Chapter 14: Refugees

The settlement stirred with early morning activity, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and freshly cut timber. Despite the grim encounter at the ruins, life moved forward. Walls needed mending, weapons needed forging, and food needed gathering. There was no room for hesitation.

Leon stood near the central clearing, arms crossed, watching as Garrick drilled the militia. The men were improving, but they were still raw—bodies tense, footwork sloppy, swings wide and desperate. Against another undead assault, they might hold. Against a real enemy? He wasn't so sure.

His mind turned to something else. Silver. They had uncovered a deposit near the rocky outcrops west of the river, but until now, it had remained untouched. It wasn't iron, and it wasn't steel, so what use did they have for it? Jewelry wouldn't help them survive, and he doubted traders were waiting nearby to barter.

But silver had other properties.

Leon opened his status window, eyes narrowing as he focused on his Extraction ability. If silver had any hidden qualities, he was going to find them.

He took a chunk of raw ore from a wooden crate beside him, its dull gray sheen catching the morning light. With a deep breath, he activated Extraction.

The system's familiar glow enveloped the metal.

[Extraction Complete – New Material Acquired: Purified Silver Essence]

A new item appeared in his inventory—fine, shimmering powder, lighter than regular silver. It pulsed faintly with energy.

Leon's heartbeat quickened. This wasn't just silver. It had magic in it.

Before he could inspect it further, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"My lord, the scouts have returned."

Leon turned to see one of the sentries approaching, out of breath.

"We found something."

---

The scouting party had ventured south, beyond the riverlands, following faint trails of smoke. What they discovered was more than just another empty stretch of wilderness.

A camp. Dozens of makeshift tents, surrounded by a crude wooden barricade. People—roughly thirty of them—struggling to survive.

Leon and Garrick stood at the settlement's edge, listening as the lead scout gave his report.

"They're not bandits," the scout said. "They're refugees."

Refugees.

Leon's fingers drummed against his sword hilt.

This was an opportunity.

More people meant more workers, more fighters. The settlement needed numbers, and this was the fastest way to get them. But there were risks. These weren't trained men or loyal followers. Some might be desperate. Others might bring trouble.

Garrick folded his arms. "Do we know where they came from?"

"They mentioned a town further south. Said it was attacked. Burned."

Leon's eyes darkened. "By who?"

The scout hesitated. "They wouldn't say. But they were terrified."

Another piece of the puzzle. Another sign that something larger was happening beyond the trees.

Leon exhaled. "Get ready. We're bringing them in."

---

The refugees arrived by sundown.

Tired faces. Hollow eyes. Some carried children, others what little belongings they had left.

The settlers watched warily as they entered, but no one raised a weapon. Not yet.

Leon stood at the center, his voice steady.

"You are welcome here. But if you stay, you work. You fight. You build. This settlement survives because we stand together. If you can do that, you'll have food, shelter, and protection."

There were no cheers, no cries of relief. Just slow nods, people too exhausted to do anything but accept.

Garrick leaned in. "That puts us at forty-three."

Leon exhaled. It wasn't much. But it was a start.

And soon, they'd need every last one of them.

Because the storm wasn't over. It was just beginning.

---