Teams labored about the town in an attempt to return it to some semblance of its former self. About half the population remained, but with the help of the kobold and goblins, work proceeded apace. Riverwood was peaceful otherwise, so much so that it was hard to believe that they'd been fighting a legion of undead not so long ago. The sun hung bright in the afternoon sky, breaking the pall of darkness that had surrounded everything. These bizarre creatures, and normally what humans might consider sworn enemies little different from the undead were... Helping. Incredibly efficiently, at that. The goblins were bizarrely hearty, and along with the kobold both races could be seen working under the anxious eyes of one commoner or another to repair the damaged houses.

“...So. Luk, is it?” A fortuitous name for a fortuitous encounter. He was thinner than the rest of his kin, but taller. Taller than Alex by a head, intelligent, bright eyes. She could tell immediately that he was a mage or shaman of some sort, but he was relatively weak in magic. Untrained and apparently dedicated to the study of fire despite it not being his prime element. The creature nodded and continued ordering his 'men' about in their strange language of chirps and whistles, sounding like tropical birds. “I don't mean to be rude, understand? We are happy that you've come to help us, but what are you?”

“What am I?” Luk's nictating membrane slid over his sapphire eye. It was creepy, the way his eyes 'blinked' independent from one another. Their biology was too strange, the way their legs were splayed and the way they stared with one eye at those they spoke with. He'd said it was easier to speak to her that way, but it unnerved most of the humans. “Kobold, of course.”

Rorik snorted, crossing his arms over his wide, heavily bandaged chest. Church magic could heal much, but there were simply too many wounded and the priests were wrung dry with the effort of cleansing those who were tainted or fallen ill. “I've seen kobolds before, and you are not one of them. Meaning no disrespect, of course.” Rorik offered a shallow bow, wincing with the pain of movement and earning a scorning tsk from the healer responsible for the mayors health. Rorik was no racist. He'd fought alongside dwarves, and had participated in the bay cleansing between Karth and Leygein in joint operations. Fighting alongside Telurian, beastkin, even the odd kijin. Based on what he knew, goblins could even become citizens in Lyra, which was absurd, but... Alexandros was a primus too and he allowed for it, it wasn't Rorik's place to question wisdom.

But this creature was alien to him, appearing like some kind of melding of raptid and man. Four fingered and rippling with muscle.

“Something else, then.” Luk shrugged, unconcerned. It was clear that the human designation of his species were not of great interest to him. “Was kobold. Chief came, we... Change? Not sure. Chief knows, so we look for chief. Find place he loves and see in danger, save place. On the way, we met new friends who love chief.” He nodded his fanged snout to the spindly limbed, blue goblins in the distance. All they wanted was food and alcohol, two things the domain had in spades, practically working for free.

Rorik raised a gray eyebrow at that. “Loves Riverwood? This 'chief' of yours... He's a human?” That was the only way he could make sense of things, but he'd never heard of a human leading a horde of... Monsters? The distinction had never been less clear to him. A word from the old days that at one time had described pretty much anything not human. 'Monsters', several species of which had ceased to exist, driven to extinction by men. Kobolds, for example, hadn't been seen in years. Luk's kin did bear some similarity to one variant of kobold that had existed in the region once, but only 'some'.

“Not human.” Luk shook his head. “Thought so at first. Looks like you. Saved my people from great danger below the earth. Showed us how to war and how to kill, how to feed, gave us the future. No more hiding in the dark for us. Made kobold strong. Like this, we become more.” Luck slammed his maw shut with a sharp clack. A single bite of those jaws would be more than enough to decapitate a man, and there were hundreds of pairs all around around. If it had been these 'kobolds' attacking, instead of the undead, Rorik was under no illusions they'd have lost that fight. They carried strange tools of war and rode the worms through the earth like troop carriers. Something about what Luk had said earlier finally clicked with him.

“This chief of yours, was his name Tyr?” Rorik asked. He knew, from Thomas, that Tyr had journeyed east for some time to explore a lost city. A thing he'd done his best to stop – but it'd happened. The prince was hard headed and stubborn, looking ready for a fight if Rorik, Micah, or even his own men had attempted to stop him. “A tad bit taller than me, less broad in the chest, white hair down to his mid back?”

Luk's eyes glowed with reverence, nodding his reptilian head aggressively. “Yes. The great chief. Showed us how to kill and lit our path. You know where the chief is?” He sniffed, bringing his maw closer to Alex and forcing her into take a nervous step back. The single remaining paladin in the village pulled the warhammer from the loop on his belt before being waved away by Rorik with a growl of annoyance. “Smell him on you. Good scent. Chief is... Son of the old ones me think. Child of our gods. Wish to find him, to show, you know where he is?”

“I don't.” Alex shrugged apologetically. She had a dozen questions of her own, but wasn't sure how to ask them. Tyr had met a tribe of kobolds and goblins, and aided these monsters in awakening?

It was pretty rare in humanoid races, but it was possible. Alex was staring at two such examples. Maybe three or four if the wolf sized hairless rodents or the worms were any indicator. And it had all happened before they'd started at the academy. But there was little she could reveal to the others to try to draw a consensus. Many creatures awakened through absorption of mana, over time. It was the natural way of the world and the reason why the colleges constantly observed the wildlife. Even a common dog could become a magical beast if they began to naturally energy. Some were peaceful, and left alone, but others could be a great danger. Privileged information to prevent people from doing something stupid – like taking a house cat into a dungeon in an attempt to give it pseudo immortality. Something that had happened in the past, people trying to force an awakening to manufacture familiars either out of fear of losing their beloved pet or greed. Only realizing their mistake when it was too late.

She wasn't lying, either. Tyr had been heading for the republic before abruptly vanishing. Jartor claimed ignorance, as did her father Gideon. Their attempts to divine him were blocked as soon as he'd left the city, and weeks had passed with no spies managing to lay their eyes on him. Paladins were hunting him as well, posting huge bounties on his capture in the successor states. Bounties that remained uncollected, no information regarding his location. She'd bet that his apparent destination of Lyra was a rude, and he'd skipped south somewhere on a boat.

“He could be anywhere.” She sighed. “All I know is that he isn't in Haran, but you shouldn't venture outside of our borders. This country is dangerous to your kind but at least I can ensure the rangers in the area won't hunt you. It might take years before he surfaces again, but I will share your words with him if he turns up.”

“You are friends with chief, yes?”

“His... Er... Wife.” Alex replied. “Kind of. We are separated for the time being, it's complicated.” But unlike the others, she'd not leave him behind. Her father had been fine with the idea that she'd refused an annulment to their marriage, always giving her agency to do as she pleased. He liked Tyr, regardless, one of the few that actually did. Jartor hadn't pressed the matter either, stating that she was a free woman. Things were a bit more complicated than that, as she'd said, but she had no intention of entertaining any requests of courtship, so he at least served a purpose.

“Mate...?” Luk's jaw hung loose on its hinge, revealing two rows of razor sharp teeth. Without warning, he crashed to the ground in the position of a kowtow, beating his heavy tail anxiously against the flagstones of the town square. Joined by others of his kind who began to mumble... “Our queen...”

That was until a resounding, ground shattering crash echoed through the same square, leaving a solitary figure standing tall in a shallow crater of his own making. Stone that had just been repaired hours before by the earth shamans of Luk's tribe. The goblins shrieked in fear, sprinting out of the gate with their rats chasing them, and the men and women of Riverwood bent at the waist. All showing their deference in their own way towards Jartor. Except for Alex.

“Father.” She greeted him, a hard glint in her eyes. Rorik hissed at her, but didn't move from his position. He couldn't – the force of the new arrival was too powerful. Leaving him heady and dazed, but not fearful. All he felt was pride. “You're a bit late to assist in the defense.” There was more she wanted to say, but not in front of all of these people. Her days spent fighting the undead had disillusioned her even further, leaving her troubled.

“Daughter.” He snorted, amused and looking around the square with a furrowed brow. Kobolds rose shakily from their positions, legs threatening to give out from under them at any moment – but they did not flee. They hissed up at him, four fingered hands gripping their panoply of weapons, displaying an intense force of will. But Alex could tell they feared him a great deal. As they should. “I was in the blue isles dealing with a leviathan plaguing the north sea. I am unsure as to why assistance was not sent here sooner, but I promise there will be a reckoning. But first, my old friend Rorik.” There was an explicit command in the simple greeting that forced the man to rise from his knees.

Rorik adopted the customary salute and attention of the legions. Back straight and head high, a clasped hand held over his heart and the other held flat behind the small of his back. It hurt, given his wounds, but it was the least he could do.

“Primus!” Rorik shouted, feeling like these decades spent separated from the legions hadn't changed him all that much. It hadn't changed Jartor at all. If anything, the man felt even stronger, more useful yet wise. It was one thing to be commanded, but another to be recognized and called friend by the primus himself,. Enough emotion coursed through his heart to cause tears to spring to his eye, boundless gratitude. Alex stared at him with a dirty look on her face, but he ignored her. “We greet the great lion and welcome you to our--”

Jartor raised a hand, silencing him immediately. “No need for that, you're retired – remember?” He chuckled. Alex observed once again how full of life Jartor had become in recent years. Before, he was as cold as steel – composed of a vicious chill that made the blood run cold. She wasn't sure if it was that he'd changed – or if this was how he behaved beyond the confines of the palace. “Be at peace, wyrmlings, I have no interest in harming you.” He inclined his head toward Luk and the others who had risen in defense of their 'queen', causing them to visibly relax and lower themselves on their haunches with panting breaths. “Walk with me.” He indicated the two humans with a wave. “Tell me what has happened here.”

Eight days later, and Alex found herself seated uncomfortably on her 'throne'. She'd been born to the household of a count, so she was no stranger to ordering people about – but this too much, and too fast. They'd thrown a parade in her honor. First in the capital, and then in every village in the domain. Over a week of constant revelry where she was presented with the Imperial Aegis and Gold Service Medallion.

'For superb valor beyond duty, for defending the lands of the empire to the last.'

Ridiculous. If she'd have known it would've been like this... No, she still would've done it – but it was a headache to be sure. That wasn't all she was given. She now found herself as the noble overseeing of the entire region. She was already a countess, being the chosen scion of her house, so the title of 'baroness' was unnecessary. Instead, the Larronsford demesne had been absorbed into her fathers own, creating a temporary satellite household. Only now did she realize how many pains in her fathers had to deal with throughout his tenure as count of Riven. A much larger domain, many more pains in the than she'd be dealing with – but it was nothing small by any means.

Her new domain held eleven small villages and hamlets, four towns. One town had been completely demolished by the undead, but fortunately a great deal of the populace had found refuge in the warden-held estate. All told, over thirteen thousand of the forty thousand within the barony had perished. A grim toll, and there was an excessive amount of work to be done even if one did not include the mess of now abandoned ruins all over the place. After some thought, she'd relocated the 'wyrmlings' to the disputed valley, there were no humans to cause trouble there and the natural barrier of the mountains would keep them safe. The goblins had fled, and not returned, but Luk indicated that they were nomads so this was no surprise.

Rorik cleared his throat, snapping her out of her gloomy thoughts. “What's next on the agenda? We are halfway through the renovation of Kilnstead, and the work in Goldmire is proceeding apace... Would you like to--”

“Nope.” Alex felt ready to burst into celebration at any moment, finding much better news than expected in the letter sent to her bearing the Goldmane seal. Two entire legions were already on their way, as was her father. By his command: “I'm going back to school.” She departed, leaving Rorik red in the face and near weeping as he too read the letter. 'Rewarding' him with the position of magistrate, the title of baron, and throwing his plans for a calm retirement of sipping ales into disarray once again.

“I'm too old for this shit!”