Zira sat beside Caelen, arms crossed, eyes alert.
Garin leaned forward on his knees, looking at the map.
The elves stood behind, quiet but listening. The two dwarves, Borin and Dorgrim, were seated on a bench, whispering ideas back and forth like schoolboys.
Borin cleared his throat and stepped up with a rough sketch in his hand.
"This many people won't fit in huts anymore," he said, voice louder than usual. "We need one big house. Not a shack. A ho. Strong. Big enough to hold at least thirty."
He unrolled the paper on the table.
It showed a two-story building made of thick beams, with wide windows and small rooms stacked side by side.
"Think of it like... a human hotel," he added. "Or goblin apartnts."
Everyone moved closer to see.
Zira raised her brow. "You drew this?"
Borin grinned. "With Dorgrim's help."
"It's good," Garin admitted. "Sturdy layout."
"We'll need a lot though," Dorgrim said. "Stone, iron, wood, clay, nails. Maybe even mortar."
Caelen gave a quiet nod. "We'll get everything. Bit by bit."
Just as the eting wrapped up, Elira stepped closer. Her eyes, as sharp as always, watched him carefully.
"Caelen," she said softly, "those goblins... do you truly trust them?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked out the window where the injured goblins were resting, eating what little they had.
"I do," he said. "They're not the ones causing this war. They're just trying to survive."
Elira lowered her gaze. "That boy... Zira's brother. He looked so thin. I almost didn't believe he was real."
"He's real," Caelen said. "And brave."
She nodded, just once. "Then I'll follow your lead. I just... hope your trust doesn't cost us."
Caelen walked outside into the setting sun. He made his way to a group of goblins sitting near the fire. One of them, an older male with deep lines in his face, noticed him and sat up.
"Have you eaten?" Caelen asked.
"So of us have. Not all."
Caelen sat beside him. "What happened?"
The goblin stared at the flas for a mont. His voice was slow. Tired.
"We ran. That's all we did. Ran from orcs. From fire. From everything."
He paused.
He looked over at Zira's little brother, who was laughing softly with her.
"We followed that glow like it was the only light left."
Caelen was quiet for a mont. "You're safe here."
The goblin gave a slow nod. "I want to believe that."
Back in the hall, Borin and Dorgrim sat over their sketches.
"We'll need beams here," Borin said, tapping the drawing. "If we do it right, the second floor can hold even more weight."
"I say we plan for three floors," Dorgrim replied. "This village's growin' faster than mushrooms in the rain."
They both chuckled.
Then suddenly... silence.
Borin looked around. "Wait. Where's the ale?"
Dorgrim checked his bag. "Empty."
Borin's face fell. "Not a drop left this week."
They slumped back in their chairs, looking utterly betrayed.
"No drink," Dorgrim muttered. "And we're buildin' a house?"
Borin groaned. "I miss the ale."
Outside, Caelen walked past the window and heard them complain.
He smiled faintly and whispered, "I'll make you sothing. Promise."
Then he looked at the night sky.
A big house.
A growing village.
And people starting to believe in each other.
It was enough—for now.
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