chapter 43: The harvest had ended.

Fang turned, pacing slowly along the rows, the warm life mana making the plants seem to almost lean toward him. "The soil here's fat and greedy. If you leave the crops too long, they'll rot or grow into monsters you can't pull out. Work steady. Work smart. Work together."

The boys gulped in unison.

Isgram, never missing a chance to twist the knife, added in his driest voice: "If one of you falls behind, we leave you to the cabbages. They're carnivorous at that size."

Yerevan made a choking noise. Figo stopped glancing at Gaia's horns real quick.

Only Hugo managed a shaky nod. "Got it," he said. "No problem. We'll... we'll harvest it all."

Gaia clapped him on the back so hard he nearly faceplanted into the dirt.

"That's the spirit!" she said brightly. "Alright, maggots. Line up."

Fang watched silently as she took over, directing the boys like a battle commander. Hugo scrambled to organize his crew, while the others muttered nervously and fumbled with their first oversized carrots.

As the work began, Fang stayed behind a moment, looking over the fields, feeling the life mana pulse under his feet like a second heartbeat.

Fang narrowed his eyes, the shadow of a smile ghosting across his face.The garden was just the start.The boys didn't know it yet, but today they weren't just harvesting food.

They were doing Fang a favour by even coming to work, as they would surely tell the rest of the village about the achievements of the chosen ones.

For Davra, most food came from trading with Whitemoor, but they weren't wealthy enough to solve the problem by trade only.

If Fang could make these fields thrive, it would ripple outward. First, Davra would become dependent on their food supply, and then the rest of the villages nearby would too rely on trading with their haven.

Then Whitemoor would get nervous.

Fang didn't care about their approval. He cared about results. Food meant power. Power meant leverage. If they could make this land produce more and more food, they would eventually be invaluable to the western settlements.

"Pick up the pace," Gaia barked, pulling a root free with her magic. "I'm not waiting all day."

The boys grunted and moved faster. Hugo kept his head down and pushed through. Figo still looked like he wanted to run, but fear or pride kept him rooted. Yerevan dropped a handful of carrots in his basket and swore under his breath.

Isgram smirked. "The cabbage patch is still open for stragglers."

Fang didn't bother to smile. He watched them work, weighing each one. He wasn't just looking for who could pull a carrot. He was searching for someone who would be trustworthy enough to come back for the next harvests.

Fang let the moment hang before turning away, boots crunching over the dry path.

He had no use for weaklings, but he had even less use for liars. Whoever came back without being dragged would be worth keeping an eye on.

He made a mental note: Hugo first. Yerevan maybe. Figo was soft.

He made a turn and looked ahead toward the new hut Isgram had built for the tools of the forge, as it started to pile up and make a clutter.

The hut was rough, but sturdy. Good enough for now. Stacks of metal rods leaned against one wall, next to bins of nails, hinges, and raw ore Isgram had smelted down. A half-finished anvil mold sat cooling in the shade, still radiating faint heat.

Fang scanned the supplies with a critical eye. They would need more iron soon. More timber too, if they wanted the next phase built before the rains.

He crouched by a basket of tools, checking the handles of the trowels for cracks.

Behind him, the boys were still grunting and cursing as they wrestled with the garden.

'Good. They will make sure to update Fujin about how big this garden is, they are spies in plain sight, but I don't care really.'

He picked up a heavy spade with a dark oak handle. He balanced it in one hand, tested the weight.

'Good enough for now.'

Gaia's voice floated over from the field, loud and merciless. "You're moving like you're digging your own graves! Get those knees into it!"

Fang allowed himself a short breath of amusement. She had the right idea.

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The sun sank low, casting long shadows over the cave entrance. Inside, the air had cooled, and the flickering light of a fire danced against the rock walls. The boys trudged into their new quarters, a small, isolated room made by Gaia herself. They'd been promised rest after a hard day's labor, but the unsettling quiet of the cave, mixed with the strange atmosphere of the place, left them feeling less than comfortable.

Hugo looked around the dimly lit room, his voice uncertain. "Uh... so, where are the beds?"

Isgram leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing grin curling his lips. "Beds? There are no beds. Get used to the floor."

The boys exchanged uneasy glances, and Yerevan opened his mouth to protest, but Isgram was already moving.

"Hold on." With a swift flick of his wrist, he threw a pile of bedrolls at their feet, each one landing with a soft thud. "There. Not a palace, but it'll do."

Hugo bent down to grab one, his fingers brushing the rough fabric. "Uh... right. So, no beds, no pillows, just... this?"

"Exactly." Isgram's voice was light, but there was an edge to it. "If anything goes wrong, feel free to scream. Loudly. The walls are thin, and we'll be able to hear it. Can't promise we'll come running, but we'll hear it."

Yerevan shot him a look. "That's reassuring," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Gaia, who had been standing just behind Isgram, clapped her hands together with a cheery smile. "You'll be fine. This is a safe place. Now get some sleep. We've got a lot more work tomorrow."

The boys awkwardly unfurled their bedrolls, trying to make the best of it. The firelight flickered, casting shadows on the walls. They settled down one by one, each of them trying to hide their unease behind forced yawns and exaggerated stretches.

Hugo sat down, staring up at the rocky ceiling. The sounds of the others settling in were strangely loud in the otherwise quiet cave.

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The Next Morning

The first drops of rain adhered to the fields, turning the rows of green into rolling waves of sparkles. The boys were already sweating through their shirts as they heaved baskets toward the weighing station Gaia had set up near the forge hut.

Fang stood off to the side, arms crossed, shadow rabbits lounging around him like lazy ghosts. Smoke was perched atop a barrel, watching everything with his eerie, unblinking stare.

Isgram crouched by the growing pile of produce, sorting and tallying with methodical precision.

"Potatoes: two hundred kilos," he muttered, scribbling the figure onto a flat piece of bark with a charred stick. "Carrots: one twenty. Beets: twenty. Herbs..." he weighed the bundles carefully, sniffing a few. "Eight kilos, give or take."

He straightened, wiping his hands on his pants, a strange light in his eyes.

"I don't believe it," he said, almost to himself. "This garden... it's reaching heights I've never witnessed. Not even in the old elven outposts."

Gaia glanced over, a playful glint in her eye. "Admit it, Isgram. You're impressed."

He barked a laugh, shaking his head. "Impressed? I'm bloody stunned.

"Then, he spoke more seriously: "We'll need to ration about a third for ourselves for the next month or two, until the next harvest cycle. That still leaves a mountain of food to trade."

Isgram tapped his fingers against his belt, thinking hard. "I need to find some books. This doesn't make any sense, I don't think that even Alona could guess the impact of the absence of death mana.

That doesn't make any bloody sense. I need to go into Davra, ask around. Maybe the smith will help me find someone who knows."

Before he could get the words fully out, Fang cut him off, stepping forward."Don't bother with books," Fang said, voice calm but firm.

"Talk to Fujin directly. He's got the ear of the merchants. This..."

He gestured broadly at the garden, "This is the beginning of something bigger than farming manuals. It's a revolution in agriculture. I have never seen anything like this on earth. It's not that I have seen such large amounts of food even there, but look at the size of those potatoes! Each one looks like 7 combined into one."

Isgram blinked at him. Then, without warning, he stepped forward and pulled Fang into a rough, tight hug.

Fang stiffened for half a second, completely dumbfounded, before awkwardly raising his arms and hugging him back.

Isgram's voice rumbled low, meant only for him."Thank you, lad. For everything. This is the result of our hard work."

Fang squeezed his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the simple, raw gratitude in those words. A single tear slipped free, carving a hot path down his cheek.He pulled back just enough to meet Isgram's fierce gaze and said hoarsely, "It was all of us. Together."

The two men separated, and for a moment, no one spoke.

Fang thought the silence was kinda awkward, so he decided to move forward with the day.

Fang whistled sharply. Smoke snapped to attention, and the two smaller rabbits bounded up beside him.

"Time to send the word," Fang said. He crouched, tying a strip of red cloth to Smoke's ear — the agreed-upon signal.

The rabbits bolted like arrows toward Davra, swift and unstoppable.

Gaia approached, arms folded, surveying the mountain of harvested food with a proud, predatory smile.

"More than a hundred sacks," she said. "And not a sack in sight."

Fang cursed under his breath, realizing the oversight. "Damn it. We can't exactly haul it loose."

Gaia only chuckled. "Relax. I thought ahead."

She patted him on the shoulder like a mother indulging a panicked child."I spoke to Alona before we left. She and some others have been weaving bags and cloth for weeks. Should be arriving with the merchants."

Fang exhaled slowly, tension bleeding off him. "You're dangerous when you plan ahead."

Gaia smirked. "You have no idea."

Hours passed, and in the distance, the fields shimmered under the rising sun.

The first glint of wagons appeared along the road to Davra.

The harvest had ended.