NOVEL NEXT 206-Time to Build the Town Hall. Part 7. Ronan.
"Totem, pick two goblins and put them to work at the tannery."
Now that I think about it, we could also assign some humanoid undead like the trolls…
But I should check with Ronan first, since they're his.
Since almost the entire village is here, curious about how the system created a tannery, the totem quickly calls over two of the goblins and puts them to work there
"Bianca, are you going to create more structures?"
"Hmm, not right now. I think it's better to check with Ronan first. Everyone get back to what you were doing—I'm going for a walk."
In fact, I head out into the forest. I want to talk to Ronan, but without a bunch of goblins, zombies, and skeletons greeting me and following me with their eyes.
Once I've gotten far enough away, I reach out to him.
Ronan, how's it going? Is this a bad time?
Do not worry, my lady. We are still traveling.
Still traveling. The entire night of the ball, all of the next day, and all of today so far… Why didn't they just take a teleporter? If they're using Count Bloodwynne's official carriage, that means they're not trying to travel incognito.
Though of course, in the carriage with the curtains closed, no one can see who's inside—and if they took a teleporter, then people would see Ronan.
I shake my head. My thoughts are wandering again.
Everything all right?
Bored, my lady. But I am not complaining. It is worse when Benedict starts talking about his church. I do not know what absurd concept he has of my invisible friend.
Yeah… right.
Ronan, I've accessed the village control interface now that the town hall is built. And I created a tannery. Is there anything else you'd like me to work on while you're on your way?
He asks about the buildings and requirements. I tell him what I remember as I walk through the forest, feeling the damp earth sink beneath my boots and the leaf litter crunch. It smells good. Like nature, like life. Nothing like the smell of cities in my old life, where I rarely went out to the countryside.
Stone blocks or bricks, my lady, he answers at last
Why am I not surprised?
The quarry, then, I confirm.
But you are far more efficient, and besides, that way you improve your earth magic.
Sure, he's right about that—but no. I'm the leader. The whole future dark queen thing I still need to think about, but I'm undeniably the leader of my vassals. I'm not going to spend all my time making bricks.
The quarry, I repeat. That doesn't mean I can't help reinforce tunnels or expand rooms. At least until you put your undead ants to work helping me.
He raised a bunch of the ant corpses we left behind when we repelled the attack, but they don't seem very intelligent and the goblins can't give them orders. Maybe we need to control the queen? Hive mind and all that.
They're just sitting there in a cave, motionless and not contributing to the settlement. Well, at least since they're dead we don't have to feed them. I think that without Ronan within range of his mental necromancer-undead connection, we're lucky they're not attacking us.
I imagine Ronan must have made that order clear when he raised them.
Very well, my lady. The quarry, then. Can you wait for me to return before doing the rest?
I hate to lower your expectations, but I can't make you an administrator. Until the settlement levels up, it can only be me.
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And what is needed to level it up?
Oh, I haven't checked. I'll look later and let you know.
Thank you, my lady.
Ronan, be careful.
Of course, do not worry.
I sigh and cut the mental connection. I stay a while longer, walking and enjoying the solitude to clear my thoughts.
For now, everything seems quiet at the academy. If they were looking for me because of Sigfrid, they would've sent some patrol to the forest where I'm supposedly training, and that's not the case—both Ronan's undead sentries and the goblins would've seen them.
Sol continues to be a small pang of guilt in my head, which I either ignore or tell myself that all I did was pay her back in her own coin. Self-defense.
And dark magic, well, I feel so at ease in the forest, so connected to the earth, that I decide to try out my new element. I practice my lesser dark orb a bit and, while I'm at it, flash too. Neither levels up, but little by little. When I run out of mana, I sit down to meditate for a while.
"Let me know if any danger approaches," I ask the pup after scratching his head.
He's been by my side the whole time, scampering around.
He lets out a bark and I close my eyes.
My survival is vital for his, so I have no doubt he'll warn me if a hostile animal or some other threat approaches
Minutes pass. It's not until I've recovered all my mana that I open my eyes.
Feeling more centered, more like myself, I head back to the cave. It's curious how my new affinity, while I meditate, seems to integrate with the others. A hunch, intuition, or whatever you want to call it, whispers to me that if darkness rose to intermediate level—like I have light and the four elemental affinities—something wonderful would happen.
I accept it.
I accept myself.
All guilt about Sol dissolves in these moments.
I smile serenely as I walk back.
The pup keeps doing his thing, scampering from side to side, running a good stretch ahead and then coming back to my side.
Even though I don't have any notification to prove it, I feel better, stronger.
Ronan:
It was late afternoon on that same day—the day he had last spoken with Bianca through their lady-vassal sergeant bond—when Ronan and his hosts arrived at their destination.
The capital.
The carriage rolled along the cobblestone path to the count's property there, an elegant three-story mansion with gabled roofs and sober, almost severe architecture. A spacious garden surrounded it, protected by a stone wall crowned with a dark wrought-iron fence
Once they'd stopped, the coachman opened the door for them. A butler had come out of the house to receive them. He greeted his master with servile respect. The count dismissed the notice that dinner was ready.
"Tell the cooks to keep it warm. I want to do something first."
He led Ronan and his son to a staircase hidden behind a wardrobe at the far end of the ground floor. It opened downward, into a basement.
At first, Ronan didn't understand why the access to a basement needed to be hidden. It looked like a wine cellar with barrels; nothing unusual for a noble. However, behind a tapestry depicting a grape harvest scene, there was a secret door, disguised in the joints of the stone bricks of the wall—one that seemed to be part of that wall and opened via an intricate mechanism. It led to a tunnel dug into the earth, damp. Once opened, a slight breeze rushed in from there into the cellar, slipping through the cracks of the door, now closed, behind the wardrobe.
That tunnel, then, had to lead somewhere well-ventilated.
The count pulled a pair of hooded robes from a chest near the barrels, put one on, handed the other to his son, and grabbed a torch hanging from the tunnel wall. He lit it with the flame from one of the oil lamps illuminating the cellar. Then he began moving down the tunnel. It wasn't very wide, and the count, who was tall, barely had a handspan of space between his head and the ceiling, propped up with wooden boards to prevent the earth from collapsing. Widthwise, two people could fit side by side, depending on their size.
Damien gestured for Ronan to enter and follow his father. He stayed behind, holding the tapestry with both hands. When he released it, the heavy fabric quickly fell back into place. Finally, Damien closed the secret door.
They walked for quite a while. Wherever they were headed, Ronan thought it didn't seem to be under the wealthy part of the city where nobles had their residences. Or perhaps it was, since he'd only been to the capital as a child, before he touched the slab and they locked him in the basement.
The breeze, which had stopped when Damien closed the access to the basement, began to blow again at some point, gentler. They were getting close to their destination.
After a few minutes, the tunnel opened into what appeared to be a large natural underground cavern, with a small river running through it. Stalagmites and stalactites rose from the floor and hung from the ceiling, meeting at some points where they formed columns of rock.
There was an artificial bridge, wooden, crossing the water. In the back, a massive altar on a naturally elevated area, reached by stairs carved into the rock. A statue of a god, sculpted in black basalt, stood there.
As they walked toward it, Ronan could see that the carving was perfect on the body, on the robe it wore, and on the hood covering its head. However, the face was less polished, as if the artist had purposely not wanted to clearly define the deity's features. Only the eyes—two enormous red rubies—stood out from within the stone hood. The statue raised one hand forward, as if wanting to address them. In the other it held a metal scythe that, at least at that moment, was rusted. The hand and the part of the forearm that escaped from the robe seemed strong and muscular.
Ronan thought he didn't picture his invisible friend like that. Not at all.
In any case, they weren't alone. There were about two dozen hooded figures sitting on wooden benches arranged around the altar.
Their robes were, like Damien's, simple black cloth. Bloodwynne's, however, had the edges of the hood and sleeves adorned with embroidery done in a dark red thread.
Curiously, it reminded Ronan of the color of his lady's dress at the ball.