Chapter 6: Final Preparations

Realvi was a city united in depression. No matter where you went there was an atmosphere of hopelessness. Nearly all of the 200,000 inhabitants shared it. Their eyes held no shine, their backs slouched, their stomachs empty, their bones protruding from skin. The squalor they lived in reminded them constantly of their status. Yet for some strange reason, Realvi had been positively buzzing for the last 2 weeks. Voices rebounded down once quiet streets, the nights were alive with whispers, not even the stench could stop the words flying around.

 

Inside a small tavern, a heated discussion was taking place. “Oy, oy, did you hear? The Duke’s heir ‘imself came down here!” 

 

“Yea, I saw him! He was buyin’ up homes up and down the city! I ain’t never seen that much money being spent!”

 

“Wh’t do ya think they be doin? I even seen the young master walkin’ along vistin the local smithies. Ain’t never even seen that much iron being bought before in me dreams.” A man said after downing his dirty beer. 

 

“Even that recluse young master be comin’ down into the streets, talking to peoples and visitn’ the smithies. An’ did ya see those two carriages! I heard a high magician and etiquette tutor came to the Vitreal Palace to teach the young master! How’z he gonna learn magic and swordsmanship?”

 

On the other side of the tiny tavern, another man slammed his hands down on the dilapidated table. “How’z it matter anyhow? These nobility ain’t no good. I say it be better they be gone from our streets!” 

 

Most of the men echoed his sentiments. It was a common scene in Realvi. Although some were curious as to why the Vitreal Duchy had suddenly become involved in the city, they preferred them to stay well away, as nothing good had ever come of it. It was widely known that a noble's involvement would squeeze the last few coppers out of anything of value until it became worthless.

 

“They probably just lookin’ for more women to satisfy themselves or sumfing” Another man said waving his hands in the air. “He probablie kicked them off the land and took it from ‘em. Also, who says he be payin’them smiths a fair deal? He probably threatened ‘em or sumfing.” 

 

The first man countered. “And I’m sittin’ here tellin yall that he didn’t! The Duke ‘imself bought the homes for silvers more than they be worth! And I know one of ‘em smiths personally! James, he works in the northern area of Realvi, he tol’ me he got paid double the original price!”

 

“Ay, you can’t believe everything you ‘ear man, them nobles, they be parasites. They j’st wanna suck out more blood fr’m us, and ‘ere you are defending ‘em Lepre.”

 

Lepre stood up in indignation from his dinky stool, shouting, “I ain’t defending ‘em, I’m telling it ‘ow it is! ‘Ow can you say they be stealin’ if they be spendin’ money you oafs!” Loud jeering from the other men in the tavern silenced the man, and he sat down in frustration, muttering under his breath about ‘fools and sheeps’. Why don’t nobody else see it? These blind idiots! He shook his head as he ordered another round of alcohol. 

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BOOM.

 

Linea flew back as a massive force hit him square in the chest. He felt like a skipping stone as his body bounced off the ground and crashed into a stone wall, his body wedged into the stone, upside down. As he felt the grip off the stone wall loosen, his arms rushed up to protect his face as he toppled face forwards onto the ground. 

 

“Ugggghhhhh,” groaning as he tried standing up. What the hell was that! He limped pitifully to where his sword had fallen and picked it up gingerly, making sure his body was still functioning properly. 

 

“You don’t need to worry,” he heard his father say from behind him. “I am quite capable of limiting my strength. That being said, you have gotten quite durable, almost enough to entertain me.” Monster, he’s a monster. Linea had been in the training grounds sparring against his father all morning. To call it sparring though… it was more serving as a punching bag than sparring. For the first few days Linea had been put through a brutal regime of sword swinging, calisthenics and running laps. 

 

Although Linea’s A- stat in endurance  allowed him to persevere, it was the mind-numbing boredom that accompanied such repetitive tasks that was eating away at his mental tolerance. Thankfully, his father chatted with him, revealing plenty of information on the nobility and surrounding lands. He gave a sigh. Is all training this brutal? Maybe I should reconsider the magic teacher as well. 

 

This, this is still nothing compared to that… Memories of his punishment flitted through his mind, and he shook himself. Linea picked up the sword and got back into the ready stance he had been taught. Currently, he was standing in the training area the soldiers of the Duchy used. A rather large section of it had been set aside for him and his father to train in without disturbing the other soldiers. 

 

The arena itself was a large circle, surrounded by stone walls, towering at least a dozen meters high. It was these walls that Linea had been slammed into, leaving behind sizeable craters every time. However the ground was dirt, not stone. This was good because Linea was also frequently slammed into the ground as well. Dirt was soft. Stone was hard. Dirt good. Stone bad. “That’s enough for today,” he heard his father say. 

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Linea collapsed to the ground, stabbing his magically enchanted sword into the arena floor. The Duke insisted he practice with real swords, a way to ‘get a feel for the real thing’.

 

“Finish up with a hundred laps and 2000 practice swings.” Fuck. His father-I called him Father again.  The Duke had insisted on teaching Linea swordsmanship himself. He could feel the soldiers’ eyes on him. At first, their eyes on him made him uncomfortable, but after nearly 2 weeks of it, he had gotten used to it. He got up. Might as well start now…

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Linea sat on his bed groaning, and with trembling arms, opened the leather back book. 

 

Karma Gained: -3,500 

 

It was a depressing figure. The people he had needed to have evicted had nowhere to go.  They ended up robbed or sleeping in the streets, since the other families were too afraid to go through the same experience of homelessness. Why not just build more homes? He couldn’t. Realvi was encased by a city wall. Although it was crudely built out of crumbling stone blocks, it had only a few gates with vigilant guards at each, more so than other cities because the Vitreal Manor resided here. If he moved the citizens outside, they would face difficulty reentering the city. 

 

Why not expand the wall? Because there was nobody capable enough to do such a big project, given hundreds of meters of new wall is what would be needed to make even a slight difference. In fact, very few people were capable of doing anything. Carpentry, smithing, cooking, reading, writing, there were only the absolute minimum people capable of doing the tasks that kept the city going, which posed serious problems for Linea. This was where Part 1 of his second project came into play. A school. That made it sound fancy, but it would probably be rudimentary at best. It wouldn’t be large, but it would start by offering training in carpentry and stone masonry. Trained carpenters could build better homes, and stone masons could provide stone materials for more structurally sound buildings. That would segway into Part 2, the main course of his revitalization of this city. With a smile, he strode to his desk and sent a message to his father. He pulled out his plan for the school and continued detailing. He had about 15 minutes before etiquette lessons began. 

 

Etiquette lessons were simple, if often boring. Most of it was how to behave around other nobles. The correct depth of a bow, depending on who you were addressing, and how deep they should bow or curtsy to you, if not to provide a subtle insult by being too shallow, how to flatter and how to subtly insult by just not quite doing enough or leaving out the expected courtesies. It was all relatively easy to remember. Though, he did learn a lot more about noble life. Apparently, schools didn’t exist. Nobility would hire priests and scholars as private tutors. As for craftsmen, they would learn their trades through apprenticeships. During the summer months, nobles would head to the capital to party and socialize, as there was very little governance needed to be done in the summer. It seemed that both Linea and his father were the anti-social type. Linea scoffed in irritation. Socializing was one of Linea’s strengths, but it seemed that it was too late to capitalize on the opportunity. 

 

Magic was quite interesting, and for him, easy. Magic, at its core, was the manipulation of Goddess’s essence, which was called mana. It naturally filled up every living creature on the planet, much like blood. In order to cast spells, one would have to speak the language of the Gods, while drawing on their mana. The combination of these two gave birth to the magical effect everyone called a spell. It required an intense concentration and understanding of what should happen. However, it seemed that Linea already had a high affinity with the language. When he thought about casting a spell, the words would naturally flow out of his mouth without him actually knowing the language. 

 

As for mage equipment, wands and enchanted robes would be worn when casting. Wands and robes could have [Spell Power Magnification], or [Mana Affinity] enchantments to increase a mage’s efficiency and mana recovery. Since the [Mana Puppet] blessing was a direct drain on mana, Linea would have to dress as a mage, which would significantly lower his defense capabilities. 

 

Swordsmanship, on the other hand, was extremely difficult. Not only did it require an intense understanding of the various combat movements, but it also needed an extreme level of muscle memory. 

 

However, to Linea, all of this was meaningless. All he needed to learn was the theory behind it. If he knew the theory, he could impart the knowledge to his puppet and have it do the rest. Speaking of… Linea concentrated, held his hand out and concentrated. A large golden figure appeared in his room. It was a mannequin, cloaked in heavy plated armor. It held a large longsword in one hand. It stood at attention, chest puffed out and sword sheathed. He could feel a blood leak out of his nose as a horrific pain shot through his head. He made the warrior move around a bit. After around 2 minutes of this, Linea began seeing dark spots in his vision, while the pain in his head had become a sledgehammer. 

 

Right before he passed out, he dropped his hand, ending the blessing. Beneath him, a pool of blood. When he started out 2 weeks ago, he could only tolerate the mental strain for a minute. He wiped away the trail of blood on his nose and stood up, swaying dangerously. I should get the maids to clean this up.

 

He gave a sigh as he got up. The first batch of shovels should be delivered now, but first let’s get the etiquette lesson out of the way…

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Linea stood on a platform in the town square, the only semi open area in the entire city. Behind him, a large pile of nearly 200 shovels and 100 hammers sat. Although it was a small proportion of the shovels he had requested, they were enough for now. As he stood there, the air purifier mask stuck uncomfortably to his face while his clothing had turned damp. He waited patiently as his servants finished running through the streets of the relatively small city passing along the message. 

 

As he watched, a crowd gathered slowly until, he estimated, around 600 people had shuffled in, half filling the square. Most looked a little confused and wary of him. Once the new arrivals had slowed to a trickle, Linea decided he might as well start. Immediately, threw out a couple of options in his head. Can’t get them mad, they just seem wearied. Anger is an exceptional tool to use when speaking. People become emotionally invested, but that only worked when they had something to lose. He looked back behind him to double check the coin count. After a slight nod, he turned back towards them. There was no need for pleasantries or kind words. A single sentence could get every single one of these men to mobilize. “1 silver coin per day for any man who picks up a tool and works.”

 

Authors Note: Sorry for the short chapter. School started up for me so I've been a bit busy. I can't promise regularity with chapter updates but I'll try my best.

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