It was still early when the wagons returned.
Most folk didn't expect them for another two days, maybe three, but the sound of wooden wheels crunching over the dry road stirred Bogwater awake like a rooster's call. Levi was resting under his usual tree when he saw the dust cloud—three wagons, fewer than before, and no children laughing ahead of them.
Jory's father was among the riders. He looked tired. Not the weary sort of tired from the road, but the kind that settles behind the eyes and weighs down a man's jaw.
Mae stepped outside before Levi could even sit up straight. Her face stiffened.
"Too early," she muttered.
Jory came running, barefoot, excitement spilling out of him like an overturned bucket. "Pa's back!"
Levi stood and stretched, watching the lead wagon pull to a halt in front of the village square. A few men hopped down, one of them helping unload sacks of something—not tools, nor meat, but grain.
Harwin didn't linger. He waved at his son, handed the reins to another man, and strode straight toward Mae like a storm rolling in.
"Mae," he greeted flatly.
"Harwin," she replied, arms crossed. "You're early."
"Aye." He glanced at Levi, then back to her. "We made good time, but we cut the trip short. South's flooded."
Mae frowned. "Flooded?"
"Not with water—with food. Corn, wheat, barley. Even the crumbling towns near the Fingers are full. Grain from the Reach and the Riverlands, cheap as dirt."
Mae blinked. "So... good news?"
Harwin shook his head. "Not for us. They don't need us southerners selling grain anymore. Prices dropped near the Trident. They laughed at our sacks. Called it peasant feed."
Levi raised a brow. "Then why bring it back?"
"Because it's worth thrice as much in the North now," Harwin said. "The moment you pass the Neck, folk are begging for bread. Lords are hoarding what they can. The South may be drowning in food, but they've stopped sending any north. Say it's not their burden."
Mae's face darkened. "So the Northfolk must pay southern prices?"
"Ludicrous prices," Harwin confirmed. "We sold a single barrel of oats for the same coin it'd take to buy two ponies last spring. And that was cheap for them. First come, first served."
Jory, listening with wide eyes, asked quietly, "Is that good or bad, Pa?"
Harwin looked at his son, then sighed. "It's both, lad. It means we'll eat… but others might not."
Levi felt something itch in the back of his mind.
Grain.
Food.
Barter.
Prices rising in the North…
He glanced toward the sacks they were unloading.
Then slowly, ever so lazily, a grin crept onto his face.