The morning sun bathed the eastern slope in golden light, casting long shadows over the rolling grass and dew-kissed stones. I stood with Igor at the base of the chosen hill, a place we now called "Signal Crest." It had the best elevation for miles, and from here, you could see the full sprawl of our bustling town.
I adjusted the radio on my belt and glanced down at the unfolded blueprint in my hands. Heavy bootsteps approached from behind—Igor's unmistakable rhythm.
He grunted, arms crossed. "You sure this spot's stable enough? Soil's a bit loose on the north side."
"Already reinforced it with packed mana-stone," came a voice from behind him. "This hill isn't going anywhere."
I turned to see Grumli, our lead dwarven engineer, marching up with his two younger cousins, Bori and Thalm. They wore thick leather aprons, their red and grey beards singed from the forge, and their faces painted with eager anticipation.
Grumli spat to the side and slapped his rolled parchment into Igor's hands. "This here's our layout—twelve metres high, base-wide with a steel core and layered mana-crystal plating to anchor the tower. She won't blow over unless a dragon sits on her."
"Let's hope that doesn't happen," Igor muttered.
I stepped forward and pointed at a spot on the blueprint. "What about the antenna structure? This section here – can it support the rotating signal dish and a lightning rod?"
Grumli gave a toothy grin. "Not only will it support 'em, we're wiring a surge ward into the base. If lightning strikes, it channels the energy harmlessly down into the soil. No crispy comms."
I nodded, impressed. "And the power source?"
Bori, the smaller of the two cousins, piped up. "Solar panels, imported from the last batch ye brought in. But we're also addin' a backup mana-battery hub. Just in case your sun forgets to shine."
"Elvie's prepping the panels now," I said. "Should be here before nightfall."
Igor squinted toward the sky. "What about camouflage? If the enemy sees a tower up here, they'll know we're communicating fast."
Grumli grinned again, clearly expecting the question. "Already thought of that. We'll wrap the steel frame in false bark plating and rig a canopy around the top. From a distance? Looks like a dead pine."
"Clever," I said. "I like it." Damn, they sure could do something so cool in a week.
The dwarves began laying out their tools. Bori hefted a mana-drill that hissed steam. Thalm pulled out a crate of silver-threaded cables. Felix's patrols would keep the perimeter secure while the team worked.
As the first support beams were being sunk into the earth, Grumli turned to me. "So tell me, Dirk... Why's this tower so important? You're plannin' to build an army or a nation?"
I looked out across the town—its rooftops catching the sun, its smoke curling from chimneys, its people working with hammers and hope.
"Neither," I said. "I'm building a future. One where we can respond to threats faster than they can reach us. Where help doesn't take days to arrive. Where every farm, every outpost, every soul in this valley is connected."
Thalm grunted, clearly impressed. "You thinkin' of putting radios in the dwarf mines too?"
"I'm thinking big, because what if we were running out of magic stones?" I admitted. "Once this tower works, we'll build a second—north of the river. Then another in the western hills. A triangle network. Total coverage."
Igor's eyes flicked to me. "And if the enemy strikes again?"
I met his gaze. "We'll know the moment it happens. And we'll strike back twice as fast."
The dwarves exchanged glances, their hammers already swinging with more purpose.
"By sundown," Grumli said, "you'll have your tower, Commander Dirk."
I smiled. "Good. Because the next time that demon thinks he can surprise us… we'll be ready."
*****
The first official day of the Festival of Harvest and Trade began with a riot of colors and music.
From early morning, the marketplace buzzed with energy. Children with brightly painted faces darted between the stalls, clutching local sweets wrapped in banana leaves and some I bought from the system. Local artisans displayed their best handiwork—woven baskets, colourful cloth, and polished wood carvings—all proudly labelled as "Made in Dirk's Territory."
At the heart of it all, Ella and Elvie stood atop the huge wooden stage, decorated with more flaglets, balloons and party backdrops, colourful curtains and plastic flowers, welcoming visitors with big smiles and an infectious energy that kept the crowds lively.
"Welcome to our home!" Ella called out with a megaphone, her voice clear and melodic. "Eat, dance, trade, and be merry!"
"And don't miss the pie-eating contest at noon!" Elvie added, drawing loud cheers from the villagers and visitors alike.
Near the fountain plaza, Kael leaned against the stonework, half-watching a group of children trying to bob for apples in a giant barrel.
Sylphy sat nearby, lazily carving a small piece of wood into the shape of a hawk.
"Feels strange," Kael said, his arms crossed. "All this peace."
Sylphy shrugged and popped in another lollipop to her mouth, "Enjoy it while it lasts. Knowing our luck, the next storm's just over the horizon."
I chuckled and tossed them both roasted meat skewers wrapped in crisp flatbread—one of the new foods introduced to the village thanks to my recipes.
"We built this," I said simply. "We earned this moment."
Meanwhile, in the market lanes, travelling performers from the nearby cities put on shows—flame jugglers, acrobats, and even a masked storyteller who weaved tales of the mythical Divine Tree (with some obvious embellishments that made me raise an eyebrow).
Merchant caravans rolled in steadily throughout the morning, drawn by rumours of rare Northern produce, unique crafts, and the "mana-infused village of the west."
Many were nobles' representatives or freelance traders, their pockets heavy with silver and gold.
The bakery shops and small stalls, even the Dirk's Grocery Store, were packed wall-to-wall with customers, overseen masterfully by Ella, Elvie, and the five new sales ladies they had trained.
Sacks of colourful, unfamiliar vegetables and fragrant herbs, my wares disappeared faster than the girls could stock them.
By midday the sun filtered through the glass windows of the newly built Dirk's Grocery Store, casting soft light on the tiled floor. Outside, you could still hear the muffled sounds of hammering, wheelbarrows rolling across stone, and vendors shouting their wares in the plaza. But inside this particular stall—still unoccupied and quiet—something new was about to begin.
I stepped forward, setting down my magical backpack on the clean wooden counter. A few curious townsfolk milled nearby—mostly children at first, eyes wide and noses smudged against the glass panes.
Behind me, Elvie and Felix exchanged puzzled glances. Ella was leaning against a barrel in the corner, arms crossed with a small, knowing smirk. She had a sixth sense for when I was up to something strange.
"What now, my lord?" Elvie asked, adjusting her apron. "Another... Northern novelty?"
I grinned as I reached into the pack. "You could say that."
One by one, I pulled out the items: a compact cotton candy machine, its parts gleaming like polished chrome. Then came bags of sugar, flavor extracts, color packets, and paper cones. The machine whirred faintly as I assembled it atop the counter.
Felix tilted his head. "Looks like some kind of arcane forge."
"It's for magic," I replied, deadpan. "The magic of childhood."
That earned a chuckle from Ella.
Soon, the crowd thickened. Nobles, their embroidered cloaks brushing against the produce stands, leaned in with mild curiosity. Children tugged their mothers' skirts, pointing at the strange device. Even the old dwarven blacksmith paused with a steaming meat skewer in hand.
"What in blazes is that?" he muttered.
I straightened and addressed the gathering. "This," I declared, "is a cotton candy machine. Where I'm from, it's the stuff of dreams. Swirls of sugar so light, they melt in your mouth. Sweetness spun into clouds."
"A spell?" asked a boy with big eyes.
"Not quite. But close enough." I flicked on the switch. The machine hummed to life, a faint warm glow forming at the center. I poured in the colored sugar, then waited.
"Watch closely," I said.
In moments, delicate strands began to form. I twirled the first cone slowly, collecting the thin wisps until they ballooned into a puffy pink swirl the size of my head.
Gasps echoed through the stall. "By the gods…"
"It's floating sugar!" Ella leaned closer, sniffed the air. "Smells like berries and vanilla."
I handed the first cone to a little girl with wide hazel eyes. She took one bite—then her entire body trembled in place. "It's like eating a rainbow!" she squealed, giggling.
That was it. The moment the children screamed with delight, the crowd surged forward.
"I'll take five!"
"My son must try one—please, Lord Dirk!"
"Can we order this for festivals?"
"Can I… buy the machine?"
I held up my hands, laughing. "Easy! One at a time! There's plenty of sugar to go around."
Elvie stepped in, organizing the line as Felix started handing out sample cones. Ella took over the flavor mixing, her expression turning from skeptical to deeply amused.
"You've created a sugar cult," she muttered.
I winked. "Wait until I bring in chocolate mamons and candied nuts."
Behind the counter, I noticed two noble merchants scribbling rapidly into their notebooks. One approached, bowing slightly. "Lord Dirk. If you're open to it, I'd like to place a standing order—two crates of your cotton candy and sweets every week. For my estate and the nearby villages."
Another chimed in. "And I've connections with eastern towns. We can begin distributing your treats under an exclusive banner. What say you? Shall we discuss terms?"
Elvie gave me a wide-eyed glance. I could almost see the cogs turning in her head.
"Looks like the trading network's already starting itself," I muttered.
"You started it the moment you fed them sugar," Ella added, handing me another cone.
I looked out over the joyous chaos: children skipping around with sticky fingers, nobles whispering excitedly, and townsfolk sharing bites like it was sacred. Inside my chest, I felt a strange warmth. It wasn't just about introducing new food. It was a connection—something that crossed language, race, age, and station. I took a bite of the fluff in my hand, reminding me of my grandfather when we used to go to the park together. Sweet memories, Happy ones. Light. Hopeful.
Just like the future we were building.