Victor finds us a table near the back of the library, one of those oversized oak rectangles meant for group study, not three guys planning geopolitical strategy for a dreamworld. Sunlight filters in through tall windows, dust drifting lazily in the beams. We drop our bags and empty them like we’re setting up for a long D&D session: notebooks, pens, my laptop, Scott’s tablet, Victor’s unnecessarily color-coded binder.

  Victor cracks a pen and leans forward. “Alright. Before we start anywhere else,… the eggs.”

  Scott immediately snaps his fingers. “YES. Dude, Marcus, those two glowing doom-orbs under the matriarch? We gotta talk about them.”

  I sink into my chair. Of course this is where we start.

  “Two eggs,” I say. Thinking back to the nest, there were two eggs the size of truck tires resting there.

  “Means one apiece,” Scott says without hesitation.

  “That would make a fair split, I agree Scott. I was already thinking of giving you one for your assistance in the fight. We couldnt have done it without you.

  Scott rubs the back of his neck in mock embarrassment. “Well if you insist, I could take it off your hands”

  Victor nods. “Not only a good reward, it sends a message. Publicly giving one egg to the Sunforged is the clearest declaration of alliance you could make. No king watching would miss the symbolism.”

  He’s right. I knew it already, but hearing it out loud solidifies it.

  “Then that’s what we do,” I say. “When the time comes, we do the announcement together. One egg for the Dominion, one for the Sunforged.”

  Scott’s face shifts into something softer, grateful in a way he doesn’t often show. “That’s… huge. Seriously.”

  “And the rest materials from the Ashwing bodies?” Victor asks.

  I close my eyes briefly, picturing them—the enormous corpses, the cracked plates, the muscle and bone, all that potential waiting to be harvested.

  “We split everything,” I say. “Straight down the middle. Plates, scales, claws, bones—whatever we can process. The Dominion will be handling the initial extraction since it’s in our territory, but your people get the same amount we do.”

  “Deal,” Scott says instantly. “My smiths are gonna lose their minds.”

  “You’re not the only one,” I add. “I already told Cast to prep the Dominion’s forges. She’s getting the materials ready for a personal weapon.”

  Scott perks up. “For you?”

  “Yeah. The Chime has shield mode when I need it, but I want something forged from all this. A dragonbone blade. Something that carries the history of the fight.”

  Scott laughs under his breath. “Man. Dominion Chime in one hand and a dragonbone greatsword in the other? You’re gonna look like every raid poster I grew up staring at.”

  Victor turns a page in his binder. “What about Scott’s equivalent? If the Dominion is forging a blade for you, the Sunforged should have something of equal weight.”

  “I was thinking the same,” I say. “But not some relic on a pedestal. Scott doesn’t need a shrine piece, he needs something he can hit things with, or that lets him keep standing when he shouldn’t.”

  Scott’s grin is already starting. “You’re speaking my language.”

  “The Sunforged are built on impact,” I go on. “Every stomp, every hammer swing, every hit taken stacks tremor. So instead of a fancy symbol, we forge you a conduit. Gear that drinks that build-up and lets you spend it harder, or hold more of it without burning out.”

  Scott leans forward over the table. “Like… bracers? Or greaves? Something I wear into a fight.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “Ashwing plate reinforced with your crystal. Bracers that soak excess tremor instead of letting it bleed off. You take hits, you swing, you move—it all pours into the reservoir in the metal. When you release, it hits like a landslide.”

  Victor taps his pen thoughtfully. “And if we’re careful with the design, that same buffer could blunt incoming force. Let you shrug off blows that would have crumpled you before.”

  “We don’t have a clean way to see ‘stats’ in Nod yet,” I admit, “but we don’t need a glowing tooltip to know if something works. Your smiths and my artificers can beat on it in the training yard until it behaves. We’ll tune it until you can feel the difference in your bones.”

  Scott sits back, eyes bright, already somewhere a thousand miles away in his head picturing it. “Ashwing-tremor bracers,” he says under his breath. “Man… I could crack entire canyon walls with that.”

  “And everyone watching,” Victor adds, “will see that you weren’t just given a trophy. You were given a tool that makes you even more dangerous doing what you already do best.”

  “Good,” I say. “That’s what I want them to understand. The Dominion gets a blade. The Sunforged get a way to hit back harder and stand longer. We both come out of this raid more ourselves than before.”

  “Exactly.”

  Victor’s expression softens. “And individuals? Anyone who stood out?”

  “Narai,” I say immediately. “He lost an arm protecting me. That can’t go unrecognized.”

  Scott nods solemnly.

  “I want to hold a full ceremony for him,” I continue. “A ritual evolution trial, something tailored specifically to him. If we can restore his arm, that would be ideal, but even if not, he deserves public honor, not just gear.”

  “And Rhel?” Scott asks. “Your shield guy. I swear I felt the ground vibrate when he blocked that first big hit.”

  “Rhel gets a new shield,” I say without hesitation. “Not just a replacement. A massive Ashwing-plate tower shield that looks like he could block a charging army with it.”

  Victor smiles. “That sounds like him.”

  “And the rest of the party,” I add. “Every single member of the twelve deserves something meaningful. Weapons, tools, enhancements tailored to their roles. Javelins for Saren, gauntlets for Kaira, a new bow for Ira, grappling tech upgrades for Thane… each one will get something.”

  Scott gives me a nod of approval. “Our people too, good. We’ll mirror the process. Rewards on both sides, announced together.”

  “Good,” I say. “Then next order of business: the fortress.”

  Victor flips to a new page, ready.

  “It needs to be real,” I say. “Not symbolic, not decorative. A fortress strong enough that if the Cleric King himself marched south to the dominion with his entire congregation, they’d hit that wall first.”

  Scott grins slowly. “A blended fortress. Half Dominion crystal and stone, half Sunforged glass and light.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “A place both armies can fall back to. A place the world sees and understands means unity.”

  “And roads?” Scott asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “We build proper roads from both our capitals straight to the fortress. Not trails. Stone roads.”

  Victor looks up from his notes. “You already started yours, right? On your side?”

  “Yeah,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “I actually started the northern road way before we ever ran into the Ashwing. It was supposed to be the first major project connecting the Dominion to the borderlands.”

  Scott raises a brow. “You never told me that.”

  “I didn’t get the chance,” I admit. “The Ashwing made it impossible to keep workers alive long enough to finish anything. Every time they tried to push farther north, something would hit them. So I called it off. We didn’t make it more than three-fourths of the way to where the border fort is supposed to go.”

  Victor nods slowly. “And now that the dragons are gone…”

  “I can pick up where we left off,” I say. “Finish the last stretch, then start pushing a new road out toward Sunhome. Straight line between both capitals.”

  Scott whistles through his teeth. “That’s gonna change things. Even without magic or… whatever else Nod decides to throw at us, just having a clean route between our kingdoms? Huge.”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “It makes coordination easier,” Victor says, flipping to the next tab in his binder. “Trade caravans, troop movement, supply lines, everything improves.”

  “Exactly.” I tap the table. “Once my road hits the border fortress and yours starts from Sunhome, it’ll feel like we’re building the world outward together instead of just reacting to it.”

  Scott smirks. “Plus it’ll look badass on the map.”

  I laugh. “Yeah. That too.”

  “And lastly,” I add, “there’s HistoriaH.”

  Scott laughs. “Our resident lore hound.”

  I open my laptop and load the channel again. Victor and Scott Nudge in to watch with me. The Cleric King video plays, showing Alaric ruling from a cathedral so bright it looks like it was rendered in HDR.

  Historia pauses the footage and annotates everything like a military analyst: the architecture, Alaric’s posture, where the sermon and throne functions overlap.

  Victor raises his eyebrows. “His throne is his cathedral. That means every order he gives is spiritually binding.”

  “Which explains why he rose so fast,” I say. “He didn’t need to ‘discover’ the cathedral building. His kingdom’s whole identity fit perfectly from day one.”

  Historia then moves to login patterns, speculating on Alaric’s real-world timezone.

  Scott groans. “Imagine having someone who can track when you log in.”

  I give him a sideways look.

  He winces. “Okay yeah, we’re not exactly subtle, but still.”

  The video ends with Historia summarizing Alaric as someone who rules by belief, not force.

  When it finishes, the three of us sit in silence for a moment.

  Victor finally breaks it. “We need to be careful with this creator. They aren’t a king, but they have influence. They shape public perception. They could sway people toward you, or away from you.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “We don’t contact them yet. Not until we know their angle. But if they’re neutral? They might be an asset. If they’re biased? We plan accordingly.”

  Scott laughs. “Man, imagine teaming up with the biggest lore guy online. Talk about meta.”

  “Let’s not rush,” I say. “We watch. We learn. And if they prove trustworthy… then maybe someday I give them something no one else has.”

  “Access?” Victor asks.

  “Information,” I say. “Not identity. Just enough clarity to build their theories correctly. Make them an ally.”

  Scott nods. “Alright. So eggs, loot, fortress, roads, Historia. We’ve got our list.”

  I close my laptop. For a moment, the weight of everything we’ve discussed sits heavy in my chest.

  Nod continues without me.

  Every minute I'm here, roads are being laid, bodies are being harvested, captains are reorganizing forces, and the Dominion waits for their king to return.

  Scott notices the shift in my expression. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I say softly. “Just… realizing how much is moving. How many things I’ve already set into motion.”

  Victor gives me a reassuring smile. “That’s why we're helping. So when you go back tonight, you go in prepared.”

  I nod, gather my things, and breathe out slowly.

  “Alright,” I say. “Tonight, Kyris wakes. Let’s make sure he has a plan worth waking up to.”

  “Okay,” Scott says, clicking his pen closed. “Then walk us through it. First ten minutes back in Nod. What does Kyris do?”

  The question settles me. Strategy is easier than feelings.

  “First thing?” I say. “Narai.”

  Victor nods immediately. “You left him in the healers’ hands, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “But he lost an arm for me. I’m not letting the first face he sees be some random attendant. I go straight to the infirmary, check on him, make sure he understands it wasn’t for nothing.”

  “And Rhel,” Scott adds. “He looked… bad on replay. Still standing, but barely.”

  “Rhel next,” I agree. “Personal commendation. He gets his new shield orders from my own mouth, not through Cast. I want the Dominion to see who I stand behind.”

  Victor’s already writing. “So: wake up, infirmary, Narai, Rhel, public recognition.”

  “Right,” I say. “After that, the caldera.”

  Scott leans forward a bit. “To check the corpses?”

  “To check everything,” I answer. “Status of the bodies, excavation progress, how much material is left, what condition the lair is in, what’s happening around the eggs. I gave standing orders, but Nod keeps moving while I’m gone. I need to see how far they got without me.”

  Victor glances up. “You’ll need an updated report from Cast and the captains anyway.”

  “That’ll be the first council I call,” I say. “Once the immediate checks are done, I summon my captains to the tent or the throne room, depending on where we set up tonight. Full debrief. We go over casualties, morale, logistics, and I outline the reward structure so word starts spreading fast.”

  Scott nods, satisfied. “Good. People fight harder if they know the story won’t forget them.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “Narai’s evolution trial, Rhel’s shield, the rest of the raid team’s gifts. I want that codified before rumors fill the gaps.”

  “And the fortress?” Victor asks.

  “Foundation orders go out tonight,” I say. “I want surveyors marking the exact footprint by the time the sun comes up there. Dominion engineers start on our side of the border. I’ll assign a captain whose whole job is just ‘border fortress’ so it doesn’t get buried under everything else.”

  “Road crew, too,” Scott says. “You said your northern road’s like three-fourths done, right?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “We resumed construction the moment the Ashwing threat was officially declared neutralized. I have crews moving again toward that fortress site. Once my road hits it, the Dominion’s side is locked in.”

  “And I’ll get my people started,” Scott says. “When I log in tonight, first thing I’m doing is damage reports and healer runs. After that, I’m putting my miners and road gangs on a new project out from Sunhome. Straight shot to your fortress. We meet you halfway.”

  “Good,” I say. “We each own our half, but the middle belongs to both of us.”

  Victor adds another note. “We should also talk about where Scott stores his share of the Ashwing material. You’ll need secure holding in Sunhome.”

  Scott shrugs with a little grin. “My capital can handle a few tons of dragon parts. I’ll set up a dedicated vault. Only trusted smiths and citizens allowed inside. We’ll start designs for those tremor bracers as soon as the first crates arrive.”

  “Make sure it’s public,” Victor says. “Not where the vault is, but that the items exist. People need to see that the Sunforged didn’t just show up for a cameo. They walked away rewarded, just like the Dominion did. Maybe parade the spoils through the town, like a victors march.”

  Scott taps the table in a steady rhythm, already thinking ahead. “Yeah. We’ll do a whole thing. Ceremony, oaths, all that.”

  I lean back in my chair, feeling the scale of it all press in: Narai, Rhel, the raid crew, the fortress, the roads, the lair, the eggs, the forging queues, the captains, the archivists, the miners, the soldiers—

  It feels like I’m holding ten spinning plates in both hands and trying to pretend it’s normal.

  Victor notices. His voice softens. “You’re stretched,” he says quietly. “The Dominion’s bigger now. Heavier. It’s not just one dungeon and one enemy anymore. You’ve got infrastructure, politics, religion, military, economics… and all of it is suddenly loud.”

  “Welcome to kingship,” Scott mutters. “But yeah. He’s not wrong.”

  “I know,” I say. “That’s… part of the problem. Every time I solve something, Nod hands me three more things to juggle. We just killed two dragons, and instead of breathing, I’ve got a lair to excavate, a fortress to raise, roads to finish, eggs to decide the fate of, and other kings watching all of it like it’s sport.”

  Victor taps his pen against the binder once, then sets it down. “Then we triage.”

  I look at him. “Triage?”

  “We stop pretending everything is equal,” he says. “We rank it. Tonight is not about doing everything. Tonight is about doing the things that keep the Dominion from crumbling under its own weight.”

  Scott nods. “Yeah. What’s life-or-death, what’s ‘this week’, what’s ‘this month’, and what can wait until you’re not coming off a double-dragon raid.”

  Victor opens to a fresh page. “So. Immediate: Narai, Rhel, captains, eggs security, extraction oversight, fortress foundations, road resumption orders. That’s your night.”

  “And short term?” I ask.

  “Short term,” he says, “is fortress construction, forging the big-ticket items, excavating the lair, cataloging the ossuary, and stabilizing your borders now that you’re ‘the guy who killed the Ashwing pair.’”

  Scott whistles again. “Yeah. You just leapfrogged a tier on the world threat scale.”

  “And long term,” Victor finishes, “is politics.”

  I let that word sit in my chest for a second. “Politics,” I echo. “As in: ‘how many kings suddenly want my head.’”

  “Some will,” Victor says. “But some are going to want your help, too. Or your alliance. Or your eggs. Or your smiths. Alaric will definitely be paying attention. Anyone with a border close to you will be watching, just to see if you get overconfident.”

  Scott’s brow furrows. “We should start eyes-out tonight then. Not just building up, but looking outward.”

  He points at me with his pen. “When you get your captains together, assign a small unit to recon neighboring nations. Quietly. Watcher teams, maybe emissaries with gifts, mapping who’s building what near your borders.”

  “Same for me,” he adds. “I’ll have my people watch for any new roadwork or fortifications cropping up close to Sunhome since I am further north than you, and have more borders with other kingdoms.”

  “Information before contact,” Victor says. “No alliances, no declarations, no grand speeches yet. You’ve just lit a beacon. Let everyone else react while you gather intel.”

  “Careful not to overextend with that too,” I say. “If I send too many people out, it leaves the Dominion hollow.”

  “Then don’t send many,” Victor replies. “Send good ones. A handful of specialists who know how to stay unnoticed. Enough to learn, not enough to weaken you.”

  I nod slowly. The picture in my head sharpens: my first night back not as a victory lap, but as opening moves on a bigger board.

  “Alright,” I say finally. “Tonight: I wake up, check on my wounded, cement the rewards, secure the eggs, set fortress and road orders, and call the captains. I make sure the Dominion understands what we’ve survived… and what we’re building next.”

  “And in parallel,” Scott says, “I wake up, check my own, start my half of the road, set aside vault space, get designs going for the tremor gear, and plan a Sunforged delegation to the fortress once it’s ready to host us.”

  “Exactly,” Victor says. “The two of you move in sync, even when you’re not in the same room.”

  For a moment, none of us speak. The murmur of the library fills the gap: the soft shuffle of pages, the distant clack of a keyboard, the quiet world where no one else knows we’re planning the logistics for two nations in a dream.

  “Nod continues without me,” I say quietly. “Every minute I’m here, roads are being laid, bodies are being moved, captains are adjusting formations, and the Dominion waits for its king to come back with a plan.”

  Scott gives me a crooked grin. “Then we give them one.”

  Victor closes his binder and caps his pen. “You’ve got your marching orders. When you log in tonight, you’re not just reacting to what happened. You’re setting the next stage.”

  I close my notebook to match him. The weight in my chest doesn’t disappear, but it settles into something sharper. Focused.

  “Tonight,” I say, standing and slinging my backpack over my shoulder, “Kyris wakes up.”

  Scott gives me a small, knowing grin. Victor closes his binder like he’s sealing a contract.

  I breathe out, not heavy, not overwhelmed but steady.

  “And this time,” I add, looking between them, “he’s not waking up to survive the night.”

  “He’s waking up to expand.”