Chapter 43 - Orders At The Tower

The air inside the tower was dim, heavy with fatigue and expectation.

Ren sat at the edge of the long meeting table. Sera was beside him, quiet for once.

The two adventurer groups filled the rest of the chairs. Only Kaela remained standing, arms folded, positioned behind her teacher like a silent flame.

Ren looked up. His voice was steady, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.

"As you all know… the refugees have arrived. Maybe more than we expected. Maybe more than we can even handle. And I don't know if they're the last."

Silence.

No one interrupted.

Ren continued, "There are three things that matter most right now. Water, food, and shelter. Based on our stockpiles and the resources we've gathered, we might last two months. Three, if we ration strictly."

He glanced at the list in front of him, then sighed. "Tobren is still gathering the exact numbers, but assuming we're at over a hundred new people now… we might only have one month."

He looked around the table, meeting every pair of eyes.

"And if we don't act now, this village will fall. Everything we've built will be nothing but dust."

"What's the plan?" Sera asked.

Ren leaned forward, fingers laced.

"With this many people, there will be tension. They're not like our villagers. Used to having little, grateful for anything. These people came from cities, towns, comfortable lives. They're desperate. Hungry. Scared."

He exhaled slowly.

"I need a guard team. Two shifts. Mix your groups. Don't be aggressive, just present. Visible. They don't need to draw weapons. Sometimes, just knowing someone's watching is enough."

He turned to Sera. "You can rest for now. We'll need you again tomorrow. I might ask you to move."

Kaela cut in sharply from behind her. "Move where?"

Ren met her eyes. "You remember the drill?"

Kaela nodded. "Yes."

"It's dead," Ren said. "We can't dig another well with what we have. But I found signs. Power stones buried in the mountain northeast of here. If we can get those stones, maybe we can repair the drill… or even make something better."

Caden stood up, already cracking his knuckles. "Then why are we sitting around? Who's coming with me?"

Solen, Vela, and Garreth rose without hesitation.

Ren raised a hand, apologetic. "Sorry. I know you just got here. I wish I could let you rest."

Caden grinned. "Rested enough in the wagon. If I don't stretch these legs, I'll cramp."

Ren smiled faintly. "Thank you. All of you."

The group gathered their gear and moved to the door.

Ren turned to the others still seated. "The rest of you, rotate into guard shifts later today. For now, just take their place. Tomorrow, I'll have a full schedule ready."

The meeting was dismissed.

***

But Ren didn't move.

He stayed seated, elbows on the table, hands clenched against his forehead.

His legs wouldn't stop shaking. His breath came in shallow bursts. The pressure of it all. The noise, the numbers, the eyes watching. Threatened to cave in his chest.

Then Tobren stepped in.

"I have the count."

Ren looked up, his voice dry. "Let me see."

He scanned the list, lips tightening.

"One hundred and eleven more…" he whispered. "Already?"

He set the paper down, then looked toward Tobren.

"Bring me yesterday's records too."

Tobren nodded and left without a word.

Ren stood suddenly.

He needed space. Air.

He climbed the stairs to the top of the tower. Wind brushed his face as he stepped into the open, stars just beginning to emerge.

He shut his eyes.

Breathe.

Slow.

If he rushed now… if he panicked… everything he'd built would shatter like glass.

He calmed his heart.

Then noise from below. Loud voices. Frustrated cries.

Calls for food. Water. Shelter.

Ren opened his eyes. His jaw clenched.

The village wasn't ready for this.

Not yet.

Then, he heard it. A baby crying. A mother's quiet voice, trying to soothe it.

He descended quickly.

In the crowd, near the food tent, he spotted them: a young woman, holding a bundled infant, rocking side to side.

She looked up, startled, as Ren approached.

"If you haven't found a place to sleep," he said gently, "take my room upstairs. You and your baby."

She shook her head. "No, no, lord. We're fine—"

"Don't call me that," Ren cut her off, but his voice stayed kind. "I'm not here to rule. Just to survive. Like you."

She hesitated, then slowly nodded. She accepted his outstretched hand and climbed the stairs with him.

When she was settled, Ren stepped back into the night.

And suddenly, things were clearer.

His heart was still heavy. His legs still weak.

But now, he could think.

He didn't sleep that night.

Instead, he planned.

He drew up work charts. Rotations. Task groups.

He drafted resource allocation schedules and emergency rations.

He labeled tents for sick, for families, for children.

By the time the sun crept over the ridge, the tower floor was scattered with maps and hastily-written notes.

***

In the morning, Ren gathered the crowd.

He stood on a raised stone platform near the well, his voice carrying across the field.

"This food," he said, "isn't free."

People shifted.

"But I'm not forcing anyone to work. If you're sick, if you're over sixty, if you're pregnant or caring for a baby, then you will eat. No matter what."

He paused.

"The rest of you, I ask you to help, to work."

He held up a square token. "This is a working voucher. If you work, any job. You'll get this. And this will get you food."

A few murmurs in the crowd. Doubts.

"I'm not here to give alms," Ren continued. "I work too. I don't sleep while you suffer. I bleed like you do. I sweat like you do."

His voice rose slightly.

"There's only one difference about this village and the other place."

A pause.

"I will never ask you to pay taxes. Not even a single coin."

That silenced them.

"When this village grows strong, when we have things to trade, when coins start flowing, those coins will be yours. Every one of them. I won't take a cut. I won't demand payment. I'll help build roads, homes, farms, machines. But never with your money."

He looked across the crowd.

"So if you believe in that… then help me. Build this village with me. I'll give you everything I have."

"I promise."

"And one more thing. For today, the food is free, you can eat three times without work. This is for everyone no only for the one who just came. You can rest for today, I'll arrange the list for work. And you can start working for tomorrow."

There was silence.

Then… clapping.

First a few. Then many.

Not everyone.

Some stood still. Silent. Suspicious.

They weren't ready to believe. Not yet.

But Ren didn't need everyone to believe him at the first place.

He just needed time.

And when time showed them who he really was…

They'd believe.

***

That day, for the first time in weeks, the village was quiet.

No sound of hammers or saws. No shouting over timber or rushing footsteps.

Only the soft laughter of children playing around the well, the hum of quiet conversations, and the smell of simple meals warming over shared fires.

People rested. They talked. They breathed.

And Ren, he sat alone on a shaded bench near the tower, watching it all unfold like a distant memory.

Somehow, in the stillness, his thoughts drifted. Back to a life that now felt like it belonged to someone else.

The old world.

Before all of this, before the Wasteland, before the tower and the map.

Back then, he worked a dull office job. Nine to five, every day, pushing numbers behind a screen for a company that never remembered his name, unless something went wrong.

He remembered the fluorescent lights, the coffee machine, the empty praise, and the hollow pay.

The boss never paid him more for overtime. Never thanked him. Just expected him to stay late, again and again, without recognition or reward.

He knew that kind of system. It burned people out, drained them dry, and threw them away.

That's why he quit.

That's why he joined the Rural Planner initiative. It wasn't glorious, but at least it was real. He had dirt on his hands, sunlight on his skin, and work that felt… honest.

But even that job had ended too soon.

And then. This world.

He didn't know why he was brought here. He didn't believe it was fate. But sitting there, listening to the laughter, watching the village finally breathe...

It felt like this place had given him something no other world ever had:

A chance to build something that mattered.

Not just for him.

For everyone.

He looked toward the well. A little girl was chasing a butterfly. Her mother watched from nearby with a tired but genuine smile.

Ren smiled, just faintly.

This world may not be the one he was born.

But it was the one he chose.

And he wouldn't waste it.