For once in his life—or at least this new one—Levi Hallow decided to work.
It wasn't Mae's curses, nor the way Jory laughed as he got chased out of the cottage. It wasn't even the hunger. No, this time, it was a thought: If I'm stuck here, then I might as well try to make something out of it. The cheat engine could only do so much. Swampberries were fine and all, but even a hundred of them couldn't buy him more than a loaf and a few laughs.
So when Harwin returned earlier than expected from his last trip, Levi found his chance.
The man's wagon rolled into Bogwater under gray skies. His clothes were dusty from the road, his boots crusted with dried mud, and his face hard from travel. Harwin's eyes swept the small crowd that had gathered. Jory ran to him, receiving a hand on the shoulder and a curt nod. But Harwin's expression was darker than usual.
Bad news. And maybe, just maybe, good news too.
Levi waited until the man had finished his business with the other villagers before pulling him aside near the trees at the edge of Bogwater.
"I want to talk," Levi said.
Harwin gave him a look. "You, wanting to work? The sun truly sets in the wrong sky today."
"Something like that. You look like the road chewed you up. Rough trip?"
Harwin leaned against a tree trunk, arms crossed. "South's flooded. Grain, corn, dried meats—every merchant from Duskendale to the Trident's trying to sell what the south no longer wants. Too much stock, not enough coin. Lords and smallfolk alike offering half price or none at all."
Levi's eyes lit up. "So no one's buying?"
"Only the North, maybe," Harwin muttered. "But the prices are steep, and it's first come, first serve. Those southern merchants now make Northerners pay threefold for a single sack of oats. Bastards."
Levi rubbed his chin. "Then we go north."
Harwin looked at him sideways. "You think you're the first to have that thought?"
"No," Levi said. "But most will aim for White Harbor. It's closest. Easiest."
"Aye. And already crowded."
"But not Winterfell," Levi said. "And the towns near it. People up there still need food. Real food. They're too far to go buying from every southern fool with a mule cart."
Harwin raised a brow. "Winterfell's no short ride. That's a long road. Roads that flood, bridges that rot. You'll need coin, wagons, guards—months of time."
Levi shrugged. "I know. But it's better than wasting goods here, isn't it? We don't sell near. We go further north—and sell it all there."
Harwin studied him, face unreadable. Then he scoffed, "It's a fine dream. But unless you've got coin—real coin—it's naught but wind. A venture like that? You'd need a hundred silver stags just to start. Men don't guard carts for pretty words."
Levi smirked. "Then I'll get a hundred silver stags."
Harwin shook his head. "And where's a boy like you going to get that?"
"I'll figure it out," Levi said, eyes gleaming. "You'll see. I'll be back a rich man."
Harwin didn't laugh, but he didn't walk away either. That was something.
Jory, who had somehow snuck close enough to listen, snorted from behind a tree. "Rich man, he says! You'll be lucky if Mae doesn't drown you in the river first!"
Levi rolled his eyes. "I'll have the last laugh."
Harwin gave a grunt that could have meant anything, then returned to his wagon, his mind already full of grain sacks and empty roads.
Levi stayed where he was, looking north.
Gold was out there. Somewhere.