Chapitre 13: Forging the Future

The village was finally taking shape, evolving from a mere collection of tents and makeshift shelters into something Robert could proudly call home. The newly constructed wall loomed over the settlement, its rough-hewn logs interlocked with the precision of seasoned craftsmen. It wasn't just a barrier; it was a promise of safety, allowing the villagers to sleep soundly and venture farther afield without the constant gnawing fear of attack. This achievement brought a sense of satisfaction to Robert, though he knew it was only the beginning.

With this milestone reached, Robert's mind turned to the next phase of his vision. The village needed structure, leadership, and clear roles to ensure its continued growth and survival. He decided to host a meeting, a formal gathering to outline the future and assign responsibilities. As he made his way to the village hall, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground. The warm hues of twilight bathed the village in a soft glow, and Robert couldn't help but feel a surge of pride.

"Eugene," he called out as he passed his old friend, who was busy sharpening a spear by the barracks. "Gather the men. We're having a meeting in the hall."

Eugene looked up, a hint of weariness in his eyes, but he nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. "Right away, Robert."

Robert entered the village hall, a sturdy building constructed from the finest timber they had scavenged. The interior was simple but functional—wooden benches lined the walls, and a large table dominated the center of the room. Robert took a seat at the head of the table, his thoughts racing as he waited for the others to arrive.

The door creaked open, and Sabas was the first to enter. The tall, battle-hardened warrior moved with the grace of a predator, his eyes scanning the room before he nodded at Robert and took a seat. Next came Thronton, his face etched with a permanent scowl, followed by Thabis, who flashed a quick smile before sitting down. James, the village's resident craftsman, arrived last, flanked by the seven girls they had rescued from the goblin's lair. The girls huddled together, their faces a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Robert rose from his seat, commanding the room with a quiet authority. "I've called you all here for two reasons," he began, his voice steady. "First, to discuss the future of the village, and second, to assign roles to those I believe are essential to our survival."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. The weight of leadership was heavy, but Robert bore it with the strength he had developed through years of hardship and loss.

"Before we begin discussing the development of the village, I'd like to set some ground rules," Robert continued. "Only one person speaks at a time. Let them finish their opinion before responding." He picked up a wooden stick from the table and tossed it to Eugene, who caught it with a practiced hand.

Eugene stood, clearing his throat. "I'd like to address the lack of agriculture and hygiene," he said. "We're expending too much energy walking long distances just to gather a meager amount of food. We need to establish crops and a reliable water source within the village walls."

Everyone nodded in agreement, the urgency of Eugene's words apparent in their expressions. Robert inclined his head thoughtfully. "You're right. I'll start working on that immediately. We'll designate land for farming and dig a well within the perimeter."

The stick was passed to Sabas, who leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "My concern has just been resolved with the barracks," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "But we need more weapons and better training. If we're attacked, we need to be prepared to defend ourselves."

Robert nodded. "I'll see to it that we acquire more weapons. We'll also set up regular training sessions for everyone capable of fighting."

Next, the stick was handed to Thronton, who smirked as he stood. "The lack of action is what should really be bothering you people," he said smugly. "We're sitting around here playing house while there's a whole world out there waiting to be conquered."

Robert, sensing the shift in the room's mood, quickly snatched the stick from Thronton's hand and passed it to James. Thronton's words hung in the air, but Robert chose not to address them directly—there would be time for that later.

James, a quiet man with calloused hands and a mind full of ideas, spoke next. "The only problem I have is not having a proper workshop," he said, his voice steady. "My house will do for now, but if we want to build more complex tools and furniture, I'm going to need a dedicated space."

Robert nodded, appreciating James's practical approach. "We'll find a place for your workshop, James. It's crucial that we have the tools necessary to expand and improve the village."

He looked around the room, noting the pensive faces of the girls. They were outsiders, not officially part of the village, yet their presence was undeniable. Robert chose to conclude this segment of the meeting without giving them a chance to speak, not out of disregard, but because their situation required a different kind of attention.

"Now, let's start assigning roles," Robert announced, his tone firm. "Let's get the easiest one out of the way first. Sabas, you're the head of the military."

Sabas nodded, unsurprised by the appointment. His experience and demeanor made him the obvious choice.

"Thabis," Robert continued, turning to the wiry scout. "You're the head of the scouts. I have faith in you, and I expect great things. Keep us informed of any threats or opportunities on the horizon."

Thabis's eyes gleamed with determination. He was talkative, yes, but Robert knew that when it came to work, Thabis was all business.

"Eugene," Robert said, his gaze softening as he addressed his friend. "You'll be acting governor for now. I know your heart lies with navigation, and when someone with more credentials comes along, you'll be replaced. But for now, I need you to help guide this village."

Eugene sighed, a hint of reluctance in his expression, but he nodded in acceptance. "I'll do my best, Robert."

Finally, Robert turned to Thronton. "As for you, Thronton, you'll be the village's one and only… doofus." He chuckled, lightening the mood. "No, I'm joking. You're a free spirit, and I don't have a specific role for you right now. But I know you'll find a way to make yourself useful."

Thronton grinned, taking the jest in stride. "Don't worry, I'll keep things interesting around here."

With the main roles assigned, Robert shifted his attention to the girls. Their faces were tense, caught between hope and fear. "Ladies," Robert began, his tone gentle but serious. "You have an important decision to make. Will you stay here, with us, or return to your village? Mind you, if you decide to return, I can't offer you any protection."

The girls exchanged nervous glances. They had families back home, loved ones they missed dearly, but they also understood the harsh reality of their situation. Without help, they were as good as lost. The blonde girl, who had spoken up before, took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"I will stay," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "But my lord, I beg you to let me bring my family here."

Robert's heart ached for them. He had seen the horrors they had endured, and he knew the weight of their fears. "Of course," he replied softly. "You can bring them. In fact, I urge you to do so. We'll protect them here."

The other girls, emboldened by their companion's courage, nodded in agreement. They, too, would stay.

With the meeting drawing to a close, Robert turned to Thabis and Thronton. "You two will be going on a little mission," he said, his tone becoming more serious. "I want you to take the girls back to their village and recruit as many people as possible. Bring back anyone willing to join us."

Thabis's expression was one of cautious optimism, while Thronton's eyes gleamed with excitement. The prospect of a mission, however small, seemed to thrill him.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, it's getting late," Robert said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I'd love to get some rest. You two leave first thing in the morning, so I recommend you get some shut-eye as well."

As the group dispersed, Robert retreated to his room, his mind still buzzing with the events of the day. The large log he had found in the goblin shaman's room sat in the corner, its rough surface etched with strange symbols. He approached it, running his fingers over the carvings.

Totem Pole: A large log that contains traces of goblin magic. It is used by shamans to gather magic power.

The description intrigued Robert. The idea of wielding magic, of harnessing the power that had once belonged to his enemies, was a tantalizing thought. Could he, too, become a shaman? The question lingered in his mind as he undressed and slipped into bed. The world outside the village walls was fraught with danger, but within these

walls, Robert felt a strange sense of peace. He drifted off to sleep, his dreams filled with visions of totems and ancient magic.

The morning arrived with a burst of sunlight that streamed through the small window, illuminating the room in a warm, golden light. Robert blinked awake, yawning and stretching, his muscles aching from the previous day's exertions. But despite the weariness in his bones, he felt a sense of anticipation. Today, he would summon new allies, new forces to aid in the defense and expansion of his village.

After a quick wash and a simple breakfast, Robert made his way to the altar, greeting villagers and playfully ruffling the hair of a young boy who ran past him. Though his demeanor was often serious, Robert had a soft spot for the children of the village. He was only nineteen himself, a fact that few realized, given his imposing stature and the burdens of leadership he carried.

Reaching the altar, a stone structure set apart from the rest of the village, Robert focused his mind on the task at hand. The air around him seemed to hum with energy as he chanted the words of summoning. The ground beneath his feet trembled slightly, and in a flash of light, ten Viking-like figures materialized before him.

The Northmen were imposing, clad in leather and fur armor, their broad shoulders and muscular frames making them appear even larger. Each warrior wielded a massive axe, its blade gleaming in the morning sun. Robert studied them, impressed by their rugged appearance and the sense of raw power they exuded.

Islandic Northmen: Hailing from the Kingdom of Islandshaf, Northmen are known for their farming and raiding. They are great at fighting on the sea and always compete to see who is the most profitable among each other.

Robert's mind raced with possibilities. These men could be invaluable not only as warriors but also as farmers, bringing their knowledge of agriculture to the village. He led them toward the center of the settlement, eager to introduce them to the others.

As they walked, Robert spotted Thabis and Thronton preparing to leave with the girls. Thronton was already cracking jokes, his laughter carrying on the wind. "Be careful out there," Robert called after them. "And remember: the more, the merrier."

Thabis waved back, his expression serious but not without a hint of a smile. The girls clutched their packs tightly, their eyes filled with determination and a hint of fear. They knew this journey would be perilous, but the hope of reuniting with their families gave them strength.

Once outside the village gates, the group set off at a brisk pace, heading toward the goblin cave. The landscape was familiar, yet each step northward brought new challenges. Elia, the blonde girl, took the lead, her knowledge of the terrain proving invaluable. Thabis, ever the scout, kept a keen eye on their surroundings, noting the thinning trees and the distant glimmer of a lake.

When they finally reached the paved road, a sense of relief washed over them. "It shouldn't be that far now," Elia said, her voice tinged with hope. "This road leads straight to the village."

But their relief was short-lived. As they walked, the sound of footsteps reached their ears, and a group of fifteen masked men emerged from the trees, blocking their path. The leader, a burly man with a wicked grin, stepped forward. "This is Ironfist Dennis's territory. Give us everything you have or—"

The man never finished his sentence. Thronton, faster than the eye could follow, decapitated him with a single swing of his sword. Blood sprayed across the road as Thronton let out a crazed laugh, launching himself at the rest of the men. Thabis, calmer but equally deadly, picked off targets with his bow, each arrow finding its mark with lethal precision.

The battle was over in moments, the bodies of the robbers strewn across the road like broken dolls. Thronton, his face spattered with blood, laughed maniacally, his eyes wild with excitement. Thabis, wiping the blood from his blade, couldn't help but sigh. He knew this was going to be a long journey, and with Thronton in such high spirits, it was bound to be an eventful one.