The knights were busy patrolling through the streets, stopping at every market corner and crossroad, explaining the new laws to the townsfolk. They taught how the new coins would work, how trade and property would now be handled, and what restrictions were set by Lord Leonard's decree.
Some villagers were visibly unhappy, their faces tight with resentment. Many had lost their lands under the new order — large-scale farming on private property was now forbidden. Yet Leonard had offered compensation, half the land's value in coins, and allowed them to repurchase smaller plots for homes or shops at half the price. They could still grow a few vegetables in their gardens, but the era of private estates was over.
To most, this seemed harsh. Whispers moved like wind through the crowd. Still, no one protested openly. The people had seen the harvests flourish, roads rebuilt, granaries full, and sickness reduced under Lord Leonard's guidance. They trusted him, believing his words were the will of the Divine Voice.
Leonard later called upon the Rotwood family, a lineage once known for their skill as woodcutters. Their late father had died fighting bandits, saving one of Leonard's men — a tale still told with respect. To honor them, Leonard gave them a new duty: crafting the coins themselves, using the special trees and plants that Natalia had nurtured in the back gardens of the manor.
According to the new laws, no one could buy food for more than a week's supply. If they wished for more, they had to give a valid reason. Leonard thought quietly to himself — people here are simple, naive. They only see good harvests and peace; they do not sense what stirs beneath.
Later that afternoon, he sat in his study. "Oswin," he said, looking over his reports, "how are things going?"
"All going well, my lord," Oswin replied. "No negative rumors or complaints have been heard. All workers are doing their part. Before the next month begins, plowing and sowing for the summer harvest will be finished, and material for the new projects will be ready."
Leonard nodded, satisfied. "Good."
A knock came on the door. A guard entered. "My lord, a man seeks an audience with you. He says his name is Robin Walt."
Leonard gestured for him to enter. The visitor bowed politely. "I am Robin Walt, servant of Cendralis Wildthorn — the noble who once supported your finances before you left the capital."
Leonard rose, offering a smile. "Ah, yes. Please, send my regards and thanks to Lord Wildthorn. He helped me greatly in those days."
"Of course, my lord," Robin replied warmly. "My master sent me to check on your town's progress. I have spoken with the people — all spoke highly of you. I shall tell my master how well you have improved their lives."
"I appreciate that," Leonard said, hiding his thoughts behind a calm expression. He knew well why Cendralis had sent this man — not out of care, but out of caution. He doesn't wish to waste his fortune on a failure, Leonard mused. If his servant reports success, he'll offer small help… if not, he'll stay silent.
When Robin asked, "Does Lord Leonard require any further support from my master?", Leonard smiled. "No, we are managing well. But you must join us for lunch."
He discreetly ordered Oswin to keep the witches away during the meal, not wishing Robin to grow suspicious. The servant knew nothing of the new faith, for Leonard had already told his followers that the Divine Voice refused the building of a shrine, insisting that loyalty be shown through work, not worship.
After lunch ended and Robin departed, Leonard joined the witches in the northern training grounds, a wide field surrounded by forest. The afternoon sun glinted off steel and magic as he arrived. All witches, including Lyra Quinn, were present.
Today was Lyra's departure. Her younger sister, Aveline Quinn, hugged her tightly, whispering tearful goodbyes. One by one, the witches came forward to offer their farewells. When Leonard shook Lyra's hand, she smiled faintly, her carriage waiting nearby, a cart of weapons behind her. Before leaving, she handed him a bag full of gold.
"Keep this safe," Leonard told Oswin and Elias, handing them the bag. Then he turned to the gathered witches. "I've seen your strength these past days. Now it's time to put it to use."
He began assigning roles carefully, one by one:
Arion – work mainly at the blacksmith forge
Seraya – assist in the bakery, still learning, and help Arion occasionally
Dareth – assigned to mines and construction
Liora – to hunt and fish, still learning to control her powers
Varyn – to hunt and fish with Liora, and help with animal husbandry
Elenor – at the blacksmith, focusing on crafting tools
Thalen – to manage food reserves and preservation
Nyssa, Corven, Isolde, and Rynar – to hunt and train regularly
Maelis – to heal and bless the people, improve health, and guide other witches in training
Zevra – serve as Leonard's secretary and maid in his cabin, continuing her studies
Natalia – to continue farming and researching new plants and materials
Aveline Quinn – to assist in construction and mining
Leonard looked at them all and spoke firmly, "Train every evening. Grow your magic, strengthen your bodies. You are the shield of this town — not hidden in shadows, but standing with pride."
As the sun dipped low, golden light spilled across the clearing. The witches bowed, determination burning in their eyes. For the first time, they were not feared — they were part of Orshek's foundation.
And Leonard watched them, silently thinking — The Divine Voice guides all, but it is through my hands that order will take shape.