A Meeting of Minds
Elder Faelan rose once more and bowed deeply.
"My apologies, my lord," he began, his voice hesitant as he glanced at Elandor and Rhylen.
"You mentioned spreading this message, this prophecy, to everyone in the world. If you wouldn't mind, we, the Sylvan Elves, would be honored to assist you..."
His words were cut short by Garon, the centaur warrior, who also stood among the gathered crowd.
"We, the Centaurs," he boomed, "may not be the most ancient residents of this domain, but we are the strongest. We offer ourselves as your loyal subordinates, your knights, to accompany you in spreading this message and prophecy."
He strode forward, several of his followers flanking him, before kneeling before Elias with a resounding thud.
This unexpected gesture shocked everyone present.
As if in a desperate scramble for Elias' favor, the remaining inhabitants scrambled to rise and kneel as well, declaring their loyalty to him.
The meeting room, originally intended for mutual understanding, had become a scene of fervent pledges of allegiance.
The solemn ceremony of pledging allegiance was abruptly disrupted by a commotion outside.
A pack of twelve enormous, powerful wolves thundered across the grassland, led by an alpha the size of a large ox.
Their powerful paws caused the earth to tremble, and long, mournful howls echoed from their throats.
Perched atop the alpha, a strikingly beautiful woman adorned with natural ornaments held onto the thick fur on its shoulder.
The pack charged towards the stairs leading to the meeting room's entrance. In a flash of blinding light, they transformed - the wolves vanished, replaced by a group of tall, muscular men clad in animal skin clothing.
Everyone inside remained frozen, still kneeling before Elias, their eyes wide with astonishment at the newcomers' sudden arrival.
Fuming, Nightshade stomped towards the doorway.
His voice, heavy with disapproval, cut through the air.
"Show some respect!" he barked, his gaze fixed on the leader of the lycanthropes and the dryad woman perched casually on his shoulder.
Before Nightshade could unleash his full irritation, Elias called out from within the room, instructing him to stop.
With a wave of his hand, he invited the newcomers inside.
The lycanthropes and the dryad woman cautiously entered the hall.
Though clueless about the events that had transpired before their arrival, they instinctively understood that Elias was the prophesied leader.
They bowed low, joining the others already kneeling before him.
Nightshade, still shaking his head in disapproval, remained silent, clearly bothered by the newcomers' lack of decorum.
The leader of the Lycanthropes, his voice trembling slightly with nervousness, spoke up.
"I... Vargr," he stammered, "apologize for our tardiness. I had to gather the... err... more spirited members of my pack."
He cast a sheepish glance at his group behind him, who all wore expressions of comical guilt on their pale faces.
The beautiful dryad woman chuckled, a playful glint in her eyes.
"And I," she said in a teasing tone, "Iliana, apologize for the delay. One must dress appropriately for such an occasion, wouldn't you agree? Besides," she added, leaning forward with a playful wink.
"If you don't mind, my Lord, I wouldn't be opposed to becoming your wife and serving you eternally." Her words sent a ripple of surprised murmurs through the kneeling crowd.
Elias simply smiled at Iliana's playful and seductive proposition, in stark contrast to the annoyance etched on Moonshade and Nightshade's faces.
"Thank you, everyone," Elias addressed the gathered crowd. "Please rise and return to your seats."
With a nod of acknowledgment, Elias accepted Vargr's apology. However, he gently declined Iliana's offer with a polite, "I appreciate your proposal, Iliana, but I must decline."
Everyone stood and returned to their designated seating. Vargr and Iliana took their places beside the Satyr couple.
Elias then expressed his sincere gratitude to everyone present. He thanked them for their understanding and willingness to help him.
Suddenly, a notification flickered before his eyes.
__________
System Notification:
Congratulations! You have successfully garnered the trust and loyalty of all inhabitants in the Shadowbloom Domain, uniting them under your leadership.
Reward: 100,000 XP
Another notification followed swiftly.
Mission Update:
Objective Completed: Successfully deliver the message regarding the arrival of inhabitants from another world.
Next Objective: Within two years (Arcadia Calendar), establish the Shadowbloom Domain as a prominent and well-known Kingdom throughout Arcadia.
__________
Elias furrowed his brow at the second notification. He'd only just shared the message with a small population, yet the System considered it complete.
He shrugged it off, figuring the System knew best. Now, his focus shifted to establishing the Shadowbloom Domain as a powerful kingdom.
Elias turned to Moonshade and Nightshade flanking him. In a hushed tone, he asked, "Is it possible to offer lunch to our guests now?"
Moonshade and Nightshade exchanged a worried glance.
Moonshade whispered back, "My apologies, Lord Elias, but we weren't expecting such a large gathering. Unfortunately, we haven't prepared enough food and drink for everyone."
"Ah, I understand," Elias replied calmly. "No worries about that."
He stood and addressed the assembled crowd.
"Nightshade," he said, "kindly remain here with our guests for a moment. When I call you, please escort them to the banquet hall."
"As you command, my lord," Nightshade replied with a bow.
Elias then turned to everyone else. "My apologies for the slight delay, everyone. I'll be back shortly."
All the races present simultaneously rose and bowed. "Of course, Lord Elias," they chorused in respect.
With a smile, Elias gestured for Moonshade to follow. The two of them exited through a door beside his platform and climbed a staircase leading to the second floor.
The stairs led them to a room resembling a kitchen. Unlike the basic utensils they found on Frostpire Isle, this kitchen boasted more advanced equipment.
Passing through the kitchen, they entered a grand banquet hall.
The spacious room featured smooth, sturdy walls crafted from the very core of the tree. The dark ash floor gleamed with a polished shine.
In the center stood a large, oval dining table surrounded by sturdy wooden chairs, easily accommodating over a hundred guests.
Along the sides, an empty counter ran the length of the wall, with designated slots for drinks and several high-backed chairs positioned neatly in front.
Elias walked towards the table, Moonshade following closely.
"My apologies, Lord Elias," Moonshade said, his voice filled with concern.
"We haven't prepared any food yet. Even if we were to start now, the ingredients on hand would only be sufficient for your own lunch." They hadn't anticipated such a large gathering.
Elias simply smiled at Moonshade's worry.
"There's no need to fret, Moonshade," he assured him. "For now, please prepare several empty trays and arrange them on the table."
Confused but trusting, Moonshade scurried into the kitchen and returned with several large trays, which he placed on the table as instructed.
Elias cast a satisfied glance at the neatly arranged empty trays. He then accessed his inventory, a feature displayed as a screen filled with slots.
Most of the twelve slots were brimming with various items – food, drinks, weapons, clothes, even hunted trophies – all gifts Prometheus bestowed upon him before his teleportation.
With practiced ease, Elias selected a delectable array of fruits and dishes, enough to satisfy all the races waiting below.
He placed them on the large trays, then moved on to the counter lining the room. There, he stocked it with around forty bottles of assorted drinks.
Moonshade, speechless, stared at the sudden abundance of food and drink. "My lord," she finally stammered, "such a feast… is this… creation magic?"
Elias chuckled. "Not at all, Moonshade. Remember, I haven't dabbled in magic yet. After all, I'm still quite inexperienced – level zero, to be precise."
Seeing Moonshade's furrowed brow, Elias explained the source of the bounty. "Actually, Prometheus supplied me with these provisions before I left."
"Ah, the Ancient One," Moonshade murmured in understanding.
"So, you have a storage dimension of your own, created through spatial magic?"
Elias shook his head. "No, Moonshade. As I explained, I haven't studied any magic. It seems beings like myself inherently possess a personal dimension for storing our belongings. It only has a few slots right now, but…" He trailed off, leaving the concept open-ended.
"Oh…" Moonshade's eyes sparkled with wonder. "Like the dimensions where summoned creatures reside?"
Elias grinned. "Exactly! But don't worry about that. Right now, focus on setting the table with plates and glasses. Once that's done, call Nightshade to escort our guests."
"Yes, my lord," Moonshade replied with a respectful bow.
Elias took his seat at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping across the room and its various objects.
Meanwhile, downstairs in the reception hall, Nightshade stood before the assembled races.
"Remember," his voice boomed, "Lord Elias is the sole and rightful ruler of this domain. He deserves your utmost respect. This includes all of you," he continued, his gaze lingering on the Lycanthropes and the Dryad, "especially you."
Vargr and Iliana remained silent, their eyes downcast. A nervous tension rippled through the gathered races as Nightshade spoke.
A murmur of assent rose from the crowd.
Nightshade held up a hand for silence. "While Lord Elias has expressed no desire to rule with an iron fist," he continued in a serious tone, "he is nonetheless your master. You must show him loyalty and obedience."
Nightshade paused, scanning the anxious faces before him.
"As his subjects," he added, "you must be prepared to make sacrifices and dedicate yourselves to him. You must be willing and ready to carry out his every order."
A throat cleared behind Nightshade. Turning, he saw Moonshade standing there.
"My lord requests your presence in the banquet hall," Moonshade announced to the stunned and somewhat intimidated gathering.
Nightshade grunted in acknowledgment and turned back to the group.
"Right then," he barked, "let's move! We wouldn't want to keep our Master waiting, would we?"
He strode towards the large staircase leading to the upper floor, Moonshade at his side. The various races followed hesitantly, careful not to incur the wrath of the two ancient spirits.
Upon entering the banquet hall, they were greeted by the sight of a grand table laden with an array of mouthwatering dishes, their aroma filling the room.
Elias sat at the head of the table, a welcoming smile on his face.
"Please, everyone," he invited, gesturing to the empty seats. "Before you return to your homes, why not replenish your energy here? There's plenty to go around."
A stunned silence descended upon the room.
The various races exchanged bewildered glances, their nervous tension slowly giving way to temptation. The extraordinary feast before them was impossible to resist.
With a gentle nudge from Moonshade, one by one, the guests began to take their seats. Although a trace of apprehension lingered in their eyes, they couldn't help but steal glances at the delicious food, their mouths watering.
Elias dug into the feast himself, offering a warm smile to his guests. "Don't be shy, everyone," he encouraged. "These dishes are for you all to enjoy. Please, help yourselves."
The assembled races exchanged hesitant glances.
Then, a resounding CLANG echoed through the room as a Lycanthrope slammed his plate down.
He'd already loaded it with several pieces of roasted meat, stuffing his face with a wide, satisfied grin. "By the gods, this is delicious!" he mumbled through a mouthful of food, reaching for even more meat.
"Whoa there, Rodr," his colleague chuckled, "leave some for the rest of us!"
Rodr's enthusiastic appetite seemed to be infectious. Soon, all the Lycanthropes were piling their plates with roasted meat.
Elias simply chuckled at their antics, finding their eagerness endearing.
Seeing the free-for-all, the other races cautiously followed suit, grabbing their own selections.
Elder Faelan and the Sylvan Elves, however, opted for a more refined approach. They settled for fruit and a few slices of bread, their movements more measured.
The tense atmosphere from before melted away, replaced by a lively cacophony of chatter and the clatter of utensils.
The feast had transformed into a vibrant exchange, though the occasional tussle over a particularly delectable piece of meat still erupted.