The discussion lasted more than an hour. When it ended, everyone went off to their tasks, though Kael lingered a moment by the table, tapping his fingers against the wood as he reviewed the plans in his mind before following the others.
Rhys went to check in with the scouts and inspect the progress on the repairs. Eldric moved to organize the villagers for the harvesting operation. Lucas gathered the volunteers, ten more who had reported in, eager to help defend the village. Kael watched them go, rubbing his temples lightly.
Kael went to the training ground and practiced his swings with the sword. He knew it wouldn't help much—he was far from proficient—but the motion calmed him, letting his thoughts settle and plans for the village take shape.
He couldn't spend his mana on the traps just yet; in less than an hour, he'd be needed to defend the harvest operation.
Too much was swirling in his mind as he tried to devise better ways to defend the village. He considered digging a moat, but the frozen ground and limited manpower made it far too time-consuming.
If he were an earth mage, he would have had countless options, but he wasn't. He had to make do with what he had.
The day soon passed.
The expedition was a success; there were no attacks. They managed to harvest half of the wood they required, and as darkness began to settle, they retreated back to the village.
Tomorrow, they would have to do it again. Progress was slower this time, as they were short on manpower. Most of the villagers stayed behind in the village to work on repairs, leaving only about thirty men to handle the harvest, while the guards transported the wood with horses.
He was mostly useless; his magic wasn't needed, so he kept his gaze fixed on the woods, scanning for any sign of trouble. But none came. He felt useless. He was glad there had been no attack, yet a part of him resented it; no danger meant no chance to cull their numbers, to thin the shadowfangs before they struck again.
"Cull their numbers," he muttered. Not a bad idea, if they could do it safely—with a small group of elite guards on horses, ready to retreat if needed. He let the thought linger. If he could use his mana freely, without worrying about protecting the villagers, he could take out a lot of them.
The idea formed, but he knew he'd have to run it through with Lucas and Rhys. He was still as green as grass. Maybe after the feast, once the villagers and guards had a reason to celebrate, he could consider it. The preparations for the feast were already underway to lift everyone's morale after the recent losses.
He walked through the village, taking in the sights. The feast would be held in an hour, and the villagers were still hard at work. Torches were placed everywhere so they could continue even after dark. It wasn't very efficient, but with danger at their doors, they had no choice.
He helped a villager struggling to drag a heavy plank across the ground, then carried stakes outside the walls. Most of his mana went into shaping ice spikes, which he carefully placed near the palisade. It wasn't much, but it kept him busy, kept him useful. Every task, no matter how small, made him feel a little more useful, a little less like a bystander waiting for trouble to arrive. It wasn't the glory of battle, but it was something he could control, something he could do to protect the people who relied on him.
He noticed the villagers' looks—shocked, surprised, even a little awed. They hadn't expected their lord to lend a hand, let alone work alongside them in the cold and dim torchlight. For a fleeting moment, Kael allowed himself a small, wry smile. It wasn't the mark or the magic that impressed them; it was the simple act of showing he cared enough to get his hands dirty.
He wasn't certain how other nobles behaved; this was all new to him. The only noble he had really known was the Count, and even then, he hadn't observed him closely enough to understand how he treated his people. But it didn't matter much. Kael still saw himself as a commoner at heart, not as a baron. The title was there, sure, but he didn't feel like it did much.
He heard approaching footsteps.
Kael glanced up from the partially laid spikes, brushing the snow from his gloves. "Already?" he muttered, more to himself than to Lucas.
Lucas nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the bandage on his shoulder. "Yes, my lord. The villagers are gathering, and the guards are ready. They'll be expecting you."
Kael let out a soft sigh and stood, surveying the spikes he'd set. Not perfect, but enough for now. "Very well. Lead the way."
When they reached the village center, tables had been set up everywhere. Each villager had dragged out their own for the feast. Braziers burned in a wide ring around the gathering, while torches lit the center with a warm, flickering glow.
The smell of roasted meat reached his nose, rich and inviting. For the first time in days, the snowfall had ceased, leaving the sky clear and still. The villagers had cleared the ground of snow before setting up the tables.
The ground was muddy in places, but there was no better spot to hold the feast. The braziers gave off steady heat, enough to keep the chill at bay and ensure no one froze as the night wore on.
Looking at the gathered crowd, a small smile tugged at his lips. The villagers' moods were lifted—children darted around the braziers, laughing and playing, while adults bustled about preparing the tables. Seats were dragged into place, some proper chairs, others little more than barrels or whatever they could find.
He felt a faint tug at his oath, as if it were acknowledging his effort, a subtle reminder that even these small deeds mattered.
A cheer rippled through the crowd as the last of the dishes were set down. The scent of roasted shadowfangs filled the air, and Kael realized just how hollow his own stomach felt. For the first time in days, the village smelled of food and smoke rather than blood and fear.
Lucas motioned for him to take the central seat at one of the longer tables, and though Kael hesitated, the villagers' expectant gazes left him little choice. He lowered himself onto the chair and raised the cup set before him.
The noise of the crowd dimmed. All eyes were on him.
Kael cleared his throat, silently cursing that no one had warned him he'd be expected to speak.
Kael shifted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes swept over the gathered villagers. A speech. Just what he needed. He had no idea what to say, and the thought made his stomach twist. Don't panic. Just… talk. Something meaningful… or at least not stupid.
He glanced at the crowd again, their eager faces full of expectation, and felt the weight of it. They'd survived, they'd worked hard, and now they were looking to him to say the "right" thing. He wasn't sure he even knew what the right thing was. Confidence was not his strong suit—sarcasm and awkward honesty were more his style.
He took a shallow breath, letting his gaze drift over the children running around the braziers, the villagers arranging tables, the guards quietly standing by. They were alive. They were still here. That was worth saying. Somehow. Somehow, he just had to turn that into words without making a fool of himself.
Kael rubbed the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably. "Well… I didn't expect to be giving a speech tonight. Mostly because I'm terrible at it, and I'm probably making this worse." He laughed awkwardly, raking a hand through his hair., "I don't even really know what to say besides… good job, everyone. Seriously. You all worked your asses off while I… just hurled ice."
He caught a few amused glances and realized he probably looked ridiculous, but somehow that didn't matter tonight. Everyone was here, safe enough, and that was enough for him.
Everyone was staring at him, expecting more. Raising his cup a little higher, he tried to sound bolder than he felt. "So, let's feast!" he shouted. "Eat. Drink. Pretend I said something inspiring."
A few nods, then murmurs, then a loud cheer broke from the guards. Cups clinked, mugs lifted, and the villagers echoed him with a roar that rolled through the square.
The feast began in earnest.
Kael sat back and let it wash over him. His plate was soon piled high with roasted meat, charred at the edges and dripping with fat. He took a bite and nearly groaned at the taste. Warmth spread through his chest, easing knots of tension he hadn't even noticed. The shadowfangs were definitely better as meat.
Rhys dropped onto the bench beside him, already halfway through a tankard of ale. "Not bad, eh, Baron?" he said with a grin, foam clinging to his beard.
Kael smirked faintly. "I'll admit, I didn't expect this much food."
"That's because most of the village gave up part of their winter stores," Rhys said, lowering his voice. "Not something they do lightly. But they wanted this. Needed it."
Kael glanced around again, at the smiling faces, the chatter, the brief reprieve from fear. He felt another tug at his oath, sharper this time, almost approving. The weight on his shoulders didn't vanish, but it shifted, settling into something he could bear.
A bard with a battered lute struck up a tune near the fire, and soon villagers were clapping along, stamping their feet. A pair of children began spinning clumsily in a circle, their laughter high and shrill.
Even Lucas cracked a smile; this feast was doing as much good for him as the others. For a fleeting moment, Kael let himself believe in this peace. That perhaps, just perhaps, it will always be this peaceful.
He planned on talking with Lucas and Rhys about the plan he had come up with, but after the feast started, he gave up. He would mention it tomorrow after breakfast.
He looked at the scene around him and smiled.