Foundations and Futures

Levi stood atop a ridge overlooking Bogwater. The wind carried the scent of wet wood, hay, and smoke. Below, villagers moved in steady rhythm—digging shallow trenches, laying crude wooden frames, and hammering boards into something resembling homes. It wasn't pretty. But it was something.

Mae had once called this place a dying patch of swamp. Now it looked like it was trying to breathe again.

He made his way down toward the makeshift carpentry yard, where two men were shaping logs into lumber. Jory trailed behind, scribbling notes. Not far off, a crude foundation was being dug—future home of a storage barn for the ale barrels Levi had secretly spawned last night.

"Four hundred barrels," Levi muttered. "And only two cellars deep enough to hold them."

"Three, if we clear the old pit behind Mae's house," Jory offered.

Levi nodded. "Do it. Quietly."

By midday, Levi visited the aging mason again, a man known only as Old Brice. The old man had gathered three others—stone apprentices who had drifted to Bogwater from ruined hamlets.

"I've sent word," Brice told him. "To Hardstone Hall and the outskirts of Barrowton. There are still masons out there. Expensive. Wary. Some will come, most won't. But silver talks."

"I can pay," Levi said.

Brice stared him down. "That's not the problem. They'll come for coin—but if they don't believe in your village, they'll leave just as quick."

Levi raised a brow. "Then I'll give them something to believe in."

Back in his shack, Levi unlocked the file again.

Cheat File Active

Inventory Update:

Silver Stags: 1,300

Wood: 900 logs

Stone Slabs: 800

Ale Barrels: 400

Cheese: 350 wheels

Lizard Meat: 320 portions

Swampberries: ∞

He felt it. The power was there. But so were the rules. No iron. No weapons. No fire oil. No armor.

Materials, yes. Tools, maybe. Arms? Not a chance.

Still, he filled another set of crates with wood and stone. They'd need it.

Later that evening, Levi sat by the fire near Mae's home. He had a scrap of parchment and a charcoal stub. No grand meeting, no fanfare—just thoughts scribbled down as the fire cracked.

"Sewage canal: dig sloped trenches out west, away from main huts.Food storage: double the cellar pits.Housing: build 5 new barns before snowfall.Roads to Moat Cailin: stone path, at least one cart wide.Walls: maybe a palisade—but not yet."

The list looked ridiculous. Exhausting. Impossible.

He stared at it.

But he didn't stop writing.

Jory eventually joined him.

"You don't sleep much anymore."

"Neither do you," Levi replied.

Jory shrugged. "I used to think you were the laziest person I'd ever met."

"I was," Levi said. "Still am, in some ways."

"Then why do all this?"

Levi looked at the flames. "Because someone has to. And if no one better comes along… I might as well fake it till I am."