Chapter 41 - Before The Wave

The man still hadn't woken.

He lay quietly inside the half-repaired tower, breath slow but steady, body limp beneath threadbare blankets.

A damp cloth rested across his brow. He hadn't stirred since last night, not even when they moved him.

Ren descended the spiral staircase.

At the base, the large meeting table sat quiet, the morning sun spilling softly through the high windows.

Lenna was already there beside the man, crouched low, stirring a pot of herbal medicine over a flickering flame.

Ren approached quietly.

"How is he?"

Lenna didn't look up. "Stable. No wounds. No visible injuries. Just… exhaustion. He's burning off the fever slowly."

"You stayed with him all night?"

She nodded. "Yes, Mister Ren."

He studied her for a moment. Tired eyes, pale cheeks, steady hands.

"You should rest. Get some breakfast, Lenna. Your health matters just as much to this village."

He offered his hand.

She hesitated, then took it. His grip was warm and firm, not just helping her stand, but grounding her.

"Thank you," she murmured with a bow. "I'll eat and return shortly."

Once she left, the tower fell back into silence, the only sound the low crackle of flame and the occasional shift of stone settling.

Ren pulled up a chair beside the stranger.

He studied the man's face. Sun-burned skin, cracked lips, streaks of grime. Someone who had seen too much road, too little kindness.

Who are you?

And why do I feel like you're just the beginning?

Ren reached into his satchel and unrolled the half-burnt blueprint he'd found yesterday.

Gears. Levers. Mana-flow channels. A housing labeled "Stone Chamber."

He turned the parchment sideways, squinted. It was a machine, maybe energy. But too many parts.

He frowned.

How do I calculate this?

How do I build something I barely understand?

And more importantly… who can I even ask?

He let out a long breath and slumped back in the chair, fingers running through his hair.

His mind was already heavy with the burdens ahead. Every day brought a new crisis. And he still hadn't even finished yesterday's plans.

Then the man stirred.

Ren snapped upright.

A twitch. A faint groan. Lips parting, dry and cracked.

"Hey… can you hear me?"

No answer.

Ren quickly poured a cup of water, knelt, and gently raised the man's head.

The man drank like he hadn't seen water in days. Harsh gulps. Trembling hands. Then, finally, he exhaled and sagged back into the bedroll.

"Easy," Ren said softly. "You're safe now."

The man's voice came hoarse, barely a whisper. "…Thank you."

Ren set the cup down. "Can you talk? What's your name?"

A pause.

"Arlen."

"Alright, Arlen," Ren said. "What happened to you?"

Arlen's eyes fluttered open. His voice trembled.

"There will be more coming…"

Ren's expression sharpened. "More?"

"I don't know how many. Maybe dozens. Maybe fifty."

Arlen looked away, jaw tight.

"We came from the west. Driftwatch. The duke, Cassian Thornbay. He's lost it. Raised the taxes overnight. Tripled them. Anyone who couldn't pay…"

He swallowed hard.

"They burned homes. Took hostages. Enslaved entire villages. People sold everything they had. And when that wasn't enough, they ran."

Ren sat still, listening.

"We tried the capital. Tried to beg the king. But the gates were closed. Soldiers said we needed a noble's writ to even make a petition."

Ren leaned in. "They turned you away?"

"Didn't even let us through the outer gate." Arlen coughed again, weaker. "So we ran east. Word started spreading… about a place. Out here. Someone rebuilding the Wasteland."

His gaze fixed on Ren now. "It's you, isn't it?"

Ren didn't answer right away. Then, he gave a small nod. "I'm just trying to make something livable."

Arlen smiled faintly. "Then you're already doing more than any lord I've met."

A long silence followed.

Then Arlen whispered, "There's no going back for us. No homes. No fields. Some lost family. The only road left… is forward."

Ren sat in silence, staring at the blueprint again.

Stone chambers. Moving gears. Whatever this was, it wouldn't be ready in time.

Not for what was coming.

Because now, it wasn't just about building a village.

It was about saving one.

He left the man to rest and stepped outside the tower into the morning light.

The villagers were already working, some sorting salvaged lumber, others digging new trenches. But when Ren raised his voice, all movement slowed.

"Tobren. Sera. Lenna. Come here. I need help."

No questions. No hesitation. The three of them came immediately.

The rest of the villagers simply paused and waited. Silent, respectful. No one asked why. They didn't need to. When Ren called, it meant something important.

Lenna went inside without a word to check on the patient.

Ren turned to the others. "Tobren. Sera. Sit. We need to talk."

They followed him back into the tower, sitting at the rough-hewn table used for planning.

Ren recounted Arlen's story. Driftwatch, the taxes, the escape, the rejection from the capital, the rumor that had led them here.

Tobren's jaw dropped. "They're coming here?"

Sera slapped her forehead. "There's more coming already?!"

Ren didn't react. His voice was calm, but every word weighed heavy.

"We're running out of time. If what Arlen says is true, then this village will not stay quiet for long. I'd hoped for more time… but we don't get to choose the storm."

He laid out the blueprint on the table, flattening it with both hands.

"I can't afford to wait. The bare minimum we need to survive. Food, water, shelter, it has to double. Now."

He looked up at Tobren.

"This man came from the west. There will be more like him. Farmers. Craftsmen. Gardeners. We need fields, three times larger than what we have."

Tobren blinked. "That's too much. We don't even have—"

"If it's one village, we'll survive. But what if it's ten? What if it's half a city? Will we turn them away? Watch them starve?"

Tobren lowered his head. "You're right."

Ren turned to Sera. "We need to gamble."

She narrowed her eyes. "On what?"

"The mountain."

Sera froze.

"We don't have time to study it or scout it properly. But we need the drill. We need that water source. If the spring's real, we survive. If not… we lose everything."

Sera exhaled. "What do you need?"

"Adventurers. Two wagons with drivers. One to head north, one toward the ridge. Go to the Trade Union and the Guild Master. Tell them this is urgent and that I requested it."

"For payment?" Sera asked.

"Tell the Guild Master the Union will guarantee it, using the mining facilities as collateral. As for the Union, tell them we found another mining site slightly north east from this village. He'll help without asking. Greed moves faster than kindness."

She gave a sharp nod. "I'll take someone with me?"

"Tobren will assign someone, maybe Fera or London. They can serve as messengers long term."

"You're not coming?" she asked.

Ren shook his head. "I'll stay here. There's too much to do. The digging must start. The shelters must rise. I'll work twice as hard to make up for it. I can't lead with my eyes closed, not anymore."

Sera stood. "Then I'll move now."

Tobren followed. "I'll gather the workers. Expand the plots. We'll make room."

They rushed out, shouting orders and readying wagons.

Ren stood alone in the tower for a moment longer.

He rubbed his chin with both hands, jaw clenched.

His legs couldn't stop shaking.

He'd known this would happen eventually, but not so soon. Not before the systems were ready. Not before he had the tools.

And the question burned inside him:

Who spread the word?

Langton, after the delivery?

One of the bandits they'd spared?

Tellan, maybe?

Too many unknowns. Too many loose ends.

But no time now for blame.

Ren stepped back outside.

The wind was picking up. Distant clouds rolled low, heavy with change.

He rolled up his sleeves.

No more planning.

It was time to build.