Custodian’s thralls herded the newly recruited refugees into the surface slowly. There was a limit to how many people or things could go in or out of the dungeon entrance before the drones’ supply lines would suffer noticeably.

In the meantime, most of the troglodytes were placed in the previously conquered villages which were now occupied by Custodian’s own silver-skinned frogmen. Many of the new high troglodytes were intimidated by the appearance of so many young silver-skinned high troglodytes led around by featureless clanking spiders. They were almost afraid to go or touch anywhere until the drones dumped piles of food into the refugee villages.

Entranced by the incredible and novel smell, the lesser troglodytes were the first to charge into the food piles. Not wanting to be left with scraps, the high troglodytes shoved their cousins aside and joined the feast.

Razugotter and his warriors grinned to themselves as they watched their kins make the pile disappear.

“Razugotter! More! Can we get more?!” a troglodyte cried.

“Greedy ignorant! Do not ask for more! The gifts given by the Iron Lords must be savored!” Razugotter chastised. “You all shall soon be working for such gifts! I must warn you—those who disrespect the Iron Lords by slacking off shall be beaten and starved!”

The troglodytes cowered and silenced at the sight of an angered Razugotter. He huffed and said, “Luckily, however, the promised land is bountiful. There is plenty of space to be free and food to gorge on!”

The excited high troglodytes regained their vigor. Many of them were already impatient, pushing each other at the queue to go to the surface, though Razugotter and his warriors quickly disciplined the unruly newcomers. Handfuls of troglodytes surfaced every hour, their reactions remained the same upon setting foot outside - total shock, especially the ones who entered the overworld at noon; the blinding sun caused some troglodytes to be temporarily dazed.

Sometimes, the sunlight had frightened them so much that Razugotter had to convince them that they weren’t entering the afterlife. Nevertheless, the exodus went smoothly.

It took almost two weeks to move the entire wave of refugees, and to Custodian’s surprise, Mount Varangia Village became overcrowded. An expansion plan was immediately drafted and drones were dispatched to set about expanding the village. Work stations were immediately manned and many of the original thralls had to be redirected to help the new adjust to their new environment.

The few handful of warlike troglodytes were so keen to fight and explore the new world that they didn’t even bother settling into the village. Given steel weapons and only one drone per pack to supervise them, Custodian allowed them to be let loose to increase hunting rate.

At the very least, if these hunters didn’t return the meat back to the village, they could secure Varangia from hostile monsters. After all, the region was still crawling with oversized monsters. It might as well send oversized frogs to kill them!

So for the next few weeks, Mount Varangian bustled with activity. Custodian analyzed its production report. Numbers flashed within the super-A.I.’s processors, all summed into one neat conclusion. ‘Everything is going so well! I-’

‘Master Custodian! The organics have made contact with each other!’ Niner screamed in hivespeak.

Normally, Custodian kept a no-contact policy between its thralls and the humans, since time spent interacting with the humans meant time was being wasted on being unproductive. It was easy to manage this policy when the number of troglodytes were small and controlled, but the population explosion from the recent immigration made things difficult.

At the Vyssian-Varangian border, a group of human warriors were having a stand-off with a pack of troglodyte hunters. The humans couldn’t believe their eyes. Standing almost two—no, three times taller than an adult human, the strange horned creatures held steel-tipped spears and wore strips of chainmail. Surrounding the huge creatures were hornless miniature versions of them. They numbered in the dozens, but were only armed with crude weaponry like clubs or sticks.

“Kojans?!” a man uttered.

“No! No! They’re not… trees. Are they?”

“Burn them to find out!”

On the other side of the discussion, the tilapolans had their own views on the humans.

“What small creatures!”

“They look like fleshy versions of our masters!”

“Perhaps they will give us food?”

The large frogmen were just so amused that they didn’t even see the human warriors as a threat. The lesser troglodytes tried to move closer which only worsened the Vyssian’s fears. They were about to charge out when a loud voice boomed, “Stop!”

Weaver, surrounded by his huscarls, appeared. Behind him were some Sea’xian noblemen who were curiously eyeing the troglodytes from afar. Upon his arrival, the high troglodytes croaked in unison and bowed towards the drone emissary.

“Iron Lord, Praise be to your name! Your presence is a gift!” the leader of the hunting pack shouted.

“What is the meaning of this? You workers were not told to venture this far south!” Weaver chastised.

“Forgive us, Iron Lord! We smelled something interesting and found these… animals!”

“Where is your drone supervisor?”

“H-He was critically injured during a hunt!” The troglodytes brought out a warrior drone which was half-smashed. After examining the destroyed drone, Weaver concluded that the tracking unit had malfunctioned and its system sensors were damaged. This could explain why there were no warnings from this drone when it was approaching the Vyssian border. “We were bringing him back to Paradise Home, but again, we smelled something interesting which brought us here.”

A Vyssian nobleman coughed and approached Weaver with his hand on his sheathed sword’s hilt, ready to defend himself just in case the strange horn monsters would leap at him. “Lord Weaver, might I know what and who are those?”

“Natives,” Weaver immediately replied. The nobleman waited for further explanation but was just met with disregard from the drone. Instead, Weaver ordered his huscarls to guide the troglodytes back home. The humans whispered among themselves as they left.

“Varangia is filled with surprises.”

“What other secrets do the mountains hold?”

“I apologize for the trouble, lords,” Weaver turned back to the noblemen before herding them back to a line of drone carriages. He was actually on his way to observe a formal gathering of noblemen but had to steer this way to clear up any problems.

“No worries, Lord Weaver! It is us who are giving you trouble!” a tall Vyssian said.

“Indeed. Without your magical animals pulling the wondrous carriages, we would take weeks to get from the mainland,” a bearded man said.

The carriages moved away from the borders and into a large plain. A lone empty hill was surrounded by groups of well-to-do Vyssians. They wore trimmed and colorful apex-bent conical hats together with thread-woven capes of different patterns. Many of the richer noblemen also wore animal fur, one of them even had a bear’s head as a hat!

The newly arrived noblemen disembarked and joined the crowd. Weaver was led by a warrior to familiar faces - Old Man Wick, Gerard, Ecgbert, and other Sea’axians who gave a hand in carving up Northwest Rhankia into Sea’axian territory.

“There’s our honorary kin!” Old Man Wick was the first to greet Weaver. He slapped the drone’s shoulder and pulled him towards the other members. “Our lands are getting richer and it’s all thanks to your people!”

“It’s mutually beneficial for both of us,” Weaver responded.

Gerard stepped forth and asked, “Welcome to the pærsting. This must be your first time?”

Looking around at the crowd, Weaver nodded. “Indeed. I was curious and I finally have time to attend one. So how does this assembly work?”

“Feared of the Houses are invited to a location to assemble once every season to settle grievances or push forth concerns to the people of Vyssia. The Lords that attend would be the lawspeakers and the free folk the witnesses,” Gerard pointed at the top of the hill and continued, “with Humanos as the greatest of all judges.”

Weaver’s eyes zoomed towards the center of the assembly. Save for a lone sprouting sapling and trimmed grass, the hill was empty. Not even the priests dared to stay too long on top of the hill. “The hill? Why are people avoiding it?”

“Except for priests, people are not allowed on top until the assembly begins.”

“Fascinating. Why this hill specifically?”

“The priests will always prepare a sacred spot to plant a Witness of Humanos near major settlements. The sacred spot is always a place of great spiritual power. It was just a coincidence that this hill is between the three border towns. There are many pærsting spots throughout the lands of Humanos. I heard the Rhanks have their own kind of thing, but I don’t know enough about their pærsting.”

As Weaver was introduced to the assembly practices, a man dressed in dried leaves and branches climbed up the hill. He beckoned at the crowd to come closer before setting ablaze to the little sapling sleeping on the hill. Unexpectedly for Weaver, the sapling started to grow until it was half the size of a man. Its trunk twisted along its own body, forming multiple loops. Its branches scratched and melded into the fiery trunk until it suddenly stopped.

“Let the pærsting begin!” the man shouted. “Honorable Judge Tyricht of Hetten has been invited to mediate the process and as a servant of Humanos!”

An old man wearing white clothes climbed the hill with the help of his walking cane. His hair had long since departed, and his grin was incomplete. Nevertheless, he still boasted an excited aura of energy.

He was seated next to the endlessly-burning tree, just far enough to keep him from drying up and dying from a heat stroke. Afterwards, Eldermen climbed the hill and the hot topic in everyone’s mind was quickly brought up.

“Our Varangian Tuun by North is the first to be built by Rest Master Benwic! He built a rest house for hunters a dozen summers ago! The other towns must relinquish their claim to the name of ‘Varangian Tuun by North’ or face the judgement of Humanos!” a nobleman shouted.

“No! Our Varangian Tuun by North was the first!”

Weaver watched as the humans put up a heated debate, the shape of the assembly circle was only kept together by the Hetten Tyricht. He held a hand up, silencing the crowd. After tossing several bones onto the floor, he picked one up and threw it into the burning bush. He turned his ears towards the crisping bone and acted as if someone was whispering to him. He nodded his head, raised his finger, and pointed at a man in the crowd.

Elated, the man stepped away from the circle and into the center. “My fellow kins, I have in my hand a parchment which dictated that Varangia Tuun by North was established by the Cerdrichfeared on the year-”

“Bah! Bastard Iron Chancellor and his dogs could go home!” someone interrupted. Tyricht’s pale face turned red and he waved his hand angrily. “Out! Do not disrespect Humanos in front of my face ever again!”

Though the old man was frail, his words were still respected and carried great strength. The disgruntled man left and the Cerdrichfeared gave a smug smile. “As I was saying, this document proves that this town was built up by my great house! Clearly our Varangia Tuun by North is the very first! You may take this time to gather together and agree on a new name to call your towns!”

“Hmpf! I have prepared a great poem to tell otherwise! Passed down by ancestors of old when we were still exploring the seas of the south!”

The assembly went on the entire day until the sun was no longer an attendee of the hearings. The noblemen left the hill and joined the crowds. While it was an important formal gathering, the Vyssian folk also held festivities. People danced and drank along the gathering ground, and there was plenty of food from all three border towns.

“How long does the pærsting last?” Weaver asked Gerard, accompanying him.

“It’ll last as long as it needs to. Or when the festivities die down. Whichever comes first. Now, come! Let’s have fun!”