He rose from his chair, walking to the corner of the room where he had arranged prototypes of weapons and elixirs. The table was cluttered with glass bottles, alchemical tools, and experimental notes. Some bottles contained a light blue liquid that could heal deep wounds in a short time, while others held molten metal that could solidify into lightweight steel within minutes.
Thalion (noting): "Wound remedy, stable. Weapon coating, can already strengthen steel up to 1.5 times harder without adding weight. But this is not enough."
Then, he picked up a small, modified sword. Its hilt was engraved with symbols he had found within the Gate of Truth—transmutation circles that had now become part of his alchemist weapon system.
Thalion: "Rohan must be ready, not just to survive… but also to take part in history. I cannot simply be an observer. I must fight Smaug. And if Gandalf comes again, I will be ready."
He raised the sword, swinging it slowly. There was no sound, no heavy swish. Light. Precise.
Suddenly, a knock echoed from the door. But Thalion simply said:
Thalion: "Enter. But if it is not important, it can wait until morning. Tonight, I am designing Rohan's future."
No one entered. Only the night wind.
He sat back down and wrote one last sentence before sleep:
"In the history that will be rewritten, let the name of Rohan be known not only as the land of horse-lords, but also as a civilization that stood firm amidst the storm."
Rohan, once known only for its vast grasslands and mounted riders, was now beginning to change its appearance. On one side of the city, a place that had once been empty fields was now filled with rows of simple greenhouses, plots of herbal gardens, and small huts where thin smoke curled from simmering concoctions.
Thalion stood in the midst of a circle of seated villagers. Before him, a long wooden table was filled with various plants—athelas, valerian, calenlas, and several types of flora he recognized from both his old world and this one.
Thalion (in a calm voice): "These are not just leaves. These are hope. This is knowledge that can save the lives of your children, your spouses, and the warriors who defend this land."
Several mothers watched intently, taking notes on dried leaves used as paper. Young men and women stared with enthusiasm, some even already trying to mix infusions with the measurements taught.
Thalion: "Herbalism is not just for healers. It is for everyone. We do not know when war will come, but we know when we can prepare."
In the following days, Thalion opened open-air classes at three main points in the village. He divided the teaching schedule: mornings for the basics of herbalism and how to plant medicinal herbs, afternoons for basic processing, and evenings for discussions and experiments. He began to mentor the best students specifically so that one day they could open herbal houses in their respective villages.
Some nobles raised eyebrows at seeing the "Crown Prince" busy teaching the common folk about leaves and potions.
However, when they saw the results—healthier children, a drastic decrease in deaths from fever, and energy-boosting drinks being traded with neighboring kingdoms—their doubts turned into pride.
Lord Éldar (an old noble who was initially skeptical): "I never thought a farmer's grandchild could now sell tonics to Gondor. That young man... is indeed no ordinary prince."
Rohan's economy slowly strengthened not only from agricultural produce and weapons but also from small bottles filled with hope: healing potions, body-warming oils, and simple pills that helped with restful sleep.
Thalion (to himself as he closed his herbalism book at night): "This is not just about fighting with swords. It's about ensuring no one dies needlessly. It's about ensuring every citizen can be a protector of Rohan in their own way."
He knew that the more people knew how to live… the harder it would be for darkness to enter under the guise of salvation.
And as long as it wasn't for orcs, goblins, or other creatures of darkness—Thalion would teach anything that could save a life.
That afternoon, Thalion's private workshop was filled with sparks and the scent of hot metal. On a long stone table lay the design of an unusual sword—the blade was curved, thin, and long. A style very foreign to the world of Middle-Earth, but very familiar to Thalion.
Thalion (staring at the drawing of his katana): "If Zoro can wield three katanas at once, one is enough for me. But it must be balanced, fast, and sharp as Rohan's hope."
Thanks to his deep understanding of metallurgy, alchemy, and the properties of metals from his old world, Thalion managed to fuse two rare metals from the Ered Nimrais mountains and Rohan's old mines. Through a purification process involving complex alchemical reactions, he created a new metal—light as mithril, yet harder than ordinary steel.
The name of the sword: Ryujin Jakka — Flowing Flame Blade. A silent tribute to the anime characters who gave him silent encouragement, like Yamamoto Genryūsai.
In another corner of the workshop hung a special suit of armor. Unlike the heavy armor of Rohan's soldiers, this armor was sleek yet strong, layered with alchemical fibers and flexible metal plates. On its chest was engraved the symbol of a winged lion, with gradations of gold that seemed to glow when exposed to light.
Thalion (with a small smile): "Gambang Singa… because even a lion needs to dance lightly among the shadows."
But the greatest surprise was not the sword or the armor, but a small, pitch-black ring with fine ancient script engravings. He called it the "Storage Ring," an idea he had replicated from the world of anime and fantasy novels.
Using spatial compression techniques and the anchoring of "void" elements through alchemical arrays, Thalion created a miniature storage space accessible only with a touch of intent.
Within the ring, he stored:
Several bottles of healing potions.
High-calorie dried rations.
A set of backup small weapons.
An alchemical map and compass.
A personal notebook containing notes from the Gate of Truth and secret formulas.
Thalion (to himself as he observed his creations): "This world is harsh, and I don't know when I might lose everything. But with this… I have a greater chance of protecting what is important."
He knew his time was drawing near. The tale of Erebor, Smaug, and the journey of Thorin Oakenshield would soon begin. And he would not simply be a spectator.
He would be a part of that story.
The nights in Rohan grew colder with the arrival of spring from the north, but in Thalion's private workshop, the heat enveloped the air like a long dry season. Sparks from the alchemical furnace reflected in Thalion's serious eyes.
Before him stood an imitation of Ryujin Jakka, his modified katana.
But now, the sword was no longer just a beautiful metal blade. It had entered a new stage—a fusion of alchemist art and inspiration from Ryūjin Jakka, the legendary sword of Yamamoto Genryūsai, which he had once only been able to enjoy through screens and manga panels.
Thalion (whispering as he touched the blade's surface): "Not the true flame of a Shinigami… but this is enough to burn the fear from my people's hearts."
Through alchemical array techniques and a chain reaction between red sulfur crystals, energystones from the deepest mines of Rohan, and aether binding glyphs, he created an internal energy system within his katana.
As magical energy flowed into the sword, its surface began to glow red, emitting waves of heat that rippled subtly from the blade into the surrounding air. In its full mode, the sword could slice through steel like butter, even leaving scorch marks on stone walls.
However, this was still "Ryūjin Jakka Imitation"—its energy was unstable, only able to ignite for two or three minutes before requiring a cooling period. But it was enough to make enemies wary.
In his private training room, Thalion swung his sword with swift movements. Each slash created a gust of hot air, searing the wooden dummies hung like enemies in a simulation.
Thalion (to himself): "I am not yet Genryūsai, and perhaps never will be… but even a decent imitation can save lives."
Every night, after completing his royal duties and lessons for the people, he returned to his workshop. Taking notes, testing, failing, then trying again. Burning his fingers, causing small explosions in the room, but always… getting back up.
He wrote in his notebook:
"Note 31: Flame still unstable. Reaction of sulfur and energy from glyphs too rapid. Need a flow regulator combination. Perhaps try the spiral pattern from water formations to balance."
For he knew… when darkness truly came, it wouldn't be enough to just be smart or strong. Sometimes, one needed to ignite a flame, however small, to be a beacon in the night.
And Thalion chose to be that flame.
Candlelight danced softly in Thalion's stone study. Before him lay three simple silver rings, unadorned with lavish decorations, only subtle carvings resembling intertwined tree roots on their surfaces. But these simple rings held something extraordinary: a ten-by-ten-meter dimensional storage space within their spatial structure—the result of Thalion's lengthy experiments in dimensional alchemy.
He picked up one ring, then pricked the tip of his finger with a small knife, letting a drop of blood fall onto its surface.
A pale blue light flared briefly.
Thalion (softly): "With this… I bind you, not just as a tool, but as a legacy."
Within the ring, several important items were already stored: spare clothes, some long-lasting food, herbs, medical supplies, notebooks, and blueprints of some of his alchemist designs. Not a war arsenal, but a repository of life and strategy.
The next day, he brought the other two rings to the palace chamber, where his parents—King Théngel and Queen Morween—were relaxing with their advisors.
Thalion: "Father… Mother… I want you to keep these."
He offered the two rings, one to each of his parents. The advisors began to whisper, confused by the meaning of this gift. But Thalion stood tall.
King Théngel (surprised): "Rings…? Is this a form of symbolic appreciation?"
Thalion: "Not symbolic… these are tools of protection." "These rings can store items within them, Father. The size isn't large, only ten by ten meters, but it's enough to save lives in an emergency. Food, weapons, documents… you can store anything in here. You can access it by letting a drop of blood fall on it the first time you use it. After that… it will recognize you for life."
Queen Morween (softly, her eyes glistening): "You made these for us…?"
Thalion nodded. "And also for the generations after us. If I am gone one day, these rings can become our family heirloom. Not to show the glory of our bloodline… but to safeguard the lives of the people of Rohan."
King Théngel was silent for a long moment. He held the ring as if grasping a promise of the future. Then he turned to his advisors and said in a firm voice:
"Today, my son Thalion has brought glory not only to the fields and workshops, but also in legacy. We are not just building a kingdom… we are building a civilization."
That afternoon, the rings were imbued with blood and prayers. A silent protection that many eyes might never see… but would shield Rohan from the shadows of time.
Twilight descended softly over the Tower of Edoras. The wind from the plains stirred the thin curtains separating King Thengel's private chamber from the balcony where he often sat gazing west. There, he sat alone, watching the sky begin to turn golden, when Thalion arrived carrying two cups of warm drink made from the Rohan people's fermented grapes.
Thalion: "Wine from the south of the fourth field. They say this year's harvest is the best."
Thengel offered a small smile, accepting his cup. "They say that every year now… ever since you started that wine workshop."
They chuckled softly. Then silence fell, but it was not an awkward silence, just a deep quiet. Finally, Thengel spoke, his tone softer, almost like the murmur of the wind.
Thengel: "You know, Thalion… I never wanted to be the King of Rohan."
Thalion turned his head. Not surprised, but he hadn't expected his father to be so honest.
Thalion: "Why?"
Thengel: "Because… my father—Fengel—was a bad king. He treated the people like tools to maintain power, not a family to protect. His wealth was for himself. Fertile lands were given to sycophantic nobles, not those who worked. Rohan was slowly crumbling. I was disgusted, so I went to Gondor."
Thalion: "Then why did you return?"
Thengel gazed at the horizon, his eyes glistening but still strong. "Because it was my responsibility, Thalion. I hated that throne… but I hated even more to see my people suffer because of my father's mistakes. When he passed, and the golden seat was empty… I returned. Not for revenge, but to fix things."
Thalion (softly): "And you succeeded, Father."
Thengel shook his head slightly. "Not entirely. But… you are finishing it. Since you arrived, Rohan has not just risen, but breathes in a new way. With life. Children can play. Farmers can store their harvests. Soldiers can be proud of their weapons, not just afraid of the enemy. Nobles laugh not out of arrogance… but because the people are prosperous."
He turned to look at his son.
Thengel: "Thank you, Thalion. You are not just the heir of Rohan... you are the redeemer of our family's past wounds."
Thalion was silent for a moment, then replied without any burden on his face, only deep sincerity.
Thalion: "I am only doing what should be done... just as you did, Father. I am simply continuing."
Thengel (smiling): "In that case, Rohan is in the right hands."
The skies of Rohan were no longer as peaceful as before. The mearas now flew low, signaling that something lurked in the distance. The nights were no longer merely silent, but filled with the distant yet chilling sounds of growls and screams.
In recent weeks, the warriors of Rohan had to patrol more frequently. Attacks by small bands of Orcs occurred more often, sometimes at night, sometimes at dawn before the dew had time to dry. They came not just to steal livestock, but to raid fields, burn fences, and sow terror. But the people of Rohan were no longer weak.
The mounted warriors moved swiftly, sweeping away threats without much hesitation. Even the villagers, who had once been fearful and hidden, now learned to take up bows and spears, raising them with an unyielding spirit. But everyone knew, this was not yet the peak.
Meeting: The Defense Council in the Golden Hall
The atmosphere in the Meduseld hall had changed. Usually filled with the laughter of nobles bringing harvests and wine, it was now a place of serious meetings and large maps.
Thalion sat beside King Thengel. Before them, the nobles stood in a semi-circle. In their midst, Lord Edric—a senior noble usually calm—spoke in a louder tone than usual.
Lord Edric: "This cannot be allowed to continue! Orcs come every week. Goblins sneak in at night. We cannot rely solely on swords and courage!"
Another noble added: "We need real defenses, walls! Otherwise, everything Thalion has built could be destroyed just like that!"
Thalion nodded slowly, his sharp eyes fixed on the large map of Rohan spread out before him. "We will build walls. But not ordinary walls. We will build not just stone barriers, but a living line of defense that supports the people… and does not imprison them with fear."
Everyone fell silent. Thalion stepped forward, pointing to the map.
Thalion: "We will not build encircling walls like a dead city. But we will create a layered defense ring: lookout posts on the hills, archer towers, and small fortresses at vulnerable points. Around the main city, we will build a circular wall of stone and iron-reinforced wood. But the interior will remain alive—fields, houses, markets. Rohan must not lose its soul because of walls."
Thengel (in a grave voice): "Begin, Thalion. Use all your knowledge. Use the best people. I will command all nobles to support this plan. If war comes, we will not hide, but stand… with our heads held high."
From afar, darkness had begun to seep into the sky. But in the small towns and villages of Rohan, hammers began to clang, stones began to be laid, and Thalion's grand plan began to be implemented.
As the shadows of darkness spread from the north, Rohan answered not with fear, but with steadfast resolve.
Beyond the mountains, beyond the plains, and beyond those shadows… walls that were not just of stone, but of hope, began to rise.
In the dimly lit palace meeting room, Thalion unfurled a scroll depicting the designs for the new defensive fortifications. The nobles and King Thengel frowned, looking intently.
"These are the designs for the fortresses I will build to protect Rohan," Thalion said, pointing to the drawings.
The fortresses stretched along the vulnerable border regions. Their walls were made thick and sturdy, with an uneven shape that followed the natural contours of the land to make it harder for enemies to attack.
At strategic points, tall watchtowers stood with small openings for archers. Above the walls were wide pathways for soldiers to move quickly and deploy ranged weapons like large stone-throwing devices.
The fortresses encircled important villages and farmlands, forming interconnected defensive strongholds, like a net guarding the entire territory.
"The advantage," Thalion continued, "is that these fortresses are built with interlocking layers of stone, making them strong and durable. The walls are also designed to be easily repaired if damaged by attacks, and the pathways above are wide enough to accommodate many soldiers at once."
The nobles began to nod, impressed by the detail of the designs.
King Thengel: "With this shape, are you sure it can withstand the increasingly frequent attacks by orcs and bandits?"
Thalion: "I have considered the terrain around Rohan. These fortresses are not only strong, but they also utilize the natural landscape to our advantage. For example, along the riverbanks, we will build higher and thicker walls to make it difficult for enemies to cross."
Noble Eadric: "What makes these walls different from other existing fortresses?"
Thalion: "The design allows soldiers to move quickly and freely along the walls and easily deploy various defensive weapons. Additionally, the walls are built with a stone-locking technique that makes them long-lasting and resistant to impact."
Noble Wulfstan: "How long will it take to start building these fortresses?"
Thalion: "Construction will begin by laying the foundations at the most important points first. If manpower and materials are sufficient, we can complete the first fortress within a few months."
King Thengel (nodding firmly): "We must begin immediately. Rohan must be strong in the face of this growing threat."