Silence followed the young prince’s resounding question. The crowd kept its head lowered as its eyes wandered in thoughtful ponder. And while the prolonged silence felt oppressive, Atlas didn’t back away.

He kept his arms widened with the intent of guiding these ‘lost sheep’ onto the rightful path as its one, true Shepard. His face kept its holistic smile that gave the most devout believer of God, a run for his money.

He was confident. Excessively, even. He did not doubt for a single moment that these people would stray away from his wishes. Why?

Because he was Atlas Constantine. A genius.

And he was correct.

“Makes sense! Only the Almighty could protect us within this cursed forest!”

“He’s our shepherd and we are his sheep!”

“Your Majesty Atlas! Please guide me and my family through these sinister times!!”

“He’s the One! The One chosen by the gods!”

One after the other, the crowd cheered for its new leader. Their eyes were mired with a passionate glow, one that bordered on obsession. Their legs moved towards the wooden platform by instinct while their arms reached out towards the prince. The crowd’s mood rose to a fervent pitch.

Words had power. If used correctly, they could create nations or destroy empires.

“Whoa! That worked a little too well,” Atlas mumbled quietly and moved to hide behind the stiff Baron. He then raised his little head, stared at the pig-faced man, and said, “Baron Helm, I think the people need to be calmed a bit.”

Snapping out of his daze, the Baron immediately raised his voice and thundered.

“Move back! Do not push each other!”

It took a little while –and a lot of effort, mostly by the Baron– for the crowd to be cowed in silence. They calmed down and the majority came to respect the new leader. If they had any doubts, they did not show it.

Respect or doubt, Atlas had convinced the people to take him seriously. As far as first impressions went, his was a resounding success.

‘And now for the final step,’ Atlas smirked. The ‘Hook’ had been cast, he had empathized and the crowd had been elevated. It was time for the final move, one that Atlas personally referred to as ‘The Fun Part.’

Exhaling a breath of chill air, he spoke, “It gladdens me to see everyone come to accept me. I can feel it in my heart. The Almighty Gods are also pleased with this outcome.”

The smile on his face suddenly disappeared.

“But, my humble sheep, our work has just begun! The road to the promised land is a long and arduous one. Our journey has just begun! Tell me, are you willing to follow me, as I lead you to paradise!?”

“YES, WE ARE!!” The crowd returned.

“Then let us waste no time and begin! Starting today, your duties will be as follows!”

Atlas began to recite names from his memory, calling out one citizen after the other, and assigning them with a duty. These duties, mainly requiring manual labor, ranged from coal mining, woodcutting, item transportation, and construction.

Atlas did not discriminate. One fact that noticed during his tour around the town yesterday was that the physical conditions of both men and women were excellent and were in fact identical. While Atlas did not understand the reason why this was so–was it their lifestyle, genetics, or maybe because this was a magic world– he was glad.

Assigning a woman to mine coal would’ve been pointless and counter-productive in his previous world, owing to their weaker statures and whatnot. But here, it was different. The women could do the same amount of work as the men and achieve similar results. It was simply fantastic.

Now he had twice the amount of manual laborers to exploit.

With the discovery of the natural, not to mention exposed, coal deposit, Atlas made it the town’s priority to mine it and transport it. While unrefined coal was rather inefficient to use, it would serve well for now.

He assigned nearly half the available workforce, eighty-five (85) workers to be exact, into the coal mining efforts; mining, gathering and transporting. This left him with exactly 88 workers, discounting the children, the Scout Team that had left, and the educated.

He then dumped forty (40) workers in the woodcutting sector. Another fifteen (15) to demolish the existing, poorly constructed structures, while twenty-five (25) workers were made to work in reconstructing the town. Atlas had drawn up the construction plans himself and put an educated peasant –a mason– in charge of the team.

He sent off these people to start with their duties.

He then assigned five workers –women– to take care of and manage the children. A whole forty-five of them. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of snot-nosed brats running around, getting injured, and laying waste to the town.

And then there were three. Axel Lynch, Marvin Serra, and Mrs. Linda.

“You three will be in charge of portioning and distributing the food rations starting this afternoon. Be sure to do a stellar job since the survival of the town depends on it,” the young prince smilingly instructed. He even patted Axel on his arm.

Being this close to this pseudo-legendary being, the three of them were lost of words. They dumbly nodded their heads, words refusing to escape their throats.

“Oh, and also,” Atlas reminded. “I want to institute a little change to how food rations will be distributed.”

“Another change, my liege?” Baron Helm, who stood by the prince’s side as always, nervously asked.

“I’m not going to reduce it further, Baron Helm.” Atlas rolled his eyes. “I want the food rations to be cooked into meals, and then distributed to the populace. There’s nothing like a bowl of hot gruel after an honest day’s work. Our people deserve this much luxury.”

He puffed out his chest and sincerely declared with a blooming smile on his face.

“Oh, my liege,” Baron Helm felt touched. And so did the three others around him. “The sincerity and care that you show towards the humble peasants bring tears to my eyes.”

Who wouldn’t like to come home to a bowl of steaming hot gruel after a full day’s work? Was there any greater comfort in a person’s life than this?

If Atlas’ address hadn’t won them over already, this single move would surely do so.

While Atlas’ order might seem full of honest consideration and kindness at first glance, it had a far sinister truth below it.

‘Hah! Only an extremely retarded fool would hand out rations for the peasants to take home. The last thing that I want is the illegal circulation of food packets within the town.’

By controlling the supply of food, Atlas indirectly controlled the lives of every person within this town. Currently, it was his only available method of maintaining his power and authority.

Picture this; a man was given a standard amount of food rations to take home. He decides he’s not very hungry and saves a portion of it. Tomorrow, he learns that his friend/fellow worker hadn’t had enough to eat yesterday. So the man decides to trade his saved portion for a little favor from his friend/fellow worker. Friend/fellow worker gets food in return for taking on the man’s duties for a day. The man gets to have an easy day.

Get it? Now imagine if this were to happen en masse.

By handing out the food rations, Atlas is effectively crippling his own power and authority. People will be able to trade amongst themselves, massively reducing their reliance on the government, which was Atlas in this case. What’s more? This might even result in strikes, rebellions, and possibly a coup d’etat.

Granted that the chances of such a thing happening were very, very low and it was Atlas who was simply being too cynical in his thoughts. But it paid to be prepared. One could never be too careful.

Sending the three Feeding Shack workers away, Atlas heaved a sigh and massaged his face with his fingers. It had been an early and rather hectic start for the day, and not his most ideal one either.

‘Not to toot my own horn but I think I handled this rather well. It wasn’t the way I imagined things to take off, but well, it ain’t too bad either.’

“Well then,” lowering his hands, Atlas opened his eyes and turned around. A sizeable group stood there waiting for their turn to speak with him.

It was the educated bunch.