A/N: Hey guys, another note for you.
I have posted the appearance of Reinhart, Karlos, and Velsun on my patreon. If you are interested you can visit my patreon and view it. And the plus point is...
It's free:)
And some people are getting confused over the evolution of Karlos. Look properly he is not a demon Lord. He has evolved into a Daemon lord, which is also called Daemon/Demon peer if you prefer that.
A Demon lord and Daemon lord are different Check Fandom.
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I chuckled and waved toward the door.
"Next."
The door creaked open again, and in shuffled an old man who looked like he had personally edited the first historical texts ever written. His robes were layered and ancient, ink-stained in places, and his round monocle clung precariously to one eye. His long white beard dragged along his chest like it had its own stories to tell. The moment he stepped in, I swear the air grew heavier with knowledge.
He bowed, slowly but deliberately. "Your Majesty. I am Archscribe Thalor, former Royal Historian and Head Archivist of Bermud's Grand Library."
I stared for a second before whispering to Karlos, "Did this guy live through history or write it?"
Karlos smirked faintly. "Both, probably."
Thalor straightened his spine with a series of quiet pops. "I served six kings before the fall. I've memorized the records of five centuries and have catalogued every magical relic, lost language, and noble lineage in the old kingdom. I seek not power… only a quiet place to keep recording history as it happens."
I raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're not here to just… nap and write poetry all day?"
He gave me a look so dry it could've mummified a corpse. "Young king, poetry is a luxury. History is necessity. Without someone to record, great nations become great mysteries. Let me ensure Solara is remembered rightly."
Mimir's voice rang in my mind with that familiar aged sarcasm: Lad, if brains had weight, this one's skull would need its own wagon.
I smirked. "You've got the job."
I scribbled down:
Archscribe Thalor – Royal Historian & Keeper of Records. Possible Advisor on Magical Relics.
As he turned to leave, I swear the floor creaked in reverence beneath his steps.
Zalario spoke softly beside me. "He's old… but there's something unshakable in that man. Like the world itself won't move him."
I nodded. "Good. We'll need anchors like him."
I snapped my fingers.
"Next!"
The doors opened again, and this time a young woman stepped inside, her stride calm and measured. She wore a white cloak with faded red patterns along the hems, and around her waist hung several small pouches filled with herbs and vials. Her presence carried a soothing air, like a gentle breeze after a storm.
She bowed gracefully. "Your Majesty. I am Elira, once head healer of Bermud's inner ward. I have served the people for over a decade—nobles and commoners alike. I heard the call, and I came to offer my skills in healing magic, herbalism, and battlefield triage."
Karlos leaned in slightly, whispering, "Strong soul. No trace of deceit. That one's been through blood and fire."
I looked her over carefully. There was no arrogance in her eyes, only the kind of quiet determination that gets people through plagues and wars.
I smiled faintly. "You're not one to run when blades are drawn, are you?"
"I don't believe in running, Your Majesty," she replied softly, "especially not when there are lives to save."
Mimir chuckled in the back of my mind. Lad, if you don't hire her, I'll slap you with a ghostly sandal.
"Done," I said, jotting her name on the parchment.
Elira – Royal Physician. Head of Healing and Medical Affairs.
As she bowed again and left, I muttered, "We need someone like her if we're planning on surviving future wars… or plague."
Zalario nodded approvingly. "That woman's presence alone could heal half a battlefield."
I nodded at that and turned to Karlos.
"Ok karlos what are we lacking now?"
Karlos nodded thoughtfully beside me, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded as if scanning a list in his head.
"My lord," he said, "with Elira as Health Minister and Thalor as Historian, you've covered healing, preservation of knowledge, and infrastructure through Belmor."
He then added, "But as for education… Thalor could assist, but we need someone dynamic—young enough to inspire, yet disciplined enough to maintain standards. Someone who understands both magical and non-magical education, preferably."
Mimir chimed in my head, Lad, education ain't just dusty scrolls and lectures. You want someone who can spark the minds of tomorrow, not bore them into comas.
I scratched my chin. "Alright. We need someone who's a bit of a firestarter. Got it."
Karlos nodded. "Also, we still lack key positions—military strategy beyond Reinhart, internal affairs, agricultural development, and possibly magical research. But one step at a time, my lord."
I leaned back in my chair. "Alright. Let's see who walks in next."
The heavy wooden door creaked open, and in walked a tall, silver-haired man with a long blue coat and calm eyes that sparkled with quiet intellect. He gave a respectful bow before standing straight, his hands folded neatly in front of him.
"I am Alric Vann, formerly a royal tutor of Glora," he introduced himself. "I specialize in educational reform, curriculum development, and magical pedagogy."
I glanced at Karlos, who nodded subtly—no signs of deceit or hidden motives.
Mimir whispered in my mind, Lad, this one's sharp. Got a brain like a labyrinth and the patience of a monk. He's not just a teacher—he's a builder of minds.
"Alric," I said, tapping my quill, "what would be your vision if I put you in charge of education across Solara?"
He smiled faintly. "I would unify the systems of Bermud and Glora, train new instructors, and ensure every child—noble or common—has access to knowledge, both mundane and arcane. A wise kingdom is an enduring one."
I leaned back, impressed. "Karlos?"
"Clean. Passionate. Knows his worth but not arrogant," he replied.
"Alright." I jotted his name down.Alric Vann – Minister of Education.
"Welcome to Solara, Alric. We'll be in touch soon."
He gave a respectful bow again before exiting.
As I watched the door close behind Alric, that exact thought struck me. Wait a minute… I glanced down at the list we'd been forming—Belmor, Elira, Thalor, Halden, Alric... all from Glora or other scattered regions.
I looked at Karlos. "Karlos… is there really no one from Bermud itself?"
He frowned slightly, arms folded. "They're here, my lord. But most of the earlier applicants were either from Glora or were opportunists who rushed in after the fall. Bermud's capable ones… many are hesitant. They've been under weak leadership for years. Confidence takes time to rebuild."
Mimir chimed in, his voice like an old chuckle in my head. Aye, lad. Talent's not the problem. It's recognition. Some sharp minds in Bermud are probably sitting in the back thinking they'd never be chosen. Might take a personal nudge to draw them out.
"Hmph." I leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Then maybe it's time I made an announcement. Karlos—send word to the rest of the hall: I want candidates from Bermud brought to the front of the line. I'm not ruling a kingdom without its people."
Karlos nodded. "As you command, my lord."
The doors opened once more, and in stepped a man in his mid-forties—clean tunic, upright posture, a scar over his left brow that told me he wasn't always behind a desk. His eyes didn't waver, but neither did they carry greed or arrogance. He looked… grounded.
He gave a proper bow. "My lord Velsun, I am Garron Raithe. Born and raised in Bermud. I served under King Darius as an assistant to the old internal affairs head… before she passed. I was never promoted, but I kept the systems running in her absence."
I raised an eyebrow. So one of the quiet gears in the machine, huh?
Karlos tilted his head slightly, then gave me a discreet nod. Loyal. Capable.
"What are your thoughts on Bermud's current internal structure, Garron?" I asked.
He didn't hesitate. "Outdated. Corruption crept in at every level over the years. Officials turned blind eyes, systems were never modernized. The guards aren't coordinated. But the people—they still believe. With the right hands guiding them, we can rebuild something far stronger."
I smirked. "Confident. I like that."
I glanced toward Karlos. He mouthed: Solid pick.
I scribbled his name on the parchment. Garron Raithe – Head of Internal Affairs or Law & Order. Potential Advisor. Then looked up.
"Next."
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