Ragon, now seated and able to address the audience, realized something important..he lacked a team. Without one, there could be no proper governance. In the past, the village had been ruled by the patriarch alone, who made decisions without needing community support. But things had changed. Nineteen years had passed, the population had grown, and more humans had joined their ranks. The community was no longer small; it had become a budding kingdom.
Ragon knew that for any kingdom to survive, it needed wise and capable council members. Many who were nineteen might assume leadership should rest with those of their own age, choosing familiarity over competence. But Ragon thought differently.
Having lived over almost a hundred years, he saw no value in age alone. If he found an intelligent toddler, he would not hesitate to place them in a role of importance.
"Where is the map of this territory?" Ragon asked.
To his surprise, the hall fell silent. Not a single voice answered.
He turned to the two men standing at his side, his eyes narrowing slightly as though expecting them to provide clarity.
They only shook their heads, silently admitting they had no idea where the map could be found.
Meanwhile, Ragon remembered, "Father always kept a detailed map of this territory, updated every month. I should be able to learn much from that." A faint smile crossed his face as he recalled his father sketching the land's layout during his brief rests from hard labor.
"Don't worry the map is taken care of," Ragon said, raising a hand to calm the anxious murmurs of the crowd, who were already uneasy about not having one.
He leaned toward one of the guards at his side and quietly gave instructions on where the map could be found. Half an hour later, the guard returned, carrying the rolled parchment and handing it to him.
"I want all able-bodied men, fifteen years and older, gathered here at once," Ragon commanded. He needed their strength for what he had planned.
Soon after, a large assembly formed outside in the open field. The first stage of Ragon's plan was now set in motion, and his focus turned to the next steps.
"I want ten young men....the most agile among you to step forward."
Almost the whole crowd, nearly a thousand men rushed forward at once, eager to prove themselves.
Ragon chuckled. "So many, yet only a handful can truly move as needed."
Then he moved as a blur of silver lightning. He darted through the mass, his fingers brushing faces of each and everyone present. Each man he touched and the intention to block or react, but none could match his speed. Still, those tiny reflexes were enough to select those he needed.
As he dashed, Ragon shifted them deliberately as subtle shoves, sharp taps to the shoulder, a pull on the arm redirecting their steps while they were too stunned to realize. By the time he stopped moving, the crowd saw ten men now standing together on his left side. None of them had been there before.
For a moment, silence fell. The ten blinked, looking around in shock. How did we end up here? they wondered.
Ragon smirked. "If you are among the ten on my left, you have passed the agility test."
The chosen men broke into cheers, still dazed but proud. The others, though disappointed, couldn't deny what they had seen: their king's speed, precision, and intent were undeniable.
Ragon noticed the wary expressions on their faces and chuckled. "You don't need to look so worried. This is just the agility team. There will be plenty more opportunities.
Then, his smile widened slightly.
"After this, we'll be taking the fight to them."
"Ten of you will be called Team Shadow," he announced, scanning the group.
"Hey, you! Come forward!" Ragon pointed at a brown-haired boy with a slim frame, standing about 5'7". He carried himself confidently, as if nothing could faze him.
"Me, Your Majesty?" the boy asked, gesturing toward himself.
"Yes, you," Ragon confirmed. The boy wasted no time walking toward him.
"What is your name?" Ragon asked, studying him.
"Your Majesty, my name is Peter," the boy replied politely.
"Peter...that's a strong name," Ragon said, giving his shoulder a firm pat.
"You will lead Team Shadow." His gaze swept over the other members of the team. None of them flinched or questioned the decision; Ragon's presence alone had established his authority.
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Ragon raised an eyebrow and cut him off.
"Trying to refuse me?" he asked, his voice sharp.
"No! Your Majesty," Peter stammered. "I humbly accept this position. I will do everything I can to ensure the safety of my team." He bowed deeply, kneeling before Ragon.
"Good. Don't worry, no one will be left out," Ragon reassured, his tone lighter now.
"Alright, listen up. I'm not just picking the fastest or strongest," Ragon said, scanning the crowd with a sharp gaze. "I also need some of you to sketch."
A ripple of confusion spread across the group. "Sketch? Are you serious?" one man muttered, clearly baffled.
"I am," Ragon replied, calm but firm. "I want you to draw what you see in your mind. Not copying anything you see here...your mind. If your sketch matches what I'm imagining, you pass. That's it. Simple. Precise. No excuses."
Some individuals shifted nervously, clearly thinking about stepping back. Ragon's eyes narrowed as he caught their hesitation. With a quick flick, he sent a set of daggers spinning across the grass, landing perfectly in front of fifty men, freezing them in place.
"This isn't optional," he barked, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Everyone participates. You can either follow orders or face the consequences. Think carefully."
The crowd stiffened under his imposing presence. Slowly, one by one, they returned to their positions, subdued but alert. Some whispered to each other, nervously exchanging glances, while others focused, determined not to fail.
Ragon exhaled, straightened, and muttered under his breath, "Now… where was I again?"