With bows becoming commonplace within the fort, Mark had realized a need for a dedicated training area. It would be located outside the walls until the new wall could be built to encompass it.

Lined up against the palisade outside, they had straw targets that the acolytes used for crossbow practice and wooden manikins.

Mark watched his commoners fumble with their bows. It'd take a while before they were a feared fighting force, but a few standouts were already showing their faces.

They didn't have the required skills just yet, but when he had enough competent archers, he would form a new branch of his growing army: the Rangers.

Reida had already been placed officially in command of the fort's walls. Still, Mark decided that he wanted a more satisfying name for the archer battalion, which he intended for the tribune to command on his behalf.

The archers halted their training as Trumus and a couple of his men walked out to them. He could see them talking but nothing more.

What's he up to now?

The man walked around the outer walls and the surrounding lands like he owned the place. It made Mark a little uncomfortable, but crime had become almost unheard of. He couldn’t deny that the man was good at what he did.

Please, just don’t cause me any trouble.

His gaze shifted as he caught movement at his periphery and turned from the tribune.

Are people coming through the forest?

Mark narrowed his eyes on the treeline. There were a few of them moving in a close formation with larger figures he hadn't made yet.

His brow curled as he watched them near the forest’s edge.

Horses. The caravan. A smile bent his face and raised his cheeks as he spotted unrecognizable characters accompanying them.

So, she did find people to hire, and there were five of them. That's not bad. Here’s to hoping they have the skills I need.

Climbing down from the wall, Mark called up a few acolytes for a welcoming party and sent a runner to open both gates and wait for their arrival.

**Caravan**

“What’s with all the ferals?” One of the mercenaries sneered as they passed through the outer walls.

“As long as they keep the crowns coming,” the man beside him shrugged. “Who cares?”

“Ye got a point. At least the girls are probably cheaper here than in that shithole Frostwind.”

“You know it,” the other mercenary chuckled. "I've always wanted to get me a taste of feral meat."

“Keep your voices down and be respectful,” Leonard, the caravan master, interrupted the two. “These are our new employers, remember that. And if you’re planning any unsavory acts, make sure that you do it somewhere else. I’ll be damned if I have to go crawling back to the guild begging for work.”

“Don’t worry yeself, Leo. We’ll behave,” the mercenary said, and the both of them burst out laughing.

“I’m being serious. Don’t expect me to have ye backs if you get me in trouble with the Imperator. Now shut it, he's coming.”

“You’re back,” the Imperator said—the broad, stony-faced man approaching the group with a soft smile and waving hand that belied his hardened outer shell.

“Imperator,” Erin and Callum saluted at the caravan’s head, and the tribune and his men attempted a disheveled imitation.

“You’ve brought me five men, Acolyte Erin. I’m impressed. And Acolyte Callum, thank you for keeping her out of trouble.”

“It’s my honor,” Callum barked.

“So, Acolyte Erin, what have you brought me?”

“We have a master smith, Payon,” she replied, gesturing toward the burly man who nodded at the Imperator. “A master mason, Jaddrick.”

“It is a pleasure meeting you both. I hope you find my fort accommodating. Mason Jaddrick, you’ll have to share one of my masters' cabins for now, but I’ll make the construction of your own cabins a priority. Payon, we should be able to make room for you beside the smithy. But we’ll also need to construct a proper dwelling for you, and expand the smithy if you’re to use it properly. I’ve currently got two acolytes working within it most days. They were apprentice smiths back in the Imperium before being recruited as acolytes. They might be a little rusty, but they should make for decent apprentices, and we can use all the help we can get in the smithy.”

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“Aye. I ain’t going to turn down good help,” Payon nodded.

“A generous offer,” Mason Jaddrick bowed slightly.

“Please, get yourselves settled in. If you’re hungry, there are hot meals in the dining hall. Once you’re feeling comfortable, I have a special request I’d like to go over with the two of you. Other than that, I’m sure you’ll get enough work coming through your workshops. Most of it will come from Acolyte Elowen, who runs the storeroom and sets trading prices with the ferals, or commoners as we call them here in Fort Winterclaw. If you’re ever looking for additional work, which I doubt, she’ll be the person to go to. Any questions?”

The craftsmen shrugged.

“Good. And what about these three?” Mark turned his attention to the men at the rear of the caravan.

“This is Caravan Master Leonard. Previously employed by the Frontier Fur Company. He comes with good credentials and a lot of experience. And these two are mercenaries specializing in protection. Not only that, but they’ve all worked together previously doing runs between Frostwind and the Imperium.”

“Brilliant,” Mark clapped.

“There’s more, Imperator. The local representative for the Merchants Guild wants as many furs as we can supply him with, and he’s offering six crowns for each pelt we deliver.”

“I see, so that’s why you hired the caravan master,” Mark stroked his chin. “I’m impressed, Erin. It gives our already busy workforce even more to do, but if we can find the people to do the work, a steady source of crowns would be more than useful.”

Erin grinned, happy her gamble paid off.

“I’ll also find cabins for the three of you, and new cabins will be built. Although, I can't guarantee you'll get your own. That offer was for skilled craftsmen.”

"Perfectly fine, Imperator. It can't be any worse than Frostwind," the curly-haired caravan master with a thin mustache said with a toothy grin.

**Imperator**

Mark mused over his new construction plans. Building a new cabin for every Imperial who joined his fort wouldn’t be practical if he managed to keep hiring more, but he didn’t think they were ready to live out with the ferals just yet.

He decided to build one large cabin for mercenaries, realizing that the two they had hired to help with caravan runs likely wouldn’t be the last. And it could double as the fort’s barracks.

Master craftsmen would continue to get their own cabins unless they reached a point where they had more than they needed and didn't need to worry about attracting them into Fort Winterclaw.

More work meant he needed more people, though. And they were barely getting done what they needed to as it was. He would let his new hires rest a bit but couldn’t wait to brief them on his plans for an engine. However, even if they did manage to build a working prototype, it would take time to find ways to convert jobs around the fort into ones that could be powered by steam.

The reality was that they needed to expand their efforts, attracting more ferals to Fort Winterclaw, which was the purpose of the wall extension and outposts. But time was running short, and he wasn’t sure how easy it would be to draw people toward the fort once winter came.

But Mark had an idea. Warehouse supplies were already overflowing. There was a lot ahead of them, so emptying it without gain wasn’t a good plan. However, if he could get what the fort needed in return, giving away some of their excesses would be worth it.

Mark went through their supplies with Elowen, taking excess axeheads, furs, and red meat and placing them aside. The goods were prized amongst the ferals, many of which struggled to get their hands on such items and had many uses for them.

The plan was to use these items as bounties for the ferals. In return, they would ask the people to help erect logs and complete the new outer walls and outposts.

Once the walls and outposts were completed, Mark mused that the manpower issues should be eased up somewhat. The completion of the outposts would also provide them with expanded control over the immediate surrounding region, solidifying their position and drawing more people toward them.

The moment he cemented his plans, Mark sent scouts as runners to spread the news. With any luck, it would bring in a new flood of workers to help spring them along with their plans.

Their chances of surviving the winter were looking brighter with every day, and even Henric had been easier to work with recently. It hadn’t been easy, but Mark was fairly confident that the success of integrating the people so far was showing its value more every day, and his people’s innate survival instincts were shining through thanks to it.

It had been what he planned from the start. If he could convince them that his methods were their only means of surviving this, then they would be amenable to the changes he was employing.

Easing them into this was a bit of a gamble, but it looks like it’s finally paying off.

But he couldn’t relax. Even if people were finally easing up to the idea of working together, there was still a very long way to go. Not only would they need better, more sophisticated means of defending the fort, but they would need to continue to increase their numbers.

The Greek fire was the plan Mark liked the most, but it couldn’t be the only plan. Once the new walls were built, he wanted to add a trench. However, building a moat wouldn’t be very effective if all the water froze. But what if he could keep a drained trench lined with spikes surrounding the fort? That would be different. Not to mention his new smith. Once he had caught up on work, instructing him to craft barbed wire surely wouldn't be too difficult.

Even if the wargs were their military superiors, how would the medieval monsters fare trying to pass through a trench filled with spikes and barbed wire while arrows, Greek fire, and blasts of lightning rained down on them?

He knew what needed to be done. They just needed to get that wall built as quickly as possible, and then he would turn the area around the fort into a nightmare for anyone dumb enough to attack them.

There was only one issue. What if they laid siege to Fort Winterclaw? The storehouse had plenty of resources if they could continue collecting more, but did they have enough for a complete blockade?

Mark wasn’t sure. He needed a bigger warehouse. He needed to produce rigar bark more easily. And he needed a backup plan.

Another thought entered his mind. He wouldn’t try to build it now, not when his men had more important tasks to complete, but it was something worth keeping in mind.

What if they built a tunnel? There was one major issue with this idea. They needed to come out somewhere easily hidden. If they built a tunnel that the wargs could subsequently use to maneuver around his defensive constructs, it would be a major failure.

For now, it was just a thought—something that could resurface if the need became great enough or if they found a suitable location to connect to the fort via a tunnel.

Not only that, but if he could get his hands on the throne ship—assuming it did what he thought it did—then building a tunnel might not even be needed, anyway.

However, Atlas, an Imperator with far more training than he had, died trying to recover this artifact. He had to be careful, and there was a real chance that he would have to call the mission off if, after he started, he found the task too dangerous. The possibility needed to be investigated, but he wasn't confident betting on it.

Mark stewed over his notes. He dearly hoped his newly employed craftsmen would be up for a challenge.