Gaston looked into the hall below. The soldiers, including the new recruits, were training. After running around the hall hundreds of times, they began basic training. Stab, pull, repeat. These movements had been done over and over for the past few days.

The young master constantly emphasized the importance of the basics, reminding them that such basics determined the overall competence of an individual. With those thoughts in mind, he made everyone repeat the same stabbing movements again and again.

The old butler smiled at this sight. Who would have guessed that this many people were willing to become soldiers of the young master?

In his heart, he was thankful for the small changes happening to the young lord. Despite the countless criticisms of Lark back in Gryphon City, Gaston had always believed the young master would eventually grow up to become a splendid man. And it seemed that he was right.

“Lord Drakus,” whispered the butler. “Your son isn’t as hopeless as you thought. I sincerely wish that you’ll allow the young lord to return to the Duchy soon.”

Gaston had been working for the House of Marcus for more than fifty years. He had taken care of Lord Drakus when he was young, and now, he was tasked to take care of his son. To the old butler, his duty was his top priority. His own life was irrelevant and secondary.

That was why when the lord decided to send Lark to this desolate region the old butler insisted that he should follow.

After one last look at the soldiers below, Gaston went to the room on the third floor. He knocked three times and a young voice answered. “Enter.”

The door softly creaked as the old butler entered.

“Young Master,” said Gaston. “Here’s the report regarding the new workers. A total of 197 residents applied for jobs.”

“How many soldiers passed my exam?” said Lark. He sat at the table, his hands moving busily as he wrote on a parchment.

“Out of fifty-seven, forty passed the test, Young Master,” said Gaston. His monocle glimmered for a moment. “As you ordered, I’ve given Captain Qarat the responsibility of training them. They are performing basic training in the hall right now.”

The test given to the soldier applicants was a series of questions with open-ended answers. The main goal was to assess their personalities, whether they were fit to become soldiers or not.

Gaston had been given the task of administering these tests. If there were questions, he would refer them to the young master.

“Have you sent the report to Silver Claw regarding the construction projects at the eastern border?” said Lark.

“Yes, Young Master,” said Gaston. “He said that he’ll need more men if we want to finish the eastern border’s construction before fall. Also, he said that it’ll be impossible to commence the cobblestone project at the moment. There are just not enough hands.”

Lark stopped writing. He took a sip from the cup then gazed at the old man for a moment. “I see. How about the poultry farm?”

“Ah, Sir Silver Claw said that he’ll be able to finish preparations in the middle of spring,” said the butler. “He’s already ordered his men to place wooden fences at the southern border of the town.”

“Good. Tell him to prioritize that one,” said Lark. “The products I ordered from Lion City have arrived?”

“Yes, Young Master. We’ve placed the items in the storage room in the basement.”

“Good job,” said Lark. He stood up. “Lead me there.”

The butler bowed. “As you wish.”

The two of them went to the basement. Along the way, they passed the soldiers training in the hall. Lark nodded approvingly at the sight, before resuming his steps downstairs.

On arrival at the basement, he saw several servants and guards going back and forth, carrying wooden crates. Wheat, iron ingots, and several other products filled the underground room.

Lark inspected the delivered goods. After praising the servants and the guards for a job well done, he asked everyone to leave the basement.

Lark went to where the iron ingots were stored. They had been taken out of the crates beforehand. These ingots alone had cost around a hundred gold coins and, including the wheat seeds and the other products, Lark had spent more than two hundred and fifty gold coins in this single transaction.

“I need to secure the kalrane mine soon,” said Lark. He knew that at this rate, the treasury would run dry before next winter. There were still the workers’ salaries to worry about.

“Now, let’s try making those things, shall we?” Lark licked his lips, then placed his two hands on the iron ingots.

A magic circle appeared underneath the pile of iron, sucking at the mana within Lark’s body. The runes spun around the hexagram. A faint light glowed. The iron ingots started taking a different shape. Rakes and other common tools were inefficient and not enough, so Lark decided to create a better tool for farming. Since he wanted to convert the barren lands in the north and the west as soon as possible, he would need to compensate for the lack of workers by using magical items.

By transmuting the iron ingots, Lark had made a peculiar instrument. It was a plowing tool that resembled a bicycle. But instead of wheels at the front, it had a long tube with metal points embedded all over the shaft. Small magic circles had been engraved on the handles at both ends. After adding ormatane dust, it was now possible for non-magicians to use the item simply by providing mana.

All creatures in this world have mana in their bodies. The amount varied, and the difference between magicians and non-magicians was simply the ability to materialize the mana. With these magical engravings, even those without talent would be capable of using them.

Lark estimated that a non-magician would be able to use the tools for half an hour at most before running out of mana.

“This is tiring,” he said.

Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. His current body was simply too weak, and after creating the third plowing tool, he found he had run out of mana.

Lark sat for a while, his chest rising and falling. If he had been in his previous body, transmuting these iron ingots would have been finished in no time. Still, although it was hard, Lark was enjoying himself. He felt a sense of accomplishment each time a magic tool was created. It was a refreshing feeling, something he had forgotten a long time ago.

***

After finishing the magical tools, including those that would be used for mining, Lark gathered all the farmers who had chosen to work for him.

He led them toward the southern part of the town, where the residents dumped their night soil.

“Young Master,” said Gaston. The old man was covering his nose. “Please stop. You’ll get sick if you stay here.”

Around them, numerous insects hovered. The air was putrid; the scent of death and decay covered everything. One of the servants vomited upon arriving.

Lark did not seem to mind the smell. On the contrary, his eyes were glimmering with delight after seeing the piles of dung that covered everything. According to the documents he had read, the practice of dumping the residents’ excreta here had been going on for decades.

This is a treasure trove. I’ll be able to fill the barren lands in the north and the west with this compost.

The natural process of decay over the years had made it possible for Lark to utilize this waste as compost. Although it was crude and there was the danger of acquiring disease from using it, Lark planned on taking care of those problems using magic.

“Fill the barrels with this and load them in the carts!” ordered Lark.

The farmers, though disgusted by the task, moved and shoveled the night soil into the wooden barrels. There were complaints about why they were moving the waste. It seemed that in this world, the use of night soil as fertilizer was an unheard-of practice. Even the butler questioned the sanity of this task. Lark simply shook his head.

Lark discreetly cast his magic on the barrels filled with night soil, before loading them into the carts.

Since there was the possibility of gas accumulating inside, Lark prohibited the workers from tightly sealing the barrels. He made sure there was enough space for the gas to leak out. This, though, made the transportation of the night soil to the farmlands unbearable. Throughout the journey, the farmers had to cover their noses. The smell coming from dozens of barrels filled with excreta was too much.

Their first target would be the barren lands in the north.

After arriving at the farmlands, the metal tools Lark had created had already been neatly placed on the ground. Each was around three times the size of a human. There was a large tube at the front of the implement, with spikes protruding all over.

The ground was still covered in snow, but Lark decided it would be possible to start the plowing with the help of the tools he’d created.

He divided the farmers into two groups. One was responsible for plowing the lands using the tools, while the other was responsible for spreading the compost.

“Listen!” said Lark. He tapped the handle of a plowing tool. “This is a special item that will make it easier for everyone to plow this land. It requires a bit of mana, but it should be fairly easy to use.”

The farmers looked at each other. Murmurs filled the air.

The butler spoke up. “But, Young Master, the workers are unable to use mana.”

“That’s fine,” said Lark. He pointed at a skinny man. “You. Try it out.”

The skinny man gulped nervously, looked at his fellow farmers, then went toward the young master. After receiving some instructions, he rode the plowing tool. He placed both feet on the pedals then began moving his feet.

“It’s heavy,” said the skinny man. The metallic tool hardly moved despite his desperate attempt at pedaling.

Lark nodded. “Now, place both your hands over there and do it again.”

The skinny man moved as instructed. He placed both his hands on the handle then started moving his feet. He let out a surprised voice when the plowing tool suddenly moved forward without much difficulty. The spike-filled shaft in front burrowed and plowed through the ground.

Lark cleared his throat and everyone’s attention turned to him. “Winter will end soon. I want this area to be ready for farming once spring arrives. As you have seen, this tool will enable everyone to plow the lands faster. The handles are made to absorb some mana from the user, enabling him to move the tool despite the weight and size. Everyone can use it, even if they are not magicians.”

At those words, the farmers turned to each other and murmured. They were familiar with the plows used in major cities, but those things required the use of horses or oxen. In this remote town, they usually used rakes and hoes to plow the land.

“But… Young Master,” said one of the farmers. “Is it true that everyone can use it? We are no magicians. There’s no mana in our bodies—”

Lark almost sighed. The magic knowledge of this kingdom was severely lacking. “No, that’s incorrect. Everyone has mana in their bodies. Even animals have it. But the amount varies in each person.” He pointed at the skinny man riding the plowing tool. “He’s not a magician, but he’s able to use it, right?”

Although it felt frustrating to have to teach something so obvious, Lark patiently instructed the farmers. If he did not educate them now, problems would arise later.

“Since there are only eight plowing tools,” said Lark, “you will alternate in using the equipment. Once the user runs out of mana, another will replace him. For those not using the tools, you will be spreading the compost on the ground. Use the rakes to spread it.”

Lark opened one of the barrels, and the pungent smell immediately leaked out. He shoveled some night soil, then spread it evenly on the ground. Using a rake, he spread it across in a single direction. He would plow the area twice to move the compost to deeper areas of the ground.

After the demonstration, Lark approached one of the farmers.

“Oliver,” he said to a man with thick mustache. “I will entrust the northern area to you.” The man called Oliver bowed his head. He was one of the farmers in Blackstone Town. Unfortunately, he had lost all of his crops in the black famine.

“Please leave it to me, Young Master.”

Lark nodded. He clapped his hands once and said to everyone, “Start working! I want this area to be ready once spring arrives!”

At those words, everyone started moving.

Lark looked to the nearby forest, to the river flowing inside it. His next goal was the irrigation system that would connect to the Rile River.