3rd Season of Year 281

Third-Person POV

Twenty-six moons had slipped away like grains of sand drifting through an hourglass, and Levi still waited. Seventeen seasons had passed since he first laid down roots in Bogwater, years that offered neither siege nor intrigue to stir his restless mind. His life had settled into a steady rhythm of ledgers and caravans, of hearth fires and midnight calculations. Yet, beneath the calm surface, Levi's ambition burned as fiercely as ever.

Golden dragon coins clattered in his chests, yet even the steady jingle had lost its novelty. He scarcely listened when Lysa, Wren, or the old Maester reported fresh hauls of dragon coins. His caravan, once a dozen wagons and a handful of drivers, now boasted over thirty merchants, more guards, and more laborers. His stable counted five hundred horses, breeds from the mountains, the open plains, even war-trained destriers from distant Free Cities. Silver was never scarce, for the cheat engine concealed beneath his view offered more wealth than any merchant coin can tribute.

No: what truly drove Levi was the work of his mind, the spark of invention, the thrill of discovery. Over these nine moons, he had conceived six projects. Each an experiment, each a promise of success. And though not all had succeeded, every attempt left him richer in experience and failure.

Project One: The Mechanical Clock

In the first two moons, Levi's modest home in Bogwater became a workshop of scattered blueprints, cogwheels, and half-finished prototypes. Long nights found him bent over a workbench, chiseling wooden gears or filing silver axles. The old Maester appeared most afternoons when he wasn't training, thick spectacles perched upon his nose, peering at Levi's sketches.

"It must click at every turn," Levi insisted, tracing a spiral of teeth on paper. "And the weights must descend at a steady rate, no flicker of candlelight can help me tell the time properly."

The old Maester nodded, muttering arcane formulas. "An escapement of true form, a foliot or even a pendulum, if we can manage the balance."

Levi worked relentlessly: drafting designs, bringing silver from his Cheat engine, then melting it to testing each escapement until he nearly lost count of the moons. On the Twenty-fifth moon, with hands trembling, he and the old Maester found the prototype. The first tick came hesitantly then, a steady tock. They watched in awe as the weight descended at a measured pace, the hands sweeping across a silver dial.

When the mechanism chimed the hour soft, clear, unwavering the old Maester wept. "By the Old Gods, the Citadel will pay any sum for this."

Levi smiled thinly. "Five hundred thousand dragon coins, in gold or grain, wool or livestock. Yet no haggling in coin alone; I accept pepper, salt, horses whatever bolsters Bogwater."

The Maester coughed, eyes watering. "They will lay siege if they must! they would rather take it by force than to pay such a ridiculous sum."

Levi patted the brass casing. "Then I guess i will sell this only when they wont dare to."

Project Two: Blackboard and Chalk

The second project arose from frustration with wasted parchment. Every decree or ledger revision required fresh sheets, and every scribble was filled with constant interruptions.

Levi swept in one dawn with a slab of bogwood. "Paint it black," he ordered. By midday, local artisans coated the board in tar, and the old Maester ground chalk from limestone courtesy to his discovery and thanks to Winterfell who has many limestones making it easier to find.

"Simple," Levi declared, drawing a trader's ledger in white chalk. "Erase with wet cloth. Repaint if it fades."

Trials took four moons: chalk that smeared too easily, boards that warped in the damp bog air. At last, the final board kept its finish. Now, merchants huddled each morning to update inventories; guards recorded patrol schedules with a single stroke. Lysa jotted tax quotas; Wren traced the route of incoming caravans.

Even the guards Kell, Arl, Munty, Lyle, Jory leaned over the board between drills, though they blushed at spelling errors. Levi merely chuckled. If only the board could teach more than words.

Good thing Lysa and Wren are there to teach them. Levi wanted the Old Maester but his gotten more old and he didn't want to overburden him.

Project Three: Martial Mastery

The third project tested Levi's own body. Each dawn, before the sun's first rays, he strode to the training yard and challenged Ser Sedge's two prized guards: Hann, the spear-master, and Runn, the master archer.

At first Levi fared poorly. His wooden training sword fell clanging to the ground; arrows whizzed past him with alarming precision. Yet day by day, his form improved. eight moons passed before he parried Hann's spear thrust, twisting the haft aside and disarming his opponent. By the fifteenth moons honed his archery until each arrow split Runn's arrow at dead-center. By the sixteenth moon, Ser Sedge himself accepted a duel with Levi, only to find Levi's skill with the long wooden sword uncanny, his strikes swift and unpredictable.

When it was done, Ser Sedge clapped him on the shoulder. "Your talent outpaces even the best younglings of crannogmen."

Levi sheathed his blade. "The short sword feels… cramped. This form suits me."

Ser Sedge grinned. "Then hone it till you stand before a king, and perhaps win yourself a tourney and be knighted."

Project Four: Agriculture Amid the Reeds

Swamps bred mosquitoes, but also hidden riches. Levi drained marshland ditches and sowed rye and wheat in raised beds. Reed cattails he cultivated by waterways for weaving; rare mushrooms and healing herbs thrived in shaded banks. Yet rice eluded him.

Levi asked the Old Maester. "I hope you can send any message to the Citadel for anything about rice since u have only heard of it Old Maester."

Days passed hoping for news then came the message.

"The Citadel's records mentioned rice only in Volantis," the Old Maester explained, eyes bright behind spectacles.

Levi dispatched Lysa to White Harbor for Essos traders. By the tenth moon later, sacks of unhulled grain arrived, tarnished with salt and dust. Farmers eyed them in dread. When Levi insisted, many sowed seeds in drained paddies; half drowned in unexpected floods, but the survivors yielded tender shoots by the third moon.

He celebrated near the fire and ate Swampberries, rice boiled in goat's milk, salted and spiced with distant pepper. He stored seed stocks for future harvests and taught farmers half-year rotations three to six moons to double their yields. Potatoes remained a tantalizing absence, their existence unconfirmed by any Citadel scroll.

Project Five: Clay Bricks and Hearthstone

Sturdy homes demanded bricks, not just woods or logs. Levi excavated clay pits in the bog's edge, but first kilns shattered his early samples. He plastered bricks with straw and dung, reshaping formulas. By the dusk of the ninth moon, he guided the Old Maester in a kiln bricks emerged slightly warped but with nothing but crumbled mud.

He marked the next season's work on the blackboard, then stowed the plan for when labor slackened.

Project Six: Armor and Forge

In the eighthteenth moon arrived Master Grenn, a smith of whispered renown from kings landing a friend of Ulrich. He scoured Levi's workshops, skeptical of promises. When he saw guards drilling and wagons laden with ore, he nodded.

"Five full plate armors, helmets of my design, Please ready them by the ninth moon," Levi commanded.

Grenn bent steel, quenching and folding. By moon's end, five suits gleamed: chestplates etched with the bog rose, helmets crested with silver reeds. Levi's cheat engine confirmed every measurement. Making him bring out two hundred armor for his brothers.

Master Grenn became doubtful of me asking. "If u had the armor to begin with why bring me here?"

Levi replied "I ordered two hundred more from Essos while Master smith Grenn took to long to arrive, But i still need u to train some of the smiths in town i got two smithies and more people started working there, I could use your help in training them."

Master Smith Grenn grunted at the comment but he still nods and trained the apprentices twenty in each smithy under Timor's watch.

Nothing money could never solve.

Now came War and Rumor in the passage of time: The Mad King's Flames

Meanwhile, word crawled from the south: the Mad King in King's Landing burned suspected Traitors and Blackfyre conspirators in his pyres. Smoke ringed the Red Keep, and nobles hid or bent knees.

With royal madness spreads blood and opportunity. Levi viewed his blackboard: 2,700 souls under one thousand roofs, families spilling inside and beyond his town. He turned to his five brothers Kell Arl, Munty, Jory, Lyle. Even Ser Sedge was here. "I could try being a Sellsword companies for the Crown, Maybe a knighthoods lie in wait."

Ser Sedge sighed. "Titles do not fall like leaves in winter."

Levi tapped the board: "Recruit seven hundred men and train them on our drills. When the King's war comes, we'll choose our battlefield."

The Blue Rose in Winter: Friends Visiting from the north.

In some moons as frost threatened the reeds, Lady Lyanna and her brother Benjen rode south to see what became of Bogwater. Their retinue glittered with polar furs and emerald brooches. Primed for parade, Levi led them to the town square.

Lyanna, ever the winter rose, challenged him to race along the frozen and muddy grounds, icy reeds snapping under hooves. She surged ahead, but Levi pressed close, his muscles fueled by moons of drills. She laughed, wind whipping her hair, and he felt something deep shake inside.

Later, Benjen drew steel in the yard. He dueled Levi only to stagger at Levi's precise thrusts. "I underestimated you, seems you have trained more and improved than last time we met." he confessed, breath fogging in the cold air.

Levi bowed. "Everyone grows stronger each moon Young Lord Benjen."

Levi made them both feel at home giving gifts and have feasts for the noble lord and lady.

They left once they have seen all they can in Bogwater back to Winterfell.

Twenty-six moons of toil, invention, and quiet victories. Each gear of his clock turned, each crop sprouted, each sword stroke honed Levi's resolve. And still, as he stared at his blackboard, now filled with new projects and recruit lists a quiet doubt whispered at the edges of his mind.

Yet he lifted his head, feeling the weight of coin in one pocket, chalk in the other, and steel at his hip. He would wait no longer. The world was turning to a moment of opportunity and he would be ready.

"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts."