As the days passed, the farmlands of Raven's Nest, alongside the southern terraces beyond the reach of most visitors flourished beyond expectations. The golden seas of wheat rippled under the morning breeze, ready for harvest. Ravens soared lazily overhead, their caws blending with the rustling of the crops below. From the high stone balcony of his keep, Corvin watched with arms folded, face unreadable, absorbing the scope of what he had built.
He had prepared well.
Beneath the fields, massive underground storage chambers had been carved out through layers of reinforced earth. These weren't crude bunkers, but meticulously enchanted vaults lined with runes and glyphs to store. Cold runes kept rot and moisture at bay, while sorting stones catalogued and preserved crates in perfect temperature and humidity. Each vault could store the entirety of a full harvest, and two of them were already near capacity, humming softly with containment sigils.
