The next morning, Ragnar rose with the first pale light filtering through the cracks in the wooden shutters.
He stretched his broad shoulders, feeling the satisfying pull of muscles still warm from sleep, then pulled on his rough tunic and boots.
Without delay, he strode out toward the tribe center, his long strides eating up the dusty path.
The central square was already stirring with early risers, women balancing baskets on hips, men hauling tools toward the fields, children darting between legs.
Ragnar stopped in the middle of it all, raised his voice, and called out in a deep, carrying tone that cut through the morning chatter.
"People! I've found a way to bring water straight to your houses, no more hauling buckets from the well every single day!"
Heads turned. Conversations faltered. A few tribes members paused mid-step, exchanging skeptical glances.
Ragnar only grinned, undeterred. "Come see for yourselves. No tricks, no spells. Just pipes and a little cleverness."
