Silence fell to the room once again, laying heavy on the dark elf’s shoulders for a few minutes before another gentle knock could be heard from the door's direction.

“Yes?”

“Milord,” Euric’s voice resounded from the other side. “Miss Letty asks if you’d like to join her for breakfast.”

“I’m coming.” He answered, standing up to leave the room in a slightly better mood.

“Good morning,” Letty greeted him with a smile. “I hope that I didn’t bother you during enchanting or something.”

“Not at all. How did you sleep?”

“Like a brick,” she admitted while the dark elf sat down to enjoy the light breakfast. “Although I was a bit surprised that you weren’t there when I woke up. Again.”

“Sorry about that, but you know that I’m an early bird. I woke up just after five and I’ve been in the study ever since.”

“Oh,” she looked at him worried. “Work?”

“Just the usual. Don’t worry about it. What about you? What’s the plan for today?”

“Not much. I’ll check up on the greenhouse then I’ll head over to my workshop to brew a few dozen potions. I also promised Lunet that I would show her how to brew a basic antidote.”

“Nice. I hope you girls will have fun,” Regis said before finishing his meal. “I should get going. Tristan will be here at any minute. See you later?”

“Sure.” The wood elf nodded after stealing a slight kiss from the spell weaver who was about to leave.

“Love you.” Regis said before closing the door, leaving a flustered wood elf behind.

His smug smile quickly faded when he barely reached the gates of the manor, finding Tristan already there.

“Why am I not surprised to find you here so early?”

“It’s already past seven o’clock,” the steward retorted. “That’s not early at all.”

“So,” the spell weaver shifted the direction of their chat. “What’s in store for us today?”

“Not much I’m afraid,” Tristan replied. “The tower of the third bridge has been finished, so they’re waiting for you to fuse the bricks before they would begin working on the roof.”

“Sounds like an easy job. Anything else?”

“Sir Grego sent over the weekly report regarding the state of the barracks and the recruits.”

“And?” Regis lengthened the word with a slight edge.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. According to the report, the guards took quite well to the suggested payroll.”

“Of course they would. Who wouldn’t want to earn two silver a week? They earned a few brass shy of one while serving Verhen.”

“Indeed. I’m sure it will keep them and the inn afloat quite nicely. By the way, some of them made a few subtle hints regarding a brothel.”

“No,” the dark elf shot down the suggestion immediately. “The last thing we need here is a whorehouse. It’s one thing to have them in large towns and cities, but Thornfell is far too small for such things.”

“That’s exactly what I told them as well,” Tristan nodded while walking. “The second best thing I could suggest to them was a nigh-out in East Fork.”

“That’s one way to help their economy,” Regis coughed slightly. “Tell Grego to write up a schedule. One-third of the guards get a leave every Friday evening. Let them decide who goes and when between themselves.”

“Understood,” the steward noted down the proposal. “Our third agenda for the day regards the bakery and the new mill.”

“What about them?”

“Miller asked for your help regarding the mill’s enchantments. Apparently, his apprentice missed the gear cover with his hammer and damaged one of the runes.”

“Shit,” the spell weaver cussed. “What’s with these apprentices and their tendencies for breaking my arrays?”

“As unpleasant the situation is,” the steward sighed. “I believe it will stay a common occurrence for a few months to come until they get used to the presence of so many enchantments. Most towns and villages barely have a single tier one spellcaster in their midst, let alone magic-fuelled machinery and the like.”

“Okay, but what about the bakery? Please don’t tell me they managed to damage the ovens too.”

“No. Nothing like that. Mrs Allie asked for you in hopes of increasing the amount of flour sold to the bakery.”

“Increasing the amount? Do we even have the capacity for that?”

“We do,” Tristan hummed. “But only by another sack at most. Otherwise, we would have to take away from the amount allocated to the general store.”

“We can’t have that,” the spell weaver sighed. “Fabien and Mary are already on the edge, having so many people ordering baked stuff at the inn, not to mention those families who tend to buy flour from Nina. With the new settlers, we’re likely going to be near capacity already.”

“Yes,” the steward agreed. “Even with those ‘array totems’ to help hasten the crop growth, the amount produced is just barely above our consumption level. The only way to fix that would be...”

“To get more fields prepared for crops,” Regis finished the train of thought. “I guess we could expand in the other direction along the river.”

“We could, milord,” the man agreed. “But that would require us to have more farmers to work the fields.”

“Didn’t you mention before that some of the new arrivals were farmers?”

“I did. Do you wish to entrust the plot to one of those families?”

“I don’t see why not. Building a house for them shouldn’t take too long and having those new fields would benefit us greatly. Couple that with a few extra fruit trees and we would be a bit above the green line.”

“I’ll note that down. Anyway, our last task would regard the mountain pass. Sir Grego asked for the reinforcement of the gates.”

“I can do that,” Regis nodded. “I could infuse the door with iron and upgrade the runes to ‘well-made’ quality. That should be good for now. Please ask Amanda to send over a few dozen iron ingots to the pass. It doesn’t have to be higher than ‘ordinary’ quality to work.”

“Understood.” Tristan scribbled away as the two arrived at the bridge with the tower.

“Morning fellas,” The dark elf greeted the workers before heading up the tower, spending some time fusing the bricks together into a sturdy wall. “All done. Tell Lars that you can proceed with the roof.”

“Yes, milord.” One of the workers confirmed as Regis and Tristan headed out once again.

“So, next stop is the mill?”

“We should head to the bakery first.”

“How about we split up? I’ll head over to the mill and you deal with the bakery.”

“You really don’t like to go there, do you?” Tristan asked teasingly.

“Mrs Allie is a nice lady, but she reminds me far too much of my grandmother. Always trying to stuff me like I was a damn Christmas turkey.”

“That’s because you’re…”

“I’m not skinny,” the loremaster grumbled. “I’m lean. That’s a whole different story. Dark elves are built that way.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”

The two split as they reached Landwaker Square, Regis replying to a few nods along the way as he headed over to the mill that was built near the gate leading out to the farms. As he got there, the sight of an open door and a tired-looking man greeted him.

“Miller.” He called out, the man snapping into attention like a soldier.

“Milord. Thank you for coming.”

“Sure. So, what happened?”

“Well,” the man scratched his head awkwardly. “My son missed when he wanted to knock the gear down and the hammer skidded off the cog.”

“And it cracked a piece of the milling stone?”

“Yes, sir. It’s not a big damage, but one of those glowing symbols went dark and the whole mill became loud again.”

“So it was the silencing array that got damaged. Good to know.” The dark elf hummed as he walked over to the unmoving millstone.

“We’re lucky that you only have to grind a few sacks every few weeks,” he said as he looked at the chipped part of the millstone, placing his hand on it. “And that it was only the silencing enchantment. If it was the refining one that got damaged during work, you’d have to re-grind the stuff again to get the same quality.”

“I know, milord.” Miller sighed as he watched the damaged part grow back through arcane means.

A good minute or so later when the rune lit up as well, the man let out an even deeper sigh.

“About my son…”

“Accidents happen,” Regis waved the issue away. “The more advanced something is, the more things can go wrong. Just tell him to be more careful next time.”

“I… thank you, sir!”

“Don’t mention it,” the spell weaver replied while leaving. “Oh, and Miller.”

“Yes, milord?” The man turned toward him slightly worried.

“Due to the new settlers, we decided to further increase the farm territories, so there’s going to be a few more sacks of grains coming your way in a few weeks.”

“Not a problem, sir.” Miller remarked with a relieved smile as he watched the dark elf leave.

‘Why do people always immediately think that I’m going to punish someone for a small mistake?’ Regis asked himself as he headed back toward Landwaker Square. ‘It’s not like I’m punishing people left and right or something. Then again, that is the norm in a medieval society. Ah, forget it.’

Returning to Landwaker Square, he found Tristan waiting for him with what seemed to be a freshly baked bun.

“Mrs Allie sends her thanks and this as well.” The steward said while handing over the still-warm bun.

“Thanks. We should talk to Amanda about…”

“I’ve already asked her for the iron ingots. They’re over at the gateway.”

“I see. I should get going then.”

“Should I…”

“No need,” Regis shook his head. “This is an enchanter’s job. Since there’s nothing else, just do the rounds and take the rest of the day off.”

“As you wish, sir.”

The spell weaver walked over to the gazebo while taking a bite of the bun which turned out to have raspberry filling inside. He deactivated the barrier at the entrance of the gazebo and dragged in the canvas sack that held the iron ingots. He then activated the barrier once again before using the gateway to teleport to the mountain pass. Upon arriving at the secret room carved into the mountain, Regis fought off the slight dizziness. Following the short tunnel, he pushed aside the small shelf hiding the entrance and entered the well-furnished guard-room.

“Milord!” The pair of soldiers sitting nearby snapped into attention.

“At ease. I just dropped by to reinforce the gates as Grego asked. How are things over here?”

“Everything’s calm, sir. The occasional wolf or deer running by, but nothing else so far.”

“Glad to hear that,” The loremaster remarked as he brought along the sack of iron ingots, leaving the room and walking down the stairs.

The large wall was periodically dotted with faintly glowing runes, a clear sign of the magic that strengthened the stone it was made from. The gate itself was made of thick wood, reinforced with iron. A twenty by twenty centimetre wooden beam ran along horizontally behind it to bar anyone from entry. Regis began to pull out the iron ingots from the sack, leaning them against the gate one by one.

He then placed both of his hands on the gates and closed his eyes, near a dozen glowing white runes appearing in his mind space. ‘Time to redraw the durability rune.’ He thought he began to channel his arcana into the mystical symbol. After redrawing it over twenty times, the rune slowly turned into a green colour. ‘That should do it.’ The spell weaver hummed as he opened his eyes, finding the same green rune glowing on the surface of the now iron-grey wood of the gates.

Looking down, he saw that all of the ingots disappeared except for one that left behind a small fist-sized chunk. He picked it up and put it into his satchel before returning to the battlement. Regis looked at the neatly carved-out stone crenels that sported a faint golden barrier between the half meter long iron poles fastened into the middle of the top stone parts. ‘I must admit, Quentin had the right idea with this one.’ He mused as he looked at the one-way barrier that would allow his soldiers to fire arrows at the enemy while being protected.

“Are you already done, sir?” One of the soldiers asked, earning a firm nod.

“I only had to upgrade one of the enchantments so it didn’t take too long. I’ll upgrade the others on another day.”

The guards nodded along as the dark elf entered the room, taking a seat to rest and meditate for a few minutes before heading back to the gateway. Even though Regis wanted to head home and sprawl out on his bed and laze about for a short while, he knew better than to follow up on that. Skipping on his daily training would have been a bad idea. After spell weaver teleported back to Landwaker Square, he headed toward the barracks.

“You got here surprisingly early.” Grego remarked as he noticed the dark elf.

“I came to train a bit before heading over to Rust-well Keep.”

“You sound nervous.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Not really. I wouldn’t trust most lords as far as I can throw them, let alone when there’s so many of them in the same place.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Don’t worry too much though,” the guard captain shook his head slightly. “I’m sure everything will be fine. After all, even the nobles can’t act too overbearing with a representative of the royals being there.”

“Hold on,” the spell weaver mumbled. “The royals will be there as well? I didn’t know about that.”

“Didn’t Tristan tell you about it? There’s always an envoy present at the assembly to represent the royal family.”

“So it’s not one of the actual members of the royal family, right?”

“No,” Grego shook his head. “They usually send one of the higher-ranked knights. That’s usually enough to keep the peace.”

“Good to know. Anyway, let me get to change and we can start.”

Five minutes later Regis was fully equipped in training armour, waiting for the day's combat practice.