Requiem of the Forgotten

The morning air was crisp, carrying with it the tension of a decision that would change Dragontown's course forever. People gathered in the open clearing, standing in uneven clusters, murmuring among themselves. The makeshift stage—a simple wooden platform raised slightly above ground—stood at the center, where Carmen now faced the crowd.

She looked calm, but I could tell she wasn't.

Carmen had a presence that drew people in. She was tall, with a strong, athletic build, and dark, shoulder-length hair that always looked like she barely cared for it but still managed to fall perfectly into place. Her green eyes were sharp, confident. And, yeah, she was attractive—not in a delicate way, but in the kind that made people instinctively respect her. A leader's kind of attractive.

The votes had been cast. The results were in. And here she was, about to take on a role she never asked for.

Amina stood near her, arms crossed, unreadable. Daisuke, looking a little too smug, adjusted his glasses while Caelith, as usual, looked like he was witnessing a scientific experiment.

Carmen cleared her throat and raised her hand. The crowd quieted down.

"Well, shit," she said. "Guess I'm in charge now."

There was a beat of silence. Then laughter rippled through the crowd. That was Carmen—blunt as hell. It worked, though. It took the tension down a notch.

She took a breath and continued. "Look, I'm not gonna stand here and pretend I have some grand plan. None of us expected to be here, building a damn city from nothing. But we are. And since you guys think I won't screw this up completely, I'll do my best not to."

Scattered cheers. Some hesitant, some genuine. Not everyone was happy, but at least no one was shouting about a recount.

I stood at the edge of the gathering, hands in my pockets. Watching. Listening. Feeling increasingly like I didn't belong here.

Politics? Leadership? That wasn't my thing.

I was just here because I survived. Because I was lucky. And luck runs out.

The election was over, but the real work was just beginning. The next step? Diplomacy.

"We need to talk," Carmen said, pulling me aside after the crowd had dispersed.

I blinked. "Uh. What?"

"Privately," she added, before glancing at the others. "I'll be back."

Amina smirked knowingly. Daisuke made no attempt to hide his curiosity. Caelith just watched in silence, like some kind of robotic owl.

Carmen didn't wait for a response—just turned and walked towards a quieter part of the settlement. I followed, feeling weirdly self-conscious.

It wasn't that I didn't talk to her. I did. But being alone with her? That was different.

I had never been great at talking to girls, especially not ones like her. Confident. Tough. The kind that had probably never struggled with anything social in their entire life. The kind that made guys like me feel like stammering idiots.

I stuffed my hands into my jacket pockets and tried to act normal. Which, knowing me, was a lost cause.

Carmen stopped near a stack of wooden supplies, leaning against one casually. "Alright, listen. We're heading to Seatown first before Topolin. You know that."

I nodded. "Yeah."

"We need a plan," she said. "I don't know shit about politics, and I need you to help me figure out what the hell I'm supposed to say to these people."

I scoffed. "Oh yeah, because I'm the picture of diplomacy."

Carmen smirked. "No. But you're smart. And you actually think things through, which is more than I can say for half the people in charge of shit back in the old world."

I frowned, unsure whether that was an insult or a compliment. "Fine. What's the goal here?"

"Convincing the other human cities we're worth taking seriously," she said. "Seatown, Gynsk, Delunia—they're all run by different people with different ideas. If we don't make Dragontown sound like a real city, they'll either ignore us or try to take advantage of us."

I sighed. "Right. And what's our angle?"

"That's what I need help with," she admitted. "You've got that whole cynical, sees-through-bullshit thing going for you. So tell me—what's our best bet?"

I thought about it. "We can't act like we need them. If we go in looking desperate, they'll walk all over us. But we also can't act too cocky, or they'll see us as a threat."

Carmen nodded. "So we find a balance."

"Exactly. We present Dragontown as independent but willing to cooperate. We focus on trade—Seatown has the biggest fishing network, Gynsk is focused on agriculture, and Delunia is basically a mining town. We offer them something they don't have, and we keep things on equal footing."

Carmen whistled. "Damn. You really do think about this stuff, huh?"

I shrugged. "I just don't want to get screwed over."

She grinned. "Then we're on the same page."

Later that day, the preparations for the trip continued. Supplies were packed, routes were planned. And in the middle of it all, the group debated what to bring as a gift for Lydia.

"We can't just show up empty-handed," Amina said.

Carmen groaned. "What do we even have? A bunch of wooden tools and questionable alcohol?"

"We have artisans," Daisuke pointed out. "A handcrafted emblem could symbolize our city."

"That's… actually not a bad idea," I admitted. "A carved dragon sigil or something."

Carmen smirked. "See? That's why I keep you around."

I rolled my eyes. "You keep me around because you need someone to make sarcastic comments."

"That too."

By late afternoon, I was done with the talking. With the planning. With the thinking. I needed to move.

I grabbed a spear—roughly made, but good enough—and headed toward the woods.

The air was different out here. Quieter. More real. My heartbeat wasn't drowned out by people talking, by responsibilities, by things I wasn't ready for.

I found a clearing and started swinging the spear, testing its weight. I wasn't strong. I wasn't fast. But I could get better.

For the first time in my life, I had a purpose.

I wasn't useless anymore.