Volume 2 – Inheritance of Fire
Chapter 2 – Hollowreach's Foundation
The throne room settled into the quiet of ceremony as the final echo of the court's departure faded. Servants passed through like silent shadows, lighting sconces along the cold stone walls.
Scribes laid scrolls and ledgers across the great oak table beside the throne. Within moments, the court reassembled—Elric the steward, General Rowen, Lady Tyla, and a handful of minor advisors—all ready to deliver the state of a kingdom they believed was running as it should.
There would be no swift reunion with the others. That much had become clear. The time between now and then would not be idle.
If this was to be a kingdom reborn, I needed to understand exactly what I had inherited.
Elric stepped forward with the crisp efficiency of a man who had done this routine a thousand times. "Your Majesty, the realm is divided into six primary administrative territories. Hollowreach at the center, and five mega-cities ringing it: Varrowind, Kelmoor, Dreystan, Eldhollow, and Corvain. Each governs surrounding towns and hamlets. All report to the capital through a rotating chain of envoys and scribes."
He laid a scroll across the table. It was neat. Clean. Labeled in careful ink. On its surface, it seemed… orderly.
But the lines between provinces weren't measured by trade corridors or river routes—they followed ancient land grants, not practicality. No cohesion. No logic of flow. Just a quilt of jurisdictions stitched without concern for the people beneath.
Elric continued, unaware. "Trade within the provinces is managed locally. Cities handle their own taxation and trade tariffs. The council of governors coordinates surplus redistribution during lean seasons. There hasn't been a famine in years."
Which sounded impressive—until one considered how localized that stability might be. There was no mention of shared infrastructure, no indication of planned trade routes or centralized logistics. It functioned, but not intelligently.
General Rowen spoke next. He stood like a fortress in flesh—grizzled and confident.
"Our forces are formidable. Thirty thousand infantry across all cities. Ten thousand mounted auxiliaries. Spearmen, swordsmen, archers. Each city maintains its own command structure. They mobilize independently when called."
"We also maintain an auxiliary of thirty thousand bondservants—men and women sentenced to military service in lieu of prison. They serve ten-year terms. Most are used for siege operations, garrison duties, and border patrol."
Rowen's pride was palpable. He meant it.
But as he unfurled the charts, I saw numbers without training logs, ranks without centralized doctrine. There were no elite units—no veteran core to draw from. No sign of magical integration, no structure for logistics in prolonged campaigns. Raw numbers, yes. But power without precision.
"And your officers?" I asked.
"Each city promotes from its noble bloodlines. Generals by inheritance. Most are trained at their local academies."
I gave a slow nod. He saw proud lineage. I saw fractured command, loyalty tied to city walls instead of the crown.
Lady Tyla stepped forward. She was calm, composed, and meticulous. "The roads are functional. Most towns are within two days' ride of their city's market center. Merchants use the established paths. Each city funds its own maintenance efforts."
Maps followed her words. Roads marked not by travel necessity but tradition. Chokepoints. Regions without stone bridges. Forest paths turned to mire in the rainy seasons. Bandit activity reported but not investigated—accepted as the price of travel.
"And commerce?"
She nodded. "Varrowind handles the most foreign trade—port access. Corvain is known for its grain reserves. Eldhollow controls timber. Internal trade is arranged by merchant guilds. The capital acts as the kingdom's coin standard."
Everything sounded… functional. But it was fiefdoms, not unity. Cities that bartered with each other like rival states. An empire built on independence.
"And the people?" I asked.
"Elric?" Tyla glanced at the steward.
He stepped forward. "Literacy is mostly confined to city officials, guild masters, and nobility. Village schooling varies. Religious leaders provide most education beyond that. It is… sufficient."
I gave no reaction.
Sufficient. That was the theme, wasn't it? Everything was sufficient. No one thought anything was wrong.
And that was the real problem.
"Summon the governors of each mega-city," I said, my voice calm. "With their military commanders, trade ministers, and roadwardens. We will hold a summit in three days. I want detailed reports from each sector. Not summaries. I want exact troop distributions. Agricultural yields. Road lengths. Coin volumes. Spellwright capacity. If someone blinks in Kelmoor, I want to know which eye."
There was a pause.
Then Elric bowed. "As you command."
"Once those summons are sent out I want the three of you to reconvene with me. We will work out the basics of the summit before it begins".
The court filed out, murmuring approval at the king's attention to detail.
The room emptied. Snow fell outside the stained-glass windows in lazy spirals. Somewhere beyond those hills, my companions wrestled with their own corners of this strange world. But here, in Hollowreach, the forge had been lit.
And the hammer had found its anvil.