With the borders secure and the Necromancer leashed to her new duty, Oakhaven entered a new phase of existence. It was no longer a desperate survival mission where every meal was rationed and every shadow held a threat. It was now a construction project on a massive scale.
Valeria stood on the porch of the old farmhouse holding a mug of tea that had gone cold. She watched the valley floor which had been transformed into a hive of industrial activity. The farmhouse, while cozy and filled with memories of their first winter, was bursting at the seams. Fifty refugees, five husbands, a high-maintenance Vassal, and a growing stockpile of magical resources required infrastructure that rotting wood and mud plaster could not provide.
"We need a Manor," Valeria had announced two days ago. "A proper seat of power. Stone walls, slate roof, separate wings for the barracks and the armory. We need a central keep that can withstand a siege without us having to sleep in the cellar."
