Levi stood in Ser Sedge's office, the swamp dust still clinging to his boots.

"I'm back," he said simply.

Ser Sedge looked up from his table and smiled faintly. "Yes, you are. And you've passed. You survived a season in the swamp alone. That was the last test. Now, the boys are yours to lead. Do with them as you wish."

Levi nodded. The weight of it sank in. "Thank you."

"Also," Ser Sedge added, leaning back in his chair. "Your yearly silver taxes have been paid. That old Maester of yours he's sharp. Had it all squared away."

Levi smiled faintly. "He always finds a way."

Then he reached into his satchel and placed the carefully wrapped flower on Ser Sedge's table.

The knight raised a brow and leaned in. "Well now… I haven't seen one of these in a long time. That's Northern Bog Laurel. Locals call it Crone's Mercy. Deadly stuff."

He tapped the papery pinkish petals with care. "Everything on it is poisonous the leaves, the stem, the roots. But the flowers? That's the worst part. You grind it down, Boil it and seal it in a jar, then cool it and it becomes something that kills in silence, it even has a freshly aroma of flowers. Coat it on a blade or an arrowhead and the victim barely feels it until it's too late. Slurred speech. Fainting. Then the heart gives out."

Levi watched the flower in silence, then said, "I want to keep it. Use it, if the time ever comes. I'll call it... Ghost Kiss."

Ser Sedge gave a short nod. "You're acting like a true swampfolk now."

He stood slowly, walking to the window. "I've hired guards, a few. Some are just townsfolk who needed coin. I didn't train them not like I trained your men. A few weeks of drill and off they went. This place needs more if its going to be well guarded, but that's not my work anymore."

He turned to Levi. "Our deal is done. What you do now is up to you. I'll be around, but only to watch. And collect the yearly silver tax."

Levi offered a deep nod of respect. "Thank you. For everything you taught us."

With that, he left the longhouse and headed home.

Night came fast.

By the time the lamps were lit, all twenty-one young men stood at Levi's home. They feasted together ate lizard meat, cheese, hard bread, swampberries, and barrels of ale. The room roared with stories, laughter, and relief. Each of them had something to share from their trial in the swamp.

But as the night settled and the last story was told, a silence came.

They all looked at Levi.

One of them spoke, "What now? You had us trained… but what's next?"

Levi leaned forward, calm and steady. "I've been hiring sellswords to guard my caravans. Strangers. Men who'd run if coin dried up. Most of the ones guarding this town are the same unequipped, untrained, untested."

He looked around at the faces he knew, boys turned men.

"I need all your help. I don't know the exact number of people living here now. But I asked for more than a thousand homes enough for fifteen hundred people, maybe two thousand, even more if you count those from nearby villages who come here to live and work."

He stood, raising a mug.

"Kell. Arl. Munty. Lyle. Jory. You've always led your groups. I need you to keep doing that. The rest of you, stand by them."

He took a breath.

"I want three hundred men. Two hundred to guard Bogwater, One hundred by day, One hundred by night. The last hundred will be guards for the merchant caravans. That's where the coin will come from. That's how we keep Bogwater alive and growing."

Levi looked out the window, as if seeing the town's future in the dark.

"I've been gone too long to know what's changed. But I know this we will keep growing, Better, Stronger, United."

He lifted his mug high.

"To our future."

Jory raised his cup, grinning. "To Bogtown!"

Arl shouted, louder than anyone, "To brothers!"

Everyone else raised their mugs, and the house echoed with cheer.

They drank deep, feasted more, and that night, for the first time in moons, they were home again together.