The return of the expedition was an event that shook Oakhaven from its peaceful domestic rhythm. A child playing on the western wall let out a shout, and within minutes, the entire city was pouring out of the gates, their hearts pounding with a mixture of hope and fear. When they saw the party of twelve was returning whole, their numbers undiminished, a wave of palpable relief washed over them. And when they saw the pack mules laden with dark, heavy sacks of iron ore and the glint of finished tools, that relief exploded into jubilant celebration.
Borin, Ren, and their men were welcomed as conquering heroes. They were hoisted onto shoulders and carried into the city square, their progress impeded by a throng of cheering, laughing citizens. They had journeyed into the unknown and returned with a promise, a tangible piece of the future.
That evening, the council of elders convened in the manor, the atmosphere electric. Borin, his face weary but his eye bright with success, laid out the tools from Ironpeak on the table. The axe heads were heavy, solid, and expertly forged. The plowshares were sharp and durable. Compared to our own crude stone-and-bronze implements, they were artifacts from another age.
The blacksmith wept openly, running a reverent hand over a perfectly balanced chisel. "With this," he whispered, "I can build anything."
Borin gave his report, a concise, military-style account of their journey, of Ironpeak's grim strength, and of Grak's character. He recounted the negotiation, and when he described how he had held firm on the price, a proud smile touched Kael's lips. The story of Ren's invaluable guidance earned the young man nods of genuine respect from the elders. He was no longer Ren the prisoner; he was Ren the pathfinder, a true citizen of Oakhaven.
"They are strong," Borin concluded, "and their leader is a hard man. But they are starving. Their need for what we have is greater than our need for what they have. This gives us the advantage."
This simple economic principle, something I had taught Borin but he now understood instinctively, was the key to our future foreign policy.
"We must prepare the trade caravan," I announced. "The meeting is in one month. We must not be late. We must show them we are reliable, that Oakhaven keeps its word."
The completion of the sub-quest had triggered the next phase of the primary mission.
[SUB-QUEST 2: 'DISPATCH A TRADE CARAVAN' - ACTIVE.][OBJECTIVE: Prepare and send a caravan with sufficient goods to the designated trade point.][CHALLENGE: LOGISTICS. Current transport capacity is insufficient for proposed trade volume. New solutions are required.]
The system was right. Our dozen pack mules were not nearly enough to transport the tons of grain and hundreds of jugs of beer Grak would expect. I spent that night poring over my engineering knowledge, the principles of mechanics, load-bearing, and friction swirling in my mind. The wheel was known to this world, but it was used inefficiently, on clumsy, solid-axle carts that were prone to breaking and required immense force to pull.
The next morning, I went to the blacksmith and the city's handful of woodworkers. On a cleared patch of ground, I drew the future of Oakhaven's logistics. I drew a spoked wheel, lighter and stronger than their solid wooden ones. I drew a swiveling front axle, allowing for a much tighter turning radius. I drew a harness system with a breast strap, more efficient and humane than the simple neck-yokes they used on their mules, which choked the animals and limited their pulling power. Finally, I drew a large, covered wagon, a 'prairie schooner' in miniature, capable of carrying a massive cargo, protected from the sun and rain.
It was, once again, a leap of centuries in a single design.
The construction of the first 'Oakhaven Freighters' became the city's new Great Work. The blacksmith, armed with his new iron tools, forged the wheel rims and axle fittings with a skill he never knew he possessed. The woodworkers, following my precise diagrams, learned the art of steam-bending wood for the wheel spokes and crafting the complex chassis. The entire city was mobilized. The women and former prisoners wove the heavy canvas covers for the wagons. The farmers carefully measured and sacked the grain. The brewers worked day and night to fill hundreds of clay jugs with beer.
Oakhaven was no longer just a farm; it was a factory. A bustling hub of production and innovation, all geared towards a single, common goal. My role shifted again. I was no longer just a lawgiver, but a project manager, a chief engineer, a logistics coordinator.
As the first wagon was completed, a magnificent, sturdy vehicle that dwarfed any cart they had ever seen, the people gathered around it in awe. It was more than just a tool for transport; it was a symbol of their ingenuity, their progress. It was a vessel that would carry their hard-won prosperity out into the world.
We began to train teams of mules to pull the wagons in tandem. We planned the route, packing provisions, and selecting the caravan guards—a new, formal title for our militia. Borin would command the caravan, his authority absolute.
A week before the scheduled meeting, we were ready. Three massive Oakhaven Freighters stood loaded in the square, filled with the wealth of our city. A contingent of twenty armed guards, including Ren, stood ready. They were no longer a desperate militia, but a professional caravan guard, their new iron-tipped spears gleaming in the sun.
As they prepared to depart, I gave Borin his final instructions. "Remember the mission, Borin. This is not just about exchanging goods. It is about building a reputation. We are Oakhaven. We are reliable. We are fair. And we are strong."
He nodded, his one eye filled with a fierce pride. "They will know it," he said.
I watched them roll out of the gates, the great wagons kicking up a cloud of dust, a testament to our collective will. It was the first artery of commerce extending from our city's heart. We were injecting our lifeblood—our food, our knowledge, our ambition—into the dying world around us. We were no longer just surviving. We were expanding.