The wagon suddenly jarred, hitting a particularly deep rut and snapping Arbor from his thoughts. He wasn’t distracted for long, as his mind immediately turned to another worry — his little sister. Now that he was a Viscount, she would be protected, but only if she were found in the human kingdom of Laedrin, which, for some reason, shared a name with the world in which they lived.
Frunk had explained something about the Kings of old and their superiority complexes. Naming the human kingdom Laedrin implied that the very world revolved around them or some such nonsense. Regardless of their hubris, Karria’s safety was a constant worry that nagged at the back of his mind.
He knew she hadn’t been sold as a slave, at least not in Fivora, as neither she nor Ramson had been seen in the city. His worry was that she’d been sold to some far-off merchant and was halfway across the country by now. He had people searching for her, and he’d made sure to tell Marquess Sindra about her. He always made sure to give everyone he could her name and other basic information. He’d received assurances that Karria would be found, but it had been two whole weeks and he’d yet to hear a thing.
“Arbor, I know you’re busy worrying about one thing or another, but we really need you to pay attention right now.”
“What?” Arbor asked, snapped from his thoughts once again by Grak.
The gremlin woman, who he’d once considered in a romantic light and had now become his most steadfast friend and personal aide, stared at him with unhidden annoyance. Her bright blue eyes contrasted nicely with her light red skin and sharp features. A long curtain of dark blue hair tumbled around her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face.
She was dressed in a set of tight black leather armor with Arbor’s new emblem, the roaring visage of a Roc-Jaguar, emblazoned across the chest. Her weapon, the Mythicallium rapier that had been forged from claws of the very jaguar gracing her breastplate, sat against the cushioned seat, within easy reach. A dagger, forged by Hord from the metal of the Azure-Leopard that he’d killed during the competition, sat next to it, the shining blue hilt contrasting with the green of the rapier.
Hord looked much the same as he had before. He had the same bright red hair and short beard. His facial features were gruff but smiley, and he had a set of muscles that would make a grown bull feel inadequate. Much like Arbor, he’d removed his armor, the heavy plate mail sitting in the overhead racks within easy reach. His enchanted hammer, now coated in a layer of shining blue metal, sat ready by his side.
The only one who didn’t look ready to run headlong into a fight was the wagon’s fourth occupant. Frunk, much like Grak, was a gremlin, though judging by his lanky build and wide spectacles, it was clear he wasn’t a warrior. Frunk had to be one of Arbor’s most valuable advisors and was the head of his army.
Though Frunk was still keeping it a secret, Arbor knew he had magic, the type of which made him ridiculously intelligent. It was only due to Funk’s foresight and planning that he’d managed to come in first place in the competition, and it was Frunk’s ideas that had gotten so many new gremlins heading toward his new lands.
“I’m sorry,” Arbor said, leaning forward and giving Grak an apologetic smile. “What were we talking about again?”
Grak rolled her eyes, but thankfully, Frunk cut in before she could say anything rude.
“We were discussing the plan and distribution of the freed slaves among the towns and villages in Ryevine, as well as new construction for both them and the arriving gremlin forces.”
“How much space do we have that isn’t being used as farmland, and how many people are we expecting?” Arbor asked, wanting to refresh his memory.
“We freed roughly fifteen thousand slaves, eight thousand of which have elected to come along with us,” Frunk said, not needing to check the proper documents. “At last count, we have an additional twenty-thousand gremlins coming to join us, not counting the four thousand that have already.”
“And that brings our total to…?” Arbor asked, already thinking of the logistical nightmare.
“Roughly thirty-thousand gremlin and five thousand human soldiers,” Frunk said. “Roughly three of the eight thousand freed slaves wish to settle down. We’ve found many craftsmen, traders, and the like among them, as well as dozens of farmers and even a few former household staff to other nobility.”
“What’s the current population of Ryevine?” he asked, rubbing at his temples.
“At last count, there were somewhere around fifteen-thousand people living there.”
“And how much empty space is there?”
“Ryevine is quite a large plot of land, due to all the farms in the area. There is also a roughly fifty-square-mile gap between the palace grounds and the nearest village, which should give us plenty of space for expanded barracks and the area to raise a new city.”
“And who are you putting in charge of this massive undertaking?” Arbor asked.
“I believe Saiko will be a good fit for a project of this scale.”
Arbor nodded, glad that he’d managed to snag the Mage and convince her to come along with them to Ryevine. Someone like her would be invaluable to their cause, especially with her specialty in blueprints and large-scale construction.
“Did we get any other Mages on board?” he asked hopefully.
“Just one, I’m afraid,” Frunk said. “He is a man by the name of Igwana. I have yet to meet him, but Saiko assures me he’s reliable and will be helpful in the agriculture of your lands. Seeing as agriculture will likely be our main export, he will be very useful to have around.”
Arbor nodded, taking a deep breath and channeling his Perception magic to soothe his growing headache. The blue magic at his center flowed up to his head, calming the agitation and allowing him to relax.
“We need more Mages,” Arbor said after he’d soothed his pounding head. “Have we tried reaching out to anyone?”
“We have,” Frunk said. “But I’m afraid we have not had any luck thus far.”
“Maybe it’s time we consider other options,” Grak said, cutting into the conversation and giving him a meaningful look.
Everyone in the coach knew what she was talking about. Arbor’s ability to awaken dormant magic in others was known to them, but they never said as much aloud, out of fear that they might be overheard. This wasn’t the type of information one would want to get out.
“I think you may be right,” Arbor said, leaning back into the cushioned seat. “As much as I’d hate to advertise the fact, I think we may be out of options.”
“If I may, sir,” Frunk said. “I believe that you said that sensing magic has become easier as of late. Am I correct?”
“Yes,” Arbor replied, understanding well that Frunk knew that Arbor knew his secret.
The gremlin had not approached to speak to him about it, nor had either of his two brothers, Grab and Shukle. Until the time when they came to him, Arbor would mind his own business and pretend they were just as ordinary as the others.
“The emergence of Grak’s magic came along at a time when you were far weaker. If I may ask, have you tried looking for more dormant Mages without physical contact?”
Arbor shook his head in the negative, though now that Frunk mentioned it, he didn’t see why not. He had indeed grown a good deal stronger than he had been back then. He was now a Tier 7 Mage and judging by the lack of any reduction in his growth, Frunk was sure he’d keep going for quite some time before hitting his limit.