“Oh, wow!” Ketal exclaimed.0

He could not help voicing his admiration when the city came into view. Every village they had seen in the North so far had been closer to a camp than a settlement. There were no outer walls. Rough buildings leaned at odd angles, tossed together the way a poor district grew around a crossroads.0

That had felt inevitable. Barbarians lacked patience and planning. They would not build a proper town when a shack for sleeping would do. That was what Ketal had believed, and that belief had held for a very long time.0

The city before him proved there was another path. Someone had drawn a plan and followed it. Someone had laid out streets with intent, placed blocks with a sense of order, and built with more than the next night in mind. Maintenance had clearly slipped. There were dirty stretches and broken corners, yet the bones were sound.0

“Did the Barbarian King design this?” Ketal asked the barbarian.0

“Yes. Everyone told him it was a useless idea, and he forced it through anyway. He is a very peculiar king,” the former leader grumbled. His expression made it clear he did not see the point of a city.0

Ketal’s respect deepened. Back in the White Snowfield, he had tried to build a place like this and failed. He had explained the need for a stable territory that was more than a cluster of shelters. He had spoken about safety, storage, and the strength that came from staying in one place long enough to plant a stake. The barbarians...0