Six months of relentless training had passed since Saturo arrived in this new world. Every day blurred into bruises by morning, ink stains by noon, and aching prayers by dusk. He had grown stronger, wiser, and more disciplined-but his true test was about to begin.
With Garron, the Swordmaster
"Again!" Garron's voice thundered through the training yard. Wooden swords cracked together, echoing across the stone walls.
Saturo's arms shook under each blow, palms raw with blisters. Countless times he was struck down, dust rising as he fell.
But one day, something shifted. As Garron's strike came, Saturo inhaled, drawing on the faint spark of aura within him. His wooden blade glowed faintly as he caught the blow. This time, he didn't fall.
Garron's eyes narrowed in surprise, then he smirked.
"Not bad, boy. You've finally learned to stand."
With Master Elric, the Scholar
In the court chambers, Saturo sat between two merchants, red-faced with anger.
"He cheated me!" one shouted.
"He's lying through his teeth!" the other countered.
Elric's sharp eyes flicked toward Saturo. The boy-king leaned forward, recalling dusty scrolls and endless lectures. Patiently, he questioned each man, piecing truth from lies. His ruling was fair-neither merchant fully satisfied, but both bowed in respect.
Elric's mouth curved slightly.
"You remembered the law. More importantly, you used it with wisdom. A king who is just earns more loyalty than one who is feared."
With High Priestess Liora
In the temple courtyard, villagers gathered as two farmers argued over a boundary wall. Their voices rose, fists clenched. Saturo raised his hand-not in command, but in request for silence. He listened, let them vent, then spoke softly but firmly.
"You share the same sun, the same soil. If land divides you, let water unite you. Share the rights of the well, and let the wall be redrawn evenly."
The farmers hesitated, then grudgingly agreed. The crowd murmured approval.
"You chose peace over pride," Liora said afterward. "That is the mark of a ruler who listens."
Six months after beginning his training, a messenger arrived breathless at the palace gates.
"My lord!" the man cried, kneeling. "Bandits have struck the southern village of Dornvale. They've taken food and livestock. The people beg for aid."
The court erupted in whispers. Nobles scoffed:
"Too dangerous for a boy-king."
"Send soldiers, not him."
But Saturo rose, voice steady though his chest trembled.
"If I cannot protect my people, then I am no king. Prepare the horses. I will go."
The ride to Dornvale was harsh, wind biting as hooves pounded dirt roads. Smoke still lingered from burnt carts. Villagers huddled in fear, children crying.
Saturo dismounted, heart heavy. A woman clutched his arm.
"They took everything, Your Majesty. Please... do not let them return."
Garron stepped beside him, hand on sword hilt.
"Boy, you are not ready."
Saturo's jaw tightened.
"Then I'll face them with what I have learned."
That night, under Garron's watchful eye, Saturo devised a plan-simple, but born of his training. He called on Elric's lessons in strategy and Liora's words of calm. Traps were set along the bandits' path, villagers rallied as lookouts, and the few soldiers they had held choke points.
When the bandits returned at dawn, expecting easy prey, they found resistance. Villagers struck from hiding, soldiers held the line, and Saturo-though trembling-stood at the front, aura flickering as he deflected a raider's strike.
The battle was short but fierce. Garron cut through the bandits' leader, scattering the rest. Dornvale still stood.
The villagers fell to their knees, chanting:
"Long live the king! Long live Saturo!"
Saturo's chest heaved with exhaustion, but for the first time, he felt the weight of his crown lighten-not because the fight was easy, but because he had fought it with his people.
The Council's Debate
The council chamber buzzed with voices-nobles and advisors arguing over supplies, defense, and the Dornvale raid. Maps were strewn across the table, each village marked like little kingdoms of their own.
Saturo listened in silence, fingers pressed together. Garron leaned behind him, arms crossed. Elric stood with his usual cold stare, and Liora sat serenely, observing.
One noble slammed his fist.
"We cannot protect every village. Let them defend themselves!"
Saturo rose, chair scraping the stone floor. The chamber stilled. His voice, calm but commanding, carried weight.
"Defend themselves? Divided, we will all fall. A single flame is easy to snuff out. But many flames together create a fire no one can ignore.
We are not separate villages anymore. We are one people. And I will prove it-not by sending orders, but by walking to each settlement myself. I will speak to them. I will convince them."
Murmurs erupted-foolish, dangerous, reckless.
But Saturo's tone was final:
"A king must not only sit on a throne. He must walk where his people walk."
The First Settlement - The Farmlands
The journey began with the nearest settlement, a quiet farming village spread across fertile plains. Children chased goats, and the smell of tilled earth filled the air. When Saturo arrived, the people gathered, whispering.
He spoke to the farmers, not in a hall, but standing knee-deep in their fields.
"I know your worries," he said, lifting a bucket with them, his hands muddy. "Floods destroy your harvest. Raiders steal your grain. Alone, you suffer. But together, with the strength of all settlements, you will have soldiers to guard your crops, roads to carry your harvest, and a king who will stand with you."
A weathered man, palms rough with labor, stepped forward and clasped Saturo's hand.
"If the king works as we do, then we will follow him."
Cheers rose. The first settlement joined without resistance.
The Second Settlement - The Traders' Town
Next was a bustling town built on trade routes. Market stalls spilled into the streets, merchants shouting their prices. Unlike the farmers, these people measured loyalty in coin, not words.
Saturo met with the guild leaders in a grand hall. Their leader, a shrewd woman with jeweled fingers, smirked.
"Why should we bind ourselves to a boy-king? What if you fall to the next warlord, and we are dragged down with you?"
Saturo didn't flinch. He spread out trade agreements, sketched in Elric's neat handwriting.
"Join me, and your caravans will pay lower tariffs when moving through allied lands. Your goods will be guarded by my soldiers, free of charge."
The merchants leaned forward, tempted but unconvinced.
"And your strength, boy? Is it only in words?" the leader pressed.
Saturo stood, closing his eyes. Aura flared around him, faint but visible, filling the chamber with an invisible weight. The candles flickered, and the guild hall fell silent.
The jeweled woman's smirk vanished. She bowed ever so slightly.
"...We will join. But we expect results."
Saturo exhaled slowly. Two settlements down.
The Third Settlement - The Temple Town
The third settlement centered around a grand temple, where priests guided every decision. As Saturo approached, bells rang and villagers knelt-not to him, but to the gods.
The high priest met him at the gates.
"We bow only to the divine. Why should we kneel to a mortal king?"
Saturo lowered his head respectfully.
"A king does not replace faith. He serves it."
He knelt in the courtyard before the altar, silent as villagers watched. With Liora's quiet guidance, he offered a prayer-not for power, but for the strength to protect his people.
The priests murmured. The high priest studied him, then placed a hand on Saturo's shoulder.
"Perhaps the gods did not send you here by chance. We will follow you, so long as you walk humbly before them."
Gasps filled the courtyard. The temple town was his.
The Fourth Settlement - The Warrior Stronghold
The last was the most difficult: a settlement of hardened warriors, their lives built on strength. When Saturo arrived, he was greeted with laughter.
"A boy king? If you want our loyalty, prove it! Duel our champion!"
A circle formed in the dirt. The champion, broad-shouldered and scarred, stepped forward with a heavy blade. Garron whispered harshly,
"You are not ready."
Saturo tightened his grip on his sword.
"If I cannot face one warrior, how can I ask to lead many?"
The duel began. Steel clashed, sparks flying. Saturo stumbled, bruised and cut, but he remembered Garron's endless drills, every strike and block hammered into his body.
He focused. Breathed. Aura flickered faintly along his blade. With a desperate swing, he disarmed the champion, the man's weapon crashing into the dust.
Silence. Then the champion laughed loudly, bowing.
"You have spirit, boy! That is enough. We follow you!"
The warriors shouted their approval, pounding their weapons against their shields.
The Birth of a Kingdom
Weeks later, Saturo returned to his capital, weary but triumphant. Four settlements had sworn allegiance. Farmers, merchants, priests, and warriors-all under one banner.
He stood upon the balcony of his palace, looking out over the torchlit streets. His people cheered, their voices rising in unison:
"Long live the king! Long live Saturo!"
For the first time, he didn't feel like a boy fumbling in another world. He felt like a ruler. A spark of hope for a true kingdom had been lit.
Saturo whispered into the night:
"If this world gave me a second life, then I will give it a nation worth remembering."