Chapter 206 – Seeds of Tomorrow
The council chamber still smelled faintly of woodsmoke and ink. A new winter storm had blown in from the north overnight, and the walls of the Hollow groaned against the wind. Frost framed the narrow windows, thin spirals of ice curling like pale script. Inside, braziers burned hotly, but the air remained sharp and biting. It was not an unpleasant sharpness, though—it was the kind of cold that reminded men they were alive.
Kael sat at the head of the oak council table, his shoulders squared, the magisteel sword resting sheathed against the wall behind him. He had called this meeting for more than reports or reaction; he wanted direction, vision, something beyond survival. His eyes studied his companions as they gathered:
Fenrik, ledger already under his arm, lips pursed as though preparing an argument.
Rogan, mug in hand, with snowflakes still clinging to his hair, stamping his boots loudly on the floor.
Varik, broad, wolf-pelt cloak weighing him down, eyes already scanning for food on the table.
Thalos, hood drawn low, silent and watchful.
Lyria, standing to Kael's right as she always did now, her presence steady and grounding.
The sound of stools scraping echoed as they settled in. Kael let the quiet hang for a moment before speaking.
"Our winter stores," he began, his voice deep, steady, "how do they fare?"
Fenrik cracked open his ledger, the parchment already creased from repeated use. He licked his finger, flipped a page, then tapped a column. "Stronger than last year. In truth, stronger than any year before. With Thalren's aid, the dwarves' shipments, and the harvest, we have enough food to last into early summer if rationed carefully. Dried meat, grain, root vegetables, salted fish. The people won't starve."
A murmur of relief rippled around the table. Rogan banged his mug down. "That's a bloody miracle compared to last year."
Thalos, ever the skeptic, cut in softly. "And yet, do we measure victory by one winter's reprieve? Have we already forgotten how close we came before?"
Kael inclined his head. "No. He is right. This is survival, not triumph. We've relied too much on fortune, on allies, on desperate measures. That cannot be our future."
Lyria's hand brushed his shoulder, her voice soft but firm. "You mean to say we must grow, not merely endure."
"Yes." Kael placed his palm on a stack of books near him, salvaged texts and tomes of foreign script. "The Hollow cannot remain a stronghold defined by raids and chance. When spring comes, we begin to build a nation. We will plow our own fields, raise our own structures, learn from what was lost and adapt it. No more food shortages. No more desperate measures."
Fenrik raised a brow. "Books don't till soil, Kael."
"They tell us how to do it better," Kael countered. His tone was sharp, but not unkind. "Knowledge is seed. Without it, we repeat mistakes. With it, we grow."
Lyria leaned forward slightly, her voice measured. "We should catalog them. Separate those of use to farming, irrigation, construction. We cannot afford to chase ghosts of knowledge that do not serve us now."
Fenrik sighed but nodded. "I'll oversee the scribes. I'll copy the useful texts, mark those that need study. We'll need more parchment, more ink."
"Done," Kael said simply.
Rogan snorted. "I'd rather break my back digging fields than read until my eyes bleed, but I'll admit—better blisters than burying another winter's worth of children."
The words silenced the table for a beat. No one argued.
Farming and Food
Kael steered the conversation forward. "The land south of the Hollow—how far is it cleared?"
Varik leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Not far. Snow holds it now, but in spring we can have men clear brush and stone. There's good soil by the riverbed."
Thalos added, "Irrigation channels will be needed if you mean to plant there. The river alone will not be enough."
Kael nodded, eyes narrowing. "The dwarves have engineers. We'll ask their guidance. If we can learn to dig channels and cisterns, the fields will thrive."
Fenrik scribbled notes into his ledger. "Crops? Wheat, barley, turnips—staples that last. We'll need livestock as well. Chickens, goats, pigs if possible. It's a longer investment, but worth it."
"Then we trade for stock in spring," Kael said. "Or breed what we can acquire."
Lyria's voice slipped in, firm. "We should also experiment with greenhouses. Wooden frames, glass panels if the dwarves can craft them. Some crops could grow even in colder months."
The council blinked at her suggestion. Kael turned, lips quirking faintly. "See? Knowledge."
Building and Expansion
Kael shifted the books aside, pulling a sketch drawn by one of the scribes. "The Hollow must expand. Houses are crowded. Fires burn too close together. If we are to hold six hundred now, more to come, we must build in stone, not wood."
Varik grinned. "About time. I'm tired of sleeping in timber huts that creak with every wind."
Rogan groaned. "Stonework? You mean back-breaking labor."
"The kind that lasts generations," Thalos said, finally lifting his head. "Better one season of hardship than rebuilding every decade."
Kael nodded. "The dwarves will teach us. We'll quarry stone, carve blocks, lay them proper. A hall that can hold all our people. Granaries, armories, storehouses. A true city, not a camp."
Fenrik scribbled again. "Labor assignments. We'll need masons, quarrymen, carpenters to work alongside. Rotations between farming and building, or we exhaust the same men."
Education and Knowledge
Kael rested his hand on another book. "Our young cannot only be taught to fight. They must learn letters, numbers, history, the sciences within these pages. If we are to grow beyond mere survival, we must know more."
Lyria's expression softened. "Schools, then. Small ones at first. Scribes teaching basic letters, farmers teaching their craft, smiths teaching apprentices. Each generation must surpass the last."
Varik grunted. "So, we become teachers as well as warriors."
"Yes," Kael said firmly. "Because our strength will not always be in our blades. It will be in the knowledge we pass on."
Trade and Alliances
Thalos finally spoke again, his voice low but steady. "And trade? We cannot wall ourselves off. The Hollow will starve without ties."
Kael inclined his head. "Thalren is one ally. The dwarves another. But more will come if we prove we have something worth trading. Stonework, weapons, harvested crops, knowledge."
Fenrik leaned forward. "Then we must also protect trade routes. Caravans, roads, patrols. Bandits will test us if they see us prosper."
Rogan snorted. "Let them come. We'll give them steel for their trouble."
Kael's tone hardened. "No. We are not raiders anymore. If we want trust, we must protect, not plunder. Let others see the Hollow as a safe route, not a feared one."
Lyria's eyes softened at his words, pride shining faintly there.
Defenses
"And yet," Thalos countered, "walls must rise. We are allies today, but allies shift. Envy grows with prosperity. If we do not defend what we build, we will lose it."
Kael's jaw set. "Stone walls. Towers. Gates reinforced by dwarven iron. But not to cage us—to protect what we build."
Closing the Meeting
The council had fallen into thoughtful silence. Plans had been spoken, notes written, ideas sparked. For the first time in memory, the meeting had not ended in desperation but in vision.
Kael leaned forward, his voice lowering. "This is not for us alone. It is for the children in the Hollow now, and for those yet unborn. We have endured. Now we grow. When spring comes, we plant not only fields but the foundations of a nation."
Rogan lifted his mug high. "To spring."
Fenrik raised his ink-stained hand. "To growth."
Varik smirked. "To stone walls and full bellies."
Thalos' hood dipped in solemn nod. "To tomorrow."
Lyria's fingers brushed Kael's hand beneath the table. She whispered, just for him: "To more than survival."
Kael allowed himself a small smile, the first in weeks. "To seeds of tomorrow."