How time passes like winter fleet.
The first snow came quietly, powdered across rooftops and dead leaves like ash from an old fire. No storm, no frostbite just a quiet reminder that winter always watched from the edges.
Bogwater had changed. so many moons had passed since Levi first stumbled into Mae's hut, dazed and half-starved.
In that time, the village had grown not like wildfire, but like creeping moss. A dozen new homes, most finished, some still skeletons of timber and stone.
A crude wooden watchtower overlooked the southern road. Children ran between pens of goats and rows of stubborn swampberry bushes.
Smoke curled from more chimneys than Levi could count.
Yet Levi's heart wasn't light. He stood near the edge of the village, watching Harwin scold a young builder for misplacing a support beam. He should have felt pride. Instead, he felt tired.
It wasn't moving fast enough.
The cheat engine still worked. Swampberries and silver. No weapons for now. Plenty of miracle flood of lumber or stone. And while Mae claimed food was never a problem anymore, Levi saw the strain. Growth brought mouths, and mouths brought hunger.
Then the sound of hooves.
A rider galloped in from the east, cloak heavy with frost, his pony lathered and panting. One of Harwin's scouts. Levi approached as the rider dismounted, breath steaming in the morning air.
"Message from the White Harbor group," the rider said, unstrapping a satchel. "She said you'd know who it's from."
Levi took the sealed scroll and small wrapped parcel. The wax bore no sigil, just a smooth impression likely a coin. Smart.
Before he could ask more, a shout rose from the north road. Levi turned.
A wagon rolled in an old one. Not one of their new builds. It creaked with age and groaned under the weight of bundled furs and hollow-eyed passengers.
Three families, perhaps twenty souls in total, all wrapped in ragged cloaks and despair.
Mae appeared beside him, having sensed something shift.
"Frostlanders," she said. "The ones we sent word to?"
Levi nodded. His throat tightened. One man limped beside the wagon, helping an older woman down. A child clung to a dead rabbit like a doll.
Harwin's men moved quickly no weapons drawn, but eyes wary. They didn't stop the newcomers. Only watched. Levi stepped forward.
"You came from the north?" he asked one of the men.
The man looked at him, eyes sunken and dull. "The snow came early. Game vanished. We remembered your wagon. Thought it might be lies. But we had nothing else."
Levi turned to the others. "We're no castle. No lord here. But if you work, you'll eat. You'll sleep warm. That's what we offer."
None answered, but one mother burst into quiet sobs. That was enough.
Mae took over, guiding them toward the longhouse where hot broth always waited. Levi returned to the scroll in his hand.
Inside the hall, he sat by the hearth and opened the letter. Lysa's handwriting greeted him, neat and deliberate:
We reached White Harbor half a moons ago. Prices are high. Weapons can be bought, but quiet dealings cost more. I found two merchants who asked few questions. One deals in river steel, the other in boiled leather armor. Both are cautious, but willing.
I used thirty-one stags. Bought a sample. Kept receipts.
People are curious. I said little. Told them I was testing prices for a northern trader. Some smiled, some watched too long.
The docks are full. Southron ships bring southern whispers. The Manderlys keep their ears open. We must do the same.
Levi unwrapped the parcel. A plain dagger sharp, clean, well-balanced. Beside it, a pin: a wolf carved from pine, painted silver. Likely a local craft. Maybe a token. Maybe a warning.
He stared into the flames, the dagger in his hand. He should've felt triumphant. Instead, all he felt was the weight of more decisions.
It's working, he told himself.
Then the thought crept in: But too slow.
He opened the cheat engine again, staring at the numbers. Still locked. Still berries. Still silver. He whispered to no one:
"Next time… something faster."