Chapter 8: The Watchful Lord

For three nights, Crofton slept while the roads transformed.

Each morning, the villagers awoke to find stretches of road flattened, drainage ditches neatly cut, and mud cleared away. They praised Lord Kestrel for his “efficient workers,” never realizing the truth.

And each night, from a distance, Kestrel watched.

Wrapped in a dark cloak, Lord Kestrel stood beneath the shadow of an oak tree overlooking the south road. His sharp eyes tracked the movements of the massive yellow construct its lights glowing faintly in the mist.

He’d seen enough to know it was no ordinary machine. It moved with uncanny precision, guided by the lone figure inside.

“A boy,” he murmured softly. “Barely old enough to be apprenticed. Yet he commands this… thing like it’s second nature.”

Each stroke of the blade reshaped the road with flawless efficiency. No wasted motion. No hesitation.

Kestrel’s lips curved faintly.

Not magic. Skill.

Inside the cab, Taren fought exhaustion. His hands ached from gripping the controls, his eyes burned from sleepless nights, but he didn’t stop.

“Just a little more,” he whispered, lowering the blade to carve another drainage channel.

GS516M obeyed with perfect precision, its engine humming steadily. Together, they worked seamlessly the boy and machine, as if they were born for this.

When he finally parked it near its hidden grove at dawn, Taren slumped back in the seat, smiling faintly despite his exhaustion.

“We’ll make these roads perfect,” he said to himself, patting the dashboard before slipping out unseen.

Hidden nearby, Kestrel’s eyes narrowed in thought.

“Such skill,” he muttered. “And such secrecy.”

He could have confronted the boy then. But instead, he simply turned and walked back toward his manor.

“Let him work,” he decided. “A craftsman who hides his hand is often worth more than one who flaunts it.”

Still, his mind churned with questions. Where did this boy come from? And what in the emperor’s name is that machine?

By sunrise, Crofton stirred again. Villagers cheered at the newly repaired sections.

“The lord’s men work miracles!”

“Crofton’s roads will outshine even the capital’s soon!”

Kestrel stood among them, smiling faintly, though his thoughts were elsewhere.

He glanced subtly at Taren, who passed through the crowd yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Soon,” Kestrel thought, “I’ll see just how deep this boy’s skill runs.”