Capitolo 3: Chapter 3: The Day Before the Hatch
The first light of day slipped through the cracks in the shutters, cutting across the floorboards in thin, pale strips. I woke easily. No aches, no heaviness, only alertness. The room was quiet except for the faint creak of wood as the building settled.
The first thought in my mind wasn't about the docks, or the village, or the people moving about outside. It was about the eggs.
[Hatchling Status: Incubation – 1 day until first emergence]
Tomorrow.
The system's confirmation settled in my head like a fixed point. The wait was nearly over. I could almost hear the faint sound of movement inside the eggs, though I knew that was only my mind anticipating what was to come.
Work could wait. I had no interest in spending the day lifting barrels or listening to fishermen talk about tides. The dockmaster would find another set of hands easily enough. Today was for preparation.
I rose, dressed in my usual tunic and trousers, and strapped the satchel across my back. The cube stayed inside, locked in its cushioning. I checked the Beastmaster's Ring—still on my finger, still faintly warm. My axe hung from my belt; it wasn't likely I'd need it for wood today, but it was useful to carry in the forest regardless.
Outside, the village was already moving. Two men carried baskets of fish toward the salting shed. A woman walked past with a pail of water in each hand. I kept my pace steady, avoiding unnecessary conversation. No one stopped me as I left the main path and cut toward the treeline.
The forest was the same as last night—quiet, cool, with a slight dampness clinging to the air. I followed the same steps as before: four hundred forward, then right for two hundred. The site where I had cut firewood was easy to recognize from the fresh stumps and scattered chips on the ground. I passed it without slowing.
Ahead, the trees thinned, the light growing stronger. I reached the edge of the clearing and stepped inside.
It was larger than it had appeared from outside, a rough oval shape perhaps forty paces across at its widest. The ground was mostly grass, short and even, with a few small wildflowers scattered near the edges. Near the center was open space with no trees at all, just the grass and bare patches of earth. Around the edges, the tree line was dense, offering some shelter from the wind but no complete concealment from above.
To my left, I saw the pond. It was shallow along the edges, deepening toward the center. The surface was still, broken only when a fish rose near the surface, sending small ripples across the water. The water was clear enough to see the darting shapes beneath.
I walked the perimeter first, measuring each step and noting the layout. No signs of human activity—no cut stumps, no footprints but my own. No animal tracks either, though birdsong came from the trees. The grass in the middle was healthy, no scorch marks or signs of disturbance.
I knelt near the pond, tested the water with my hand. Cool, fresh. A reliable source, though small. The fish inside were small as well, nothing larger than the length of my hand, but they moved in numbers. That meant this water was fed by some underground spring or a small stream, though I didn't see any inlet.
The clearing was exactly what it appeared to be—open ground, a pond, grass, and the surrounding forest. No hidden dangers, no unexpected discoveries.
I stood in the middle for a while, letting my eyes sweep over the space. It was quiet here, almost too quiet compared to the rest of the forest. That was useful.
The potential was obvious. A place like this could be shaped into something more. It could serve as a temporary training ground, or even a meeting point outside the village. But I wasn't here to change it today. This was reconnaissance.
Satisfied, I turned and made my way back the way I had come. The path was easy to follow—forest floor disturbed by my earlier movements, sunlight breaking through in familiar spots. Soon, the sound of the village returned: distant hammers, voices, the clatter of buckets.
Back in my room, I locked the satchel in the chest again and sat on the bed. Planning was next.
Tomorrow the first egg would hatch. That was the starting point for everything. My steps from there had to be deliberate. I could not simply raise predators in secrecy without purpose. The goal was clear: a kingdom. Not one ruled by fear or cruelty, but one that could hold against threats from outside. A place where ordinary people could live without fearing the constant wars and raids that plagued Westeros.
For that, I needed order, resources, and the loyalty of those who lived under my rule. The dinosaurs would be my strength, the foundation on which I would build. They would be the deterrent, the shield. But a kingdom needed more than power—it needed structure, trade, and stability.
I thought of what would come first: secure territory, then a base of operations, then growth outward. The stronghold blueprint would be essential for the first step. The location had to be chosen carefully—accessible enough to maintain, but hidden enough to protect the beasts and the people living there.
Beyond that, there would be the question of allies. Westeros was a land of shifting loyalties and dangerous politics. Aligning with the wrong house too soon could destroy everything. My approach would need to be measured—build strength quietly, reveal power only when necessary.
But that was for later.
Tomorrow would be the first tangible step. The first hatchling would mark the true beginning.
The thought of it brought a surge of energy I could feel in my chest. I imagined the moment the egg cracked, the sound, the first movement of the creature as it emerged. The connection between us, forged through the Beastmaster's Ring, ready from the first breath it took.
The rest of the day passed in quiet preparation. I ensured my tools were in order, food supplies stored, and the small brazier in the corner was fed just enough to keep the room warm without wasting wood.
When the light outside dimmed again, I lay back on the bed, the fire's glow flickering across the wall. Sleep would come easily tonight. Tomorrow would not be just another day—it would be the first day of the kingdom I would build.
Stato Settimanale dell'Energia
-- Classifica
Potenza 
-- Pietra del
potere