The celebration had ended the night before in a haze of drink, laughter, and reunion. When morning came, Levi woke to the sound of footsteps and groaning from those still in his home. He rubbed his temples, still heavy from drink, and stood before the twenty young men who had followed him this far.

"We'll talk about what's next soon," Levi said, voice hoarse. "But for now, those not named Kell, Arl, Munty, Lyle, or Jory go. Help guard the town. Do what you can."

The fifteen men nodded, shaking off sleep and hangovers, and wandered out to find posts, helping wherever they were needed.

Only five remained.

Levi turned to Jory. "Find the Old Maester. I need his help."

Jory gave a lazy nod and headed off without a word.

Levi looked at Kell, Arl, and Munty. "We need men. Loyal ones. Fifteen to twenty years of age if we can, older if they're the kind who'll listen. We need fighters, ones who can be trained. Feeding them and paying them is easy. Loyalty isn't."

He paused. "Remember we're building to three hundred men. Two hundred for Bogwater, a hundred for the caravan. Find them. Start with the nearby villages if you have to. Train them where we trained. Ser Sedge won't mind."

All three nodded and left immediately.

Only Lyle remained.

Levi looked at him and gave a tired smile. "No task for you yet. Stay. We'll wait for Jory."

Time passed slowly. Levi busied himself with tidying the house, clearing tankards and leftover bread. Then a knock at the door. Jory stood there and beside him, the Old Maester.

"It seems I've been summoned," the old man said with a dry smile.

Levi motioned for him to sit. "Forgive me for calling on you, but I need help. This town it's changed. Grown for the better now and I want to protect what we've built. I have brothers who can train other men. I can feed them, clothe them, put armor on them, maybe even with weapons if Timor and the other smiths come through. But managing coin, business, taxes that's not my strength."

The Old Maester listened silently, hands resting on his knees.

"You've helped before," Levi continued. "Tracking my business, coin, trade. Now I need more. I want to know how many people live here to see just how far i can recruit guards. What we can afford to keep."

The old Maester man raised an eyebrow. "I can help for now. But not forever. I'm old, Levi. My body is frail. I stayed to help a boy find his feet. But the time will come when I can't stand at all."

He paused, then added, "That's why Tolen went to the Citadel, the young lad. If you want him back as your Maester you must be a lord. You're fifteen now, almost sixteen. The year nears 279 AC. You have five years, at most, before I'm gone. You must find a path."

Levi nodded slowly. "Thank you. Truly."

Then, almost as an afterthought, he stood and brought out a small, carefully wrapped cloth. Inside was the flower he'd found in the swamp.

"I brought this back," he said. "I named it Ghost Kiss. I want to keep it. Maybe use it. If I ever need to kill someone."

The Old Maester examined it carefully, eyes narrowing. "Crone's Mercy," he murmured. "Known among swampfolk. You found this deep, didn't you? All parts are toxic. Can paralyze. Kill quietly. You brought home something dangerous but i can help u keep some and even make some of those poisons u can coat in your weapons."

Levi nodded. "Great it could truly be useful one day."

The old man gave him a long look. "You have become a true crannogman, it seems. Since u are trained as one."

He rose with effort. "I'll do what I can to help. While I still breathe."

With that, he left.

Levi sat back, alone again. A thousand thoughts spun in his head:

1. More weapons.

2. Stronger caravans to grow Bogwater's wealth.

3. A path to lordship.

He told Lyle and Jory about his plans, hoping they had suggestions. But both were quiet.

Levi sighed. "Then go. Help the others recruit."

They nodded and left.

And Levi remained in his home, plans in hand, a flower on the table, Only waiting for time to pass by.