Roland woke up with a groan, his back stiff from a restless night in the hammock. "This thing is torture," he muttered, twisting his body to shake off the discomfort.

He was still lost in thought when Carlos suddenly entered the room, the wooden door creaking loudly in protest. "Sir, breakfast is ready," Carlos announced, placing the meal on a rickety table.

"Thanks, Carlos," Roland replied absently, eyeing the modest spread: a bowl of oatmeal, three slices of white bread, and two small grilled fish. He was surprised by the quality, considering the grim conditions they were in.

After eating, Roland stepped outside, but the door finally gave way, collapsing behind him. Shaking his head, he called over two knights to clean up the mess before heading off to find Caslow, who was already busy with his own meal.

"Who made breakfast today?" Roland asked, noticing the stark contrast between his meal and the rough fare his knights were consuming.

"The wife of one of the refugees," Caslow replied between bites. "She insisted on helping out, and she’s a better cook than any of us."

Roland frowned, his eyes narrowing as he saw Caslow's meal—black bread and a water bag. "You’re eating this?" he asked, shocked that his soldiers, who had risked their lives to protect the city, were surviving on such meager rations.

Determined to get to the bottom of it, Roland marched over to the shelter where the refugees were staying. As he approached, he witnessed a scene that made his heart sink. The family was hard at work, baking black bread from the little flour they had, and serving thin vegetable soup to the soldiers. The children, their eyes bright with hunger, eagerly devoured their meager portions.

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Roland's anger vanished, replaced by a deep sense of responsibility. He glanced at the couple’s bowl, noting the few floating leaves in the watery broth. "Carlos, why are we feeding my people scraps?" he asked, his voice low but filled with frustration.

"We're running out of supplies," Carlos explained quietly. "It’s winter, and there’s nowhere to replenish what we have. The little food we’ve managed to store won’t last long."

Roland sighed, rubbing his forehead. His dreams of rebuilding the glory of Lagrand seemed distant and unattainable if he couldn’t even ensure his people’s survival through the winter. "Send out the archers to hunt," he ordered, though he knew it was a long shot.

"They’re already out there, but this land is a wasteland," Carlos said grimly. "There’s not much game left to hunt."

"What about fishing?" Roland asked, suddenly grasping at straws. "The river’s close by, and it’s full of fish."

Carlos shook his head. "We don’t have boats or nets. Fishing with rods won’t provide enough to make a difference."

Roland paused, deep in thought. Then his eyes lit up. "We still have the boats we used to cross the lake during the raid on Long Lake Town, don’t we? And there must be fishing gear left behind there!"

Carlos looked skeptical but nodded. "It's worth a try. I’ll fly out and search the ruins for anything we can use."

As Carlos prepared to leave, Roland gathered the remaining knights. "Get ready to fish," he commanded, determined to provide for his people.

The day passed in a flurry of activity. When Carlos returned, his dragon laden with dried fish and nets, Roland felt a surge of hope. The knights worked tirelessly, setting up the boats and casting the nets into the river.

By evening, they were gathered around a large fire, grilling their catch. The smell of fresh fish filled the air, and for the first time in days, there were smiles on everyone’s faces. But as Roland looked around, his heart ached. The people were huddled together, their thin clothing no match for the biting cold.

Ivy approached him, reporting that more refugees had arrived—three families, all in desperate need of food and warmth. Roland sighed deeply. "Tomorrow, we’ll head to Iruba," he decided. "We need more supplies, and I won’t let my people starve or freeze."

As he walked away, Roland cursed the system under his breath. "You could at least provide decent clothing," he muttered bitterly, determined to do whatever it took to keep his people safe through the harsh winter.