You said it.” He looked back to his advisors, then back to Jake, and leaned in, nearly whispering so others couldn’t hear. “Truth be told, I’m relieved. Thank you for…being so convincing. We were already convinced to join, but our advisors…” He shook his head. “We’re tired of fighting each other. Let us move on to a better future.”

“Already convinced?” Jake asked.

Darren chuckled. “That Astalder of yours was plenty convincing. He painted a picture…and we can see he doesn’t hold back with his words, just as it is with his axe. The future is even brighter than the picture he painted.”

Jake shook their hands, and the two did eventually sign Berri’s papers and do her one better, aligning land and resources for her purposes by passing the baton to their advisors.

Astalder came over with Ophelia in tow, his face covered in bruises. He was about to speak, but then he turned to Ophelia, “Hit me with one of those heals, would you? Wait, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Ophelia smirked as she healed Astalder with fiery light, his bruises disappearing in a mere moment. He continued, “Good! I would say let’s celebrate, but we’ve been cooped up too much already. We’ve got a war to win, don’t we?”

The Norseman was right. It was time to do some work.