Levi didn't sleep that night. Not out of anxiety, but because he was thinking too hard. That was a rare thing.
One hundred silver stags. That was the price Harwin tossed at him like a boulder he was meant to carry uphill. Not even "bring me a barrel of gold" would have hurt worse. Still, it wasn't a no. Harwin was willing, just cautious—and broke, like the rest of Bogwater.
The next morning, Levi found himself sitting beside the half-dried marsh trail, staring at his hands. He tried again. One swampberry appeared with a pop beside him, rolling into the muck like a bored fruit. Another. Then another. He stacked them, tried to create a pile. At twenty-five berries, they began to attract a cloud of flies.
"Lovely," Levi muttered. "My legacy: Lord of Flies and Berries."
He'd already pushed his luck once by flooding the village with a hundred berries. Now he needed a better plan. Grain was what people wanted. Real food, not just swampfruit. But he couldn't summon grain. He could only buy it. And to do that, he needed silver.
Which he didn't have.
He found Harwin behind Mae's home, sharpening a skinning knife.
"You again," Harwin said, without looking up.
"I heard something about a noble house up north," Levi said, leaning against a post. "Black Pits. House Slate. Ever dealt with them?"
Harwin paused.
"Slates don't buy much. They're miners mostly. Poor land. Can't grow more than weeds and bad luck. Why?"
"Because if they're desperate, they'll buy. Even if it's just sacks of barley or half-rotted carrots. Or, Gods willing, swampberries."
Harwin gave him a hard look. "You think you'll make a fortune off hungry miners?"
"No," Levi said. "But I think I can sell enough to start one. And they'll pay better than folk here who'd rather trade me a nail for an apple."
Harwin wiped the blade and stood. "I'm listening."
Levi laid it out: buy grain from the south, or from nearby stores, mix in a small portion of swampberries just to fill the sacks, and sell it cheap to House Slate—cheap enough to undercut other merchants. It was a gamble. It was also the only plan he had.
Harwin raised a brow. "Even if you pull that off, you need guards. Wagons. Time. Men to load. What happens when Slate doesn't want your food, or some bigger fish gets there first?"
Levi looked around at the run-down homes of Bogwater. At the cracked pots and the lean men fishing with sticks. Then back at Harwin.
"Then we eat the berries ourselves and sit on a wagon like fools. But if it works, I come back with enough silver to build a house not made of mud. Maybe two."
Harwin folded his arms. "You still need coin to begin with. At least a hundred silver stags. Without that, it's just dreams."
Levi nodded slowly. "Then I best get to work."
He turned, producing another berry in his hand as he walked away. He tossed it in the air, caught it, and bit into it with a wince.
"Tastes like wet hope," he muttered. "And flies."
That afternoon, Levi packed a crate full of swampberries and began his new routine: walk the village, trade with whoever was desperate enough, and stash whatever silver he could scrape together. He would beg, lie, or barter if needed. Because he wasn't going to die poor. Not in Bogwater. Not in a world with cheats.
Even if all he could summon was a berry.
And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.