Laryn pressed essence into the kingdom core, then dusted his hands off on his pants.

  He nodded to his two [Mages], Gaten and Widan. "Good work, boys. We've accomplished a lot today."

  Gatton wiped sweat and dirt from his brow. They’d worked hard, gathering materials and sifting them all afternoon.

  "I think you need to go get cleaned up before the dinner this evening," Laryn said.

  The two boys nodded and ran off.

  Laryn scanned his core interface.

  Laryn took a moment to wash up himself, then walked over to the bonfire, where Kenna and her assistants were preparing the food. The sun hung low in the sky. The food smelled delicious. People would begin wandering in soon, hungry and tired from a full day of work.

  Laryn had managed to corner Gall earlier in the day. The man was confused as to how Laryn knew about his lute, but seemed amenable to bringing it out and playing for the kingdom that evening.

  Everything was ready and in place. The area around the bonfire had been cleared and leveled, and several benches had been constructed of logs and stumps. People began to gather, showing up in ones and twos, and taking seats. As they arrived, Laryn noticed that, with the exception of Rimba, who followed Gall around like his shadow, the Orfswellers and the Jardensvalers each seemed to sit on their own side.

  Thallon hobbled over, his splinted leg giving him trouble as he dragged it across the sand. The massive blacksmith leaned heavily on Vand’s shoulder, the smaller man helping Thallon balance as he hopped.

  Vand helped him take a seat on one of the benches. Mat and Ollen walked over, chatting, and they joined Thallon and Vand and talked together. Laryn was happy to see the interaction between Mat and the Jardensvalers, but he was concerned that that conversation seemed to be the only interaction.

  As the other Orfswellers arrived, they all sat on one side of the bonfire, across from the Jardensvalers. Laryn wondered what he could do about that, and decided that it was his responsibility to help knit the members of his kingdom into a more tightly held community.

  He scanned the crowd, waiting for everyone to arrive. Then he stood atop a stump and clapped his hands, welcoming everyone.

  "Our lives have been hard for the last several weeks," he said. "Every one of us has lost loved ones, homes, belongings, and things that we've worked for and built up over many years. But we have persisted. We have survived in the face of the void. And we will continue, not just to survive, but to thrive."

  A few people cheered at this statement.

  "Tonight we've gathered to enjoy the bounty of our growing kingdom. And we thank Kenna for organizing and coordinating this meal."

  More cheers this time, and Kenna smiled at the recognition.

  "I wish to remind everyone tonight that we are not who we once were. I am not an Eltaran, an Endaran, and you are not Jardensvalers or Orfswellers or whatever you were before you came here to the Wildlands seeking a new life. We are all Vallorians now, and as subjects of this kingdom, we depend on each other for success and survival."

  A few cheers from the Jardensvaler side of the fire went up.

  Laryn nodded. "It is by working together that we are strongest, and by working together that this kingdom will continue to grow."

  He smiled and then stepped down from the stump, nodding to himself for an excellent speech that he had given.

  Then he noticed Thallon gesturing toward Korv. Korv had his feet up on a stump. Vand rose from his spot beside Thallon, walked over to Korv. When the speech concluded, Vand snagged the stump out from under Korv’s feet, nearly dumping the man onto the ground. He brought the stump back over and helped Thallon lift his splinted leg up onto the stump.

  Korv sprang to his feet, his face growing red, veins bulging in his neck.

  Laryn rushed over and grabbed Korv, snagging his shoulder.

  Korv whirled. "You see how they treat us?" he spat. "They just take things like we're second-class citizens or something."

  "Korv, it's okay. It's just a stump," Laryn said, walking the man back to his seat. "Thallon broke his leg fighting the voidbloom near,” he emphasized the next words, “your village. He needs it more than you do."

  Korv sat down and folded his arms grumpily. "It seems like they need everything more than we do," he muttered.

  Kenna began speaking, announcing the food. There were grilled and roasted meats, fresh fruits harvested from the elven orchards near Annar, and a delicious smelling bread baked from grain from the elven fields. The mead, when announced, received the loudest cheer of the night from both sides. Kenna said Thatch had been working on carving mugs, though there weren’t enough for everybody, so some people were going to have to share.

  With that, she carried a prepared platter of food over to Laryn, and placed a mug into his hand. Laryn selected a slice of meat and popped it in his mouth. The flavor was rich and savory. He swallowed, took a sip of the mead, and then grinned.

  “It’s delicious!” he cried out. Everyone cheered, and people sprang to their feet. They headed over and scooped helpings onto wooden platters, then returned to sit around the campfire.

  Laryn dug into the delicious meal.

  As he ate, Laryn noticed that the Jardensvalers all got their food first and each took their own mug of mead over to their seat. The Orfswellers waited until the Jardensvalers were finished before climbing up and getting their own food. While every Jardensvaler had a platter and a mug, there were only a few mugs and platters remaining for the Orfswellers, and they contented themselves with sharing these as they took their food.

  Korv had complained about this earlier, and Laryn realized that he’d meant to talk to Kenna about it. He left his food and walked over to her. "What’s going on? Why do the Orfswellers wait before getting their food?"

  Kenna shrugged. "There’s not often enough to go around, and someone suggested that as a sign of gratitude for our help, the Orfswellers ought to wait until we’ve eaten."

  Laryn pursed his lips. He didn’t like that. It seemed like a minor problem that could turn into a major one at some point, but perhaps it would be resolved as more resources flowed into the kingdom. Though he would prefer if people, as he’d said in his speech, would mingle together and work together and not think of themselves as Jardensvalers and Orfswellers.

  He shook his head. "I don’t like that."

  Kenna shrugged. "Well, tell them to stop," she said.

  As the evening progressed, Laryn helped himself to a second platter of food. Everything was delicious. The fruit was sweet. The bread was moist and the meat was tender. The mead was very refreshing.

  People continued eating and chatting and going back for second helpings of food until the food was entirely gone. Though, as Laryn watched the Orfswellers, he noted that they did not seem to get nearly as much of the food as the Jardensvalers. Korv, though, made sure to help himself. Laryn noted that every time he saw the man, he seemed to have one of the Orfswellers’ few mugs in his hands and was definitely drinking more than his fair share.

  Laryn shook his head and sighed and hoped that with a little bit of food and drink, they might be able to develop a bit more camaraderie.

  So he walked over to Gall, who had just finished eating. The man wiped greasy fingers on his clothes and nodded as Laryn approached.

  "I think it’s time for you to liven the evening up a little," Laryn said.

  Gall smiled and nodded. "My pleasure," he said, unpackaging his lute.

  When people noticed what Gall was doing, several of them shouted with surprise. Most people did not expect the gruff fighting man, who was in charge of coordinating the defenses of the kingdom, to also be a musician. Gall seemed a little embarrassed by it, but once he began strumming out some songs on his lute, everything faded and people began joining in and singing the words to songs.

  Laryn smiled, seeing the Jardensvalers and the Orfswellers singing together, until Gall began playing a song that Laryn did not recognize, but seemed to be a Catarian classic. It was about a soldier marching from shore to shore, fighting battles for his king and always longing to return home to his love, but never being able to.

  > Marching yon from sea to sea

  > Each night my dreams return to thee

  > If I should die ere I return

  > My love for you will ever burn

  The song was sweet and the people sang the words with gusto. When it came to the chorus, however, Korv began belting out an alternate version, which was crude and made some of the women blush.

  > I like ‘em young and pert and cute

  > To blank my blank and blow my flute

  > As sweet a smile as ever passed

  > You Jardensvalers can wipe my—

  “Enough!” Gall immediately stopped playing the song and stood. He cast a cold glare across the darkening circle at Korv.

  Korv laughed. "Can’t take a joke, man? Come on. Everyone knows that version." His words came out slurred. “Your men are pigs but you have some lovely women!”

  "I don’t want to hear it," Gall said.

  "Yeah, come on, you’re ruining a nice evening for everyone," Thallon said, loud voice booming. "You’re just trying to be a jerk."

  Deadly silence fell over the party, and all eyes rested on Thallon.

  "I don’t even know what you’re doing here,” Thallon said, “you eat more than you’re worth. We should have left you to die in Orfswell with Orf."

  Korv climbed to his feet, swaying subtly. His face burned red, and he steadied himself. Glaring at Thallon.

  “Say that again to my face, cripple!”

  “We’d be better off if you were dead,” Thallon said.

  Korv staggered across the sand and kicked the stump out from under Thallon’s leg. The blacksmith cried out in pain as his leg struck the ground. Vand started to his feet.

  "Not so tough now, are you?" Korv snapped, shoving his face into Thallon’s.

  Men on both sides sprang up, running in. Thallon, though crippled, was still very strong. He grabbed Korv’s shoulder with one hand and punched the man in the face with the other. Korv stumbled backwards, nearly falling into the fire.

  Laryn started to run, moving to break up the fight as more men and women joined the fray, throwing mugs, platters, and shouting insults. Korv grabbed a flaming brand from the fire and charged Thallon, smashing the burning stick into the blacksmith’s head. Vand dove to intercept, wrestling with the man.

  An all-out brawl began. Pandemonium reigned. People screamed, slapped, smacked, punched. The all-out melee left no space for rational thinking.

  Laryn nearly drew his sword, shouting at the top of his lungs for people to knock it off, to stop. But no one could hear him. He gritted his teeth and waded into the fray, the added strength that he gained from his role as ruler—the stat points granted by the kingdom core—helped him as he grabbed people and threw them, sending the men and women sprawling across the sand.

  A blade flashed in the firelight, and Laryn charged toward it, forcibly breaking up fighters. He plunged into the heart of the melee, reaching Korv and Thallon.

  Korv held a long, jagged hunting knife in one hand, dripping with blood. Thallon held the man’s wrists, kneeling with his good leg on Korv’s chest.

  Beside them, lying on the ground, was Vand. The gentle stonemason choked on blood, stab wounds leaking onto the sand beneath him.

  “Hela!” Laryn cried out, forcing Thallon off of Korv and taking the knife from the man. “We need the healer!”

  Korv and Thallon frothed and fumed, spitting, glaring at each other as Laryn separated them. Blood dripped from the side of Thallon’s head, and Korv seemed to be missing a few teeth, his lips bloody, fat, and swollen. They didn’t seem to notice Vand lying there.

  "That’s enough!" Laryn screamed. "If you behave like children, I’m going to treat you like children."

  He gestured to Hober and Ollen, who stood nearby, nursing their own bruises and looking uncomfortable.

  He gestured to Korv. "Go lock him up. We’ll figure out what to do with him in the morning.”

  Hober and Ollen grabbed Korv, dragging him away.

  Hela appeared, kneeling beside Vand. A crowd began gathering, circling around.

  “Get out of here!” Laryn shouted at them. “Leave her some space to work."

  People faded away into the darkness, slipping off. Kenna came to assist Hela, tending to Vand and Thallon’s wounds. Laryn shook his head and turned to face the fire.

  As he did, he caught sight of Gall sitting with his head between his legs, barely illuminated by the red light of the dying fire in the gloom of the early evening. Beside him, resting in the sand, sat his lute—strings broken, frame cracked.

  “Wind and stones,” Laryn muttered.

  “He’s dying,” Hela whispered hoarsely, looking up from Vand’s form. “We can’t do anything for him.”

  “I can do something,” Laryn said.