Teodor's face scrunched up at the latest of the incoming reports coming in from their neighbors, along with correspondence with the Third Legion. "There's no clear sign of any single leader emerging from the ongoing chaos," he sourly noted with a sigh. "Winter is coming soon, and there might be a few battles even once the snow comes. But otherwise, all the noble armies will be refusing to stand down and disband, in case of a surprise winter or early spring attack."

  "So instead, they'll be looking to feed and house them by occupying civilian settlements instead," his father concluded with an equally disgusted look. "As distasteful as that might be, there is little we can do about it. We haven't the resources or supplies to sally out in the middle of winter."

  "It would do little for us to interfere in the first place too," the vampire heir added and closed his eyes. "It's best that we continue to watch and observe. The Third Legion feels the same way and will be halting their efforts to setup camp to accept refugees themselves."

  "I feel for those who brave the cold to make the journey, and wish them the best. That is all we can do."

  ---

  Mordred grunted and lifted the thick piece of lumber, drawing stares from those unused to her monstrous feats of strength. She awkwardly set it into place and then, still holding it up, glared at the slack-jawed workers. "Come on, can't do this all day!" she grunted and the spellbound trance broke with the laborers quickly swarming to affix the piece into place.

  Once they were sure it had been set and reinforced, she finally let go and groaned, feeling her sore muscles. She watched with bated breath, ready to jump in and catch it if it looked to fall, but thankfully it stayed put. Good, her body really didn't feel like making any sudden motions right now.

  When the dragon started contributing to the reconstruction efforts, she hadn't felt anything first. But once she started showing up on the regular and really got into it, then that had been the kicker that really started exhausting her on the regular. It was like a marathon, where it was the adventurer's endurance being tested rather than her raw power. Kuch had been amused by it and had mentioned the only solution to that was probably a long hot bath- something that she couldn't selfishly request the castle servants provide everyday. So she put up with it and the cold days with plenty of grumble and muttering.

  At least this time, there was an actual way to measure the progress of Mordred's efforts. No, not just her own, but everybody's as well who was contributing to this construction project. She watched with a feeling of satisfaction as the last of the outer frame had been finally completed, the new inn beginning to take shape. It was far bigger than the old one, the owner taking advantage of the tragedy to build a new, better building now.

  When the walls were finally filled in alongside the roof, then it should be able to house this group of refugees quite handily.

  "Good work everybody!" the pleased supervisor called out, earning a round of cheers. "Let's take an early break today. We'll probably just be preparing the wall mix for the rest of the day, so no need to overexert ourselves. Go on and have some refreshments to relax a bit."

  This time, the response came out a little more tired as the workers realized how tired they were too and many began to stagger to the relief tents. There, those who couldn't perform the hard labor necessary for construction work for one reason or another were at least helping out another way. They stirred at giant stew pots or lugged buckets of water about to offer to the relieved refugees. The supervisor had kept his word in that there was always a way for everybody to earn their keep and still get fed in the process.

  "Here you go, big sister!" one of the younger children exclaimed, offering to Mordred a tankard. She took it and gratefully savored the nice, cool water. It wasn't quite Noel's rather addictive beer, but it was still strangely satisfying after a day of helping to build. So too were the stews they handed out.

  She looked over at the developing building and hummed, briefly recalling a time long past now. Her mother and her had made a habit of never staying in a single same cave all the time, always finding new issues with wherever they lived and unwilling or unable to address them. So they often moved to try and find a new, more suitable home, never quite happy or satisfied with any formed by nature.

  If Mordred possessed the abilities and knowledge she had now, could she have built a permanent home for them both? Likely not by herself, but maybe with the help of others too. Though she was just a simple muscle in the endeavor, she'd already learned a lot of weird and helpful practices that explained interesting concepts at the same time. Things like 'internal heating' and 'sealed interiors' which apparently could keep the cold of winter away once all properly setup.

  Her mind flashed to Noel's suggestion of turning that icy tomb into a shrine and she exhaled briefly. Maybe she'd give it a shot, with that puppet's help of course. She imagined they probably helped build a home or two in the day, and one of their dolls had always been doing manor restorations. So perhaps after taking her revenge, she'd one day go and build a good lair with all these features.

  That didn't sound too bad.

  Mordred's thoughts were suddenly interrupted when there was a shout and the sound of tableware falling to the ground. Heads turned, hers among them, to see that there were two groups of young individuals suddenly glaring heatedly at each other. One of them bore tattered clothing that was so emblematic of the refugees, while the others appeared to be dressed in cleaner commoner clothes favored by the city's residents.

  They were, without a doubt, two opposing sides of trouble that had been apparently sparked by the bowls of stew spilled between them both.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "You don't deserve our food! You barely do anything!" the leader of the city youths barked, earning some jeers from their friends. "Go back home, and get out of our city!"

  "What, afraid that we're going to take your jobs?" the young leader of the refugee group retorted, crossing their arms and puffing up their chest to the encouragement of their fellows. "We deserve to be here, and you're all just mad! You going to make up for the food you spilled?!"

  "Better it rot than end up in your filthy hands!"

  "Why, you pompous city-dwellers-!"

  "What's going on here?!" bellowed Gunther, who strode forward to stand between the groups. Mordred noticed curiously how both of them stiffened up at his arrival, almost looking respectful in that moment. "You two, haven't I told you both off already? Get lost, find somewhere else to be!"

  "Yes sir," both sourly told and led their respective groups off. With the conflict seemingly resolved, the workers slowly began to return to their break. But Mordred noticed they seemed a little more tense than before, like they couldn't put it out of their minds. She pursed her lips, then made her way over to the exasperated man who sent the troublemakers off to ask about them.

  "Oh, those two are practically like rival mercenary bands. In fact, I think both of them even asked me about how to become mercenaries when they grow up," he mentioned and made a face. "Apparently, that means that they'll listen to me and nobody else."

  "How unfortunate," Mordred dryly noted and looked blandly at the wasted food on the ground. "Still, feels wrong for them to fight over something good."

  "Something undeserved, more like. The city youth weren't wrong, I saw the refugees band doing not a single lick of work yet trying to sneak into the lines. But instead of telling me or a supervisor about it, they decided to deal with it themselves in a bad way. If that was even their motive- I'm under the belief they probably just wanted to stir trouble themselves." Gunther snorted. "Really, if that isn't the most apt representation of what real mercenaries are like, I don't know what isn't."

  "I see. Can't you just ask them both to cut it?"

  "I have, but both of them aren't willing to let it go. Not while there's still tension between both resident and refugee." He sighed and shook his head. "Best we can do is try to contain it, I think. It's not worth trying to force and creating a bigger issue out of."

  That last bit, Mordred entirely ignored. Maybe because the reasoning fell over hear head. Or maybe because she had a much better idea already in her head for dealing with them if they continued to stir up trouble.

  ---

  The sky spruce didn't lose its color even as those trees around it did, their foliage turning orange and falling off with the coming of colder weather. The dead leaves drifted past, some coming to rest on Frie's form as I sat there, unbothered and still meditating ever since arriving. Not needing food, drink, or even rest meant I had no reason to so much as twitch since taking a seat at on a large enough root.

  However still my body was though, the earth crystal core was emanating concentrated bursts of magical energy that one would normally associate with using skills. Yet without purpose or direction, they sank into the tree, feeding it with immense reserves of energy over time that I recharged slowly through measured breathing and focus. The power gradually helped stir a half-awakened awareness into semi-lucidness, one with a curious note of to it as the sky spruce took in their surroundings.

  PUPPET (Being, living, rock, person).

  "So you're old enough to know what I am, long before my kind have apparently vanished from this world," I murmured, focusing on the questions like a code to send into the code. "Do you know what happened?"

  It took more time for the question to be received, pondered, then answered all in the tree's own time.

  DISAPPEAR (Vanish, calamity, ritual, trick).

  "They decided to leave the public eye for something?" I asked, eyes narrowing. I tried to feel out the emotions behind the broad statement, seeing the relative indifference with a lack of concern. Something that the tree definitely wouldn't be so callous about. "For their own safety? Through some sort of deception. But form what?"

  RUIN (Destruction, shelter, descent, crystal).

  "Ah. The Crystal Conflicts." Very minutely, Frie's head bobbed up and down. "That would do it. Though I sense you perhaps bore witness to these wars?"

  OLD (Forgetfulness, nostalgia, youth, time).

  "It was indeed a very long time ago, one that I can scarcely blame you for having forgotten." But there was something else included in it, I felt. A sort of wistfulness, a longing for some sort of foreign sensation in its very earliest days as a sapling it felt before something was snatched away. "...Could it be that you were still around when the floating islands existed, and you bore witness to their downfall?"

  OLD (Wanting, longing, wishing, yearning).

  Hm, so it wanted to ask if it was possible to recall that very young time before it even first bore its own flowers? I thought on Eagle's passing mentions about communicating with the forests and frowned, trying to differentiate between what was lore and what was game. It might be, with enough energy to reach back into those days when it consciousness might not even have fully developed just yet. But it would be a lot of energy, on the scale of a spellcaster's magic ritual

  Or just one doll with an awful lot of time on their hands.

  Might as well. I was burning enough with questions on what had happened with the floating islands and the nomadic sky tribes. At least now with the tree semi-awake, I could converse with them on matters to pass the time. It has a curiosity of the world I had seen too, so I figured that perhaps I could at least share my side of the story while donating an awful lot of magical power.

  ---