Letters, Walls, and Truths

The sun had long since climbed past the mist-drenched trees of Bogwater when Levi stirred from his rest. A full morning of peace—a rarity now that Bogwater was no longer a quiet swamp village tucked from the world. It was growing. And so was he.

But even in growth, fear lingered.

Levi sat at Mae's old table with parchment laid flat before him. In one hand, a small reed quill; in the other, a half-eaten swampberry. The Cheat Engine file lay dormant, pulsing ever faintly, though he had long learned not to look too closely. Today, he wanted to experiment.

With each line of script and scratch, he attempted to rename his assets. "Gold" became "Silver Star." "Meat" was retitled as "Lizard Meat," and "Berry" became "Swampberry."

A test, small but meaningful.

He whispered the changes aloud, committing them like a prayer, and focused. A slight hum pulsed from beneath his skin, and then—a flicker.

He opened the inventory screen. Silver Star: 3. Swampberry: 40. Lizard Meat: 12.

The names held.

Levi leaned back, breathing out in quiet relief. If he could manipulate the names, maybe he wouldn't lose it all if he made a mistake. Maybe he wasn't as powerless as he'd feared.

Then came the knock.

Jory entered without waiting for a word, boots thick with bog mud and his brow raised in mild judgment. "You talk to yourself more now."

Levi smirked. "And you eavesdrop more. We're growing together."

Jory folded his arms. "You're not scared anymore. Not like before. What's changed?"

Levi stood slowly and walked toward him. He placed a hand on Jory's shoulder.

"I haven't changed that much," Levi said, voice soft but sure. "I merely grew up, friend. And I know one day you will as well."

Jory opened his mouth, but said nothing. Just nodded, and that was enough.

That afternoon, the elder sent for him. Levi arrived to the hall at the heart of Bogwater where Mae, Harwin, and a handful of the village heads gathered. The door closed, and a small scroll was laid before him.

"From the Neck," Mae murmured, "carried by hand."

Levi unraveled the scroll carefully.

The seal was simple, but unmistakable: a black lizard-lion coiled on a green field — the sigil of House Reed.

The message was short. A formal recognition. House Reed knew of Bogwater now, and more importantly, accepted its survival. They spoke of the dangers of the Neck, of travelers needing guidance, of dangers both natural and not.

And then they welcomed trade.

Levi swallowed hard. Trade.

This was it. Permission. Legitimacy. A door creaked open.

But with that door came responsibility.

He looked around the room, at the faces of the village—rough, tired, hopeful. People were still coming. Refugees, wanderers, craftsmen. Bogwater was becoming more than a settlement.

And it needed to be safe.

"We need walls," Levi said, rising to his feet. "Wooden first. Strong ones. Watch posts. A proper caravan ready to leave in three or four months' time. We can't afford to wait any longer."

There were murmurs, nods, and the slow kindling of resolve.

Levi stepped outside after the meeting, swamp winds brushing across his face.

"We'll build this together," he whispered to himself. "Stone by stone. Step by step."

And for the first time, the weight on his shoulders felt lighter than it had in days.