Beacons were no longer anything rare for Garrett these days.
Because he liked to run around everywhere, he had gone to the Nether plenty of times in recent years. Whenever he passed by Nether fortresses, he would casually clear out groups of wither skeletons.
The drop rate for wither skeleton skulls wasn't particularly high, but since he eliminated them in large numbers, never deliberately hunting them, just striking them down whenever they appeared, he had accumulated quite a collection of skulls over time.
And once you had wither skeleton skulls, naturally you had to put them to use. Now, within his stronghold, there were quite a few nether stars stored away, all from the times he had summoned Withers in the Nether out of boredom and defeated them for sport.
Whenever he needed a beacon, he would simply craft one on the spot.
By now, beacons had become standard fixtures in Wayfort. Hospitals, plazas, training grounds, any place that might benefit from one had one installed, and all of them were built to maximum tier.
The only issue was that while Wayfort had plenty of beacons, none had yet been placed in the other territories.
The reason? He simply... forgot.
Aside from their impressive appearance, the beacon's greatest benefit to daily life was its regeneration effect.
But ever since watermelons became widespread, instant healing potions had also seen a massive surge in production. Both military and civilian needs were well supplied, so the beacon's regeneration effect was no longer critical.
Still, better to have them than not. This gathering was the perfect opportunity to remind the regional leaders to install them in their own territories.
"A celebration feast."
When Garrett announced the news, not only Wayfort but every land under the Free Cities began preparing for the festivities.
With a grand gesture, he also declared several days of holiday.
But before that, inside the stronghold, several people stood transfixed, their eyes wide, gazing at the object displayed behind crystal on the main dais: a nether star, whiter than mithril, more brilliant than the finest diamond, more flawless and pure than anything else in existence.
"I'm reluctant to admit this," Thorin said after taking several deep breaths, "but... it looks even more perfect than the Arkenstone."
Pure, flawless, radiant, and carrying a trace of mysterious magical power.
This artifact, like the golden apples, appealed to the aesthetic sense of nearly all living beings. No matter the race, all would marvel at its beauty.
Dwarves, Elves, Men...
Even...
"How beautiful."
Even Gandalf couldn't resist stepping closer to observe.
If he hadn't seen a Silmaril with his own eyes, he might have thought that's what was encased within.
"Of all the beautiful things I have witnessed, its radiance is second only to the light of the Two Trees, even if that memory is already dim and distant for me."
"Thank you."
Garrett understood the weight of those words.
That was about the highest praise Gandalf was capable of giving.
Thinking about it, it was truly remarkable. Whether golden apples or nether stars, certain creations in Minecraft always carried a fairytale, legendary quality to them.
They were astonishing, yet never felt out of place, especially in this world.
Things like this had always existed here, just usually not quite so powerful or absolute.
By now, allies from every direction were making their way to Wayfort.
Beorn, chieftain of the Beornings; envoys from the Elven realms; wandering folk... all the forces who had received word were coming to witness the event.
"Ah, sorry, I forgot to call you on the way here," Garrett said somewhat sheepishly, seeing Beorn's indescribable expression.
"If it weren't for my bees suddenly producing honey the size of human heads after feeding on the flowering trees you provided, I'd have thought you'd abandoned us," Beorn grumbled.
"Forgive me, I just… uh… got too busy…"
Even Garrett didn't quite believe his own excuse.
The truth was, the Beorning lands had only recently sworn allegiance to him, and he had simply forgotten in a moment of distraction.
He had been too focused on inspecting the progress of road construction and ended up just traveling past their territory...
"This is Bard's fault, he didn't remind me."
Bard looked over, baffled.
"What?"
"Alright, enough of that. Our other friends are arriving, I need to greet them."
"Welcome."
No sooner had Garrett spoken than he headed toward the gate, where several Elves were riding in.
Among them was the captain of the Woodland Realm, the same Elf who'd had his horse appropriated by Legolas back in Lake-town.
"This duty really shouldn't have fallen to me," the captain said with a sigh.
Normally, King Thranduil would have sent his son Legolas to demonstrate the importance of the event. But since Legolas was still wandering the wild and hadn't returned home, and Thranduil himself was unwilling to leave the Woodland Realm, the captain had been dispatched instead.
Though he usually lacked presence, this captain actually held considerable rank, he was always the first to receive the king's commands. His presence here was, in fact, a sign of respect.
After greeting the Woodland Realm's captain, the next arrivals were Elves from Rivendell.
At their head was none other than Elrond himself.
Unlike Thranduil, the reclusive lord who hadn't stepped outside his forest in an Age, Elrond often led parties to cleanse the nearby lands of orcs, remaining relatively active by comparison.
However, ever since the first group of Wayfort Rangers had begun their training expeditions, Elrond hadn't had many chances to leave anymore, for the simple reason that there just weren't any orcs left nearby. He couldn't even find an excuse to stretch his legs.
"It's been a while."
"We meet again."
The two exchanged greetings, but their words carried different undertones.
"How remarkable. In just a few short years, this place has transformed so dramatically."
Elrond marveled, his gaze drawn to the pillar of light above the stronghold.
He had noticed the beacon when it was first placed years ago. But with an Elf's perception of time, and since it seemed benign enough, he had always postponed investigating it.
Now, this occasion provided the perfect excuse to come see for himself.
After their exchange, Elrond and the Woodland Realm captain went inside the stronghold to join Gandalf and the others, awaiting the festivities to begin.
At this moment, one of the Elves Elrond had brought with him stepped forward.
"Ah, you're here as well."
"Long time no see, Erestor."
Garrett approached to greet his old friend.
"It was Lord Elrond who sought me out and asked me to accompany him," Erestor said with a knowing smile.
Elrond had long been aware of the friendship between the two, and in recent times he often entrusted Erestor with tasks, deliberately creating opportunities for them to meet. This time, he had simply brought him along directly.
---
Whoosh... Bang!
That night, fireworks shot into the sky, bursting with resounding booms, scattering blossoms of every hue across the sky.
Within the territory, Elves, Dwarves, Men, and Wizards all gathered at banquet tables set near the stronghold, the atmosphere lively and jubilant.
"Thorin Oakenshield, compared to our last meeting, you appear in much better health."
Elrond approached Thorin, swirling a goblet of Wayfort's local wine, his expression thoughtful.
"My thanks. You as well."
Thorin's reply was stiff, his face strained. Looking at Elrond's peculiar expression, he let out a heavy sigh, then turned around and called out firmly, "You lot, come here!"
At once, the unfortunate Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain expedition, the ones who had behaved poorly during their previous visit to Rivendell, were called out.
"Should've stayed at the Mountain..." one of them muttered under his breath.
Before long, they stood in a line before Thorin, like children caught misbehaving.
"Do what honor demands."
Expressionless, Thorin said, "Or must I remind you what that is?"
"...Our apologies."
Under Thorin's stern gaze, one finally spoke.
Once the first had broken the silence, the others quickly followed, each offering proper apologies to Elrond.
"Remarkable."
Elrond's smile was genuine.
Dwarves, showing such courtesy toward Elves? This was... unbelievable.
To anyone who knew the long history and grievances between the two peoples, the very notion would sound as improbable as dragons taking up gardening.
Of course, much of it came down to Thorin himself. He had his own pride as a king. Even back when he still harbored suspicion toward Elves, had he discovered such behavior among his companions in Rivendell, he would have stopped it immediately. Wariness was one thing; the dignity and honor of the Dwarves as a people was another matter.
Shaking his head thoughtfully, Elrond emerged from his moment of reflection and said, "In the Elder Days, Dwarves and Elves stood as close allies. I am truly glad for you."
He raised his cup to Thorin and the Dwarves before him, then drained it in one gulp.
The long-standing cold wall between the two peoples loosened, if only a fraction, in that moment.
From the side, Gandalf watched with a smile, nodding thoughtfully.
Good, truly, very good indeed.