The four bears were there, standing proud, wearing the reinforced leather harness that was quickly named Bear-Dozer by Niki. That was supposed to be just a joke, but it ended up overshadowing the more technical name used by Ragnar: the Tree-Puller.
In the end, Ragnar took the loss and adopted the more popular name. With the help of Skiff, he finished adjusting the bears’ harnesses, making sure that every strap, buckle, rope, lock, and hook was ready to handle the coming stress test.
Meanwhile, the rest of the guild stood there in a semicircle, gazing at those magnificent beasts helping them open the path connecting the sanctuary to the rest of the world.
“This side is ready,” Skiff said.
“Same here,” Ragnar added after a general look at the two bears on his side.
“We’re ready,” Torvell said, standing at the front-right of the four-bear formation.
“All right. On the count to three, you’ll pull that tree with all you got.”
The four bears roared in excitement, then advanced until the ropes attached to their harness stretched and locked them in place.
“Okay. Here we go,” Ragnar said, soon being accompanied by all his guildmates. “One, two, three. GO!”
The four beasts lunged forward, but were held back by the sturdiness of that tree. The harnesses' leather stretched hard, forming a few gaps that were soon filled by black fur.
They kept pushing forward, sinking their hind legs a few centimeters on the dirt while lifting their forepaws for a moment. Torvell’s eyes were locked ahead, half-closed as his mind was focused on one thing. In a snap, he showed his teeth. His mouth began to foam, and a loud crack broke the silence.
The first thing Ragnar saw when his gaze went to the tree was how that rope had sunk into the trunk, leaving one clean, light-colored scraping mark where it was a moment ago. Only then did he realize how bent the trunk had become.
Another crack as loud as the first one echoed through the forest. This time, Ragnar was able to see a portion of the backside of the tree snapping, leaving a bunch of broken splinters hanging there.
The tree would soon snap and fall, leaving one more stump behind.
Except that a deep rumble preceded the unexpected. The Bear-Dozer pulled the tree from the ground, unearthing even its deepest roots.
“That was. Awesome!” Ragnar yelled, then gave Skiff a high-five.
“All that effort has paid off, boss,” Skiff said.
“It sure did.” Ragnar approached Torvell, to say, “Good job.”
“It’s the least we can do,” he replied in his deep voice. “We can keep doing it. But we need to catch a breather now and then.”
“Of course.”
After such a demonstration of force and effort, everyone went back to work with extra motivation to put in their axe swings. This time, they started working in pairs as instructed by Ragnar, who was now helping to operate the Bear-Dozer with Skiff’s help.
The contraption worked like a charm, surpassing the Iron Druid’s expectation. Which in turn made him ponder if it would be possible to create something similar, but for humans. However, the human-dozer idea was discarded after thinking about it for two seconds.
As time passed, Ragnar found out that it was not all sunshine and rainbows. On the Bear-Dozer’s fourth use, a few straps ended up loosening during a critical moment. Torvell’s left front leg almost broke. The accident ended up serving as a warning. Ragnar and Skiff had to quickly change the knot to one that fit that strap better.
There were two other incidents along the way. A buckle broke, but was replaced in a matter of five minutes, and one bear broke its right hind leg. He ended up being replaced by one of his brothers. The poor bear even apologized to Ragnar for letting him down.
Damn, they sure have changed, Ragnar thought.
Hours passed and the night was approaching like the last line of trees waiting to be felled. It was getting dark. All nine Black Iron bears were exhausted, including Ragnar (he ended up leading the last five Bear-Dozer pulls in his bear form). However, in a collective pact, he and all his guildmates agreed to keep going until the path was fully opened.
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One by one, the last trees fell.
Ragnar thanked everyone. They said their goodbyes, but when it was time to log out, a quiet rumbling caught the druid’s attention. It accompanied the leaves swaying in the wind. It got louder, overcoming nature’s melody, and making Ragnar’s heart race in his chest.
Small spots of yellow and bluish light flicked in the distance.
If this is an invasion, they’re coming with all they got.
“Everyone. Hide. Now!” Ragnar ordered from the top of his lungs, making his colleagues run into the forest in search of shelter.
His worries were interrupted by a high-pitched neigh. A pair of bright wings shone above the coming horde.
“It’s the duke,” Ragnar murmured, then yelled to his guildmates, “IT’S THE DUKE!”
The noble’s winged unicorn took shape as it approached. The duke came into view when it turned right. He wavered and made his mount circle around two times before descending.
They landed in the recently opened path. The mount flapped its wings one last time before folding them back. Ragnar’s guildmates began to surface from the lush forest half-lit by the moonlight.
“I was worried I would miss you coming this late,” Van Clovis said as he dismounted. “You know how it is. Time isn’t a problem for us vampires anymore.” He went straight to Ragnar and gave him a firm handshake.
“And I was worrying whether you would even come at all,” Ragnar joked.
“A promise is a promise. Unfortunately, we were unable to gather more materials than that,” the duke said, pointing at the approaching wagons. Their rumbling was now loud enough to make those two raise their voices to talk. “The city. I mean, the whole province is booming right now. The demand for basically everything is as tall as the firmament holding the skies. However, I still managed to smuggle some goods away from the king’s eyes.”
By the noise the wagons were making, there had to be at least thirty vehicles with them. The noise kept getting louder until they approached the recently opened path.
The way ahead was not fully cleared. Many stumps remained to be uprooted. It took almost twenty-two minutes for them to traverse and stop at the open field on the other side.
Each wagon was packed with all sorts of building materials. One of them was full of crates containing tools and other equipment.
However, Ragnar knew that was not enough to build five percent of what he and Niki had planned.
“More materials will come every week, but in smaller quantities if the demand situation is not quelled soon enough. But I’ll leave you some of my workers as long as you have the materials for them to work with. How about thirty men?”
Every muscle in Ragnar’s face stretched, forming a scary-to-look-at happy face.
“That would be great, thank you.” There might be a caveat, so he asked, “Are they also going to work on my baronate?”
“Of course not. Our deal at the gala was that I would help you rebuild your sanctuary after that tragic incident. Your lands are yours. We are both nobles of the Kingdom of Angra. I can’t build your baronate for you.”
“That’s fair,” Ragnar said. But disappointing, he thought, and then added, “As you gave me these lands, and since you’re above me in the nobility hierarchy, does that mean I’m your vassal?”
“No, no, no.” Van Clóvis shook his head each time he said no. “I’m giving you these lands with no strings attached.”
“Your generosity knows no bounds.”
“It’s the least I could do. Besides, these lands were barely explored. So we don’t know if they hide some danger or have any riches waiting to be found.”
Ragnar’s lips formed an almost straight line after hearing that, making him reflect: How can the ruler of a city as big as Salem not have explored all of its surroundings by now.
He could be overthinking it, but every loose thread in the game leads somewhere. That was something Ragnar knew all too well.
By then, all the new players had logged out. Even the Black Paw five were gone, leaving the original four still there, waiting for the conversation between Ragnar and the duke to come to an end.
After fifteen minutes, they said their goodbyes. The duke went back to his winged unicorn and took flight back to Salem accompanied by the empty wagons, which were driven back by the workers who wouldn’t stay there to help.
Artic, Niki, Havoc and Skiff were all sitting atop a big pile of tree trunks.
“He’s gonna help as promised?” Niki asked.
Ragnar updated them on the situation. The assassin made sure to show how frustrated she was about the duke not going to help them build the baronate. However, after a few words, Ragnar was able to comfort her.
“The system would break if it allowed the duke to help us build a fucking city. He gave us these lands, that’s more than fair.”
“But we saved his ass back there, in the Battle of What’s it called that Village.” On a whim, her annoyance fled as quickly as it came. “You’re right. It would be broken as fuck if the game just showered us with rewards.”
Skiff jumped down from the pile, almost stumbling, but managed to catch his balance before someone cracked a joke.
“What’s next, boss?”
“Clean this place. Move all this wood into the sanctuary. Then the real work begins.”
“Real work?” Havoc’s eyes opened wide as she heard those words. “What about the hours we spent cutting those hundreds of trees?”
“That was nothing. It was an endurance test to see if any new recruits would break and leave our guild. Still, it was a necessary step so the real work could begin.”
“Gods have mercy on our souls.”
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