Progenitor's Burden

Chapter 2.69: Judge and Jury


Standing tall amidst the chaos, Sinclair felt a brief moment of shock, not from the attack itself but from the absurdity of the situation. As the knife clattered harmlessly to the ground, a wave of realization washed over him. Here he was, in his own town, facing an attempt on his life by someone he had tried to accommodate. The anger bubbling within him was quickly quelled by a sense of responsibility; he was the leader, and he needed to act as one.

"HALT!" His voice boomed, echoing with the power of his Will of the Norns. It cascaded over the groups like a tangible force, pressing them to the ground with its weight. As he surveyed the crowd, a mix of new human faces and various beastkin met his gaze, all equally stunned by the turn of events.

Raising his voice, Sinclair called out authoritatively, "Who saw what happened here?"

After a tense pause, an Elf stepped forward. The crowd parted slightly, giving him room to speak. "My Lord," he began, his voice steady but filled with concern, "they came from further up the street, already in pursuit of one another. I didn't catch the start of their quarrel, but it was that group," he pointed towards Larry's band, "who were being chased and eventually resorted to violence against you."

Turning to the other party, Sinclair eased up on his Aura, allowing the other party to rise to their feet.

The atmosphere was tense as a striking woman from the group that had chased Larry's party rose to her feet. Her voice wavered slightly as she addressed Sinclair. "My Lord, we were stepping out from our barracks assignment when we spotted that group," she pointed towards Larry and his allies, "stealthily exiting the rear of your house. We knew that area was declared off-limits, so we called out to question them. They instantly bolted, and we instinctively pursued, hoping to contain them until an authority could take over."

His face an unreadable mask, Sinclair probed further, having learned that he could use the system to enforce oaths. He asked, "Do you swear on your power that your testimony is accurate?" His voice resonated with a gravity that underscored the importance of truth in this new world under the System's watch. Sinclair almost felt like a 3rd party watching his own body go through the motions. It was his voice, but it felt like it could have been someone else's. It didn't make sense.

The woman locked eyes with Sinclair, her gaze steadied by a newfound resolve. "I do swear on my power, my Lord," she affirmed.

Sinclair withdrew his Will of the Norns completely, allowing everyone to regain their footing. His heart was heavy; he hadn't anticipated enforcing such grave measures so soon. Why would they do this? Why couldn't they just fall in line?

"You thought the rules were mere suggestions, Larry? Why did you choose this path? You've not only doomed yourself but dragged five others into exile," Sinclair said in a voice tinged with sorrow and disappointment.

Larry's response was tinged with defiance and a hint of madness, possibly a side-effect of the overwhelming changes the System had brought. "I don't owe you anything! I refuse to mix with these... these mutants as equals. I'll do what I want when I want," he declared, his eyes wild and unfocused.

Deciding to put an end to this madness, Sinclair activated his Visage of the Wolf skill. His transformation into a towering, wolf-like figure elicited a mixture of fear from Larry's group and awe from the bystanders. Pressure returned to the area, but not from Sinclair. This was his right as the Lord took effect.

"Larry Trowlbridge, you and your group have betrayed the trust of this community. You are hereby exiled from Wolf's Run, never to return. Let this mark be the symbol of your shame," Sinclair proclaimed, his voice resonating with the authority of his new title. He felt like something was speaking through him. A sense of strength filled him and made him resolute in his decision. He had the group as a whole to think about.

Using his Telekinesis skill he immobilized the group completely. Approaching each person, he felt power surge into his index claw, glowing with a searing white intensity. Methodically, he drew lines on each person's left cheek, the magic flowing through him like a river. The result was a bindrune, a permanent mark etched into their skin – a sign of their betrayal and exile, visible for all to see. The symbol that arose looked like an abstract wolfs head. When analyzed it showed a brief summary.

System Message:

Mark of the Exile (Unique)

Description: This indelible mark is bestowed upon those who have violated the laws of the Realm and been cast out as a consequence. Visible to all, the Mark of the Exile serves as a constant reminder of their transgressions and cannot be concealed by any means. Removal of the mark is only possible through the explicit authority of the entity or leader who imposed it.

Authority: Wolf Lord Sinclair Hagerson of Wolf's Run

Larry's demeanor had shifted dramatically, devolving into a tirade of insults and obscenities directed at Sinclair. Sinclair wondered when the man had reached his breaking point.

Addressing the group with a steady, composed voice, Sinclair asked, "Will you walk to the gate willingly, or must I drag you there?" His tone suggested a finality, an eagerness to conclude this unfortunate chapter and return to matters of greater import.

Most of the group, except for Larry, nodded in silent acquiescence. With a slight release of Sinclair's ability, they began to move towards the gate, their expressions a mix of resignation and relief. Larry, however, continued his tirade, bound by Sinclair's will. He kept Larry trussed up since he was definitely not going to go willingly, and killing the man was not on his to-do list that day.

Hoisting Larry over his shoulder like the cumbersome burden he was, Sinclair led them to the nearest exit, the South gate. The weight of Larry's body was insignificant compared to the weight of the decision Sinclair had just made.

Upon reaching the imposing South gate, a sturdy structure of thick timber reinforced with iron, he gently set Larry down outside the walls. He then turned to address the group, offering them a sack filled with food and drink. "Consider this a small aid for your journey," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. "Remember my warning about the forest's other inhabitants. I wish you luck on your travels and hope you find a more righteous path. Be cautious, and do not let him lead you further astray."

They turned and picked up Larry, Sinclair had not released his hold on him, and would not until it naturally released with distance. He did not want to deal with him and hoped his friends would handle the problem. With those final words, Sinclair watched them disappear into the landscape, a mixture of relief and sadness in his heart. This was a necessary but regrettable part of leadership, he realized – making tough decisions for the greater good of the community.

Sinclair stepped back through the robust wooden gate and headed back to the town hall. Examining the notification he got when he used Will of the Norns. He was excited to see it had reached level ten and gained some interesting properties.

Will of the Norns (Rare)

Level: 10

Description: Drawn from the loom of Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld—the Norns who weave the fate of all things—this skill manifests your will as a force woven directly into the threads of destiny. Those who step into its reach feel not just pressure, but certainty—the sense that their fate has already been sealed. Whether through awe, fear, or reverence, enemies caught within the aura may falter, frozen in the face of your projected path. As your Willpower grows, so too does the influence of your fate-bound mantle.

Effects:

Threadbind Aura:

Projects a shifting aura whose radius scales with your Willpower. Enemies entering the field risk being immobilized or experiencing hesitation based on their mental resilience.

Woven Intent:

You may shape the emotional resonance of the aura: dread, awe, sorrow, or fury—each applying subtle penalties (e.g., reduced accuracy, weakened defense, or delayed reactions).

Fate's Echo

: Foes affected by the aura have a slight chance to suffer delayed action penalties, where their abilities or movements fail to trigger immediately, as though their thread of fate momentarily resists them.

When he got halfway back to the town hall, he was greeted by the sight of his parents and other elders gathered under the shade of an oak tree that had survived the planet's reorganization of its geography. The tree's sprawling branches cast intricate patterns of light and shadow on the ground, creating a tranquil environment despite the recent commotion.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Sinclair greeted, his voice steady as he approached the group. "I'm sure word has already spread about the incident, given its public nature."

Bruce, standing tall with a concerned expression etched on his face, nodded in response. "Yes, son, we've been informed. Are you alright?"

Sinclair exhaled softly, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily apparent in his gaze. "Yes, I'm fine. I hadn't anticipated dealing with such a situation so soon, but it was a necessary action," he shared with the group, his tone reflecting a mix of resolve and a touch of weariness.

"Indeed, the abilities accompanying my Wolf Lord title seem to be more intangible, more embedded in my consciousness," Sinclair shared, scanning the bustling surroundings of the town center.

Elder Talgrin, with an understanding nod, imparted his wisdom, "Titles like these often come with deeper knowledge, a kind of instinctual understanding. It will become more natural to you as you grow into your role, blending into your sense of self."

Sinclair absorbed this, with a contemplative look in his eyes. "That's comforting to know. I felt a bit detached from myself, passing judgment like that," he admitted.

As they exchanged town updates and Sinclair offered his insights, General Valthorn approached, his arrival cutting an authoritative figure. He greeted Sinclair and addressed him in front of the gathered crowd, indicating the matter was of public importance.

"Lord Sinclair, I'd like to discuss our military strategies and preparations, especially with the new arrivals and potential threats," General Valthorn announced, his voice urgent.

Sinclair nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "What have you got for me? Our community's safety is paramount, and it's crucial that everyone is aware of our defensive strategies."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Valthorn quickly delved into his vision of a blended military force, his words flowing rapidly as he emphasized the concept. "Once we establish a guild hall, individuals can form guilds. Until then, we have a unique opportunity to integrate people into the military. This will foster mutual benefits under experienced leadership."

Sinclair listened intently, his expression showing a mix of interest and caution. "That all sounds promising," he acknowledged. "Do you need my explicit approval? I admit that I'm not well-versed in army formations. Blending different forces seems logical, as it allows for varied strengths to complement each other."

Relieved by Sinclair's response, Valthorn expressed his concerns. "Your stance on equality is known, yet, for many of us, such inclusivity is novel. There's often an underlying fear of being marginalized or used merely as cannon fodder."

"I understand," Sinclair replied, nodding thoughtfully. "Everyone deserves equal treatment and opportunity here. What do you require to implement your plan?"

Valthorn outlined his needs, a hint of apprehension in his voice. "We require funding and certain permissions to standardize training equipment, establish a training field, design uniforms, and determine ranks and leadership roles. There are numerous decisions to be made, and typically, this process involves extensive discussions and approvals."

"Well, it sounds like you could use some help," Sinclair began, addressing General Valthorn with a thoughtful expression. "Gather the emissaries from Jarl Hrondir's men and Elric, and see if Eliondor and his people have someone knowledgeable in military matters. Use one of the town hall rooms for your planning. Once you have a draft with a budget, please pass it to my parents for review. They're more familiar with the town's current state, and I'll be allocating more funds as needed. Just be mindful of our budget and try to find efficient solutions, alright? I'll review everything once you've got it started."

The Beastkin, General Valthorn, stared at him, his expression a mix of surprise and skepticism. "My Lord, you don't want to pre-approve the plans or discuss them beforehand? You're entrusting these decisions to three individuals you barely know?" His tone conveyed a mix of disbelief and apprehension as if he were unsure whether Sinclair's words were a test.

Sinclair offered a reassuring smile. "Let me clarify: I'm not versed in war and military strategy beyond what I've read in history books and seen in games. You're a seasoned general, far more experienced in these matters. Plus, you're a member of this town and care for its people, right?"

General Valthorn recoiled slightly, his demeanor changing as though Sinclair's words had struck a chord. "Of course, my Lord! I love my people and wish only the best for them." His voice carried a mix of defensiveness and pride, asserting his loyalty to the community.

Sinclair nodded, satisfied with the response. "That's what I thought. Go ahead with the planning. We're relying on your expertise and commitment."

Smiling more gently, Sinclair reassured the General, "Then I trust you'll do the best job you can. I don't want to micromanage your efforts. Just keep me updated with reports, and we can discuss any concerns as they arise. You have my complete support in securing our home, General."

General Valthorn held Sinclair's gaze, searching for any hint of insincerity. The trust and faith Sinclair was placing in him was unlike anything he had experienced before. In his previous village, his title of general had been little more than a token gesture, a superficial nod to diversity. But here, he was being genuinely entrusted with the safety of a town by a Wolf Lord, a title that carried significant weight.

Eventually, Valthorn broke the silence, his voice firm and resolute. "Lord Hagerson, I swear on my talons and my life that I will do everything within my power, up to and including sacrificing my life, to protect this town and its people."

As he spoke these words, Sinclair sensed a tangible bond forming between them. He noted the expected notification of the oath being taken, but his attention was drawn to another screen that popped up unexpectedly.

Pact: Pact of the Guardian

Description: Sworn in blood and talons, General Valthorn and Sinclair, the Wolf Lord, have forged the Pact of the Guardian, an ancient and unbreakable bond that intertwines their fates. This sacred alliance strengthens their combined defenses, forging a tactical pact that makes them an unstoppable force on the battlefield. Together, they stand as the twin shields of Wolf's Run, an impenetrable bulwark against any who would threaten its peace or its people.

Sinclair gazed at General Valthorn with a hint of awe. "Seems like the system really appreciated your declaration," he observed, watching as the general eagerly perused his new menu screens.

General Valthorn's eyes widened in amazement. "These new screens… they detail defense structures, troop management, and even morale. I've never had access to such tools before. This is incredibly powerful."

"I'm pleased to hear that," Sinclair responded, addressing not only the general but also the other elders in the vicinity, who nodded in agreement. "It's crucial that we find innovative ways to leverage the system to our advantage, rather than just waiting for handouts."

With a sense of duty, General Valthorn excused himself. "My Lord, if there's nothing else, I'll get started on these tasks."

As the general departed, Sinclair turned back to his parents and the remaining elders. "Well, that was productive. With defense strategies now in place, that's one less worry. Here's some gold for the town's expenses," he said, handing over a generous amount. "Please let me know when it's nearly depleted, and I'll ensure you have more. My quests have been quite lucrative lately, so I'm optimistic about bringing in additional resources soon."

Notification: Gold -7000

As Sinclair transferred the hefty sum of gold to his parents, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort at parting with half of his current reserves. However, the recent uptick in his quest rewards gave him a sense of optimism about replenishing his funds.

Simultaneously, he felt a persistent, indistinct tug in his chest, drawing him southward. The sensation was vague, yet it hinted at a significant distance. He needed to explore it soon, but his immediate responsibilities in the town held his attention.

Turning to his father, Sinclair gathered his thoughts. "Dad, I know you're handling a lot here, and I appreciate it. I have a few more tasks to complete around town. Once they're sorted, I might have to follow this... call," he said, lightly touching his chest where he felt the pull. "I'm not sure what it is, but it seems important."

He paused, a contemplative look crossing his face. "Also, I wanted to ask if you've noticed anything unusual or if there are any issues in town that need my immediate attention. With everything moving so fast, I want to ensure I'm not overlooking anything crucial."

Sinclair's gaze shifted between his parents and the elders, seeking any insights or updates they might have, ready to prioritize his next steps based on their feedback.

Bruce and Amelia looked at each other with a slight frown on their faces. Sinclair had been running himself ragged, and here he was, trying to keep at it. They loved him immensely for his big heart, but knew it sometimes got him into trouble. "I would tell you to rest, but I know you won't listen. Here is a status update on everything we are working on and who is involved," Bruce shared a list of tasks on his screen. He really loved the system sometimes.

Scanning the list, he could see his dad definitely made it and that his mom added notes to clarify things. They were a welcoming spot of normality in a strange new world.

Infrastructure - Bruce/Amelia and Council

Building Layout

- Initial buildings in a concise pattern allowing for systemic growth

12 Barracks

- Sleeping capacity 528/480.

1 Barn -

15 horses, 25 sheep, and 12 cows

.

Town Hall -

Current overflow housing. 8 Meeting rooms medium size, 2 Large conference room, and 7 single offices

.

Blacksmith

- In progress. Estimated 8 hours

Leather Workshop

- In progress. Estimated 12 hours

McFarland's Mine

- Needs Sinclair's assistance. No interface to manage mine.

Economic - Amelia

Taxes

- Trade taxes on imports and exports through the system shop had been set at 6%. This will need to be monitored for accuracy.

Trade—

Trade to the Deep Mines entrance and Ravens Watch has been initially set up. City Lord Garret reduced 3% of taxes to pay off the loan Sinclair acquired.

Public Safety - Amelia and Council

Police vs Militia

- Currently self-governing, while a quick reaction force is trained under General Valthorn. The military will serve as any sort of police force we currently might need.

Resource Management - Bruce - Note * send out more mining crews for more stone and mortar components.*

Logs:

1750

Stone:

532

Iron:

143

Education - Turgrin

Turgrin is opening a school in the Town Center 2 days a week for anyone wanting to learn something new.

Children to age 14 are free

Adults pay in cores or gold if they just want the information downloaded to them

Diplomacy - Amelia/Ambassadors

Dark Elves

- Svartalheim - Relationship: Friendly

Light Elves

- Álfheimr - Relationship: Allied

Beastkin

- Midgard - Relationship: Allied

Ravens Watch

- Relationship: Allied

Research - ???

??? Need more information on how this works.

Looking up at his parents, he was thoroughly impressed and a little put out. They had everything here so well in hand, it seemed there wasn't much for him to do, really. He could gather resources, but that seemed of low importance now. He could train some, he thought. Feeling that thought float around in his mind, he was starting to like it more and more. Maybe this was a good thing. Everyone else worked on these lists, and he could focus on training and fighting to keep the monsters at bay.

"Mom/Dad, this is so much work already done, and it looks like you have more planned. I can never thank you enough for all that you do." Sinclair smiled and embraced both of them in his arms, giving them a big hug.

They hugged him back for several seconds until they stepped back and wiped at their eyes, acting like the brief bout of emotions didn't make their eyes leak a little.

"It would seem the only thing you need me for is the management of the mine. I think I can assign you guys to that as well, one sec." Sinclair dived into the Mine window on his screen. Looking through it, he found a small section under the Ownership area where he could assign people as managers of the mine.

Focusing on it, a window with a blinking cursor popped up. He focused on his dad and mom's names, watching them flow into the box. First, his dad's name showed up, and then his mom's showed up in a new box under it. They both had drop-down menus out to the side. Clicking on those, he found that he could set permissions. Giving them both ownership-level permissions, he closed the window and prompted them to try it out.

Bruce and Amelia both were able to bring up the new window and started browsing it. Sinclair smiled and waved at them as he was turning to leave, "I am going to find Victoria and the others before getting some training in. I found I had missed an entire portion of my Progenitor's perks and needed to look into some before I head out again."

His parents were barely paying attention to him any longer. Waving their hands, they said bye in that distracted way they get when absorbing new information. He couldn't ask for better parents in all this, he thought to himself.

Wondering what was taking his friends so long, he pulled up the teleport screen and saw that Thorsgild town was marked as accessible and no longer read-restricted. So did Ravens Watch as well. It was good to know they kept an eye on their portals.

Pulling up Thorsgild, he saw two options: send a message or Teleport. Choosing the send message portion, he wrote a quick message asking about his friends' status and their return ETA.

He figured it would take a little while for the elder to get the message, read the message, and respond. He was just about to keep walking when a reply came back after only a few seconds.

"Lord Hagerson, you honor us by leaving such valuable warriors behind. We got an influx of people from this world, which was quickly followed by monsters spawning. Lady Arrington and your friends were able to assist with the attack and are getting people settled. They said they would be back in 3 hours unless you needed them sooner." The message was so formal, one of his least favorite things about this world. He also knew he was going to tease Rose about being called "Lady Arrington."

Sending back a quick message, he told the village elder that it was fine and that they should take their time. Turning from that task, he thought about the training system he was supposed to get access to. He thought that meant the tutorial, but apparently, that was wrong.

Opening his system interface, he browsed through the screens and looked for anything that would allow him access as the buttons from before could not be interacted with. He spent almost 20 minutes getting more and more frustrated. Suddenly, a red notification floated across his vision.

"System screen Update. Complete in 10 seconds".

OK, he thought to himself. That is strange. Kind of auspicious timing, but whatever he thought. Waiting a few seconds, his System screen finally wavered like a bad signal and refreshed, highlighting the buttons from before, which now radiated a soft golden color..

Looking at the multitude of tabs, he was glad others were taking on aspects of this, or he would have to stick his head in the sand from overload.

Opening the tab, Sinclair found a single gold button labeled 'Open'. He shrugged, and with a mental push, pressed it. Instantly, he was teleported away—destination unknown. Though surprising, it somehow felt inevitable.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.


Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter