Chapter 51: Ore Delivered

The second team stationed in Tansang Town had finally arrived.

For Gawain, this was undoubtedly good news.

At the very least, it meant more manpower—enough to start building the dock and sawmill, enough to seriously consider mining the eastern mountain, and enough to begin transforming this camp into a proper “territory.”

Even with the second team added, the total population here barely exceeded eight hundred. But compared to the mere hundred in the vanguard, this was a remarkable improvement.

Sir Philip Knight led several soldiers and a dozen or so militia who had stayed behind in Tansang Town to complete the escort mission. The young and capable knight received a warm welcome from Hetty. Their arrival filled a major gap in the camp’s defenses—something far more critical than just manpower.

Though no monsters or other threats had appeared yet, surviving in the wilderness naturally heightened everyone’s sense of insecurity. The fences and magical traps helped ease that unease, but only fully armed soldiers patrolling the area could truly put people’s minds at rest.

Philip himself was stunned by the scale and sophistication of the camp.

They’d already leveled such a large area? The carpenters’ workshops were up? They were even building a blacksmith’s forge?!

The young knight wandered into the camp in a daze, staring at the sturdy yet elegant large tents and the few wooden buildings. He saw serfs and free folk busy in the open spaces—some turning roughly dried and smoked timber into planks, others crafting those planks into tools and building materials. It was the first time he’d witnessed such a scene: laborers who normally needed whips to get moving now worked in small teams, coordinating seamlessly under a leader’s direction, like the limbs of a single body. If before these people would only cover for each other’s laziness, now it was the exact opposite.

And where were the overseers with whips?

Philip searched around and found them—actually, family warriors selected for their literacy—standing at the edge of the clearing. But instead of cracking whips, they were simply walking around inspecting the work, holding wooden tablets for notes.

“Surprised?” Hetty’s voice snapped the young knight out of his reverie. “I never expected such simple measures could make them so diligent. Even the serfs have started actively learning tasks they’re not good at.”

“Measures?” Philip repeated, puzzled. “What measures?”

“Our ancestor devised a set of work rules…”

Before Hetty could finish, Philip’s eyes lit up. “Ah, it must be the ancient knights’ sense of honor and virtue inspiring these usually lazy serfs and commoners…”

“No,” Hetty smiled softly, “it’s because they get meat to eat. It’s simple: work more, eat better.”

As she spoke, she reflected inwardly. She’d tried motivating workers with rewards before, but it only worked at first. The serfs quickly found ways to slack off while still getting food. But once competition, precise accounting, strict enforcement, and a sense of teamwork were introduced, everything changed completely. It was truly remarkable.

She realized for the first time that serfs and commoners weren’t inherently dull or lazy.

At that moment, Gawain appeared nearby.

Hetty and Philip immediately approached him, but Gawain waved off their formal greetings. He nodded to Hetty, then looked at the young knight. “Good work. Not a single person missing. Let the soldiers and settlers rest for a while. After lunch, all laborers gather in the central clearing—Hetty will explain the work rules. Soldiers and militia assemble on the west side; Sir Byron will distribute new equipment.”

Then he turned to Hetty. “No need to assign the newcomers to work groups on their first day. There are too many new rules for them to remember all at once.”

Hetty nodded, while Philip looked curious. “New equipment? What kind?”

Gawain gave a mysterious smile. “The good stuff.”

When Philip finally saw the new gear, he couldn’t help but be amazed—his expectations for “good stuff” had been far too low.

He’d thought it would be just a batch of new swords and armor, maybe a hand crossbow each at best. But who would have guessed it was a full set of standardized “supernatural armaments”?!

Enchanted swords, enchanted armor, and military-grade crystals from the ancient empire!

The longswords, imbued with “Sharpness,” gleamed with a cold white light. The breastplates, inscribed with “Elemental Resistance” and “Lightness” spells, shimmered faintly gray in the sunlight. Most of the simple soldiers had probably never seen enchanted weapons before, but they immediately understood the significance of what they were wearing—and their spirits soared.

What shocked Philip even more was that every militia member received a full set too… Were these things really free?

“They’re old relics, getting worse with age. No point in hiding them away—better to put them to use,” Gawain chuckled. “Honestly, we could have had more, but many are broken beyond repair or have lost their magic and become empty shells. It’s a bit sad.”

“Supernatural armaments… each one is priceless,” Philip stammered. “Back in the entire Cecil territory, you couldn’t find many sets of enchanted gear!”

Amber crossed her arms nearby. “Look at you, acting all amazed—seven hundred years old, you’d think a little secret stash would be strange? Whose grandpa doesn’t hide a few silver coins under the floorboards? Hey! Ow! Ow! Stop!”

Gawain tugged Amber’s ear and pulled her aside. She struggled and shouted, “Let go! Let go! Haven’t you heard elves have super sensitive ears? Let go!”

Had this “elf disgrace” suddenly remembered her half-blood heritage?

Philip watched Amber being dragged away, puffed out his chest, and said seriously and proudly, “Our family has worshipped Kael, the god of warriors and knights, for generations. We never keep valuables hidden beneath us!”

Gawain glanced at the young man with mild surprise. No wonder he was so strict about knightly codes, even more rigid than his peers. Turns out he was a true believer—much more so than some guy who claimed to worship the Night Goddess but made up prayers on the spot every time.

“With this equipment… even if we face those ‘mutants’ again, it’ll be much easier,” Philip continued admiring the gear. Then he suddenly asked, “By the way, can we give the blueprints to the craftsmen in Tansang Town, even if it’s expensive?”

“No way to reproduce them anymore,” Gawain had expected this question. In fact, any normal soldier seeing this gear would immediately want to mass-produce it. Sir Byron thought the same. But they were destined to be disappointed. “These rely on the ancient magic technology of the Gondor Empire and require purified mana from the Deep Blue Well. Modern mana foci or wells produce impure, low-level mana that can’t power these items.”

Philip’s mouth opened, realizing what this meant. “So these things…”

“Each one used is one less. Once the mana runs out, they become ordinary swords and armor. And since their materials have already corroded to some extent, they’ll probably be worse than modern gear by then—only fit to be melted down and reforged.”

The young knight looked worried. “What do we do then?”

“Before that happens, we just need to make our own good equipment.” Gawain smiled, patting him on the shoulder with confidence.

Whether or not he truly believed it, he wore the smile of a hero who had grasped the future. And deep down, Gawain did have some confidence.

As long as the mana surge didn’t erupt immediately, there was room to maneuver.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a small figure running toward them.

The little maid Betty came bounding over again. Looking up at Gawain, she said absentmindedly, “Master! Miss Rebecca wants to see you!”

Gawain blinked. “What does she want this time?”

Betty thought hard, then shouted, “Forgot!”

Gawain: “…”

How could this girl remember everything except what she came to say?

He shook his head, thinking it was already good she remembered who to call. Not wanting to push her, he asked where Rebecca was waiting and went with Amber to meet her—at least Betty hadn’t forgotten that much.

When they arrived, Gawain finally learned what Rebecca wanted—

The first batch of test ore had been brought in from the iron mine east of the camp.

The initial vanguard included a blacksmith and several apprentices, along with the basic materials needed to build the forge. But since survival was the top priority at the camp’s start, Gawain had delayed mining the eastern mountain. Only after the vanguard’s housing was settled did he send people to gather some ore for testing. They’d left early that morning and had now returned with carefully selected ore.

(End of chapter)