With the new iron, the sound of the Maerinum people's working was loud and clear. Saws scraped across wood and trees groaned as they slammed into the ground, teams of workers using mules and good hard labour to take the massive natural constructs back to where they would be processed. Some of the finer woods had already been commandeered by artisans, and the marketplace, where once grain had been bartered, flourished with culture, statuettes and small blades, lockets and trinkets being sold across. Maxim watched as a little boy eagerly pointed to a small wooden figure of a horse, the legs of which were jointed to allow them to move, and smiled, before turning back to the scouts he had assembled.

"Your job is simple. What crops we have here are of a pitifully small variety. Wheat and oats, thick greens. Good for the peasants perhaps, but these are citizens, not damned peasants. Go, all of you, a boat is waiting to take you to the mainland. Find seeds, buds, plants of any kind, and by the time you come back our farms should flourish in colour.

A grin crossed his face as they saluted and left, and he sat down heavily. "And they better find grapes, I need a damned DRINK!"