The sun was high over Vekara, casting long shadows from the half-built homes and fortifications that marked the edges of the village. Leon stood at the top of a rise, looking down at the progress his people had made. He had watched the village take its first tentative steps toward becoming something more—a settlement, a community, and eventually, a symbol of resistance. But the weight of leadership was heavy, and even in moments of pride, his mind raced with the enormity of the tasks ahead.
Below him, the villagers moved with purpose. Some carried bundles of wood and stone to repair the outer walls, while others were busy hammering nails into new houses or hauling supplies from the outskirts of the village. The sound of construction filled the air, a constant rhythm of progress. Children, freed from the constraints of slavery, played near the gardens, their laughter a reminder of the life they were building.
Leon's thoughts drifted as he scanned the village. The training grounds were alive with movement as Rourke led the mercenaries through another grueling drill. They had improved, their movements sharper, their coordination tighter. Gorak was overseeing a separate group, teaching them tactics and the basics of hand-to-hand combat. They had begun to form squads, small units capable of defending the village, and eventually, of fighting a much larger battle.
But even as he watched the mercenaries and villagers grow stronger, Leon's mind was on something else. The village was not yet safe. He had no illusions about the peace they had carved out here. Sooner or later, word of their defiance would reach the king's ears, and when that happened, the full force of the kingdom would come crashing down on them.
The king.
Leon thought back to what he had learned from Jerik during their tense interrogation. The king's forces were concentrated in the capital, well-trained and loyal. The nobles that surrounded the king were either too afraid to challenge him or too invested in their own power to care about anyone else. They had no allies yet—no one they could turn to for help when the inevitable happened. And while the village had grown, it was still vulnerable. The walls weren't finished, and they lacked the resources to properly arm themselves for a prolonged fight.
They needed more. More people. More allies. More time.
Leon's gaze shifted to the growing garden plots where the women were busy tending to the soil. Even the smallest aspects of village life mattered now, like food and water. They were self-sustaining for now, but what about when winter came? What about when the crops failed, or the king's soldiers blocked their trade routes?
"We need to prepare," he muttered under his breath.
A shadow passed behind him, and he turned to see Mara approaching, her face soft but weary from the endless tasks that seemed to pile up. She joined him on the rise, her eyes following his gaze across the village below.
"They're making progress," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "The houses are coming together faster than we expected, and the gardens are thriving. We'll have enough food for the coming months."
Leon nodded, though his expression remained clouded with thought. "It's not enough."
Mara glanced at him, understanding the weight behind his words. "We're stronger than we were a month ago. The people trust you. They trust this village."
"It's not about trust," Leon said, shaking his head. "It's about survival. We're building something here, but it's fragile. The moment the king learns about us, he'll send his soldiers, and everything we've built will be reduced to ash."
Mara sighed, her brow furrowing. "What do you suggest we do? We've already started training the mercenaries. We've begun fortifying the walls. What more can we do?"
Leon stared out at the horizon, his mind running through possibilities. "We need to fortify the village faster. The walls need to be higher, stronger. We need more weapons, more supplies. And we need allies."
"Allies?" Mara's voice held a note of skepticism. "From where? The surrounding lords are either loyal to the king or too weak to help us."
Leon nodded grimly. "That's true. But there are always cracks. Jerik mentioned Lord Edran in the south. He's afraid of the king, but if we offer him something—a chance to stand against the crown—he might be willing to help us."
Mara crossed her arms, thinking it over. "And what about the risks? If we approach him and he turns us over to the king, we could be signing our own death warrants."
Leon looked at her, his eyes cold but resolute. "Every step we take is a risk. But doing nothing is worse. We'll reach out to Edran discreetly. Feel him out. If he's willing to stand with us, we might have a chance."
Mara nodded, though her expression was still cautious. "And what about here? What about the people? You've done everything you can to make this village feel like home, but if they feel threatened—"
"They need to feel safe," Leon interrupted. "We need to show them that Vekara can protect them, that it's worth defending."
Mara looked out over the village, her voice softer now. "You're right. But we also need to remind them why we're doing this. Why we're fighting. This isn't just about building walls and arming soldiers. It's about giving people a reason to stand with us when the time comes."
Leon's gaze softened for a moment as he considered her words. She was right, of course. He had been so focused on the practicalities of survival—food, water, walls—that he hadn't thought enough about the people themselves. They needed more than just security. They needed hope.
"Then we'll give them both," Leon said, determination creeping back into his voice. "We'll build the defenses, we'll train the soldiers, but we'll also remind them why we're here. Vekara isn't just a place to hide. It's a place to live."
Mara smiled faintly, a flicker of warmth in her eyes. "Good. Because people will fight for a home. Not just out of fear, but out of love for what they've built."
Leon nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. They had come a long way, but there was still so much to do. They needed to prepare for the fight ahead, but they also needed to build something worth fighting for.
As they stood in silence for a moment, watching the village below, a commotion caught their attention. A group of mercenaries had gathered near the gate, talking animatedly with Rourke. Leon squinted, trying to make out what was happening. A wagon had appeared, laden with supplies—wood, tools, and crates of food. It was a welcome sight, but what caught Leon's attention was the man standing at the back of the group.
Grig.
Leon felt a ripple of suspicion crawl up his spine. He had given Grig a task, allowed him a chance to prove himself useful. But the man was still a risk, still a wildcard. And now, as Grig gestured proudly to the supplies, a wide grin plastered across his face, Leon's suspicions deepened.
"I'll deal with Grig later," Leon muttered, his eyes narrowing.
Mara followed his gaze and sighed. "He's trying to stay useful. Maybe he's playing the game, or maybe he's just scared. Either way, you need to watch him."
"I am," Leon said flatly. "And if he steps out of line…"
Mara nodded, understanding what Leon left unsaid.
As the sun began to set over Vekara, casting long shadows across the village, Leon felt the weight of everything yet to come. The village was growing, but so too was the danger. The king's shadow loomed over them all, and Leon knew that the time for decisions—and battles—was approaching fast.
But for now, he had a village to protect, people to lead, and walls to build. And as long as he stood, Vekara would stand with him.
"One step at a time," Leon whispered to himself. "We'll be ready."