The Founding of Littlefoot
A month had passed since the fires of rebellion were doused and Mayor Mortas was hanged for high treason.
In his place, a vision took root.
The county was no longer just another forgotten corner of the Empire. It had been given a name: Littlefoot—a title chosen by the people, meant to symbolize humble beginnings and steady, deliberate progress.
And now, for the first time in living memory, it stood with pride.
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The Courtyard of Change
At the center of town, the once-crumbling administrative square was alive with motion. Artisans repaired broken stonework, young officers drilled in clean uniforms, and messengers ran with reports—not in chaos, but in coordination.
Joseline Ace, Imperial Administrator, stood atop a makeshift dais, her voice clear and direct.
"By authority of the Imperial Court and guidance from the Office of Justice, I declare the new City Council of Littlefoot seated!"
The crowd cheered as seven newly elected councilors took their positions—blacksmiths, scholars, a schoolteacher, even a retired soldier. No noble blood. Only merit.
From beside her, Jacob, in the red-trimmed robes of a magistrate—but with the modest blade still strapped at his side—handed the first set of proposed laws to the council.
"Three new acts," he said. "A rights charter for all workers, new guidelines for crime reporting, and mandatory recordkeeping in every guild."
"Are we sure that's not too many?" one councilor asked nervously.
David—now dressed in the formal sash of a marquis, though he still refused to wear a cape—chuckled from his seat near the council. "Better too many than too few. Trust me, less paperwork leads to more stabbing."
Laughter rippled through the audience.
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Building the New Order
The Commission of Internal Protection was born the next day, with Jacob appointing three commissioners from among the local population—one veteran constable, one brilliant law student, and one former thief who had helped map the underground cult routes.
They were trained directly under David and tasked with overseeing:
Civil policing
Border protection
Cult tracking and artifact regulation
Meanwhile, Joseline quietly worked behind the scenes to establish a long-term administrative backbone:
An archives division led by former scribes and young scholars inspired by Jacob's meticulous habits
A trade board, bringing farmers, caravans, and sea merchants into Littlefoot for the first time in decades
A court of minor grievances, allowing citizens to bring forth disputes without waiting months
But perhaps the most symbolic change came with the Revised Law of the People, passed unanimously by the new council:
> "Let no man or woman be above justice. Not by name, wealth, nor blood. The law shall serve the people, and the people shall shape the law."
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Private Moments
That evening, the three sat in the office that once belonged to a dying magistrate.
Now, it was filled with light.
David leaned back in a chair too small for him, boots on the table. "You two ever think we'd end up here? From cults and swamp murders to council meetings and trade routes?"
Joseline sipped her tea calmly. "Every empire needs a place to remember where it almost broke. Littlefoot may be small, but it's sharp. And sharp things can shape stone."
Jacob didn't answer immediately. He stood at the window, watching a group of orphans play beneath a repaired fountain.
"When I first got here, the only thing that worked was the mail cart."
David smirked. "You were the mail cart."
Jacob smiled faintly. "Now look."
Outside, guards in new uniforms laughed with merchants. A young girl ran by, holding a mock wooden sword with a red ribbon tied around it—like David's.
A blacksmith raised a mug from his stall in salute to the office window.
Jacob raised his hand in return. "We're building something real."
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Foreshadowing
But not all shadows were gone.
In the mountains to the east, a messenger fled under moonlight, clutching a bloodstained letter that bore the symbol of a noble house not yet touched by investigation.
In the palace of a neighboring count, a mirror cracked as an aging noble hissed curses at the name "Littlefoot."
And deep beneath the ruins of an old estate, once scorched by Jacob and David, something stirred—a symbol glowing faintly red.
It seemed that justice had awoken.
But so had old gods.