Lord of the Foresaken
Chapter 73: GOVERNANCE EVOLUTION

Chapter 73: GOVERNANCE EVOLUTION

The Watchwards’ Tower rose from the scorched valley like a twisted monument to transformation. Built upon the exact spot where the ritual had torn reality asunder, its spiraling architecture defied conventional understanding. Black stone veined with pulsing arcane energy wound upward in impossible geometric patterns, reflecting the altered nature of its creators.

Reed stood atop the highest platform, gazing across the landscape that had once been the border between three warring kingdoms. Now it served as the center of a new domain—one born from necessity rather than conquest.

"They are ready for you," Shia said, appearing beside him with that unnatural silence that still unnerved even those closest to them. Her transformed features caught the dying light, the embedded artifacts beneath her skin illuminating her veins with cold fire.

Reed nodded, feeling her thoughts brush against his own. After two months as joined beings, they had learned to maintain some semblance of privacy within their shared consciousness, but in moments of stress or concentration, the boundaries dissolved completely.

"The Conclave representatives are nervous," he observed, sensing their apprehension even from this distance. "They fear what we’re about to propose."

"They should," Shia replied, a hint of her old goblin pragmatism cutting through. "We’re dismantling their power structures and rebuilding from the foundation. No monarch willingly surrenders control."

They descended the spiraling staircase together, each step triggering subtle illumination from runes carved into the stone. Unlike traditional enchantments, these sigils drew power not from ambient magic but from the artifacts embedded within Reed and Shia themselves—an extension of their transformed bodies into the physical architecture.

The council chamber occupied the tower’s heart, a circular space where the boundary between material and immaterial blurred. Here, Reed had implemented the first of many innovations gleaned from the fragmented memories of the Progenitors—ancient beings whose knowledge had transferred to him through the artifacts during the ritual.

As the massive doors swung open, Reed felt Shia’s mind align perfectly with his. For what they were about to propose, they needed absolute unity.

Twelve figures awaited them, seated at a round table carved from a single massive slab of obsidian. The surface rippled occasionally like disturbed water, reflecting not their faces but glimpses of their domains—a monitoring system unlike any that had existed before.

"Watchwards," greeted Archduke Thorn of Astoria, the most powerful of the human rulers present. His face, once haughty with noble arrogance, now bore the haggard look of a man who had glimpsed cosmic truths beyond his comprehension. "We have reviewed your... proposals."

The way he said the word made clear his opinion of them.

Reed took his seat—a throne unlike the others, formed from the same material as the tower itself. As he settled into it, the artifacts in his flesh resonated with the structure, sending pulses of information directly into his consciousness.

"These are not proposals," Reed said, his voice carrying harmonics that made several council members flinch. "They are necessities if our worlds are to survive what comes next."

He gestured, and the center of the table shimmered. A three-dimensional projection materialized—a map of the known realms, but overlaid with patterns of energy that had never been visible before Reed and Shia’s transformation.

"The ritual changed more than just us," Shia continued, her fingers tracing lines across the projection. Where she touched, the map revealed pulsing veins of corruption. "These are tears in reality’s fabric. Minor now, but growing. The old borders, the old kingdoms—they’re meaningless against such threats."

Archduke Thorn leaned forward, his jeweled fingers clenching into fists. "You propose we dissolve centuries of sovereignty, bloodlines of rule stretching back millennia, for... what? Your untested governance based on alien knowledge?"

"We propose survival," Reed replied simply. With another gesture, the projection shifted, showing the same territories but reorganized around nexus points of power—many of which had never been recognized by conventional authorities.

"The Progenitors understood that power must flow like water, not stagnate behind arbitrary barriers," he continued. "Their system of governance distributed authority based on aptitude and connection to the land itself, not hereditary claims."

"Easy for you to say," muttered Lord Kressik of the Forest Domains. "You’ve become something beyond human. Beyond death itself, if the rumors are true."

Reed and Shia exchanged a glance, their shared consciousness briefly flickering with the memory of what they had discovered about their transformed state—how their lifespans had been altered in ways they still couldn’t fully comprehend.

"True or not," Shia said, "what matters is preparing for the Unmaker’s return. The fragment that remains is growing stronger. The warning we received in Goblin’s Hollow was just the beginning."

The obsidian table rippled more violently as fear spread through the council members. None could forget the voice that had invaded their minds, the impossible presence that had declared its continued existence.

"What exactly are you proposing?" asked Lady Verin, the youngest of the council members and representative of the Ashen Wastes—a territory so devastated by the ritual’s backlash that its people now lived in floating arcane habitats above the corrupted ground.

Reed spread his hands on the table’s surface. Where his palms touched the stone, the artifacts beneath his skin pulsed visibly.

"First, integration of Progenitor technology into your domains’ infrastructure. The artifacts have shown us how to create conduits of power that can strengthen the barriers between our world and the void where the Unmaker waits."

The projection shifted again, displaying schematics for towering structures resembling the Watchwards’ Tower but adapted to each domain’s specific environment.

"Second, the establishment of academic institutions—not just for conventional knowledge, but for training in detection and resistance." Reed’s voice grew darker. "The Unmaker’s fragment can possess living beings, using them as vessels to influence our world. Your people must learn to recognize the signs."

Several council members shifted uncomfortably, no doubt remembering the incidents over the past months—trusted advisors suddenly turning violent, common folk speaking in tongues before taking their own lives, children drawing impossible geometries before disappearing in the night.

"Third," Shia continued, "sanctuaries for those who have encountered the fragment’s influence but survived. The Hero’s Respite will offer healing beyond conventional medicine or magic—treatments derived from our understanding of the artifacts’ power."

"And who will oversee these... institutions?" Archduke Thorn asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"A council drawn from all domains," Reed answered. "Not nobles or military leaders, but those with natural resistance to the Unmaker’s influence. We can detect such individuals now."

The implications hung heavy in the air. What Reed proposed was nothing less than a complete restructuring of power—one that would render traditional authority obsolete.

"You ask us to surrender everything," Lord Kressik said flatly.

"We ask you to evolve," Shia countered. "Or be erased when the Unmaker returns in full strength."

Reed rose from his seat, the movement fluid and unsettling in its inhuman grace. The artifacts beneath his skin glowed brighter, casting strange shadows across the chamber.

"The alliance we forge today will not be based on marriage alliances or trade agreements," he said, his voice resonating with power. "It will be forged in shared purpose—survival against cosmic annihilation."

He gestured once more, and the projection shifted to its final configuration—a unified governance structure with the Watchwards’ Tower at its center, but with power flowing outward through a network of newly designated strongholds.

"Your domains will not lose their identities," Reed assured them. "But they will transform, just as we have transformed. Power will flow to those capable of wielding it against the coming darkness."

"And if we refuse?" Archduke Thorn asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

Reed and Shia exchanged a look, their shared consciousness momentarily visible as a flicker of eldritch light passing between their eyes.

"Then you will face the Unmaker alone," Shia said simply. "And you will fall."

A heavy silence descended upon the chamber. The twelve rulers looked at one another, centuries of rivalry and hatred momentarily suspended in the face of existential threat.

Lady Verin was the first to stand. "The Ashen Wastes pledges to this new alliance. We have already lost everything once. We will not do so again."

One by one, the others rose—some grudgingly, others with the fervor of conversion. Last was Archduke Thorn, whose ancestral lands had the most to lose in this reorganization.

"Astoria conditionally accepts this alliance," he said stiffly. "With the stipulation that control of our military forces remains under noble command."

Reed smiled thinly. "For now."

In the months that followed, the landscape transformed. The Watchwards’ Tower became the central hub of knowledge and innovation, while similar structures—smaller but no less otherworldly—arose within each domain. Engineers and masons worked alongside channelers of arcane energy, implementing designs that Reed extracted from the Progenitors’ memories.

The first Hero’s Respite opened in what had once been neutral territory between Astoria and the Forest Domains. Its gleaming structures offered sanctuary to those bearing mental or physical scars from encounters with the Unmaker’s fragment. Within its walls, Reed and Shia personally oversaw treatments that merged ancient healing arts with knowledge gleaned from the artifacts.

Schools dedicated to detection and resistance appeared in every major settlement. Children with particular sensitivity were identified early and given specialized training, forming the first generation of what Reed called "Void Sentinels"—humans and goblins alike with heightened awareness of intrusions from beyond reality’s edge.

Most significantly, the traditional borders between domains began to blur. Trade flowed freely along newly established arcane conduits. Knowledge spread without the previous restrictions of guild secrets or noble privilege. A new society emerged—one organized around aptitude rather than birth.

Not everyone embraced these changes. Rebellions flared in territories with strong traditional ties. Old religious orders declared Reed and Shia abominations. Assassination attempts—though futile against their transformed physiology—occurred with concerning regularity.

Yet the alliance held, strengthened by each new incursion of the Unmaker’s influence. When an entire village in the Forest Domains spontaneously transformed into something not quite human, the coordinated response from combined forces contained the threat within hours. When whispers of impossible knowledge began corrupting scholars in Astoria’s grand libraries, specialists trained at the new institutions identified and isolated the affected texts.

Reed’s political influence grew alongside his military authority. The artifacts embedded in his flesh granted him insights that seemed prophetic to those who didn’t understand their true nature. He could perceive patterns in events, could feel the subtle manipulations of the Unmaker’s fragment before they manifested fully.

On the night of the winter solstice, Reed stood alone in the highest chamber of the Watchwards’ Tower. Shia was three hundred miles away, overseeing the completion of a new sanctuary in the mountains, yet their consciousness remained connected across the distance.

It’s working, he thought, knowing she would perceive his satisfaction. The new governance structures are taking root. The people begin to trust the changes.

Not all people, came Shia’s cautious response. Archduke Thorn gathers dissidents. He speaks of preserving "human purity" against goblin influence.

Reed sighed. We expected resistance. Change never comes easily.

He moved to the circular window that faced eastward, toward the distant capital of Astoria. With his enhanced vision, he could perceive the faint glow of the city even at this distance. The artifacts had been integrated into its walls now, creating a barrier against corruption—but also allowing Reed to monitor activities within.

A flicker of movement caught his attention—not in the physical world, but in the layers of reality that only he and Shia could perceive. A disturbance in the patterns, a ripple where there should be stillness.

Reed focused his awareness, the artifacts in his flesh growing warm as he channeled their power into heightened perception.

And then he saw it—a shadow moving against the fabric of existence. Not from outside reality this time, but from within. A presence both familiar and utterly wrong.

Shia, he projected urgently. Something’s happening in Astoria.

I feel it, came her immediate response, her consciousness fully merging with his in shared alarm.

Through their combined perception, they traced the disturbance to its source—the royal palace of Astoria, deep within Archduke Thorn’s private chambers.

What they witnessed froze their shared blood.

Archduke Thorn stood before a mirror that reflected nothing of the physical room. Instead, it showed a swirling void punctuated by geometries that hurt to observe. The nobleman’s mouth moved in words no human tongue was meant to form, his eyes rolled back to show only whites.

And on his chest, partially embedded in his flesh, was a fragment of material identical to the artifacts that Reed and Shia carried—the missing piece they had searched for since the ritual.

He has been corrupted, Shia’s thought-voice was tight with horror. The fragment we couldn’t account for—

—has found its vessel, Reed completed. And not just any vessel. The ruler of our strongest ally.

As they watched through their shared perception, Archduke Thorn turned toward the east—toward the Watchwards’ Tower—as if sensing their observation. A smile spread across his face that belonged to no human expression. When he spoke, his lips formed words that echoed directly into Reed and Shia’s shared consciousness.

YOU BUILT YOUR NEW ORDER ON SHIFTING SANDS. I AM ALREADY WITHIN ITS FOUNDATIONS.

The mirror behind Thorn shattered, each fragment continuing to reflect the same impossible void. The shards rose into the air, then shot outward in all directions—each carrying a splinter of the Unmaker’s consciousness to new hosts.

I AM NO LONGER FRAGMENTED, the voice continued as Reed watched in horror. I AM LEGION.