Over the next several months, Urelias Territory changed more than it had during several previous years combined.
Antony realized almost immediately that simply increasing the Territory Core’s energy wouldn’t be enough.
The system judged the territory as an entire functioning domain: population, security, resources, administration, production, infrastructure and stability.
The problem was that Urelias Territory had originally been designed for survival rather than growth.
Most of the buildings clustered around the central settlement. The largest warehouse sat beside the market. The main barracks stood only a few streets from the manor. Nearly every road eventually passed through the same central district.
That had been fine when fewer than four thousand Angels lived there. It would become a disaster if the population doubled.
So Antony stopped thinking about building a larger settlement and started thinking about building a city.
One morning, he stood over a massive table inside the council chamber while a projected map of Urelias Territory floated above it.
Oren Casil stood opposite him. General Alric leaned against the edge of the table. Commander Seris Vale sat with one leg crossed over the other while several newly appointed administrators waited farther down.
Antony pointed toward the central settlement.
"We stop building here."
One of the administrators eyes widened.
"My Lord?" He exclaimed.
"We’re already too dense."
Oren nodded slowly.
"I’ve been saying the market roads will become a problem."
"You’ve also been saying we should pave the ceremonial avenue with white stone," Antony countered.
"It would look excellent," Oren defended.
"We still aren’t doing that."
Oren looked personally wounded but Antony ignored him as he expanded the map.
"Residential expansion goes southeast and west. No more houses inside the central ring unless they’re replacing existing structures."
Seris leaned forward.
"Why southeast?"
"Best access to water." Antony pointed. "We extend the canal from here, then build two smaller reservoirs."
Alric frowned.
"That puts civilians closer to the southern approach."
"Which is why the wall moves," he said.
The room went quiet.
Oren raised an eyebrow.
"The entire southern wall?"
"Eventually."
"That is not a small project."
"I know." Antony looked around the table. "We keep building as though we’ll have four thousand people forever. We won’t."
One administrator cleared his throat.
"Do you expect immigration to increase that quickly?"
Antony didn’t answer immediately.
He couldn’t tell them about Cradle of the Divine Mother. He couldn’t tell them that the Family System was literally increasing reproductive stability inside the territory.
So he settled for the truth that didn’t reveal the source.
"I expect people to go wherever they feel safe." He tapped the map. "If neighboring territories continue collapsing, some of them will come here."
Alric nodded.
"And if we reach Orange?"
"More will come," he answered.
"Then you’re planning ahead."
"For once." Seris smiled. "Miracles do happen."
Antony ignored her.
"Craftsmen get their own district."
Oren immediately moved several markers.
"Near the eastern warehouses."
"No."
"Why?"
"Smoke."
Oren paused as he looked down at the map again.
Antony pointed farther away.
"Blacksmiths, smelters, leatherworkers, anyone producing fumes goes here. Downwind."
One of the administrators looked surprised.
"You’ve thought about this."
Antony glanced at him.
"I have lived here ten years."
"You usually leave construction placement to us," the administrators said.
"That’s why the old tannery is three streets from the bakery."
The administrator looked down.
"That was before my appointment."
"Convenient," Antony mumbled.
Seris laughed.
He continued.
"Merchant district near the eastern gate. It keeps outside traffic away from the inner residential areas."
Alric immediately understood.
"Security."
"Exactly."
"Military district?"
"North-central."
"Closer to the core?"
"Closer to all three main roads," Antony said.
Oren pointed to another section before adding.
"We could place the expanded barracks here."
"Good."
"What about the old barracks?" Alric asked.
"Convert half into training halls and the other half into reserve storage."
The discussion lasted almost four hours; roads were widened, new gates were planned, warehouses were moved away from single central storage points so one fire or attack couldn’t destroy the territory’s entire reserve, and farms were expanded outward along the southern plains.
Mining paths were reinforced toward two recently discovered iron deposits in the western hills. Hunting roads were extended north. A permanent healer’s hall was approved. A school was planned near the residential district.
That last suggestion surprised several people.
Alric stared at Antony.
"A school?"
"Yes."
"For combat?"
"For children."
Silence filled the room.
Antony frowned while looking around.
"What?"
Oren smiled faintly.
"Ten years ago you built barracks first."
"Ten years ago we were being eaten by monsters Oren," he firmly said. Antony looked back at the map. "If we’re going to have more families, children need somewhere to learn."
Seris studied him.
"You really have changed."
Antony pretended not to hear.
The first major wave of refugees arrived less than two months later. There were six hundred and thirteen of them.
Antony learned about them when one of the southern scouts arrived at the council hall and announced that hundreds of Angels were approaching the border under white flags.
Alric immediately mobilized the guard and Antony joined him at the southern gate.
The refugees were exhausted, some were injured, many carried only bags, and children sat inside simple wagons while older Angels walked beside them.
Their wings were different from those of the Mist Angels. Mist Angel wings were usually pale grey-white, sometimes almost silver when wet.
These Angels had white feathers with soft golden coloration toward the tips.
Dawnwing Angels.
Antony had heard of them. They were not considered a high-ranked Angel race,maybe somewhat stronger than Mist Angels.
Their light magic was more stable, they possessed better physical strength, and many had strong affinities for crafting, healing, and construction.
Their representative stepped forward.
He was an older man with one damaged wing.
He bowed deeply.
"Lord Urelias."
Antony didn’t return the bow.
"Straighten up."
The Angel hesitated, then obeyed.
"Name?"
"Edrin Sol."
"Where are you from?"
The man’s face tightened.
"Formerly Solmere Territory."
Antony knew the name, or rather, he knew what had happened to it.