The heavy oak doors of the Baron's private study creaked open.
A servant shuffled into the dimly lit room. He was trembling so violently that his knees practically knocked together. He kept his eyes glued to the lavish carpet, terrified of making eye contact with his master.
"Lord Leonard," the servant squeaked, his voice cracking. "There are... new developments. The spies have returned with more rumors regarding the Nameless Village."
Leonard sat slumped in his oversized armchair. He looked like a cornered beast. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his breathing was heavy and erratic.
"Speak," Leonard growled, his grip tightening on the armrests.
"It... it is about the foreign Chief," the servant stammered, taking a hesitant step backward. "Word on the street is that Fragha has hired dozens of fully armed mercenaries. He contracted them from the Morris Fortress City to guard their borders."
Leonard blinked. Then, a low, guttural chuckle rumbled in his chest.
The chuckle quickly escalated into a booming, hysterical fit of laughter. It was a mad, desperate sound that echoed unnervingly off the stone walls.
"Hahaha! Are you joking?" Leonard wiped a tear from his eye, his fat belly jiggling with amusement. "Mercenaries from Morris? Do you have any idea how expensive those armored brutes are? Where in the world would a village of starving beggars get the gold to pay for a private army?"
The servant swallowed hard. He looked as if he was about to deliver a death sentence.
"That is the other part of the rumor, my lord," the servant whispered. "They say... they say Fragha sold massive shipments of premium wheat directly to the merchants in Morris City. He bypassed us entirely. They brought back chests overflowing with pure gold."
The laughter died instantly.
The air in the room turned freezing cold. Leonard's small, bloodshot eyes widened to an unnatural degree. The realization hit him like a physical blow to the chest.
"So..." Leonard hissed, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "You are telling me that filthy little settlement actually has an abundant stockpile of wheat?"
"I-it is just a rumor, my lord!" the servant cried out, dropping to his knees and shielding his head.
"Damn it all!" Leonard roared like a wounded animal.
He grabbed the nearest object, a heavy golden goblet filled with dark red wine, and hurled it violently across the room. It shattered against the stone fireplace, splashing wine that looked horrifyingly like blood across the marble floor.
Leonard completely lost his mind, overturning tables and screaming curses into the empty air.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the river, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Albert Harmlet, the massive, one-eyed architect, stood near the wooden docks of our village. He was chatting quietly with Viktor, the merchant. When Viktor relayed the news of the chaos unfolding in Balan, a rare, genuine smile spread across Albert's rugged face.
It was not a sudden decision for Albert to move here. In fact, he and I had already laid the groundwork for this defection.
It happened right before the disastrous inauguration ceremony.
After the incident at the tavern, I had pulled Albert aside for a private conversation in a quiet alleyway. He was a man of few words, but his intentions were crystal clear. He formally offered to become the Chief Architect of my village, aiming to build us proper infrastructure before the deadly winter arrived.
But he had conditions. Strict ones.
"My wages must be guaranteed," Albert had rumbled, his single eye piercing right through my facade. "My wife and children need to eat, and I will not let them starve for the sake of your ambition."
"Done," I had replied without missing a beat. "What else?"
"I choose my own crew," Albert continued, crossing his massive arms. "I will be their foreman. And most importantly, you will pay them fairly. I will not tolerate slave labor, Lord Fragha."
Albert looked down at the cobblestone street. A heavy, suffocating aura of grief momentarily clouded his hardened expression.
"One of my best men died under Leonard's command," Albert confessed, his voice tight with suppressed anger. "He was deathly ill. Leonard refused to pay his past wages and forced him to keep hauling stone in the freezing rain. His heart gave out. I resigned the very next morning."
I had listened in silence. That kind of unwavering solidarity and deep care for his subordinates was a rare, incredibly valuable trait. It meant that if I earned his loyalty, he would be a pillar I could absolutely depend on.
During that alleyway conversation, I had subtly activated my system.
[God Eye's Status Panel]
[Name: Albert Harmlet]
[Stats:]
[Strength: B]
[Agility: C]
[Defense: A]
[Intelligence: A]
[Potential: A]
[Talent: Civil Engineering / Architecture]
[(Upgrade skill to Lv. 5 to view additional categories)]
My heart had skipped a beat.
"Absolute madness," I had thought, barely containing my excitement. "He is not just a bricklayer. He is a genuine, high-level civil engineer in another world."
"I will consider your terms heavily, Master Albert," I had told him politely. "I will give you my final answer when the time is right."
"Very well, Lord Fragha," Albert had nodded respectfully. "I hope you survive the night. Farewell."
That conversation was the catalyst. Once my plans destroyed Leonard's reputation and Viktor established our secure line of communication, I officially accepted Albert's offer.
Albert had wasted no time. He packed up his wife, his children, and his essential tools, smuggling them across the river on a small wooden raft under the cover of darkness.
The next morning, the reality of our growing population hit us hard.
Oderick's small wooden house was bursting at the seams. We had the old chief, myself, Hana, Zael, his daughter, and now Albert and his entire family all squeezed under one leaking roof.
I sat at the cramped dining table, sipping a cup of hot water.
"This house is getting impossibly cramped," I stated the obvious, looking around the cluttered room. "We need to construct new housing immediately."
Hana, who was sitting across from me, let out a long, exhausted groan. She rubbed her temples, looking thoroughly sleep-deprived.
"You should have done that days ago," Hana complained, glaring at me. "I had to sleep curled up in a corner because there are people literally everywhere."
Albert stepped into the room, ducking his head to avoid hitting the low doorframe. He looked completely unbothered by the chaos.
"Relax, young lady," Albert said confidently, tapping a thick roll of parchment against his massive palm. "Leave the construction to me."
He spread the parchment across the table, unrolling a detailed, hand-drawn map of the village layout.
"First, we need to locate and secure our building materials," Albert explained, entering his professional element. "Then, we determine the structural layout. Space on this cliff is limited. If we build traditional single-story shacks, we will run out of arable land."
He pointed a thick finger at the center of the map.
"What about a vertical housing concept?" Albert proposed. "We build upwards. Multi-level structures designed to house multiple families. It will save a massive amount of space."
I leaned forward, genuinely impressed. For a man living in a medieval setting, his vision was incredibly progressive.
"Brilliant," I praised him, a wide smile breaking across my face. "You are absolutely right. We will build high-density vertical structures. Let us call it public housing."
Albert nodded, pleased that I understood his vision.
"Excellent. Then the first step is logistics. We need to allocate funds to purchase massive quantities of refined stone, timber, and high-grade clay from the traveling merchants."
"No," I interrupted smoothly.
Albert paused, looking at me with his single eye.
"We are not buying anything," I clarified, leaning back in my chair. "We are going to manufacture our own materials right here. Specifically, I am going to produce something called cement."
Zael, who was quietly watching from the doorway, tilted his head in confusion.
"Cement?" Zael echoed the unfamiliar word. "What exactly is that, milord?"
I stood up, adopting the confident posture of a modern educator.
"Cement," I explained clearly, "is a specialized, hydraulic mineral powder. When mixed with water, it creates a chemical reaction. It acts as an unbreakable binder. We mix it with sand and gravel, and it hardens into an artificial stone that is vastly superior to packed clay or mud."
Albert's brow furrowed in deep concentration. He crossed his arms, staring at the floor as he dug through his memory.
"Hmm," Albert grumbled slowly. "Now that you mention it... I have heard strange rumors about something like that."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yes. A few years ago, some exotic merchants from a distant eastern empire passed through Balan. They spoke of a magical gray powder that could turn loose sand into solid rock overnight."
Albert shook his head dismissively. "I completely ignored them. I thought it was just a typical merchant scam. I assumed that even if such a magical binder existed, it would be an incredibly rare, mythical material reserved only for the Emperor's palace."
"Where did you get your information, Albert?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"Just tavern talk and traveling merchants," Albert replied, looking at me with newfound skepticism. "But you are telling me... you actually know how to make this mythical powder?"