Novaterra is a novel I started in my quarterly finals creativity outburst following the Spring 2026 quarter. This is the most up to date version of the chapter as of June 28, 2026.

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Chapter 1

The Chicken Incident

The court was in session; Klain had an urgent matter. “Your grace, this dunker was found trying to cook a chicken; he was holding it over a fire, poorly feathered, and muddy. We found him just beyond the grove, under the cliff.” They pushed him to the ground.  Is this the kind of problem they bring me?  Serken hadn’t expected there to be this many matters to attend to when he took power. Regardless, since when do we have chicken here? Seconds had passed before he realized that was exactly the reason they brought him. 

“I make you a scout, a position most respected and rewarded, and this is how you repay me?” Serken asked, staring at the man. There he lay, dirty and bruised after Klain’s men beat him. Unfit for a dunker. He stood up from his throne and put on his signet ring, his only remnant from the old world. “Dunker Crale, you are hereby stripped of your dunker and reassigned to digging the Craven’s Nest.” He looked at Gran Klain, avoiding Gran Fliren, who was Crale’s uncle. “Klain, I expect you to ensure the needs of the digging effort are met.” The granster nodded before escorting the prisoner away. 

“Sir, I beg you. Klain is most cruel and irresponsible. Crale is my only blood left,” Fliren said the moment Klain left. “Two men have been injured and one has died due to his mismanagement.” Serken rolled his eyes. He had long been tired of their infighting; the left hand should not hate the right, he thought, fidgeting with his signet.

“And yet the Nest is near completion.” Serken sat down. “You were the one to explain this to me. The Nest will provide storage, safeguarding, and preservation.” 

“I’m not objecting to the project’s existence. Only to Klain’s methods! Listen, if you let me take it over, I would—”

“Enough with the bickering!” Serken slammed his fist on the armrest. “ You and Klain are—” 

“This is not bickering, Serk; this is—” Serken felt a surge of rage at the interruption. His hand turned to a fist, and he stiffened his shoulders.

“Brask!” Mere seconds passed before a guard struck Fliren. “I told you, call me Serk again, and you will face the consequences.”

“It was only a private discussion.” Fliren buried his face in his hands. “I did not think you were serious.” 

“When I tell you something, do you take me for a joke?” Brask helped him to his feet before throwing him down again. Serken waved Brask off. The guard growled but backed off. “You must understand, and if you don’t… then I… then I wonder! Why? Why are you still a granster?”

“Your grace!” Fliren straightened his back. “The schematics have been changed so many times. You’ve refused my counsel. This is not the project you approved. I have to bring up Theseus again.” 

“Stand up when you talk to me.” The hand obliged. “Let us not bog down in the ancient philosophical questions of the old world. Klain has been—”

“Klain should never have been the overwatcher in the first place!” Fliren interrupted. Serken reached for Brask, but he stopped himself short. He couldn’t afford to diminish the role of granster. Their universal respectability had been one of his greatest achievements. The only witnesses were Brask and the Arsha twins, a squire and a scribe. And still, word always seemed to find its way out of the room.

“Look, I’m sorry for striking you.” Serken was honest. It was a miscalculation. “I hope you understand why I thought it reasonable.” Serken looked over at the servants’ corner. Brask was helping Arashak fold linen.  “Out! All of you!” The court servants rushed to the exits. “We are not here to discuss Klain, only Crale.” Serken noticed how Fliren had visibly changed after hearing that. He was no longer confrontational, ready to throw out an argument. He looked sad, weak, and… human. Serken was no longer looking at a granster; he wasn’t looking at his left hand; he was looking at an uncle, worried about his nephew.

“Look, man, he was only hungry.”

“Gluttonous,” Serken corrected him. “Scouts are first in line for food; you lobbied for it.” Fliren looked down. “His job as a scout is to look out, map, record, and most importantly, to report. He found a chicken, a tremendous discovery, the only one anyone has seen since the Great Awakening, and instead of doing his duty, he concealed it!” 

“He is a boy—”

“He is a man grown! Look, I entrusted you to overwatch scouts. And you have done great!” A smile crossed the granster’s face. “The studies you lead are phenomenal; Luz alone has mapped out all west of the river, from the grove down to the southern forest!”

“Luz is a great study; I’m glad you appointed him.” Indeed, Luz was one of Harken’s men, but Fliren had always made sure to give Harken’s credit to Serken, for some reason…

“If it weren’t for Klain’s rangers, I might have never learned of this discovery; there was a reason I gave him the rangers.”

“And was there a reason you gave him my nest?”

“Yes, you were gone.” Serken would rather forget that scout. “Man, I still remember his empty eyes. How long you said he was dead when the search found him?” Fliren knew not to respond. “Klain was here; you already had too many roles. I gave him his third.”

“I had a feeling I had convinced you.” Fliren ran his fingers through his hair. “I wish you had made your ruling before you sent me searching.” Serken looked at him curiously. “The whole search, I was looking for ways to convince you to build the nest, not for the missing scout.”

“We all made mistakes that day, but the kid is gone, and we cannot dwell on that. Besides,” Serken looked away, “he was cold when you found him.” Serken regretted deciding while Fliren was away. “Klain told me he was ready,” their gazes met, “and he made the guards and rangers into efficient bureaucracies no longer requiring his constant overwatch.” Fliren fixed his posture, which slipped at some point.

“Losing a scout is a hit.” Fliren’s voice flattened back to its usual form. “We need to promote someone up the chain. I need a replacement, and—” They heard laughter roaring outside, catching both of their attentions. 

“Court!” Serken commanded. Brask and Arashak opened the chamber doors and let in a large host of men. During court, men of all professions were allowed in as long as they weren’t missing duty. Studies, scouts, and rangers frequented court meetings, hoping for new opportunities. But you could also find diggers, cleaners, and cooks coming in. Serken looked over at a group of diggers. Stained rags for clothes, dirty from head to toe. They were not where they belonged. But with them, he saw Klain fraternizing and trading jokes. “You can’t fool me, Klain; get out of there. Besides, I got an order for you.”

Immediately, Klain faced the king, dropping his conversation. He raised his hands above his head as a grin widened across his sharp face. “How can I help my king? He can have what-so-ever he desires, as long as it’s not in my pants.” He gave Serken a shameless wink. The assembly erupted in laughter. “My apologies, my liege, this man was just telling me about how Henry the Eighth had six—”

“Not right now, Klain; I have an order to give.” Serken fixed his posture and cleared his throat. “Granster Fliren lost a man today, and you got yourself a digger. Excuse this poor trade, but you are to send one of your rangers to join the scouts within the fortnight.”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, stop right there, gentle sir.” Klain wagged his finger. “I just got myself a new recruit to join the rangers; I can send him today.” Proud of his timeline, he continued, “He will make a great scout.” Klain let out a laugh; what was funny, Serken did not know.

“A skilled ranger.” Klain’s grin vanished; he groaned. “They lost Crale, a former dunker and a skilled scout; they need a worthy replacement.” Serken looked at Arashak. “I need a more private audience with my hands.” The squire showed them the exit. The crowd began to budge, but Brask’s standing up accelerated it. “Squire, I want Klain’s rangers to protect the privacy of this discussion.” Both of the Arsha twins exited the chambers. He looked at Klain. “Go on.”

Klain returned a sassy look. “Whatever you say, or whatever those goddamn oaths said.” He turned and stared at Fliren. “I must say my thanks for that nephew of yours; he is surely a great worker.” He smiled. “But even greater when he’s bleeding just the tiniest bit.” Klain giggled.

“Klain, you were not to beat Crale,” Fliren reminded his colleague. His usual monotone voice somehow got even more detached. “If I check on my nephew and see that he is hur., I will cut the rangers’ rations.” Fliren looked at Klain. Klain looked back. The room went silent. Arashak dropped something, but nobody moved. Klain straightened his posture, easily gaining 2 or 3 inches. Fliren stepped closer. Klain began a slow cry, and his giggle grew into a loud bark. The room erupted in laughter. Fliren was laughing so hard, he couldn’t breathe. They embraced at once, like long-splitted brothers. For a second, Fliren’s laugh paused. He told Klain, “I care about my nephew. Do not mess with him.” he laughed maniacally.

“I would rather soil my breeches.” Klain exhaled, he gave Fliren an earnest look. “That man is a hard worker.”

Serken walked up to them and whispered. “Just make sure he doesn’t steal a shovel.” Serken took off his signet. “Have the rangers found more chicken?” Arshas sneaked in and whispered something in Fliren’s ear. 

“No… I fear that was the only one.” Klain swallowed.. “Some say the chicken descended from the trees.” 

Fliren double checked something with Arshas. “We have good news! Eggs have been found!”  He patted the proud scribe on his shoulder. “I was just told the scouts have discovered eggs under the cliff; the chicken must have descended down from it.” He gave Klain a smirk. “Some were almost right.”

“Alright, this is exciting information. Gran Klain, I want nest builders to wall the section off before returning to their duties and have rangers stationed to ensure no one comes near. Gran Fliren, have your scouts work with studies and search the area for more. Have your studies carefully figure out if the eggs are fertile; have them look for people with experience, the usual ordeal.”