A Guide to Kingdom Building

"That…is…" Servus 305-M furrowed his brows as he approached The Commander, "…one horrific tale, commonfolk might believe in that! Dhampiirs! Ha!" He sneered while looking at the dwarf.

Lord Prestonheim massaged the bridge of his nose, "You weren't there when it happened, 305-M." He leaned his arms on the table in front of him. "They truly were terrifying creatures, but I'm afraid I can't side on you with that…Dhampiir tale."

He looked around the room and saw the horror in the faerfolks eyes. To them, it felt real and fleshed out. Lord Prestonheim had never understood the faerfolk at times, not just by their culture, but also their legends. The tale to them was no mere bedtime story to scare their young, it was a real warning for them.

This wasn't the first time the Commander heard about this tale. During his childhood days, his great grand uncle often told them stories about those creatures that lurk in the night. He recalled his old uncle telling them about how those creatures would hunt during moonless nights and feed on unsuspecting victims. It was a good story, terrifying at that! But he never believed it to be real.

Lord Prestonheim wanted to understand what happened earlier. He wanted to make sense of that crawling foul blood and how it dissipated through light magic. But he sought for logic and not some age-old tale.

"Lord Commander," Mnemsiel stepped forward, "I think the dwarf is right. That…thing that I destroyed inside the bucket is not of living origin. It's devoid of life!"

The Commander grabbed a stool from the side of the table and sat on it as he contemplated on what to answer. The room grew silent again as they waited for him to speak.

"August…l mean, Lord Prestonheim, you surely don't believe in those, right?" 305-M patted the Commander's back.

Lord Prestonheim glared at the slave while the rest watched in horror at his audacity.

"Get...your…hands…off me!" His voice rumbled inside the tent.

Servus 305-M walked into the opposite side of the tent, to appease the angered Commander.

Lord Prestonheim cleared his throat, "Dwarf, Mnemsiel, I understand that this incident might be similar to the tales that our races had shared, but I believe there must be a logical explanation about this."

"Like…photophobic strains of plants!" the red head shouted from the back of the tent.

"Plant? Whaddya mean? Weeds? Yah call that weeds?!" the dwarf scratched his head. "How 'bout yah get that weeds crawlin' in yah? Then tell me if they are!" He pointed at the ignorant redhead.

"I would've like to see that!" Servus 305-M pointed finger at the elves stand on the opposite side of the tent. "If only they haven't destroyed the entire thing, I would've played with it!"

"With all due respect 305-M! You don't know—" Mnemsiel argued.

"I don't. You killed all of it. So, how would I know?" Servus 305-M rolled his eyes.

"That's enough!" The Commander sighed. "Regardless of what it was, we still need to prepare for it!"

"P-prepare? Whaddya mean, prepare?" the dwarf scratched his beard. "Nay, we 'ave to prevent them from surfacing! Yah 'eard 132-X, M'Lord! We need to close it!"

Servus 305-M furiously rebutted, "Close? No! Listen, August! There is a treasure of aetherium out there that we cannot ignore!" He pleaded with the Commander.

"Nay! There'll be hell to pay if we don't close the hole!" The dwarf approached the table. "Lives are at stake, M'Lord."

Not wanting to be outstaged, the red-haired slave approached the table and bang his hand on it. "For the Principalia's glory we must keep it open!"

Lord Prestonheim glanced at the two, "305-M, a few days ago you were completely against this idea because you find it too dangerous. Now, that the danger is at our door, you insistently want us to keep it open! Why? Is it because of your devotion to the cause?" He massaged the bridge of his nose. "No, it's just for your selfish reason of research! Humans are nothing but a collateral to you for your so called… Progress!"

"But August, you cannot make an egg cake without breaking a few eggs." 305-M mockingly answered. "If we plan on conquering the world for the Principalia, I'm sure it wouldn't mind a few sacrifices, right?" He glanced at the dwarf.

The dwarf clenched his fist, aiming at the arrogant slave. Lord Prestonheim noticed this and patted the dwarf's shoulder stopping him.

The dwarf sighed, "One life is enough for this. My friend did what he can to get those ores. At least we could honor by closing that hellhole as earlier as possible."

Lord Pestonheim nodded. He agreed with dwarf sentiments and being there during that horrific event surely made him assess the dangers of that hole. However, as the Commander and citizen of the Principalia, he has an obligation to advance its goals no matter the cause.

This torn the Commander apart. On one hand, he had to protect its citizens from the dangers of the hole which in return can do nothing to advance his state. On the other hand, he could keep it open and mine for those legendary ores at the expense of citizens' lives. But of course, he could advance the Principalia's power into the world stage and his name for that matter.

Lord Prestonheim has decided. He stood up from the seat and leaned his arms into the cold table. He looked around at his audience. The dwarf eye's stuck on his, --pleading. Servus 305-M's eyes crazed for more of what the abyss can offer them. The mute elf looked somber, staring at the desolate ground. Mnesmiel looked pale and sickly with fear gripping in his eyes.

He took a deep breath, "I cannot risk more lives for now. Not without the prince backing us. We cannot continue." He nodded at the dwarf. "We shall close the hole now and put guards around the perimeter."

Lord Prestonheim could hear the sigh of relief from the room, except for 305-M who stormed out from the tent. After that, there was no more opposition. The Commander and the remaining faerfolk strategized the seal.

They decided to utilize the huge slab of rocks from the quarry to cover the hole. The mute elf drew a sketch of the seals they should place on the big slab of rocks that they plan to cover the hole. Lord Prestonheim noticed her proficiency in her runework, a skill only a priestess can conjure.

Lord Prestonheim called the guarding knight at the entrance of the tent and instructed them to assemble a Xedecura unit. He then asked the dwarf to design a permanent seal on the hole complete with a lock mechanism for them to be able to open it up whenever they wanted.

The dwarf nodded and enthusiastically went out of the tent with some parchment and inkwell along with him.

The Commander breathe a sigh of relief as he managed to get everyone work together for a common goal to seal the hole. Although deep down, there was still a part of him that wished he could've kept it open.

"But what is glory, if not saving the lives of men?" He uttered with a tired smile as he looked at the tent's beams.

It was a speech he recalled his great grand uncle would usually end his stories when a hero saves a damsel or the townsfolk. It was his father that gave him the aspiration to become the greatest hero the Principalia had ever seen! But it was his great grand uncle who molded him to become a hero for the masses. A man who the commonfolk can come up to and talk. A man whose feet landed at the ground while his name soared to the sky, getting praises from the gods.

Even at his age today, he still followed that passage his uncle told him one cold morning as they took a walk in the Prestonheim's manor. It was his doctrine, the one he always swore to abide.

He closed his eyes before heading out to check the progress of his orders. It was already the high level of Ifnen when the entire ordeal was done. They finally sealed the hole and with that he took another sigh of relief.

He looked up the sky and saw how the red bled over the dark canvass. Somehow, Lord Prestonheim felt a tingling sensation on his spine, the same one he had earlier. It was unsettling to feel it. The Commander commanded ten more knights to stand guard around the sealed holes perimeter but even then, the feeling won't go away.

Lord Prestonheim went back into his main tent to change. The sweat and dust from the quarry clung on him and he wanted to feel clean before taking supper. He went back to his room and washed his face and arms before donning a clean pair of freshly washed tunic and pants—a new fashion in the Principalia.

He was not fond of wearing it, but his brother insisted that he should look more presentable to his knights during their little gathering by the campfire. He took his retractable bracer shield and wore it in his left wrist while fastening his sword on his belt.

He walked out and saw a few knights gathered around the campfire near the infirmary. He joined in and ate along with the company of the small number of knights that were around.

Over the campfire he saw his knights laughing around passing stories of lewd harlots and how one knight's manhood got stuck into a hole that he bore outside a bath house. Everybody chuckled at the story, he laughed at the story too.

Lord Prestonheim although strict in dishing out discipline to those who broke the rules, he was lenient to these moments. A campfire cannot be complete without ridiculous and exaggerated stories. He was also young once and made some funny mistakes as well. As long as they never disobeyed the rules while in service to him, he's fine with their foolishness.

Their laughter was suddenly interrupted by a blood curdling scream echoing into the air. Moments later he saw afrantic knight running towards them bathed in blood and screaming his head off.

"MY LORD!!!MY LORD!!!MNEMSIEL! MONSTER!!!" The knight ran towards them.

All of a sudden, a huge slab of rock struck the crazed knight and spread his guts all over the ground. Lord Prestonheim noticed it the big flying slab of rock had seals written all over it.

His spine tingled once more and the hairs on his nape stood, "Men, draw your swords and prepare to evacuate!" He ordered.

He went inside the infirmary along with the knights and saw the dwarf, the elf and the healer knights trying to drag the patients out of their beds. The Commander ordered three of his knights to assist them as the rest went continued their way to ground zero along with their torches.

When they arrived there, the ground was wet with blood and guts. The entire Xedecura unit was wiped out. Lord Prestonheim stood their ground and waited for the other Xedecima units to support them. As they tread slowly towards the hole, they noticed a figure crouching on a headless corpse.

Their torches went off suddenly, and there they stood in complete darkness. But the thing devouring the corpse was very clear for them to see. It stood-up as its body glistened in the pitch-black darkness and faced them.

"Mnemsiel?!" Lord Prestonheim's mouth ajar.

"Kin…saaaa??" Mnemsiel grotesquely smiled.

Lord Prestonheim gathered his courage and activated his shield while he unsheathed his pale blue glowing sword.

The Mnemsiel opened his mouth like an anomalous flower blooming. His jaw split four ways revealing his bloody maws and tentacles that lurked inside.

"By…the…gods!" Lord Prestonheim gripped his sword tighter.