There was a vast expanse of wasteland around the Lonely Mountain, lifeless, filled with charred stumps and parched earth.

According to the records, this had once been lush green country, vibrant with life, until Smaug’s arrival. With his flames, the dragon had burned all the greenery to ash, permanently scarring the landscape.

Since then, this region had been known as the “Desolation of Smaug.”

“Help… Help… Is anyone there…”

At this moment, on that wasteland, a corpulent man lay on the ground, gasping for breath, crawling forward inch by painful inch.

It was the former Master of Lake-town.

“Please, anyone… give me some water or food, I can give you all my gold… I’ll give you half…”

“Is anyone there—?!”

He kept calling out, but the only reply was the occasional cold wind sweeping across the desolation.

“Ah!!”

With his final breath, he let out a wretched scream.

Thus, the former Master and his ill-gotten treasures were left forever on that barren plain. He died in agony from thirst and starvation, alone and unnoticed.

When he chose to abandon his people, hadn’t he also chosen to abandon himself?

No one mourned the former Master; he had long since been forgotten by all who once knew him.

—

At this moment, in front of the walls of his stronghold, Garrett scratched his head as he studied the group of refugees before him.

“I did go away for quite some time, that’s true. Looks like you’ve been here for a while.”

“Yes, my lord. We arrived here at the beginning of autumn this year,”

An elderly man stepped forward and explained, “The Misty Mountains are too dangerous, we dared not cross the high passes, so we had to take the long route around.”

“I do remember you somewhat. If I’m not wrong, you’re the village leader?”

“I am,” the old man confirmed.

Garrett looked behind him at the assembled group.

“I recall your village had more people than this. Where are the others?”

“They’ve settled elsewhere,” the headman replied, “We passed through several relatively stable villages and towns during our journey. Some folk didn’t wish to travel so far, so they left our group to make new lives in those places. These people here are the ones who chose to leave behind the comfort and safety of those settlements to follow you.”

“I see.”

Garrett nodded, acknowledging them.

“Since I was the one who showed you the way, and you followed my directions to get here, then, welcome to… uh, welcome to Wayfort.”

The crowd immediately erupted in cheers, calling out praises for the lord of the stronghold.

“Come with me.”

With Garrett leading the way, the group walked toward the massive gate.

The old headman wanted to point out that it seemed like there was no one inside, and the gate didn’t appear to be the kind that could be opened, but he held his tongue. This was someone else’s domain, and perhaps he simply didn’t understand how such things worked.

Clack.

Garrett operated a lever and opened an iron door set into the wall.

“Come in through here.”

A mechanism…?

Well, that was still reasonable. Many fortress gates employed such devices.

But as the refugees slowly entered the stronghold, someone couldn’t help but gasp in wonder.

“I’ve never seen such a beautiful place in all my days.”

The village headman, walking at the front, shook his head in amazement. He had lived his entire life in the remote valleys, never traveling far. The most beautiful sight he’d ever witnessed was their river glowing crimson under the sunset.

He had never imagined such an intricate and vibrant place could exist.

From outside, there had been only cold, smooth walls stretching beyond sight, concealing everything within. But upon entering, they saw warmth, and something from a dream.

Indeed, dreamlike.

Perfectly paved roads, lamps that never went out, colorful gardens and crystal-clear ponds, elegant buildings throughout, and a magnificent castle at the center…

Livestock wandered freely in their pens without need of shepherds. Fields of crops grew thick and healthy as though they would never fail.

Though the stronghold was vast, not a single soul was in sight. Only tall iron golems patrolled the grounds, offering flowers to those who approached.

A little girl in her mother’s arms reached out and accepted a bloom, holding it up joyfully. “Mama, is this the enchanted castle from the stories you told me?”

“No, my darling,”

Her mother kissed her forehead tenderly, “Mama could never have imagined a story this wonderful.”

“What… what should we do, my lord…”

The old headman looked rather overwhelmed. The environment here was beyond anything he’d dreamed, so perfect it seemed unreal.

He asked carefully, “May we truly make our homes here?”

“Houses are built for people to live in.”

Garrett turned and replied, “This is where you’ll live from now on.”

But his words only seemed to increase the refugees’ anxiety.

Finally, the headman stepped forward once more and inquired, “My lord, if I may ask… what work might we do?”

Most of these people were farmers, skilled only in working the land. But from what they could see of this territory, there seemed to be no need for their labor. Those iron golems, for instance, they looked stronger than ten men combined. Whether for harvesting or hauling, they were definitely more efficient.

He truly couldn’t determine what purpose they might serve here. Were they simply to live in idleness forever?

People needed to prove their worth.

“Well—”

Garrett also recognized the heart of the matter.

Indeed… what work could his people do?

He lacked for nothing here. Was he really supposed to let them live idle lives forever?

[Population requirement met. Faction creation conditions fulfilled.]

He opened the faction system, where a single notification awaited him.

Apparently, only after establishing a faction would certain features become available. But one thing had been troubling Garrett about founding the faction, which was why he had delayed until now, the name.

His first territory was called “Wayfort” because… well, it was… why did he name it like that again? The second was Dale, which already had that name. Now he needed to devise a name for the entire faction…

Should he call it the Wayfort Federation?

Naming was a serious responsibility.

Throughout Middle-earth, no faction bore a random designation.

Consider Rivendell, in Sindarin, Imladris, meaning “deep valley of the cleft,” which perfectly described its geography.

Or Lothlórien, meaning “dream-flower” in Elvish, again matching the ethereal beauty of that realm.

So here lay the problem, he consulted the faction map briefly.

One territory, Wayfort, lay on the western plains beyond the Misty Mountains, filled with gardens and scenic beauty.

Another, Dale, sat in the eastern foothills near Mirkwood, built against the mountainside.

Should he name his faction Rivendell-lórien, or Lothlórendale?

If he actually used either of those names, he’d probably have two very displeased Elven lords visiting the next day.

He shook his head and finally entered a simple designation:

“Free Settlements.”

[Faction “Free Settlements” successfully established]

This would do for now. Faction names could be changed later if needed.

As long as there was something functional, it would serve.

[Free Settlements Faction Reputation Unlocked]

[Faction Reputation: ∞]

[Citizen System Unlocked]

[Citizen Reputation Activated]

[Permission Management System Unlocked]

As soon as the faction was created, notifications flooded his interface, making his head spin.

“You all get some rest. I have something to take care of. I’ll be back in a while.”

He addressed the refugees, then found a quiet corner and began studying the various system explanations.

First, the faction reputation system.

Just as he could view his standing with other factions, he could now monitor others’ reputations within his own faction.

For instance, the refugees currently resting near the gates all showed a reputation score of 0, indicating they had neither aided nor harmed the faction’s interests.

This was a powerful management tool. Anyone who made contributions would have their efforts accurately recorded and reflected in their reputation score. Similarly, if someone acted against the faction’s interests, that too would be properly documented.

Once the reputation system activated, the permission management system followed.

This system touched the core of the Minecraft mechanics.

Here, Garrett could create “Ranks,” establish criteria for joining them, and assign specific permissions to each rank. The number of permissions granted would correlate with reputation: higher reputation unlocked greater privileges.

For example, he could create a “Resident” rank requiring 10 reputation points. Upon becoming a Resident, one would gain access to use tools with Minecraft features and unlock the ability to craft certain tools at a workbench.

Very useful indeed.

If implemented properly, this system could even automate aspects of territorial development.

Those were the primary functions of the faction system.

There were also data tracking features. For instance, the current count of people waiting at the gates: 203. This alone saved him from having to count them manually.

After some consideration, he established the first basic rank:

[Visitor]

[Reputation requirement: 0]

“Visitors” could use basic wooden tools to perform labor within the territory, thereby increasing their faction reputation.

This was the maximum privilege level available at 0 reputation. He couldn’t unlock anything beyond this threshold initially.

Once they met two conditions, “reputation score reaches 10” and “swear allegiance to the faction,” [Visitors] could advance.

The next tier above [Visitor] was [Resident], available at 10 reputation. Residents unlocked access to crafting tables for creating more advanced stone tools.

Additionally, becoming a Resident granted the ability to craft and use storage chests, excluding Garrett’s personal containers, of course. As Lord of the territory, his chests were protected by default and could only be accessed with his explicit permission.

“Let’s leave it like this for now.”

After establishing two basic reputation tiers, he closed the faction interface and returned to the gates to address the refugees.

As he approached, the resting refugees immediately stood up and focused their eyes on him.

Looking at the crowd, Garrett raised his voice, and said, “Don’t worry. There’s plenty for you all to do here. The development of this territory needs your help. But for now, the most important thing is filling your stomachs and having a place to live.”

The refugees looked to be in poor condition, none appeared particularly healthy. Everyone seemed malnourished and exhausted.

In their current state, they wouldn’t be able to focus on productive work. They needed time to recover their strength first.

Thinking it over, he placed a large table in the square and stacked several piles of fresh bread upon it.

Then he issued his first command, “Come collect food here. Take as much as you can eat. Then, choose homes based on your family groups.”

After giving these instructions, he sought out the old headman in the crowd.

“Do you have orders for me, my lord?”

The elderly chief immediately halted and waited attentively for Garrett to speak.

“You heard what I just said, right? I’ll leave these tasks to you. There’s plenty of bread, take as much as you want. The houses are unoccupied, choose freely. After everything’s done, come find me at the castle. I have more work that needs your help.”

“As you command, my lord.”

The old chief bowed respectfully and began organizing the people.

Garrett breathed a sigh of relief.

Having someone competent at organizing really did make things a lot easier.

Seeing the refugees orderly collecting provisions and finding shelter, he returned to the castle to organize his inventory.

Right now, his storage was completely full, packed with various loot and rare materials like dragon heart, dragon blood, dragon scales, and more.

Smaug’s immense size had meant his drops were exceptionally abundant.

Garrett had only brought back a small portion of the most valuable materials. The rest were stored in chests back in Dale, waiting for retrieval after the Nether portal was completed.

Just as he finished sorting his inventory and organizing his storage chests, the old headman returned.

“My lord, the tasks are complete. Do you have further instructions?”

“Come with me.”

Garrett crafted a set of wooden tools and placed them in his inventory, then led the old chief to the agricultural fields.

“Take this.”

He handed the elderly man a wooden hoe.

“Try harvesting these crops with it.”

The headman examined the tool skeptically, it didn’t appear particularly useful. But since his lord had commanded it, he complied.

Though aged, he had survived the long journey, so he wasn’t frail. He still possessed sufficient strength to wield farming tools.

Swoosh.

With one swing, several carrots dropped cleanly to the ground. He stared wide-eyed, doubting his own perception.

“Did I see correctly? They… just fell free on their own?”

Indeed they had.

“You didn’t see wrong. That’s how crops behave here. Just think of this place as being enchanted. Everything within the territory has magical properties.”

“Magic? I understand, my lord.”

Though outwardly composed, the old chief’s mind was in chaos.

Our lord is a powerful wizard!

There was genuine hope for the future now.

They had traversed marshlands and wastelands, overcome countless hardships and temptations to reach this place, all for the sake of finding a trustworthy lord.

And clearly, they had made the correct choice.

In this world, powerful lords who wielded magic weren’t unheard of, but most were of the Firstborn.

The few mortals who possessed such abilities either had ancient bloodlines or had long passed into legend.

For example, the Nazgûl. Among the nine mortal Ring-bearers, some had mastered dark sorcery and ruled kingdoms as feared witch-kings.

But that was ancient history.

Currently, there was only one known mortal lord who could wield such magic, and that was Garrett.

“Now, pick up the carrot and replant it.”

The old chief followed the instruction. Soon, fresh green shoots emerged from the rich soil, leaving him in shock.

“Hmm, seems like farming works normally.”

After testing the agricultural areas, Garrett led the chief to the livestock pens to try feeding animals, then to chop wood, and finally to mine stone…

Unlike Garrett, when the chief struck stone, it didn’t immediately become a drop. Instead, it separated from the terrain and could be easily moved.

Only when he placed the stone into a hopper or when Garrett touched it would it transform into a proper item and be absorbed into inventory.

If it wasn’t placed in a hopper but simply set back down, it would revert to its original form, as if it had always been part of the landscape, requiring mining again to detach.

This feature was somewhat complex, but could be summarized simply:

It was like gaining additional unstackable inventory space.

And it only functioned within the territory boundaries.

By this point, after experiencing all these tests with Garrett, the old chief was emotionally numb.

The experience was so surreal that he began wondering if he was still asleep in a threadbare tent outside the walls and simply hadn’t woken up yet. But even dreams required some foundation in reality. Yet for someone his age, this seemed remarkably imaginative.

I pray I never wake… he thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Garrett was already starting to summarize:

Farming, animal husbandry, mining, logging, producing food and basic construction materials.

That was what [Visitors] could currently accomplish, and their path toward earning full Resident status.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep