The first of Shine Season arrived and Vythin stood outside of the portal hub next to the open gates in his dragon form. Crowds of people came through and he welcomed them into his city; wondering faces looking up and marveling at their new home and him - one of their new rulers. Dozens, hundreds, thousands - and more kept filing in as a slow procession.

  Slate and Isaac along with the Peacekeepers settled the new arrivals into residences, and with Vythin’s leadership Bastion began to look like a real city. Days after the gates had opened to new settlers they were near full capacity. Trade began to flow, industries began to produce goods from the raw materials Vythin had stockpiled, and the populace was quite happy.

  Vythin felt more powerful than ever before. His temple was filled with worshippers daily, and he walked among the masses, blessing them and performing miracles. His fellow gods did the same in their own way.

  Vythin sat in his temple on a golden throne, the last line of supplicants approaching to request a miracle of some form or another when a messenger ran in. He was dressed in the city’s official attire - A white tabard over his clothes with representative images of the three gods on it.

  "My lord, you have several visitors from...some dungeon to the North."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Let them in."

  The messenger bowed and left, returning shortly after at the head of a group of Crulon. Vythin immediately recognized the leader and stood up, walking down the dais and nodding his head as Tristan, their leader, bowed deeply from his waist before standing straight. "Lord Goldenssscalesss. We have come asss inssstructed."

  Vythin smiled broadly and felt a deep sense of responsibility well up within him. But there was an underlying feeling as well. Something he couldn't identify. "Welcome to Bastion. I trust the journey wasn't too difficult?"

  "No my lord. It wasss not too bad."

  "Good!" Vythin wrapped an arm around his shoulder and walked him up the dais, Tristan obviously uncomfortable being treated as somewhat of an equal. "You've shown loyalty in coming here, and I reward those who are loyal." He turned to the messenger and waved him over, "Tell the council that I am naming Tristan here my Seneschal. He will hold a position of honor amongst my servants, my right-hand man."

  The messenger bowed and departed as Vythin sat on his throne, gesturing for Tristan to stand at his side, "I trust you will accept the position?"

  Tristan once more bowed and took a place standing alongside the throne, "Yesss, my lord."

  The remaining Crulon bowed and Vythin smiled. Dragon, god, and king. It doesn't get much better than this.

  The weeks continued to pass with an increasing number of adherents and immigrants arriving in Bastion and Vythin found himself settling into a steady routine. As evening fell one day a messenger ran into the temple slipping several times on the floor before stopping at the base of the dais, panting. "My lord...he's awake."