The construction of the Nether highway was destined to take a lot of time.
Not only because of the long distance, while building, Garrett also had to clear various obstacles along the way. For this, he didn't hesitate to tunnel through nether fortresses and bastion remnants multiple times, or even blast through entire stretches of basalt.
Anywhere he laid down the road, if a ruin or fortress didn't block his path, it could remain as scenery. But any structure standing directly in the way was demolished without hesitation. Uninterrupted passage was the top priority.
There was no need to worry about hostile spawns along the route either. With his current equipment, nothing in the Nether posed a genuine threat, he could simply power through.
If zombified piglins blocked the way, they were cut down. If piglins wandered around, they were kicked aside. If ghasts shrieked from above, they were shot down.
Even endermen carrying blocks wouldn't maintain eye contact for long, or else they'd get struck down too.
Compared to the overworld endermen, the ones here were somewhat bolder, even after being attacked, they would open their mouths and charge while screaming.
Of course, they all ended up as ender pearls in the end.
Time passed this way, slowly but steadily.
People in the overworld were working, and so was Garrett in the Nether. Not a single soul in the entire territory remained idle, everyone stayed busy.
The territory's development and resource accumulation progressed steadily and peacefully. Nothing unexpected occurred. The only thing he still kept an eye on was the dragon egg, which remained in the incubation process. It was difficult to predict when it would finally hatch.
It didn't resemble any dragon egg he was familiar with, at least, he'd never encountered a mod where dragon eggs took this long to hatch.
Perhaps it truly was a native Middle-earth dragon. But if that was the case, then the origin of the egg was rather questionable...
For most of the winter, nothing significant happened.
The only noteworthy event was that, about halfway through winter, a small wandering group of around a dozen people appeared at the stronghold gates.
They had come following directions from a trade caravan, having heard that this place welcomed hardworking and decent folk, offering shelter and everything needed for daily life.
Under Garrett's orders, after confirming that this group had no suspicious background, they were quickly admitted. Local residents guided them, helping them find homes, assigning daily tasks, and integrating them into the reputation system.
These long-term refugees had never experienced such a reception. Once they confirmed the residents were telling the truth and that these benefits were genuine, they immediately took an oath on the spot. The content included, but was not limited to, swearing loyalty to the lord and pledging to work at Wayfort for life.
Thus, they became temporary settlers. Once their reputation reached a certain threshold, they would become full residents and truly belong to this place.
"We used to live in a small village east of Archet. Life was reasonably good," said the man who appeared to have the most authority in the group once things had settled.
"Then a group of ruffians and bandits arrived. They looted and destroyed everything. Our village was left with nothing, our grain and the few silver coins we possessed were all stolen."
"After that, they continued north and hid in the nearby forest."
"It's strange, recently many thugs and bandits have been abandoning towns and gathering in the Chetwood. Any village without proper defenses along their path has been pillaged."
"We were among them. After our village was destroyed, we had no choice but to flee to a safer nearby town, seeking somewhere to live. We're truly grateful to the merciful lord for granting us new life here. Life here surpasses even our most prosperous days back then."
Listening to the man's account, Garrett couldn't help but feel somewhat grim.
So that explained why there had been no sign of bandits or thugs in the nearby towns, they had realized they couldn't survive individually and had banded together in the forest instead.
The Chetwood, if he recalled correctly, was near the town of Archet, on the edge of Bree-land. As a settlement built around the forest, lumber trade there was quite active. Even such a remote place could attract people, it seemed the trade caravans had traveled that route quite frequently.
"Have those bandits been active recently?" Garrett inquired.
"No. There's been no sign of them for the past month. They've probably all gone into hiding."
"I see. You all can go back to your work."
"Yes, my lord."
The refugee group began settling into their new lives and integrating into production.
Meanwhile, Garrett opened his map and began locating the area the new settlers had mentioned.
It wasn't far, just north of Bree, right beside the Greenway.
He remembered Gandalf had mentioned this place once in passing, he had been attacked there previously.
"That forest is still too free."
He closed the map and, for now, took no action.
It was winter. The bandits had already plundered enough supplies. As the refugees said, they were all hiding in the forest for the season. Even if he pursued them now, it would be difficult to locate anyone. But since they produced nothing themselves, eventually they would have to make another move if they wanted to survive.
That next move would be their final raid on the surrounding areas.
When the first tender shoot breaks through the earth in spring, it will mark their end.
He committed this matter to memory, then once again stepped through the Nether portal, heading to the far end of the construction site.
By now, the highway had grown impressively long, each time he entered and rode his horse, it took him nearly an hour to reach the latest construction point.
If progress continued at this pace, the road could be completed by winter's end. By then, he would be able to make several round trips in a day between Wayfort and Dale, if he wanted.
Even though the residents of the two territories couldn't meet each other often, they could all encounter their lord frequently. At last, the lord could maintain an active presence.
This winter wasn't particularly harsh, at least, not for the residents of Wayfort and Dale.
Since the Battle of Five Armies, many of the ruined structures in Dale had been rebuilt, thanks to the assistance of the dwarves and the efforts of the people. Many were now habitable again.
Some people chose to remain here for the winter rather than return to Lake-town.
Then, near winter's end, as the residents huddled by their fires, quietly waiting for spring to arrive, a portal made of obsidian suddenly materialized beside the city wall, glowing with purple light.
Garrett emerged on horseback from within.
The sound of hooves quickly drew the attention of a sentry guarding the wall. At first, the guard glanced over out of curiosity. But that one look instantly brought him to full attention.
"It's the lord!"
The lord had finally arrived!
Garrett didn't deliberately conceal his presence, so news of his arrival spread quickly. Some residents left their warm fires, threw on their cloaks, and came out to catch a glimpse.
But Bard found him first.
"Everything is progressing smoothly."
"I can tell," Garrett nodded.
"No one here looks hungry, and no one seems too downcast. At this rate, perhaps in a few years, this place will return to Dale's former glory."
Looking at the once-ruined city now beginning to revive, he suddenly added, "But I think... it's still too slow. I've been gone for too long. It's time I fulfill my duties as a lord."