Eternal Empire - Kingdom Building

David mulled it over for a few seconds. Neverwinter Village? No, that was too close to something cursed. He adjusted the name slightly. "Winter Village," he said aloud, the meaning now completely changed.

"Winter Village? Has a good ring to it," Fording said, nodding. "From what you've described, it suits this place well—cold and tough, especially during winter."

"Great! Let's go with it." David pulled out the development order he always carried and carefully wrote the name Winter Village on it. "And the big river nearby… we’ll call it Winter River."

He wasn’t about to overthink things. As far as the kingdom's decree went, he had the right to name the river. In case two pioneering teams named the same river, the kingdom would ultimately decide, but David doubted any team had ventured this far north.

Fording watched as David jotted down the names and tucked the scroll away. "So, is this land officially recognized by the Kingdom of Tilan?" he asked, curiosity in his voice.

"No," David shook his head, "not yet. It’s not that easy. To make it official, we’d need a stable village, fields that consistently produce food, and a certain number of villagers."

David explained that they'd have to report to the kingdom’s department handling land development, which would send officials to inspect the village. Only after confirming everything, including the new map, would it be made official.

"And then, I’d get appointed as the village chief," he added, "but only after all that would I truly be considered a ‘little lord’ by the kingdom."

"All that, just to become a village chief?" Fording raised an eyebrow, surprised at how complicated the process seemed.

"It’s not your ordinary village chief role," David clarified. "Someone who holds a development order has a lot of autonomy, even the right to expand and upgrade the village. If we grow large enough in a few years, I’d be promoted to mayor, and this land would officially become mine."

David leaned back, stretching his arms as he processed Fording’s response. “So it is,” he muttered under his breath. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t officially a lord yet, but close enough. A small lord in the making, with potential. That’s why he had joined the pioneering team in the first place—at the time, he’d hoped to rise from commoner to knight, just enough to step out of his ordinary life.

But now? Things had shifted. If I’m going to be village chief, I might as well make it stick, he thought. His mind had already started planning, figuring out how to make the village thrive.

The key? My golden finger. David's secret weapon was his ability to connect with people from other worlds. As long as he used that well, the village's challenges wouldn't be impossible to overcome.

Take the barren land, for instance. Crops wouldn’t survive the harsh environment. Easy fix. He could ask Laura to bring back some hardy, high-yield seeds from her world. Maybe even some fertilizer to improve the soil. If that didn’t work, once his bond with Fording grew stronger, he could ask him to find some druids, maybe get them to help out with special seeds.

And if all else fails, well, who says this place has to be a food-producing village? David grinned to himself. I could always build something else, an industrial base perhaps. If my golden finger brings me a genius one day… things could get interesting.

He paused for a second. Wonder what minerals are around here?

His mind ran wild with possibilities until sleep finally overtook him.

Morning light filtered in, waking David from a dazed slumber. He turned his head. The fire was nearly out, and Fording was resting on his bed. The broth, weapons, and medicines remained untouched—Laura hadn’t returned after all.

David dragged himself out of bed and fed the fire with fresh wood, stoking the flames. He hung the cauldron of broth over it. Broth’s good for after a wash.

He stepped outside into the crisp morning air, stretching his limbs. After fetching some water, he began his morning wash. Cold, but refreshing.

When Fording emerged from the cabin, he mimicked David’s movements, though his were more intense, almost dangerous. If that man swings an arm too fast, someone’s getting knocked out, David mused with a grin.

“You got plans for today?” Fording asked, wiping his face.

David thought about it. They had plenty of food and wood after yesterday's work. Maybe it was time to start building a proper house? Or…

“Maybe dig a well first?” David suggested.

“To build a well, you’d need stone, wouldn’t you?” Fording remarked. The thought of stonemasonry left both men silent for a moment.

“Let’s focus on shelter,” David finally said. There were only two of them in the village for now, and fetching water from the river was a nuisance but not urgent. A proper house, though? That was critical, especially with winter approaching. A strong, warm house—that’s priority.

David’s thoughts drifted. Maybe when Laura gets back, I’ll ask her to bring some cement, bricks, or even glass. We could build something nice, something sturdy.

Just as he was fantasizing about a cozy home, a vague figure appeared in the distance. His breath caught.

“Laura?” he muttered.

Fording, too, straightened up, eyes narrowing. They both assumed it was her at first—until they quickly realized they were wrong.

As the figure came into full view, David and Fording exchanged glances. It wasn’t Laura—it was a man.

Fording, recognizing that only Laura had appeared from David’s golden finger thus far, stated calmly, "Looks like we've got another newcomer." His keen eyes studied the stranger carefully. The man seemed average in height, with a nondescript appearance, but his clothes looked out of place, and his eyes darted around in confusion.

The newcomer noticed them standing by the wooden house and approached, clearly bewildered. “Hello, where am I?” he asked, his voice steady despite the uncertainty in his gaze.

David stepped forward, introducing himself. “This is Winter Village. I’m David, the village chief.” He still wasn’t entirely sure who this person was, but something about him seemed... familiar.

The man nodded, extending his hand. “I’m Mark Watney,” he said. His handshake was firm, but David noticed the occasional flicker of doubt crossing his face, as if he were still trying to grasp the reality around him.

Mark turned to Fording, and David quickly translated: "This is Tirion Fordring." The two men shook hands, Mark offering a polite greeting before asking, "Winter Village... where is that, exactly?"

David sighed, anticipating the flood of questions. “This is the northernmost region of the Tilan Kingdom. And yes, I know you want to ask what the Tilan Kingdom is, so let me explain everything.”

He gave Mark the usual rundown—about the world, the village, and the golden finger, which he describes as a special place that people randomly appeared from Alien worlds on occasions. As David spoke, Mark’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. He looked overwhelmed, like someone trying to convince themselves they weren’t losing their mind.

David, meanwhile, carefully observed Mark’s features and behavior. Could it be? A memory clicked. Mark Watney... from The Martian. It started to make sense. In the movie, Mark was an astronaut stranded on Mars, forced to survive alone after his team mistakenly believed he had died.

But the Mark Watney standing before him wasn’t the gaunt, starved man from later in the movie. This must be the Mark from the earlier part of his journey, David concluded.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Mark muttered, rubbing his temples in disbelief. “Or I’m dreaming. If this is another world, why do you speak English?”

David offered a simple explanation, designed to be easier to digest. “This language, which you call English, I learned recently. Before you, another English speaker came through.”

Surprisingly, this explanation calmed Mark down. He accepted the language issue and focused instead on his other question: How did I get here?

But then, a glimmer of realization crossed his face. This might not be so bad, after all. The grim situation he had been facing on Mars suddenly seemed distant, replaced by a new, unexpected opportunity.

Mark’s optimistic nature took over, and he smiled, reintroducing himself. “Mark Watney, botanist, NASA astronaut. Before I ended up here, I was part of a Mars exploration mission. I ran into a bit of trouble, though... and I could use your help.”

David listened attentively, piecing things together. This is the moment right after he was stranded. He’s still figuring out how to survive.

"Can you tell me exactly what kind of trouble you're in?" David asked, his curiosity piqued.

Mark hesitated before replying, “If it’s possible... I’d like to stay here in your village for a while.”