The Glitched Mage

Two weeks had passed since the Shadow Kingdom had begun paying its people, and the transformation had been undeniable.

Where once there had been a scattered encampment of survivors, there was now the foundation of a thriving settlement. The wages had increased productivity tenfold—where before people had worked out of necessity, now they worked with purpose. The result was staggering.

The third apartment complex had been completed, standing taller than the rest at five stories high, large enough to house entire families, skilled workers, and incoming recruits. It was the largest structure in the settlement, its stone walls reinforced with iron beams, making it a symbol of stability amid the once-ruined wastelands.

The market square had also taken shape. What had once been an empty patch of barren land was now structured into neatly arranged stalls and pathways, built with timber and stone. The layout was simple yet effective—wider paths for carts, designated spaces for food vendors, alchemists, blacksmiths, and merchants. Even before official traders had arrived, the locals had begun setting up their own booths, selling goods among themselves.

But perhaps the most critical achievement was the farmlands.

Riven had expanded the abyss-touched fields to twice their original size, further strengthening the Shadow Kingdom's food supply and medicinal herb production. Rows of crops stretched out in perfect formation, Nightshade Marrow, Etherbloom, Bloodroot, and Void Thistle flourishing faster than ever. Their unnatural growth cycles, enhanced by the abyssal soil, ensured that the next shipments of herbs would be even more valuable than the first.

And today, all of it would be put to the test.

Today, the first wave of workers and merchants sent by the Deveroux Guild were set to arrive.

And with them, the first formal shipment of herbs that would be distributed through their trade network.

Riven stood at the edge of the encampment, staring down the dirt road leading toward Eldrin's Crossing. The sun hung low in the sky, casting warm autumn light over the land, the crisp breeze carrying the scent of tilled earth and woodsmoke.

Beside him, Mal adjusted his coat, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "You think they'll be on time?" he asked, running a hand through his pale hair.

"They will," Riven replied, his gaze locked on the horizon. "Lucien doesn't waste time."

Krux let out a low grunt. "It's still strange seeing outsiders coming to us instead of the other way around."

Nyx smirked. "Get used to it. Won't be long before they're begging to set up shop here."

Damon cracked his knuckles. "And if they get too comfortable?"

Riven's expression was unreadable. "Then we remind them whose kingdom this is."

The group fell silent as the first dust cloud appeared in the distance—a sign of approaching wagons.

Moments later, the first caravan rolled into sight.

A long procession of wagons, at least a dozen in total, escorted by Deveroux Guild guards. The banner of the Deveroux Guild fluttered from the lead cart, its sigil—a golden key entwined with a serpent—signaling their affiliation.

And at the front of the procession rode Veylen Deveroux.

Mal clicked his tongue. "Of course he'd show up in person."

Riven smirked. "Expected nothing less."

As the caravan neared, the workers and warriors of the Shadow Kingdom began to gather, drawn by curiosity. Whispers rippled through the crowd as the first merchant wagons entered the settlement, their occupants glancing around at the newly built structures with cautious intrigue.

Veylen dismounted, smoothing out the fine silk of his coat before striding toward Riven with a knowing smile. "I must say, I didn't expect to find an entire city waiting for us."

Riven's gaze was steady. "You should know by now—we don't waste time."

Veylen chuckled, glancing toward the towering apartment complex and the bustling workers in the market square. "Clearly." His gaze shifted back to Riven, sharp with something unreadable. "Lucien will be very interested in hearing about this."

"I'm sure he will," Riven replied coolly. "But first, let's discuss what you brought us."

Veylen gestured toward the wagons behind him. "Fifty skilled workers, per our arrangement—blacksmiths, masons, carpenters, tailors. They've been instructed to work under your leadership." He smirked slightly. "Though, I imagine you won't tolerate incompetence."

Riven didn't return the smirk. "You imagine correctly."

Veylen's eyes gleamed. "Good. Along with them, we've brought supplies—iron, timber, mortar. Enough to continue your expansion."

Mal crossed his arms. "And the merchants?"

Veylen tilted his head toward the second half of the caravan, where a group of guild-affiliated traders had begun unloading their cargo. "These are the first wave of merchants who will be handling the sale of your herbs. Handpicked by the Deveroux Guild to ensure… quality control."

Nyx hummed. "Meaning they'll report everything back to Lucien."

"Of course." Veylen didn't bother denying it. "This is a partnership, after all."

Riven didn't react. He had expected nothing less.

He turned toward the storage buildings where the first shipment of herbs was waiting to be loaded onto the outbound carts.

Mal had overseen the final preparations himself—each crate was sealed, reinforced with mana sigils, and sorted by category. Etherbloom, Nightshade Marrow, Bloodroot, Void Thistle—each batch meticulously prepared to ensure peak quality.

Riven gestured to the workers nearby. "Load the first shipment onto the merchant wagons."

Immediately, the workers moved into action, hoisting the sealed crates onto the traders' carts under the watchful eyes of both Shadow Kingdom guards and Deveroux Guild representatives.

Veylen watched with mild amusement. "You seem confident."

Riven arched a brow. "Shouldn't I be?"

Veylen chuckled. "Confident enough to let us take the first shipment without an escort?"

Riven's voice was smooth. "This shipment is a test. If it reaches its destination without issue, we'll continue sending them as planned." His gaze darkened. "But if anything happens—if even one crate goes missing—then the next shipment doesn't leave the Shadow Kingdom. And you can explain that to Lucien."

Veylen held his gaze for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. "Understood."

Mal smirked. "Smart man."

—x—

The sun had barely risen when the first merchant stalls were set up.

The newly built market square—once just an empty space—had been assigned to the first wave of merchants.

The Deveroux-affiliated traders, eager to stake their claim on the new market, wasted no time. They arranged their wares with calculated efficiency—pouches of dried herbs, bottles of refined extracts, and alchemical supplies, all prominently displayed.

It didn't take long for the local populace to gather.

The people of the Shadow Kingdom, many of whom had never seen a structured trade system in action, cautiously approached the stalls. Some came to browse, others merely to observe. There was hesitation at first—a sense of disbelief that this was real—but as the morning passed, curiosity gave way to participation.

By midday, the market was thriving.

Riven watched from the raised steps of the third apartment building, arms crossed as he observed the flow of commerce below. Food stalls were already in place, selling fresh bread, roasted meats, and herbal tonics crafted from their abyssal crops. A handful of blacksmiths and leatherworkers had set up along the outer ring, offering tools, simple weapons, and armor repairs.

The economy, once nonexistent, had taken its first breath.

Mal stood beside him, sipping from a flask. "You seeing this?" he muttered, gesturing toward the square with his free hand. "It's working."

Riven nodded. "Faster than expected."

"They're still feeling it out," Mal mused. "Give it a few weeks, and we'll have people coming from outside the kingdom just to trade here."

Riven smirked. "That's the plan."

The Deveroux Guild had expected them to be dependent on their trade network. But if the Shadow Kingdom's own economy grew strong enough, they would attract outside merchants on their own.

Which meant control over their market would remain in their hands.

Nyx approached then, her expression smug as she glanced between them. "You two look pleased."

Mal raised an eyebrow. "You aren't?"

"Oh, I am," she admitted, folding her arms. "Word spreads fast, you know. The merchants that came today? By next week, there will be more. They'll tell others about the coin to be made here. And soon, traders not affiliated with the Deveroux Guild will start showing up."

Riven exhaled, considering. "Good. But we need to control how this grows."

Nyx nodded. "Which is why I assume you're about to tell me to find someone to oversee the market."

Riven smirked. "You're catching on."

Nyx rolled her eyes but didn't argue. "You want someone from the locals, or an outsider?"

"Someone from within," Riven said. "A merchant would be ideal, but anyone with a sharp mind for trade will do. We need stability. Someone who can enforce fair pricing, prevent market manipulation, and make sure stall owners don't start extorting the people."

Nyx let out a low whistle. "So, you want someone ruthless, but not greedy."

"Exactly."

Mal chuckled. "That's a rare breed."

Riven's gaze remained steady. "Find them."

Nyx stretched, cracking her knuckles. "I'll start interviews tomorrow. Should have a list of candidates by the end of the week."

Riven nodded in approval. "Good."

As Nyx walked away to begin preparations for the market overseer interviews, Riven turned his gaze toward another critical matter—security. The Shadow Kingdom was growing rapidly, and with that growth came risk. More people meant more moving parts, more potential for internal disputes, and—most importantly—more threats from the outside.

He needed a dedicated force. One that could defend the Shadow Kingdom not just from invaders, but also from the political and economic maneuvering that would inevitably come.

A standing army wasn't enough.

What he needed were warriors who embodied the very nature of the kingdom: resilient, disciplined, and dangerous.

Shadow Knights.

The thought formed in his mind as naturally as if it had always been there. A force trained not just in combat, but in the balance of strength and strategy. A unit that could wield both blade and magic, standing as the guardians of the rising kingdom.

Riven turned to Krux, who had been watching the market square with his usual quiet intensity.

"We're building a barracks," Riven said.

Krux turned to him, brow arching slightly. "Now?"

Riven nodded. "Construction begins immediately. I want it stationed near the central square, where it can oversee both the roads and the market. Somewhere visible—so people remember that we protect what we build."

Krux exhaled through his nose, already assessing the logistics. "It'll take manpower. Materials."

"We have both." Riven gestured toward the newly arrived Deveroux workers. "Put the masons and carpenters to work. Use reinforced stone and wood from our supplies. This isn't just a training ground—it's a symbol."

Krux nodded once. "And the force itself?"

"We begin recruitment tonight," Riven said. "Those with mana hearts, anyone trained in magic, or those willing to learn—call for volunteers. But this isn't open to just anyone. They have to prove themselves."

Krux's expression sharpened. "What are you looking for?"

Riven turned, scanning the settlement. "Loyalty first," he said. "Strength second. Anyone can be trained, but not everyone can be trusted."

Krux folded his arms. "You're talking about an elite force."

"Not just elite," Riven corrected. "Foundational. This will be the first standing force of the new Shadow Kingdom. The first of the Shadow Knights."

Krux's lips curled slightly, the ghost of a smile. "I like the name."

"So do I," Riven murmured.

Krux cracked his knuckles. "I'll set up the trials. You'll want them combat-tested, I assume?"

"Combat-tested," Riven agreed. "And mana-disciplined. If we're training magic-wielding warriors, they need control as much as power. We can't afford reckless spellcasters."

Krux's golden eyes gleamed with something akin to satisfaction. "Then we do this right."

Riven nodded, knowing Krux was the best man for the job. He had been a warrior before the fall, and his discipline and tactics had kept many of them alive. Now, he would shape the next generation of soldiers.

"I'll make the announcement before sundown," Riven said. "Gather those who want to fight for something more than survival."

Krux gave a firm nod and left to make the preparations.

Mal, who had remained quiet through the exchange, exhaled in amusement. "Shadow Knights, huh?" He tilted his head, watching Krux depart. "You really don't waste time."

Riven smirked. "I never do."

Mal grinned. "Well, if you need a necromancer division, let me know."

Riven chuckled, shaking his head. "One war force at a time, Mal."

Mal tapped his chin. "Still, you're right to move quickly. The Deveroux Guild is watching, and once word spreads that we have a trained force, they'll start wondering just how powerful we're planning to become."

Riven's expression darkened slightly. "Let them wonder."

Mal hummed, eyes gleaming. "This kingdom really is rising."

Riven turned back to the settlement, watching as workers moved, traders bartered, and warriors sharpened their blades.

Yes.

And this was only the beginning.