Hard decisions, Barony of Ruthy

  The 14th Vulcarian day, year 2025

  Song rushed through the keep, as he had every day for the past two weeks. The Barony of Ruthy was facing the busiest days in its history. Daily reports poured in – not just of monsters being exterminated, but also of wounded soldiers and tenants. The Barony oversaw twelve villages, but with most patrols now reassigned to defend the heart of their land from monsters, the roads lay exposed. Grim news loomed heavily on everyone’s mind.

  The County of Larianos, Ruthy’s direct overseer, had no dungeons of its own, making the emerging one in Ruthy’s territory both a threat and a potential prize. Living nearby posed greater risks, but it also brought significant economic benefits, so the area became the center of a power struggle from the moment it emerged.

  As Song entered the main office, Baron Simon Ruthy looked up. The robust man, with graying hair and an intelligent air, nodded in approval of the young man’s entrance. Song, small and thin with a somewhat mouse-like face, met the baron’s eyes, his sharp gaze betraying the talent that had earned him the position of Herald.

  “Baron Simon,” Song said, addressing the baron as he handed over an unsealed letter. “I’ve received an urgent report from Engel. Their scout has found traces of bandits camping near the pine woods east of the village.”

  Baron Simon Ruthy glanced at the letter but didn’t open it, instead pulling out a personal map of the region – he trusted the young herald to have already scrutinized it and now stated only the central theme. Marshal Justin and Castellan Pippin Merigold were both present, their attention clearly fixed on the matter at hand.

  The baron furrowed his brow. “Yes, that makes sense. They may be camping between Dinoco and Engel,” he said gravely, running his finger along the map. “With the patrols stretched thin they’ll be looking to raid these villages.”

  Marshal Justin, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a hard gaze and thinning hair, spoke up. “If we don’t act quickly, the bandits will strike before we can set a defense.” He paused, considering the situation, then threw a pointed glance at Pippin. “But I don’t have enough men to defend both villages, especially when my troops are still tied up fighting dungeon-spawn.”

  Castellan Pippin, a short and stocky man, shifted slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You mean my troops, Marshal,” he corrected smoothly, his tone carrying a quiet satisfaction. “I had to pull them from their usual posts to reinforce the countryside and the citadel. I hardly think of them as yours anymore – not when they’re doing my job.”

  He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “Every available sword is already committed to keeping our people safe from these creatures. If you’re asking for more, you’ll have to tell me which walls you’d like to leave undefended.”

  Justin’s jaw tightened, and he folded his arms. “My men should be out there, preventing bandits from attacking our villages. Instead, they’re stuck playing guardsmen, defending fields and barns while the roads become lawless.”

  Pippin scoffed. “Are you suggesting we leave our own tenants to die to rampaging monsters so you can go chasing bandits through the woods?”

  “The villages are ours to protect,” Justin shot back. “Or have you decided your efforts begin and end where the fields do?”

  Pippin gave a short, derisive huff, as if the answer were obvious. “Our fields are what make our barony, Marshal. But by all means – run off chasing bandits while the rest of us keep...”

  “Enough.” Baron Simon’s voice cut through the room like a blade. The two men fell silent, though their glares remained locked. He exhaled, then turned his attention back to the map.

  “The truth is, we’re fighting daily on field patrols. We can’t abandon the tenant farmers in the barony to fend for themselves against monster attacks, just to send patrols after an unsubstantiated threat.”

  Justin pressed his lips together, forcing himself to take a slow breath before nodding stiffly. “We’ll need to rely on the reeves to keep their fastest riders on alert. Any sign of trouble, and they need to get word to us immediately.”

  Justin wanted to do more, but suggesting anything beyond this felt like a challenge to the Baron's authority, so he just hoped for the best. Pippin, meanwhile, let out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head as if amused. As a Knight of the Merigold family, he placed little value on villagers. His focus remained on the real priority – stabilizing the emerging dungeon.

  “You have fewer men than before, Marshal. Consider that, maybe, it’s time you learn how to do more with less.” Said Pippin, calmly and full of condescension.

  Justin’s jaw tightened, his fingers flexing at his sides before he forced himself to exhale slowly. “I’ll consider what I must,” he said, his tone cool. “Baron Simon, I’ll put a squad on high alert for moving, but there is not much more I can do.”

  The silence in the room got heavy and the baron turned to Song. “Make sure the reeves are prepared. And call for the scribe – I didn’t want to, but I’ll send a letter to the count asking reinforcements.”

  A full squadron, in military terms, was a unit led by a Captain, consisting of four squads of six men each, typically commanded by a Lieutenant – totaling 24 combatants. Marshal Justin usually commanded three squadrons, but two were now under Castellan Pippin’s command. With only one squadron remaining, he had a single squad stationed in Ruthy while the others were out on patrol, even though they were too few for such a vast area.

  Thanks to the efficient governing and specialization of the Baron as a [Rural Economist], the Barony of Ruthy was prosperous and well-respected in the County of Larianos. However, it was still an agricultural fief, meaning a relatively low population – about 2,500 people under the barony’s direct rule and another 4,000 across twelve villages under its oversight. Their total standing force was usually around 140 common soldiers and 20 officers, including those stationed in the villages who reported to the Castellan.

  Despite this prosperity, the Baron knew that sending a letter to the Count was not merely a request for help – it was a grave risk to his ambitions. By involving the county, he invited outside influence and, with it, the possibility that once the dungeon’s magical resources were ready for farming, the county might lay claim to it. If that happened, his authority over what could become the greatest source of prosperity in the region would be lost. The decision weighed heavily on him, but the urgency of the situation left him no choice.

  Song gave a small bow. “Yes, Baron.” He turned and quickly exited the Baron’s office, hearing Pippin mutter something under his breath as Justin’s fists curled at his sides.

  Stifling a yawn from yet another sleepless week and ignoring his belly that demanded an already late lunch, the young Herald thought: ‘How much longer will this last?’

  The call for battle, Village of Engel

  The 15th Vulcarian day, year 2025

  Engel was just another small village in the northern part of the Kingdom of Granada, one of the oldest and most populous realms on the continent. Located just southwest of the Sylvanor Peaks, its fertile valleys created a picturesque landscape, interspersed with sprawling woods of pine and leafy trees. The village’s main production focused on cereals such as wheat and oats.

  The village had a very small military contingent, with the experienced Lieutenant James leading a single sergeant and a couple of privates in defense of the entire settlement, which was home to just over 350 citizens. Usually, this small force was enough, as their main task was maintaining peace within the village limits. Additionally, frequent patrols from their barony – only a day’s walk along the Valencia River – ensured no bandits or monsters were lurking around their perimeter.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Truth be told, monsters were not a major concern for the region, as they were quite far from the nearest dungeon. The real fear came from bandits – pillaging, raping, kidnapping, and simply burning and destroying. However, with the recent dungeon emerging nearby, the situation began to change, and the fear of a monster attack became a constant topic at the tavern and subject of gossip among neighbors.

  Irony, however, has a way of playing its cards. While Sergeant Forrest, the [Scout], was searching for any signs of monster activity nearby, what he discovered was far more alarming. The report was delivered to the barony the same day as the discovery, and Lieutenant James immediately drilled every able-bodied man into an emergency militia.

  The small village had no defensive walls, moats, or other protective structures. They could only rely on a small wooden tower near the guardhouse, where they could, at best, spot approaching threats before they were upon them, offering little more than a moment’s warning and no real defense. That night, Private Hober, a young [Rodelero], was keeping watch there, accompanied only by a cold brew tea to help him stay awake.

  The moon was in its final quarter, and the dark night gave him a closer field of view than might have been ideal. However, the light that shone over the oat fields was hard to miss, and the boy’s heart raced. On high alert but unsure of what was happening, Hober blasted the long wisent horn a couple of times and then sprinted to the village center, following the protocol established by Lieutenant James.

  It was time to prepare for battle and safeguard the young and the elderly. For the first time since its founding, the village of Engel would stand against an enemy.

  Adrian on Earth

  Night between the 3rd and 4th of September, year 2025

  The intense summer heat finally subsided as heavy rain began to fall on the roofs of Adrian’s neighborhood, creating the perfect atmosphere for a deep, restful sleep. The boy, however, glanced out the window at a flickering streetlamp, making the darkness of his neighbors’ homes all the more apparent.

  Turning his computer on, he immediately logged into his usual deep web suicide forum, where a private group discussed grim and morbid ways to end their lives. That was… until an unusual advertisement caught his eye. “Give life another chance!”, he read as thunder raged outside, and clicked the link.

  “How would this motivate anyone to live? This is so boring, I could go out with a selfie stick and live-stream myself dying electrocuted while criticizing this shit,” Adrian said aloud, as he often did. Unaccustomed to having friends or any other company, he solved the problem by talking to himself.

  The long text rambled on about Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle and Decision Theory from a philosophical angle. Scrolling down without paying much attention and ready to close the tab, Adrian stumbled upon the next button, which led him to a typical online RPG character creation form, complete with attributes, competencies, and magical skills. The sequence of links was bewilderingly random, which only compelled one to follow through even more.

  He didn’t feel tired and started filling out the questionnaire, already anticipating the moment when the credit card request would pop up – the point at which he’d probably go to sleep. But he kept going anyway. It wasn’t often that his trusted forum had any kind of advertising, so why not?

  His age and name were automatically set, and Adrian cursed data commerce, knowing they probably came from the forum. After that, he chose his starting position based on map placement. The character creation system was quite complex, offering various species and genetic traits that affected attributes with modifiers. For example, being an Elf granted bonuses to magic and penalties to strength, while being Heavy provided bonuses to strength and penalties to dexterity.

  In the end, he selected every option that would result in a balanced build, ideal for solo play: human, tall, with a well-defined body.

  The game had a surprisingly detailed form for a non-3D graphical RPG character, and he had to select quite a few options before continuing. But he kept it ordinary, trying to look like an average man – though, of course, with stunning looks, blue eyes, and above-average traits in every way a man could be described, even the one that defines a man. The list was quite long. By the end of the form, however, he received a rather unlikely notification.

  “Happy birthday! You will receive a second dice roll to determine your attributes.”

  “Sorry for the delay! You will receive upgrades to your Traveler’s Kit.”

  Adrian scoffed at the notification. “A second dice roll? That’s my birthday present?” He almost closed the tab right then and there. But for a brief moment, he hesitated. His fingers hovered over the mouse, and a strange tightness grew in his chest. He hadn’t even remembered it was his birthday. The realization sank in slowly, like a stone sinking in water.

  The second message caught his eye: Sorry for the delay! Right. It was just past midnight. His birthday had passed without a single message, call, or even a passing mention. He swallowed hard and wiped his eyes, not realizing tears had begun to form. “What the hell?” he muttered, forcing out a laugh.

  He took a deep breath. Then, with a small, almost hesitant smirk, he rolled the dice for the first time. To his surprise, he got to keep both rows. “Yay, a super present. If only it wasn’t an automated gift, but from someone who really cares,” he commented self-deprecatingly.

  You wouldn’t start the game with any skill points, so Adrian didn’t quite understand the purpose of the skills tab, which displayed various magic powers at the character-building screen. He mostly ignored it. He checked his Traveler’s Kit upgrades and saw that each item had been supplemented with better versions – simple clothes and good ones, bad food and better food, and so on. Nothing spectacular. His regular items were labeled as Common, while the new ones were just Uncommon.

  There was, however, an upgrade to his Common weapon of choice – a rather overpowered starting item. It was the Aurora, the Mythical sword forged in the flames of Olympus itself, described as: “This sword carries the essence of all the gods of Ertar. Whoever wields it will experience the perfection of combat and make full use of their attributes.”

  Okay, so the weapon didn’t have any stats, and he wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. Whatever, it still claimed to be mythical, so it might be useful. His second weapon, a simple bow with 20 common arrows, seemed like a solid choice. ‘Why not have a long-range option from the start?’ he thought.

  The last choice was picking a god to serve, which would determine his class. According to the game description, everyone had attributes and access to magic, but their competencies and magical skills were tied to their class, which, in turn, was linked to the deities. The available class options were: Serf of Fenrir, the Pathfinder; Serf of Bellator, the Warlord; Serf of Vulcarius, the Artificer; Serf of Sylvanor, the Guardian; Serf of Mentarus, the Sage; and Serf of Thalos, the Provider.

  Serving a god, however, didn’t align with Adrian’s preferences or worldview, and, apparently, it wasn’t obligatory. He was already set as Freeborn Sovereign – not a serf of any god and quite a title. He kept it that way. All that was left to do now was click: “FINISH.”

  He clicked the button, and a new notification appeared.

  ALERT!

  By clicking continue, you agree to initiate the transmigration. Only proceed if you are certain that the possibilities of your world are intolerable and that the possibilities created by your choices are satisfactory. There will be no other chance for transmigration!

  “Dumb alert. Just continue,” Adrian muttered, clicking the button. Immediately, he felt an electrical current run through his body, as if he were touching a live power outlet. He tensed for a few seconds, and then… the world went dark.