Hero Synthesis had long been the backbone of the kingdom’s political and military strength. King Dorian VII had often wondered if his distant ancestors had realized, back when they first created the process, just how important it would become to the development and stability of the nation. Had they simply tried to create a magical soldier and fallen backwards into a weapon that would define the course of history, or had they realized from the start that their work would change the world forever? The Hero was a synthetic life form constructed from pure magical energy and maintained by the very power of the world itself through its integration with the kingdom’s ley lines. It had the strength of a thousand men, and the amount of power necessary just to damage it was truly staggering. In the entire history of the kingdom, the Hero had only been destroyed once, through the concerted efforts of hundreds of mages. All the other Heroes had fulfilled their duty until such time as they became inconvenient, at which point they had been released from their duty and thus dispersed. The only failing of a Hero was that it couldn’t be used for military expansion. The magic of its creation bound it to the ley lines of the kingdom, and as such, leaving the area it was bound to would quickly cause it to disperse into nothing. But even though this limitation had prevented the kingdom from growing into an empire, the use of Hero Synthesis had ensured peace and stability in the nation for many centuries. But it had been too long since the last time a Hero was created. The neighbouring countries had long since learned not to attack, and now several generations of the peasantry had grown up in times of peace. Never knowing the threat of hostile nations and the horrors of war, they didn’t properly appreciate just how fortunate they were to be ruled by a line of kings who could synthesize a Hero. They had grown ungrateful and entitled, complaining about such measly things as high taxes and societal inequality. If this went on much longer, there might even be a peasant revolt. And so, King Dorian had started working on a clever scheme. Carefully, covertly, he had incited as much hostility and resentment as he could manage in the neighbouring countries. He had to make sure the growing resentment couldn’t be traced back to himself, of course, so it had taken years. But now, finally, war had been declared against his kingdom. Several border towns had already been attacked, and the populace was frightened and uncertain. And in this uncertain time, King Dorian would emerge as a beacon of hope. He had turned the synthesis of a new Hero into an enormous public spectacle. Tens of thousands of people would see his gallantry as he saved this nation from peril. And once the Hero had repelled the invaders, nobody would question his rule ever again! Soon, both the populace and the neighbouring nations would be reminded of their proper place. He stood dressed in his most radiant finery, a wondrous figure lit by the glow of the magic circle. His voice steady, he chanted along with the fifteen court mages supporting the ritual. His part in the ritual was honestly rather simple, but at the same time it was truly indispensable. After all, the ritual was tied to the king’s authority. By its very nature, only the king could command the Hero, and only the king could rescind those commands. After almost half an hour of chanting, the Hero was finally fully formed. A humanoid figure built from pure magic. A brilliant presence whose ultimate power radiated from its featureless form. The Hero knelt before the king in accordance to its magical nature, and King Dorian almost giggled as the heady feeling of absolute power stirred within him. “What is my Duty?” The hero asked in a voice that somehow carried for miles despite its softness. “Hero of the kingdom! I, King Dorian VII, command you to save this country from the forces that threaten its very existence!” “Understood.” The hero rose so quickly not even the royal guard had time to react, a blade forming from its arm even as it stood. By the time the king started to realize what was occurring, his head had already been parted from his shoulders. Abel looked out through the window with mild concern. This was the second time the Hero had arrived to work his fields and care for his animals. The Hero did some odd things when it worked the farm, but it always explained the reasoning behind its actions with its impossibly audible voice, so it was certainly instructive. Abel was certain that utilizing the Hero’s peculiar farming techniques would be very helpful to him in the long run, but still… Within days of its creation, the Hero had decapitated every noble in the country, from the highest lord to the smallest babe. Anybody who held any claim to nobility was swiftly and mercilessly extinguished. The heads had then been presented to the leaders of the invading nations, along with a recounting of the king’s various plots and schemes that had led to the conflict in the first place. A great deal of restitution had also been paid to the foreign nations, taken directly from the coffers of various noble families. This, together with the fear of the Hero’s power, had quickly led to the signing of a peace treaty. Since then, the former kingdom had arrived at a system of distributed popular governance mostly out of necessity. After all, anyone who tried to claim any kind of nobility or personal right to rule was swiftly disposed of by the hero. It was a chaotic time, to be sure, and things were still changing so swiftly that an old geezer like Abel couldn’t possibly keep up. But all in all, things weren’t any worse than they used to be, and Abel even dared to hope that they might get better in the future. Not that he’d be around to see it, but with any luck his niece would spend her twilight years in a better place than he had. Abel looked at the Hero once more. The glowing figure was sowing cabbage seeds as it held a lecture on something called ‘crop rotation’ that was probably audible to the entire village. Abel had always known you’d get better harvests if you grew beans or peas in your fields every few years, but apparently there was a lot more to it than that. It was an interesting lecture to be sure, and Abel was grateful for the extra help. His farm wasn’t large, but he was getting older, and he didn’t have any children or a spouse to help him work. But still… Steeling his nerve, he left his house and walked up to the edge of the field. Once the Hero reached a stopping point in its lecture, he spoke. “Excuse me, Hero…” “Hello, aging farmer.” “My name’s Abel.” “Hello, Abel.” Abel paused for a moment. Just speaking to this impossibly powerful being was enough to make his heart race. But the curiosity was eating away at him. He just had to ask. “Why are you working in my field?” “My Duty is to save this country from the forces that threaten its very existence. With the destruction of the nobility, which posed the greatest existential threat to the country, the next greatest threats are famine and external threats. Improving and safeguarding the food production capabilities of the country will minimize the risk of famine. Additionally, a robust food surplus will form a good basis for a benign trade relationship with neighbouring countries. This will lower the risk of invasion.” Abel was a bit taken aback by the idea that the Hero working in his field was necessary to protect the existence of the country. But before he could think of any further questions, he suddenly realized that given how well the Hero’s voice carried, the entire village must have heard the Hero’s side of this conversation. Which meant that everyone would know he went and questioned the Hero! They’d be poking fun about this down at the pub for years! He’d never hear the end of it!