The Map Only I Can Read

The village scattered into organized motion that morning.

Groups moved east to the fields, picking up tools and baskets of seed. Children ran between them, chasing each other with sticks. The sick gathered by the tower, quiet under Solen's care, while Lenna moved among them with herbs.

The only ones who stayed back were Halrick and the kitchen crew, getting lunch ready.

Marrec and Elli were also missing from the work groups, they were with Kaela.

While the rest went east, Kaela led the two children northeast, just outside the village boundary.

"I'd rather you two burn down a rock than the village," Kaela said with a dry smile.

She glancing back at the straw-roofed homes barely held together by hope. "We're barely have nothing besides the shed to sleep in."

She picked a secluded patch of land—flat, clear of brush, far enough from anything flammable. There, she began to guide them through the basics of focus and breath.

Meanwhile, Ren searched for them. Halfway across the square, he ran into Caden and Mirana.

"Captain," Ren called, slowing his pace. "Where are you heading to?"

Caden shrugged. "No real plan. Thought I'd check on the workers, see if anyone needs another hand."

Ren nodded, then hesitated. "Can I ask you both something?"

"Go on," Caden said. "I'll listen first."

"I want you to start teaching the basics of combat. Not a full course, just… basic. Maybe some of the younger ones have potential. Can you spot talent just by looking?"

Mirana crossed her arms. "Sometimes. Body language hints at talent—but training tells the truth."

Caden added, "Hard work matters. But yes… some are born to it. Others won't, no matter how hard they try."

"I'll think on it and come back later.," Ren said. 

They split after that—Ren headed northeast to check on Kaela and the children, Caden headed east toward the workers, and Mirana turned west, to tower—where Tellan still sat tied to the pole.

This village is still very small, it doesn't take long to get to the fields. Ren who just arrived at the fields, he expected slow progress—fatigue, confusion, maybe people standing around waiting for orders.

But… what he found was harmony.

The workers done something more than expected. They worked aligned, cleanly, baskets passed from hand to hand, sweat dropping on determined faces. They moved with silent coordination, like players deep in the flow of a game.

It stirred something in Ren.

This wasn't just about surviving anymore.

They were building something they believed in.

He doesn't want to ruin the harmony. He gave a little distance, and just watched.

Until Tobren ran toward him, face tight.

"We've got a problem," he said under his breath. "Two, actually."

Ren followed him toward the Wasteland Tower.

***

Halrick stood at the tower entrance, arms crossed. He looked angrier than usual—which meant someone had truly crossed a line.

"Halrick," Ren said.

"Caught a boy trying to walk off with something in his hand," the man grunted. "Claimed he 'was saving for his sister.' Maybe true. Maybe not. I don't gamble with our stock."

Ren's brow furrowed. "How much did he take?"

"Enough for three meals. From today's count."

A small crowd had gathered now—watching, whispering.

"Where's the boy?"

"In the kitchen tent. Mirana's watching him."

Before Ren could head that way, a voice called from behind the crowd.

"You're starting to sound like a king."

Ren turned.

A tall man—broad shouldered and thick beard stepped forward. He'd come from the second village, Ren vaguely remembered.

"We work, you feed us. We don't, we starve. What's the difference between you and the ones who cast us out?"

Murmurs followed. Not many. But enough to note.

Ren didn't raise his voice.

"I'm not asking for anything, only honesty. If you have a better way to keep hundred mouths to fed, say it now."

The man opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"I'm not a noble," Ren continued. "I'm just someone who trying to make sure we don't die by next month. I could've just ran off with the money I use to buy stocks. But I can't"

He turned to the crowd.

"I can't pretend to be blind after seeing everything here. Food is tight. That's why the voucher system exists. You don't have to like it. But it's fair. And when it stops being fair, I'll fix it. With your help."

Suddenly they all fell silent. No one dared speak. No one could deny the truth.

Then Halrick break the silence, "I'll double check the stores. If any ration goes missing again, we'll lock the chests."

Ren nodded to Tobren. "Let Halrick handle the kitchen incident, we need him to have a little influence so that nothing like this happens again in the future."

As the crowd dispersed, Ren exhaled slowly, calm himself down.

Cracks were showing. Not in stone—but in people. And he knew those were the hardest to handle.

After the incident, Ren walked back to the fields with a cloth sack over his shoulder. Inside were the seeds he had bought in Ironpeak—grains, vegetables, and herbs.

In his other hand, he carried a bag full of small bottle—The Greenwake.

Ren moved wordlessly through the rows, nodding to a few workers as he passed. When he reached the cleared section Tobren had marked for him, Ren knelt and began planting.

He pressed each seed carefully into the earth with thumb and forefinger. No wasted motion. No shortcuts. He watered them slowly using a dented tin ladle, walking back and forth from the shared basin.

Then he opened the bottle of Greenwake and poured just a few drops over the newly planted soil. A faint shimmer ran along the rows. Not unnatural—just expectant. Like the land itself was holding its breath.

Ren closed the bottle, brushed his palms against his coat, and stood still for a long while, watching the soil.

"Mind if I join you?"

Ren turned slightly. Solen stood behind, his black robes were dusted.

"More than welcome." Ren said.

The young saint stepped beside him and knelt, murmuring a soft prayer. His palms met each other, glowing faintly—not a blinding light, but a warmth that pulsed downward.

Ren felt it through his boots.

"Don't push yourself, just as much as needed." Ren said quietly.

Solen just nodded in his deep prayer.

After Solen finished his prayer, "This magic isn't usual. It's… alignment. adjustment. There's a small difference."

The glow faded, but a presence lingered.

"You did it," Ren whispered.

Solen rising from his knees. "I only gave it a chance."

"Soft heart as usual." Ren murmured quietly.

Solen glanced at him. "You said something?"

"Ah, nothing."

They stood in silence—not awkward, but filled with hope.

A hope where they could watch the first stretch of fields take shape—like witnessing the birth of a baby.

A baby born from the village itself.