CHAPTER 4: Credit to the Lord

Morning broke over Crofton with an unexpected surprise.

The once broken road leading to the village now lay perfectly smooth. The ruts and puddles were gone, and neat ditches lined either side for water drainage. For the first time in months, carts rolled without jostling and hooves clopped evenly without stumbling.

By midday, the entire village buzzed with talk.

“Would you look at this road?” a merchant exclaimed, patting his wagon as it glided along. “No bumps, no mud splashes—almost feels like a royal road!”

“It must be Lord Kestrel’s doing,” a farmer said confidently. “Who else could afford to hire skilled workers like this?”

“Yes, must be,” agreed another. “The lord’s always been good to Crofton. Probably sent men to work on it overnight.”

No one questioned it further. After all, if the road was fixed, why worry about how?

Later that day, Lord Kestrel himself rode along the repaired stretch. His horse moved smoothly, no longer struggling through the mud.

“Impressive,” he murmured, stroking his chin. He hadn’t sent any workers, nor given such an order. But seeing the villagers so pleased, he simply nodded.

When a few curious farmers asked, “Did you have this done, my lord?” he smiled faintly and replied, “If it brings Crofton comfort, then let it be so.”

And with that, the matter was settled.

From a distance, Taren listened, hidden behind a wagon.

“They really think it was him,” he whispered, almost laughing in disbelief. His chest felt lighter. No suspicion, no searching. Just gratitude directed elsewhere.

That evening, he returned to GS516M’s hidden spot by the bend in the road. The grader stood silent, bathed in the golden glow of sunset.

He placed a hand on its steel frame. “See that? They think Lord Kestrel did it. We’re safe.”

The machine’s lights flickered faintly—just once.

Climbing into the cabin, Taren looked out over the dirt paths stretching beyond Crofton.

“If we keep doing this quietly,” he murmured, “we can fix all the roads around here before anyone notices.”

He grinned, gripping the wheel. “Let’s make Crofton the smoothest village in the region!”

The engine rumbled to life, steady and strong, as if answering his call.

That night, under the pale moonlight, a boy and his silent companion worked tirelessly, reshaping the land in secret while the world slumbered.