The System's warning about Lordling Falkan was a cold knot in Alistair's gut. For the next two days, he watched the tree line, half-expecting to see the man's thugs emerge. But the only thing that came was the quiet, relentless pressure of his own anxiety.
He saw the problem with painful clarity. They were becoming a single, shiny target. A successful, isolated family on the edge of the wilderness was a story that ended one way when a local predator took notice.
He couldn't tell them about the System. Not yet. The risk of them looking at him like a stranger, or the secret accidentally slipping out, was too great. But he could lead them to the same conclusions using the logic they already understood.
That evening, as Lyra tallied their earnings with a proud smile, Alistair spoke up, his tone deliberately casual.
"The chairs are selling better than we hoped. People in Oakhaven are starting to know the Ironwood name."
Lyra beamed. "It's only the beginning. I have a list of five more orders."
"That's what worries me," Alistair said, leaning forward. All eyes turned to him. "When a single tree grows too tall and bears too much fruit in an empty field, it's the first one everyone sees. The first one someone might try to chop down for its wood, or simply to take the fruit."
Kaelen's brow furrowed. "What are you saying, son?"
"I'm saying that Lordling Falkan's men were asking questions in Oakhaven the same day the Baron's scribe was there." He let that hang in the air. "We passed the Baron's look-over. But a man like Falkan... he doesn't play by the Baron's rules. He could send men to 'inspect' our workshop and have an 'accident' with a lit torch. He could claim we're using wood from his lands. He doesn't need to fight us; he just needs to make our life difficult until we pay him a 'fee' to leave us alone."
Lyra's smile vanished, replaced by a grim understanding. "He'd see our success as a debt we owe him, not something we earned."
"Exactly," Alistair nodded. "So we can't be a single, tall tree. We need to be a thicket. We need thorns."
"And how do we do that?" Elara asked, her voice laced with concern.
"First, we make friends, not just customers," Alistair said, looking at his father. "Father, you have the respect of the other woodcutters and trappers. We offer them a fair, steady price for their materials. We share the designs for the smoke-free hearth. We become the family that lifts others up, not the one that hoards its success. A snake thinks twice before striking a nest of ants."
Kaelen grunted in approval. "A man stands taller when his neighbors stand with him."
"Second," Alistair continued, turning to Lyra, "we diversify. The chairs are our flagship, but we need smaller things. Whistles, carved toys for children, sturdy utensils. We sell these cheaply and widely. It makes us a beloved part of the village, not just a luxury for a few. It's harder to crush a dandelion than a single rose."
Lyra's eyes lit up with the new challenge. "I can do that. I'll have Bren help me test the toys."
"Finally," Alistair said, his voice lowering. "We need to be unappetizing. Father, we need to start proper training. Not just chopping wood, but real drills. If Falkan's men see us as soft, they'll push. If they see we can push back, they might look for easier prey."
The family was silent, absorbing the plan. It wasn't a magical solution. It was better. It was a plan built on their own strengths: Kaelen's respect, Lyra's business sense, and their collective will.
"Alright," Kaelen said, his voice firm. "We do this. We build our thicket."
Over the next few days, the homestead buzzed with a new, purposeful energy. Kaelen spent more time in the village, sharing a drink and a conversation. Lyra and Alistair worked on new, simple designs. And every morning before dawn, Alistair and his father practiced their footwork and stances in the yard, the *swish* of their practice sticks cutting through the morning mist.
They were building a wall, not of stone and earth, but of community, economy, and quiet resolve. The System's warning had been the spark, but their own wisdom and unity were the fuel. They didn't know about the Baron's growing curiosity, or the summons that would soon upend their world. For now, they focused on the snake in their own grass, ready to become the thorns that would make him bleed.