The partnership for trade and information was finally secured. Orshek was no longer just a town. It was a settlement fighting to survive. Every coin, every weapon, and every decision carried weight.
Around skilled workers shaped bows. Their movements were steady, learned from repetition. Women and older children polished shafts, tied strings, and carried supplies. Watching them work reminded me of what was missing—schooling. But survival came first. Hunger, cold, and raids would kill them before ignorance ever did.
Oswin entered with the daily report. His face was lined with worry.
"My lord," he began, "ten men are fully dedicated to bows, with help from women and children."
I looked at the list. "And the crossbows?"
He pointed at the numbers. "If we split time between repairs and tool-making, we can produce about two hundred crossbows in a month. As for compound bows, seventy to eighty are already finished. They give better range and accuracy."
"Good," I said. "Start crossbow production at once. Train alongside manufacture. I want both hunters and militia ready."
Oswin shifted. "A village chief from the southwest sent word. He wants to bring his people here."
"They finally accept," I said. "Prepare for them. Shelter, food, and safety."
Oswin's tone hardened. "Scouts saw unknown men in that same direction two or three days ago. Villagers fear bandits after their crops."
So that was the real reason. "Let them come," I answered. "If bandits appear, it will test our readiness."
I closed the report. "Gather the hunters and strongest men this evening."
As I left, I saw Gerreth passing a letter to a messenger. My instincts told me something was wrong. I leaned to Elias and said quietly, "Bring that messenger to me tonight. No one else must know. Natalia will be there."
The afternoon was spent walking through Orshek. I marked sites for warehouses, checked construction, and reviewed defenses. Piles of stone, stacks of timber, reserves of clay—simple things, but they meant life when winter arrived.
When evening came, the hunters gathered. There were around forty to fifty of them—men used to stalking game, some confident, others nervous. They carried their own bows, worn and patched, but serviceable.
One man stepped forward—Rowan Falkner. He was tall, lean, and scarred. His presence alone drew attention.
"I pledge my loyalty to Lord Leonard," he said. "I will train these hunters and defend Orshek until death."
Murmurs spread. His reputation was known. I gave him command of the archer militia.
Rowan began at once. Stance. Aim. Draw. His voice was direct, his corrections sharp. Hunters listened. Mistakes lessened with every repetition. He had the qualities of a commander.
Next came the young men—around one hundred twenty to one hundred fifty. These would form the infantry, Orshek's shield line. Most were farmers and laborers, but their bodies carried the strength of work.
Elias oversaw them. The knights forced them into ranks, inspected weapons, and drilled discipline into them. They had little skill, but numbers mattered. If they held formation, they could resist both raiders and bandits. Orshek needed not just weapons, but a force that could act together.
Dinner was quiet.
At night, in the barn, Elias brought the captured messenger. Natalia stood beside me, silent and tense. I took the letter from him. It was addressed to the king, written by Gerreth, detailing my movements in Orshek. Gerreth suspected I was not who I claimed. The king would know soon enough. I knew the king's eyes were always on his children, but Gerreth's suspicion was more dangerous—he had known Leonard from childhood, and he would notice anything out of place.
I burned the letter. The messenger squirmed. "End him," I said.
Her eyes widened. Elias froze. Natalia's hand trembled.
"Do it," I ordered again.
She shut her eyes. I placed my hand over hers. "Look. Don't turn away. He chose his side."
The man tried to scream through his gag. Natalia's magic surged, raw and unrestrained. A wooden spike burst from the floor, piercing his chest and pinning him. Blood pooled darkly across the barn floor.
She gasped, shock breaking through her, but she did not stop. Elias tensed, but said nothing. When the man went still, I dismissed Elias.
I turned to Natalia. "Bury him."
Energy surged from her hands. The corpse sank into the earth, swallowed six feet below the barn. She shook violently, pale, barely holding herself together.
She had no loyalty to Orshek. The people meant nothing to her. They would have discarded her, used her, and thrown her away. She was a pawn to them. Broken, expendable.
But to me, she was not a pawn. She was part of me. An extension of my body, a weapon I could wield at will. I could move her, command her, and she would act without question. She was mine — my bitch, my shield, my blade. Not theirs.
I stepped close, gripping her hand. "Blood comes first. Hesitate, you die. You survive because you obey."
Every nerve was sharp, every muscle tense. My eyes never left her—her tremble, her shiver, her submission. She was mine, a weapon, part of my body.
I kissed her. Two minutes, unbroken. No tenderness, only control. She obeyed. Her body responded.
Pulling back slightly, I asked, "How are you?"
Tears in her eyes. "I… do what you say. I… love you."
I kissed her again, harder. One hand gripped her black hair, the other her butt, pulling her tight. My body reacted. Alive, dominant. She submitted completely.
Until now, I had only imagined this. Now it was happening.
I grabbed her hand, pulling her with me. The barn fell silent behind us. Outside, the night waited, dark and endless.