Book 3 – Chapter 45 (Rewritten with Imagery & Blocking) Amos – First-Person POV

Pebbles shifted under my boots as I walked down to the edge of the cove. The tide was low, leaving behind a band of dark sand and scattered driftwood that cracked faintly as the waves prodded at the shore. Out beyond the shallows, the sunlight rippled over the water in soft silver bands—but all of that faded into the background the moment I saw her.

My boat.

The shipbuilders, those same souls whose debts I'd bought in Vaspar what felt like a lifetime ago, stood around the nearly finished hull like proud parents. Most had spent their time working in the lumber mills since joining us; their calloused hands had ached to get back to the work they truly loved. Cameron and Barry had taken my sketches and somehow turned them into reality.

It stole my breath.

The hull rested on a wooden cradle, tilted slightly so the morning light could crawl across the varnished planks. Every board followed the gentle curve I remembered from scout camp—the same shape as the little boat I used to take out on the lake every afternoon. A triangular mainsail lay folded on the ground beside it, still smelling faintly of new canvas. A smaller jib waited next to it, neatly bundled with rope.

The centerboard, an item that none of these men had even considered lay neatly inside the boat next to its slot. The rudder, propped against a workbench, had simple leather hinges instead of metal, rope lashings where modern fittings should have been. Primitive by any sane standard.

But to me? It was beautiful.

I walked closer, running my palm along the smooth curve of the hull. A whisper of what was to come clung to the air. "Honest opinion," I said, glancing at Barry. "What do you think?"

Barry crossed his arms, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he were wrestling between pride and anticipation. "Honestly? I won't know until we test it. The only thing we've truly tested is the life vest, and even those tests almost ended in disaster."

I blinked. "How in the world does testing a flotation device almost end in disaster?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking like a man about to confess stupidity. "Did you throw people in who didn't know how to swim? Without the straps tightened?" I added.

"Oh no," he said brightly, "those tests went fine. It was the other testing that was the problem."

"…Barry," I said, narrowing my eyes. "What did you do?"

He grinned. "First it wasn't my idea. I didn't even know about it.

"Barry..."

Well… the boys were wondering how well it would work in a river. And, of course, they picked the canal."

I froze. "Our giant canal leading down from Pine Grove? The one that moves water so fast that any sane person wouldn't even step in it?"

"That's the one."

"That's— That's— Actually…" I stopped, imagining it. "That sounds awesome. Insane, but awesome."

Barry laughed. "Yeah, well, a bunch of the men hiked up about a kilometer up the slope. Not the steepest part, but... Well, they spent about an hour arguing over who was going to go down. Then some kid wanders in and asks what they're doing. They explain the life vest, the dare, everything."

He paused for effect.

"And?"

"The boy just laughs," Barry said. "Grabs the vest. Gets someone to tighten the straps. And without saying a single word, he jumps in."

I stared.

Barry lifted a hand and mimed a plummeting object. "Straight down the canal, screaming the whole way. He shot past the men at the bottom like an arrow. They said he practically skipped across the water."

"By the—" I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Please tell me he survived."

"Broken arm. Half drowned. But alive."

I shook my head. There were a few candidates in Pine Ridge for that level of stupidity, and the list wasn't long.

"Who was the idiot?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

Barry tried to keep a straight face. "Dustin. You know… that kid who burned down the ship."

I stared out toward the water, letting the breeze wash over my face as the weight of that sank in.

"Of course it was," I muttered. Who else would invent the world's first suicidal waterslide?

Why did the people in North Cove remind me of myself when I was younger?

"Well, how is he doing now?"

"Not really sure. I know he is alive, but he won't be doing much for a while."

"It should keep him out of trouble at least," I said with a shrug. "So, back to the boat. Two more days until it's ready?"

"Yes, my lord. And that is just because we need to make more rope. The men are good at it, but it takes a while."

"We'll have to put a rope-making machine on the to-do list. Let everyone know that if they figure out a way to speed up the rope-making process with a machine, I will pay them handsomely. I would start by using the idea of something that spins with a crank. Ask Sanders for ideas."

I didn't mention the spinning wheels because they were still a secret to a lot of people. Some people had already seen the prototypes while the women were helping build them, but we'd tried to hush them up since then. I had no idea if Barry knew about them, and if he needed ideas, Sanders, the engineer, could help.

A gleam lit Barry's eyes. "If I need him, I'll do that. But I think the men and I can come up with something ourselves."

Necessity is the mother of invention, and rope, true rope, was something required in obscene amounts for ships. I remembered how much of it went into my old model ships. Then I pictured the life‑sized versions we were trying to make now. The thought alone made my hands ache. Months of spinning, twisting, laying hemp or flax fibers… a labor that would eat our manpower alive.

"Barry, I know you don't see it yet but that boat," I said pointing to my beautiful little masterpiece. "Will change the world."

I left Barry pondering that thought as I continued my tour of the town.

We had expanded our fields this year precisely for that reason: hemp, cotton, putba, hay—all the things we needed to build a functioning economy beyond mere survival.

As I walked toward the fields, the sharp scent of fresh‑turned soil reached me. Sir Griff was exactly where I expected him: knee‑deep in the earth, shovel in hand, directing men as they dug ditches and shaped plots. His armor was off, sleeves rolled up, sweat streaking the dirt on his forearms. A knight working like any other laborer.

Jonathan Founder worked beside him, the original headman of the runaway serf settlement I'd found last year along the cove. They were the original settlers of this place five years ago, and now what was supposed to be a secret, was going to turn into the grandest city in the kingdom.

Both men noticed my approach and straightened, bowing. "My lord."

"Well, my friends," I said, stepping over a pile of stones. "How are things going?"

"We are fighting the land for every acre," Griff said. "But we should have at least three hundred available for planting."

I nodded, then turned to Jonathan. "How well did this soil do in previous years?"

He grimaced. "Not well, my lord. We piled dirt into the high areas, but we could grow little besides root vegetables and barley. And even those did not produce well."

"Then it looks like we'll be importing grain again this year," I said. "But root vegetables did well? Then we'll plant all the putba we can and see how much sugar we can extract. Sugar sells for ten times the price of most foods—and if crops fail, we can buy what we need. We will need a lot of hemp as well."

Truthfully, I expected far more from sugar than simple sales. Sugar was a kingmaker. Candies, preserves… diplomatically, you could bribe anyone with enough of it.

Paper and cotton production would fill the gaps. And what I wanted—what I needed—was enough yield to store ten percent for emergencies and dedicate the rest to cash crops.

Should I have been worried? Probably. But hope was a powerful drug, and I was riding it hard.

I needed money. I needed soldiers. I needed walls. And every new product we made got me one step closer to securing North Cove.

I exhaled slowly, shaking off the daydreams of grand futures. Time to stay focused on the present.

"So, did the chalk arrive yet?"

"Yes, my lord. Does it really help the soil?" Jonathan asked, wiping a streak of dirt across his brow.

"I'm hoping it will. That combined with the fertilizer should make a huge difference."

What I didn't tell them was that I thought it adjusted soil pH… I just didn't remember if it pushed things acidic or basic. Maybe it simply neutralized things. What I really needed was the red cabbage I'd seen in Karr. Once we could make a pH indicator, I could test the chalk‑treated soil against the untreated soil. All I remembered from high school chemistry was: lemon juice turns the cabbage juice red, the normal color was purple, and… that was it. Too bad we had to wait for the cabbage to grow.

"So, elevating the fields is going well?" I asked.

Griff nodded. "Yes. Since you allowed us to reuse the dirt we used to create the road to Marsh Fort, it speeds things up."

"I hate to ruin a road we'll have to rebuild," I said, "but the fields are more important right now. Anything else going on? It looks like all we have for housing is tents."

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Jonathan shifted uncomfortably. "It is enough for now. We cannot spare the manpower. Once the fields are seeded, we can focus on more permanent structures."

I shook my head. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we need at least some people working on housing. Even simple stick homes with peat insulation would be fine. If people fall ill because they're sleeping in tents, the illness can spread. Send kids to gather sticks and logs—we just need enough wood to get something built. Make sure pregnant women, young children, and the elderly have roofs over their heads."

"We will make it so, my lord," Griff said, probably mentally reorganizing labor.

I looked back over the fields, hands itching to join them. The rhythm of work, the feel of soil, sometimes manual labor just felt good; I missed all of it. Back on Earth, helping meant respect. Here, helping meant I was lowering myself. Benjamin had practically tackled me last time for trying to pick up a shovel.

Different world. Different rules.

To them, a lord working beside peasants wasn't admirable. It was alarming. So instead of digging, I offered encouragement and interest. Benjamin swore it was enough. To me, it felt like the political equivalent of when politicians showed up at farms for photo ops.

I sighed and continued watching.

The planting method fascinated me. Barley was scattered by hand in wide arcs, the seeds creating a golden spray over the dark soil. Other plants, though—beans, root vegetables, putba—were planted in neat rows. Workers used pointed sticks to punch holes at precise intervals.

When I asked about it, Jonathan explained, "Some plants need spacing. Others—grains—grow fine in clusters. Planting every seed individually would take too long."

As I watched, a simple idea bubbled up.

"Jonathan," I said, stepping closer, "what if we built a wheel with spikes on it? Something you could roll along the soil to punch holes. A person could walk behind it and drop seeds into each hole."

He paused, eyebrows lifting. "That… should work. I think. Maybe."

I blinked at how easy that had been. "It's strange," I said aloud. "I'm not a farmer, and I thought of this. Why hasn't anyone else?"

Griff chuckled—a low, amused sound. I turned to him.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said, still smiling. "I mean no offense. But you do not seem to realize how unique you are. Your previous statement explains everything. You assume that a farmer is just as smart as a lord."

I stared at him, unsure whether to be flattered, horrified, or offended on behalf of every farmer in history. I was about to get angry but reined myself in at the last moment. "The only difference between me and them is that they lack learning—not that they're less intelligent. Even you are more intelligent than me when it comes to military matters and managing troops. Though I can do mathematics better than you."

Griff dipped his head in acknowledgment. "True, my lord. But that is not how most nobles think. If a serf came to most lords claiming to know a better way to improve their fields, the lord would likely look at the ignorant man and punish him for assuming he knew better."

I frowned. "You're saying they're trained to not think logically? Because thinking differently risks angering their lord?"

"In a way, yes," Griff said. "Doing things the way they have always been done will never get them in trouble."

That was… maddening. "But I promised rewards if they come up with good ideas."

"You are asking them, my lord, to go against a lifetime of learning."

I understood what he meant, but I hated it. I refused to allow the people under my care to be frightened of thinking. "Jonathan," I said, turning to the headman, "spread the word again that I'm looking for ideas to improve planting speed. Use the example I gave you—but tell them I want better."

Jonathan nodded, though uncertainty flickered across his face.

I had one more idea to discuss with Sanders—the engineer—but that could wait. A seed spreader. The idea came from a ridiculous childhood memory I hadn't thought about in years.

When I was ten, my older sister would invite her friends over to run through the sprinkler in the backyard. They never let me join them. Not once. And, being ten and stupid, I'd come up with a plan worthy of Dustin himself.

I spent every dollar I had saved on Pop Rocks. Then I "borrowed" Mr. Henderson's seed spreader—the kind he used for fertilizer—and loaded it with the candy. My brilliant plan? Spread the Pop Rocks all over the lawn so when the girls turned on the sprinkler, the water would hit the Pop Rocks and explode gloriously.

In my imagination, it would be like stepping on land mines of pure chaotic joy.

In reality? They crackled faintly.

The girls stared at the ground, confused. No panic. No screams. No fleeing from the terrifying Pop Rock Apocalypse. I'd wasted all my money, earned a lecture from Mr. Henderson, and still hadn't been invited to play.

Hopefully, this time the idea would serve me better than it had back then.

*****

The next week crawled along. There wasn't a lot to do in Cove Town, and I really wanted to visit Pine Grove, but I felt it was important that these people saw me here. The small cottage they'd built for me made me feel guilty—two whole bedrooms, a decent-sized room for judgment, but tiny compared to a great hall, and Marshandra as my only housekeeper—while so many of them had almost nothing.

Most days were spent reading reports from the baronies, hunting on occasion, or keeping up with my fighting practice. But my favorite pastime was taking my new Cove Dancer out onto the water.

To say people were impressed barely scratched the surface. Sailors, fishermen—men who'd spent their lives on the water—looked at the little boat like it was some mythical creature. Everyone wanted a turn. The Cove Dancer was in constant use. I got preferred rights to her, of course, though I hadn't chosen the name. I'd turned it into a contest, and that was the winning entry. Not my first choice… but it had grown on me.

I had just stepped off the boat when a young Cove Town guard jogged up the shore toward me. "My lord—we've discovered a thief in town."

A thief? In Cove Town? I'd had to settle a handful of disputes since coming here, but this was the first real theft.

"What was stolen?"

"A wheelbarrow… and a few other things."

"That is strange. Let's go figure this out."

As we approached my cottage, voices drifted out.

"He's going to beat you and throw you out of the county like the trash you are, Spence," a young man sneered.

"I'm going to ask him if I can be the one to beat you," another voice mocked.

When I stepped inside, I found two teenagers in NCDF uniforms standing over a boy about their age, curled up on the floor. A bruise darkened the side of his face.

I kept my expression neutral and walked past all three until I reached my seat. The two NCDF boys straightened immediately, their smug expressions evaporating. I knew bullying when I saw it. Unfortunately, I knew it because I'd once been the bully.

"Get Sir Griff," I told the guard beside me.

After a few minutes, Griff entered. He bowed. "My lord, how may I help?"

"I'm judging what I hope is a misunderstanding. Soldiers, report."

Both boys bowed. One stepped forward. "My lord, this serf was caught in the woods destroying a wheelbarrow. He had stolen tools as well, but I don't know what he was doing." His face twisted with satisfaction.

I looked to the boy on the floor. "Spence. What were you doing in the woods?"

He slowly uncurled, then immediately knelt in a prostrated position. "Forgive me, my lord. You said… you said you would reward those who created a better way to seed the fields. I… I was trying to create one."

One of the NCDF boys snorted behind me. I ignored him.

What I had to do next was not something I enjoyed. But I had learned some hard lessons the more I sat in the seat of judgment, laws must be upheld, and being a lord meant I must be the one to uphold it.

I turned back to Spence. "Did you receive permission to take the things you did?"

"No, my lord," he whispered.

"Did you ask?"

"I did… but I was told no. That the items were needed for more important things. I planned to build it quickly and return everything. I wanted to prove to Headman Jonathan that I could be useful."

I exhaled slowly. "You've put yourself in a bad position, Spence. I did say I wanted you to come up with a better way to seed the fields—and I applaud your willingness to better the county. But that does not excuse the fact that you broke the law. Theft is a serious crime… and you will receive your punishment."

I turned to the two smirking boys.

"I assume you are the young men who found him in the act?"

"Yes, my lord," they said proudly, puffing up like roosters.

"Did he resist you when you found him?"

"We are NCDF," one said, chest out. "We had him pinned to the ground before he even realized what was happening."

"And did he admit to his crimes?"

"Yes, we hit him a few times to make sure he told us everything," the other added far too casually.

Griff's face darkened—storm clouds brewing behind his eyes.

I let silence stretch just long enough to make their confidence wither. "So… let me understand this correctly. You found the boy doing something you thought might be against the law, subdued him immediately, and then beat him until he told you what you wanted to hear."

Their earlier bravado crumbled. They hesitated, searching for words that would not come. Eventually, both lowered their heads.

"Yes, my lord," they whispered.

"Although I appreciate your vigilance in preventing theft," I said slowly, "you have also broken the law—and for that, I am extremely disappointed."

Their shoulders tensed.

"I assume you know the laws of the NCDF?"

Neither found the courage to answer.

"The first law you broke," I continued, "is that you may not subdue a citizen unless they resist arrest or attempt to flee. Next—you committed an act of violence against a citizen of North Cove. That is only permitted if the individual attempts violence against you. Finally—and most disturbing—you ignored the fact that every citizen has the right to remain silent until brought before someone with the authority to judge."

I waited until both boys finally lifted their eyes toward my face, only to meet my steady disapproval.

"You also know the expectations placed upon the NCDF regarding abuse of power. You represent North Cove. Your actions reflect on all of us. And today, you brought shame upon yourselves and upon our county."

I let that sink in.

"I do not know if there is a grudge between you and this young man, or if you simply enjoy feeling superior. That is not for me to determine." I gestured toward Griff. "But Sir Griff will find the truth."

Both boys swallowed hard.

"I hope," I continued, "that the next time we meet, it will be to reward you for an act of valor—not to prevent you from bullying a fellow citizen. You are NCDF. You should be the best of my people—not because of your rank, but because of your conduct."

I looked to Griff. "Sir Griff, please escort these two young men. I will deal with Spence." After they departed, I waited patiently for the bruised young man with the dark brown hair and tanned skin to look at me. His face was worse than I expected; when he straightened, he grimaced, trying to hide the pain. Fear flickered behind his eyes.

"How many times did they hit you?" I asked.

"I… I don't know, my lord."

"You stole quite a bit. And you stole it from your lord. Do you know the punishment for stealing such an amount?"

He swallowed. "A fine… and lashes."

I nodded. "Well, we will take the beating you received as the corporal punishment. However, the fine is a problem. You are a serf, and as such, you would normally repay it in extra labor. But we are all already working from sunup to sundown. There is no extra labor to be had." I paused, thinking. "Why don't we look at what you've been working on? If it truly improves the productivity of the fields, then I will accept that as payment for your crime. You will not be given a reward, but you will be given credit for the invention. If not… then you will do the extra work after planting is finished."

His head rose slightly—hope and dread tangled together.

Truthfully, I wanted to forgive the kid outright. I wanted to reward him. He was trying to help. But a lord who ignored the law didn't just send the wrong message, he undermined everything he was trying to build. Besides, if the seeder worked, I would find a way to repay him for it without money. Maybe he—not I—would be the first to create a proper seeder in this world.

We walked toward the shed, and as we did, the realization hit me: it had been a full year since I first arrived in this world.

A year.

And I had changed.

Back on Earth, I couldn't have judged a case like this. I would have second‑guessed every decision, talked myself in circles, or found a way—any way—to avoid punishing those boys. Now? The NCDF boys would be spending a month on the road crew, followed by another round of basic training and extra study in how to conduct themselves.

The road crew… I chuckled. It was such a misnomer. They didn't just deal with roads. It was the most grueling labor in the county—long hours, short breaks, back‑breaking work, and real danger. Many would probably prefer the stocks to this. A year ago, I would have called it inhumane.

Now? It was simply part of life here.

Someone had to do that work. And who better than those who owed a debt to society?

The other boy had received his legal beating owed to a serf and would pay for what he had done in labor or in the lack of a reward. I felt bad for him, but not for enforcing the punishment. Justice mattered here. More than comfort.

Yes, this world had changed me.

But as I walked through the small, rapidly growing town, I saw how I had changed the world as well. People looked healthier. Happier. Hopeful. Gone were the dead‑eyed stares and the cowering fear. Now people smiled as I passed. Some waved.

A year ago, the Bicman barony had been forsaken—a forgotten scrap of land bleeding out.

Now I could see a future. A real one.

And I was nowhere near done.

I would need to raise an army. Build both a military and a merchant fleet. Raise walls that could withstand anything. I had Frederick's brother and Count Yarbeth to the south. Spies and assassins already crept through my lands. And I knew—knew—that some of my own people would betray me if the price was right. These were facts I was learning to deal with.

But despite everything stacked against us… I had friends. Real friends. People who would stand beside me even if the kingdom crumbled.

If the whole world turned against us, I would still protect my people. And if the Endless One wanted change?

Then I would give him change.

I was smack in the middle of that heroic internal monologue, gearing myself up to conquer the world, when a messenger came sprinting toward me.

"My lord!" he gasped. "Servants of Baron Yarbeth have arrived in Bicman. Benjamin told me to tell you… code orange. And he will be arriving in a few days once the baron himself arrives."

Code Orange, huh?

Well. This was going to get interesting.

It looked like the power struggle was about to begin. And I have to admit it gave me a slight thrill.

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