Chapter 60: Rebecca’s Grant Project

Hetty had no idea what her ancestor from seven centuries ago was thinking at this moment. Nor could she possibly grasp those grand, distant plans that seemed so far beyond her reach. Yet, following Gawain’s gaze toward the lively, bustling camp in the distance, she found herself quietly inspired, her spirits lifting.

A stretch of land starting from scratch, a brand-new order, a promised bright future—Hetty liked to think she had long since outgrown the days when external things could easily move her. But right now, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope, a yearning for something better to take root here.

That was the biggest difference between her and the old nobility—those traditional aristocrats never wished for change.

“Just keep what I’m about to tell you in your heart for now,” Gawain suddenly turned back to remind Hetty. “These ideas are too far ahead of their time. If you tell the common folk, they won’t understand. And if you tell the nobles… well, if they don’t understand, they’ll think you’re crazy. But if they do understand, they’ll see you as an enemy.”

Hetty paused briefly. With her sharp mind, she quickly caught his meaning.

This new order—even though only faint outlines were visible now—was already enough to prick the sensitive nerves of the nobility. It might truly bring prosperity to the land, but not necessarily the kind of prosperity the traditional aristocrats would welcome.

After all, their lives were still comfortable—unlike the Cecils.

“I understand. But… can I talk to Rebecca about it?” Hetty nodded, then bit her lip and shook her head slightly. “That child probably won’t understand all these complicated things…”

“No, you’re underestimating her,” Gawain chuckled. “Actually, Rebecca is probably smarter than you think. It’s just that her talents have never found the right stage. I think recently she’s been…”

Before he could finish, a small figure suddenly darted into his line of sight: Betty, the freckled little maid, running swiftly along the ridge. She arrived breathless, then clumsily bowed. “Master! Miss Rebecca wants to see you!”

“What does she want…” Gawain started, then stopped. “Oh, you must have forgotten.”

“This time I didn’t!” Betty straightened up and chirped, “She said she’s starting work and wants you to come see her progress!”

Hetty came up behind them. “Starting work on what?”

Betty thought for a moment, then shook her head. “Forgot!”

Gawain and Hetty exchanged a look.

“Alright, I know what it is,” Gawain said, half laughing as he ruffled the little girl’s hair. “Looks like she’s been studying that magic circle for days and finally finished the ‘magic network.’ I thought it would take her longer. So, Hetty, do you want to go see? There’s nothing urgent here for now. Might as well check out Rebecca’s first ‘engineering project.’”

“To be honest, I’m a bit worried about what kind of mess she might make,” Hetty smiled wryly. “After all, she’s just a lousy mage who only knows fireball, trying to build such a large-scale magic circle… even if it’s all basic runes.” Then she glanced toward the wooden shed. “Sir Philip, the knight, I’ll go with my ancestor to check on the blacksmith’s shop. You take care of things here.”

The young knight immediately straightened up and tapped his breastplate. “I shall not fail my duty!”

Even a small task like supervising land reclamation somehow made him sound epic… Gawain couldn’t help but marvel at how this young knight was so serious and old-fashioned, almost like a classical knight strictly following ancient codes. Could this really be the power of faith?

Gawain and Hetty left, and Betty, seeing no one paying attention to her, slipped into the wooden shed. It was still early for mealtime, and the laundry was done, so the little maid had nothing to do. Her curiosity was piqued by the papers left on the wooden table—covered with writing and drawings.

Sir Philip noticed her interest and watched carefully, ready to stop her if she messed with anything important.

Betty’s attention first fell on a drawing of a waterwheel, but soon shifted to a work record sheet filled with numbers and names. She leaned over the table and pointed at the paper and pen. “Can I write?”

Sir Philip moved the paper and pen away slightly, looking stern. “Do you know how to write?”

“No,” Betty shook her head, then added, “I can’t read either!”

“Then you’re not allowed to touch them,” Sir Philip said firmly. “The paper, pen, and ink were bought with the lord’s money—not toys for you.”

Betty froze, then nodded sadly. “Oh…”

Seeing the little maid’s disappointed face, Sir Philip frowned. Maybe he’d been too harsh, but protecting the lord’s property was his duty—especially when supplies were scarce, and even a single sheet of paper or pen had to be transported all the way from Tansan Town. He couldn’t let a child waste such precious writing tools.

He offered a few comforting words, but Betty still left with a heavy heart.

Watching her small figure walk along the ridge, Sir Philip couldn’t help but recall the conversation he’d overheard between Duke Gawain and Lady Hetty.

Teach them to read.

Teach everyone to read.

Could it really be done? Could it really happen? Would it really happen?

If it did, then maybe that little maid would be able to write too.

When they arrived at the “blacksmith’s shop,” Gawain found it had turned into a construction site. The spacious courtyard was filled with busy “workers,” while several soldiers guarded piles of materials stacked in one corner. Rebecca stood in the center, holding a thick stack of papers, gesturing animatedly as she explained something to the old blacksmith, Hammer. His apprentices stood quietly nearby, listening attentively.

It looked quite professional. And clearly, Rebecca had only called Gawain over after the project was well underway.

“Ah! Ancestor!” Rebecca spotted the nearly two-meter-tall Gawain from afar, then noticed Hetty following him. “And Aunt Hetty…”

The girl clearly held Hetty in high regard.

“I came to see your progress,” Hetty said with a faint smile. Though she didn’t yet know how well Rebecca could pull this off, the orderly, well-organized scene before her made her want to encourage the girl. “You seem confident.”

“Yes! I’ve been studying for days!” Rebecca said, hands on hips. Though a bit ethereal from staying up late, she was still full of energy. “This magic circle is amazing! And those formulas… Ancestor, let me tell you, those formulas are so useful—way better than those rigid rune arrangements and spell models. You can apply them in all sorts of ways. And this circle…”

“Stop, stop,” Hetty quickly interrupted Rebecca’s bragging. She knew her niece was quite good at calculations and theory, but she worried the girl might bore her old ancestor to death if she kept going. “Just tell us how you plan to complete the circle.”

At that, Rebecca nodded vigorously. “Oh, oh! I’m going to bury it underground…”

“Bury it underground?!” Hetty was stunned. “I saw you digging all those trenches—are you really planning to bury it?”

Gawain had also noticed the trenches as they entered the courtyard—curving, straight, intersecting, parallel lines forming geometric patterns across the large area. Together, they roughly outlined a magic circle. At certain points, wooden stakes marked “nodes,” with auxiliary white lines drawn nearby. Considering almost everyone working here couldn’t read or count, Rebecca must have done all the layout and coordinates herself.

She drew the lines on the ground, then told the workers where and how deep to dig—that seemed to be her workflow.

After Hetty’s question, Gawain shifted his attention from the trenches and looked at her curiously. “Is there something wrong with burying the magic circle underground?”

“No… there’s no taboo against it,” Hetty shook her head. “But most magic circles are exposed. Burying them takes a lot more effort, and mages need to control or monitor the circle’s operation. Burying it would obviously cause trouble.”

These were common-sense facts. Rebecca, as a third-level mage (even if she only knew fireball), couldn’t be unaware. Yet she still chose to do it. That could only mean her impulsive mind had once again gotten the better of her… Hetty felt uneasy, worried Gawain might scold Rebecca and shatter the girl’s hard-won confidence.

But the child had faced plenty of setbacks before—she’d probably bounce back soon enough.

While Hetty was lost in thought, Gawain spoke up. “Setting aside why you want to bury the circle underground—I want to know how you managed to draw it so precisely on the ground.”

Rebecca blinked, not understanding what her ancestor meant.

Gawain’s question was filled with astonishment.

Rebecca had drawn a magic circle filled with complex geometric shapes, requiring extremely high precision, on a flat surface hundreds of meters wide—where even the naked eye would easily make serious errors.

In Gawain’s homeland, this wouldn’t be difficult. There were countless surveying instruments and mathematical tools to handle such drawings. And in this magical world, it was also possible—mages usually used Mage’s Eye or Eagle Eye spells to view from above and draw large circles that way. But could Rebecca?

She had no advanced tools besides a few wooden stakes and some auxiliary lines. This world lacked a complete mathematical and geometric system to assist her. And besides fireball, she didn’t know any other magic.

She didn’t even know Mage’s Eye, which a second-level mage could master.

So how did she do it?

Gawain repeated his question: “How did you manage to draw it so accurately on the ground?”

(End of chapter)