Brin ran the entire way and arrived at the northern gate just as the incoming travelers reached shouting distance. “Gate” was a bit of a misnomer at this point; the watchtowers still stood, but there was nothing to block the road between them. The old walls had been torn down and the new walls of stone hadn’t yet reached waist-height. Part of that was because there was a limit to how much stone they could pull up from Neptune’s cave every day, and part of that was because this town didn’t have anyone who specialized in building with stone. The Prefit hoped to hire someone from out of town, but until then work would be slow since no one knew if they’d be forced to tear the entire thing down when a professional arrived and showed them what they were doing wrong.

Speaking of new talent from out of town, maybe there would be someone like that with the massive group of people approaching? A large part of the group was clearly a merchant caravan, with the distinctive colorful wagons, but behind them there were a couple dozen more ordinary covered wagons, as well as many people walking with backpacks. One woman, a [Seamstress], had a backpack so comically oversized that she broke the branches of the trees she walked under. The burden didn’t seem to bother her. He didn’t know why a [Seamstress] would put so many points into Strength, but that was her business.

Kevim walked proudly in front of the caravan with Zilly and Davi to either side. Both of them had leveled during their trip. Zilly was now at 31, and Davi had passed Brin, at level 32. Brin hadn’t gotten a single level since after the battle. He’d heard that levels after 30 were ridiculously hard and hadn’t worried too much, but maybe he’d grown complacent.

Davi had advanced one of his musical Skills with level 30, but Zilly had taken a new one.

The caravan stopped and Jeffrey climbed out of the lead wagon. His step was spry, practically a prance. Hopefully Brin would soon get a chance to ask what [Bard] Skill was letting him move around like that.

“Halt! Who goes there?” a [Hunter] shouted from the watchtower. They’d never shouted that at caravans or the odd adventurer coming through before; this was all theatrics. Besides the arriving people, several hundred natives of Hammon’s Bog had heard the original alarm and come to see what was going on.

“Friends!” responded Jeffrey with a flourish. “Returning friends and family! We bring merchants and travelers, as well as sturdy folk of good repute who come to make a new life in our fair town.”

“Then enter and be welcome!” came the retort. A bit of a cheer went up from the immigrants, despite how road-weary most of them looked.

The caravan started moving again and the crowd of native Boggers made way to let them enter. Brin watched curiously, checking Classes and to his slight shame, looking for signs of any possible [Witches] among them.

Hogg stood to his left, as a mirror image. Brin asked him, “What do you make of all this?”

Hogg snorted. “Too soon to tell.”

“You were right about people wanting to immigrate here,” Brin admitted. “I figured it would take more time, though.”

“Me, too, and I don’t think this will be the end of it. Hammon’s Bog is going to get a lot more crowded. Can’t build out. We’re going to have to build higher. Hey, look, I think that’s our [Mason] right there.”

Brin saw the [Mason], an elderly man with a newsboy cap and sleeveless shirt that revealed thick arms that seemed to be made of the stone he must work with. He was level 40, which was a fair bit higher than most. The average level of the newcomers was probably 25, though most of the group looked fairly young. People who set off for a new life usually were.

“It’s a disaster,” said Myra, who had snuck up on his right at some point. “Look at her.”

Brin [Inspected] the new [Seamstress] with the huge backpack. “She’s level 34. That’s not too much higher than you. You’ll be able to catch up. Besides, [Seamstresses] do different things than [Weavers]. You told me that even your mother usually had a [Seamstress] do her finishing work.”

“Not that! Look at the backpack!” said Myra. “It’s completely full of fabric. I can feel it. Nobody’s going to need my cloth for weeks, and that’s only if the merchants didn’t bring more as well. Which they have.”

Brin winced. “Ouch.” As a [Weaver], Myra got her best levels from making fabric and clothing, but the System could tell when she was making things that people would actually use, and when she was just practicing. She’d gotten quite a few levels as the only [Weaver] in town, but now it looked like those days were over. “Well, I’ll still buy my clothes from you.”

“Hm. You should drop by. Your sleeves are looking a little short.”

She was right. He was outgrowing his current set. Was he finally hitting that growth spurt he’d been waiting for? Hopefully. He was sick of being short and starting to worry the affliction might be permanent.

The Prefit arrived, looking wan and walking with a cane. He wore his best clothes, though they seemed a little large on him. “Wait!” he called out. The merchants and new arrivals stopped their happy chatting and looked at him warily.

“Today,” Prefit Elmon had to stop and catch his breath. “Today marks an important day for Hammon’s Bog. Today, we rejoin the world! You are proof… proof that Hammon’s Bog has not failed. That we stood firm, and that we can endure.”

The Prefit stopped to catch his breath again, and the crowd relaxed now that they saw this wasn’t anything bad.

“As Prefit, I’m declaring today a town holiday! We’ll have a feast to welcome our new arrivals and the brave merchants who’ve come to sell us desperately wanted luxuries. I hope you’ll all… join us in the town square. The Council of Elders has already begun making the arrangements.” He turned away quickly and walked down an alleyway, no doubt so that no one would see him collapse from exhaustion.

“You hate to see it,” said Hogg.

“Maybe you hate to–” Brin was interrupted by Zilly, who bumped past him to slam into Myra with an excited hug. Myra’s eyes went wide at the attention, and she hesitantly hugged her back.

“We’re back! In Neddy’s name, there’s so much to tell you! But first!” she turned to Brin. “Fight me!”

Brin laughed at the sheer obtuseness of it, but the smile stayed afterwards. He saw Davi, who rolled his eyes at Zilly’s antics.

“You know what? I think I’d like that,” said Brin.

She grinned and dashed ahead. “Meet me in the town square!”

He watched her get wrapped up in her family, all of them talking at once, trying to say everything all at once, and shook his head.

“You really don’t have to fight her,” Davi said.

“I know,” said Brin. “But she’s not going to leave it alone until she gets her duel. Besides, I kind of want to know how I measure up. How did you get all those levels?”Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“It’s a long story, but–”

“Hi, Davi!” Myra said, butting in. She gave Davi a sort of friendly shoulder squeeze.

“H-hi Myra. Anyways, Brin, it’s a long story but in a word: bandits. I gotta go find my family. It’s really good to see you again, Myra.” Davi said that last part a little too fast, and then darted away.

She watched his back for a moment, then smiled slyly at Brin. “Tear her to pieces.”

In the town hall, men and women scurried every which way, setting up for the feast. Brin waited in the center of it, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. He didn’t get the feeling this was a totally impromptu thing; the councilors were out giving directions like they’d expected this to happen, but it still took a lot of coordination to set up a feast on a moment’s notice.

Children set up tables and chairs, adults brought out big cooking pots and grills, and soon the smell of meat and vegetables filled the air. The new arrivals stared around at the town square, some in awe at the two or three story buildings, some with more complicated expressions. Oud’s Bog was a much bigger city than this, so anyone impressed with Hammon’s Bog’s architecture must’ve come from another Bog town. They set down their backpacks and burdens in relief, and watched the townsfolk in their preparations.

Zilly entered the square and walked towards him, in no apparent hurry. She wore leather armor, and there were new rents in it that had been clumsily repaired with cord. Her sword was one of the finest that Toros could make. A Bog Standard Sword, not enchanted with anything flashy, but it would slice faster, hit harder, and cut deeper.

There would be no practice swords here. Maybe before the battle of Hammon’s Bog, he would’ve called this too dangerous. But now? Without a little danger, there would be no point.

He took the time to size her up. [Inspect] told him that she’d taken a new Skill at level 30

Dodge - Increased reflexes in combat. Increased awareness of hidden blows aimed to cause injury. Imbue mana to dodge faster.