[Book 1 Completed] Industrial Mage: Modernizing a Magical World [Kingdom Building LitRPG] B3 | Chapter 11 – Sparring & Cement

Theodore POV

While Hayden got busy back in Holden, Theodore himself finally rested. Both his clone in Holden and his main body on the sandship. He hadn't properly rested for quite so ti now, and honestly, his body was starting to complain about it. The bed in his quarters wasn't bad, in fact it was better than most places he'd slept recently. Outside, the manastorm raged on, but in here, it might as well have been a calm evening.

There was no sound coming from outside, after all.

He dozed on and off for what felt like hours. Or maybe it was just one hour. Hard to tell when you couldn't see the sun, and not like he needed more rest than that anyway. He wasn't Rank 1 after all. The storm had turned everything outside into a swirling mass of colored light. Pretty, if you ignored the whole instant-death-if-you-go-outside thing.

Eventually, though, Theodore got restless. Lying in bed was all well and good, but there was only so much rest a person could take before boredom kicked in. So he found Freya in one of the training rooms. Because of course she'd found the training rooms. The sandship had several, apparently. Reserved for nobility who couldn't go a few days without swinging a sword around. Theodore hadn't even known they existed until a servant ntioned them in passing.

"Finally awake?" Freya grinned at him.

"I was resting. You know, that thing normal people do?"

She tossed him a practice sword. "Co on. Let's spar. I'm going crazy just sitting around."

Theodore caught the sword, tested its weight. Not bad, actually. Well-balanced, good grip. The nobles didn't skimp on their training equipnt, apparently.

The spar was... well, it was a nice tipass, to be honest. Freya held back—she always did—but she also didn't go easy on him. Theodore managed to keep up, mostly. They went for maybe twenty minutes before Theodore called it quits. His arms were burning, and he was pretty sure Freya could keep going for hours more. The benefits of whatever insane training regin she'd put herself through before they'd t.

"You're getting better," she said, not even breathing hard.

"Thanks. Still nowhere near your level though."

Roland showed up as they were cooling down. Theodore wasn't surprised. The man had a way of appearing whenever sothing interesting was happening. Or maybe he'd just been that bored too. He {had} been rather passive lately, never interfering unless the situation {absolutely} called for it. He trusted Theodore enough to let him be these days.

"Mind if I take a turn?" Roland asked, already picking up a practice sword.

Freya's eyes lit up. "Finally! Soone who might actually make work for it."

The spar between Freya and Roland was sothing else entirely. Theodore just sat back and watched. Roland's style was completely different from Freya's. He wasn't nearly as aggressive, for one, and was far more defensive and calculating than Freya. Freya adapted quickly, though, switching from aggressive attacks to probing strikes, testing his defenses.

They were pretty evenly matched, actually, when it ca to technique alone. Roland had more experience, but Freya had unpredictability. The spar ended in a draw when they both scored what would have been killing blows at the exact sa mont.

"Not bad," Freya said, actually looking pleased.

"You either," Roland replied, setting down his sword. "Been a while since I've had a proper challenge."

After Freya left—sothing about finding food—Theodore and Roland lingered in the training room. Roland was stretching, working out so kink in his shoulder.

"So," Theodore said, "what do you think they're smuggling?"

Roland didn't pretend not to know what he was talking about. "Don't know for certain. But I can make a guess."

"And?"

"Those two—the man and woman—they're definitely law enforcent."

Theodore had figured as much. "You think soone from the nobles is smuggling nonhumans?" Theodore asked. It was one of the more profitable illegal trades, after all.

Roland shook his head. "Doubt it. They'd be extrely dumb to use sandships for that."

"So what then?"

"Most likely a security risk of so kind. That's what would bring law enforcent out here, anyway. Not just regular constables either. Those two are specialists."

"Specialists?"

"The kind they send when they really want sothing stopped but can't move officially yet. Need evidence first."

Made sense.

"Any idea what kind of security risk?" Theodore asked.

"Could be anything. Weapons, restricted magical items, information." Roland shrugged. "Whatever it is, it's important enough that two separate noble factions are willing to work in the sa space without killing each other."

"That is unusual."

"Very."

Theodore thought about it. Two noble factions, both smuggling sothing. Two law enforcent types watching them. All stuck on the sa ship during a manastorm. It was like a setup for a bad joke. Or a disaster.

"Think they'll make a move during the storm?" Theodore asked.

"Probably not. Too risky. Can't call for backup, can't escape if things go wrong. They'll wait until we're clear."

"Unless sothing forces their hand."

Roland gave him a look. "You planning on forcing their hand?"

"? No. I'm just an innocent passenger trying to get ho."

"Right."

They left the training room, heading back to their respective quarters. Back in his room, Theodore flopped onto the bed again. The storm showed no signs of stopping. The lights outside were getting more intense, actually. Deeper purples and blues mixing with flashes of gold and green. Mana discharge at its finest. Beautiful and deadly in equal asure.

Theodore closed his eyes, but didn't sleep. Just rested and thought.

He guessed he could train his skills while stuck here. His mana manipulation could always use work. Especially because he felt a weird connection with the manastorm. It could be related to his sli physique, but he had no clue about the specifics. Or if that were the case, even. Regardless, being stuck on a ship for potentially days ant plenty of ti to practice.

***

Hayden POV

Days had passed since that initial conversation, and Hayden still couldn't quite believe how fast things were moving. Lord Theodore wasn't one for sitting around, apparently. The kid—well, young lord, but Hayden couldn't help thinking of him as a kid sotis—had already arranged everything. Hell, he'd even gotten the rchants' Guild on board sohow, which was nothing short of miraculous considering how those bastards usually fought any kind of change, especially the kind that involved money the way this project was. Just how did Lord Theodore manage to do that?

Now here Hayden was, standing in one of the warehouses Theodore had commandeered, looking at what the young lord was calling 'cent.' Looked like gray mud to him, honestly. But then again, the bathhouse had looked like madness on paper too.

"This will revolutionize construction," Theodore was saying. "Stronger than traditional mortar, more versatile, and once we perfect the mixture, cheaper to produce at scale."

Hayden picked up a dried sample, turned it over in his hands. Heavy. Solid. Felt different from regular mortar, that was for sure. Had a weight to it that suggested strength.

"How'd you even co up with this?"

Lord Theodore shrugged. "I've been experinting since I started working on the kilns and brick production. Figured if we're making bricks, might as well improve what holds them together. This stuff goes hand in hand with proper brickwork. Took a while to get the proportions right. Still not perfect, actually. This batch is... lacking. Very much so. I've had to make so changes to what I wanted to make. But it's a start."

They walked over to where Theodore had assembled a group of workers. About thirty n, all looking curious and slightly confused. Hayden recognized so of them—good workers he'd recomnded when Theodore had asked for reliable people. The others must've been pulled from other projects or hired fresh.

Theodore didn't waste ti with long speeches. Just started showing them the process. The workers watched intently. So took notes, which surprised Hayden. When had construction workers started taking notes? But then, Theodore paid well and treated them like they had brains in their heads, so maybe they wanted to make sure they got it right.

He'd already started working on the actual plans for the sewage system. Spent the last three nights bent over his drafting table, working out routes and grades and connection points. His wife had complained about the late nights, but she'd also brought him tea and sandwiches. She was the sweetest.

The residential district made the most sense to start with. Less comrcial traffic to disrupt, and the residents there were used to construction from all the recent expansions. Plus, the ground there was mostly clay—difficult to dig but held its shape well. Good for laying pipes.

He'd need to run the main channel down Harbor Street, then branch off into the side streets. The grade would have to be just right—too steep and the water would flow too fast, potentially damaging the pipes. Too shallow and things would... well, they'd back up. And nobody wanted that.

The treatnt pools Theodore ntioned would go past the eastern walls. Far enough from the city that the sll wouldn't bother anyone, close enough that maintenance wouldn't be a nightmare. He'd already scouted the area.

Well, Lord Theodore had. The young man did most of the work, Hayden had just been tagging along because, as Lord Theodore had put it, he was to be put in charge of everything. Which surprised Hayden. It was a responsibility he hadn't expected to take on, but the pay was good, and he was already old, and his wife deserved nice things, so he'd accepted once he'd had a talk with his wife about what they wanted for their future.

The housing project would run parallel to the sewage work. Made sense to do both at once—if they were tearing up streets anyway, might as well lay foundations for the new buildings at the sa ti. Theodore's sketches showed three and four-story structures with shared walls. More efficient use of space, he'd said. More families in less area.

"Master Morse?"

He snapped back to attention. Theodore was looking at him expectantly.

"Sorry, was lost in thought."

"It's alright. We'll need to coordinate the cent production with your construction schedule. No point making too much too early—it doesn't store well yet. Another thing I need to work on. How long before we can start actual construction?" Theodore asked.

Hayden considered. "Give another week to finalize the plans. Two weeks to prep the first site, get materials staged. We could break ground in a month if everything goes smooth."

"Nothing ever goes smooth. Take your ti. I'd rather start right than start fast."

More reasonable than most nobles, who usually wanted everything done yesterday.

On another note, the workers were getting the hang of the cent mixing. The first few batches had been a disaster but they were learning. The latest batches actually looked like what Theodore had demonstrated.

"You'll have a rotating schedule," Theodore was telling them. "Round the clock once we're in full production. I know that sounds intense, but you'll be compensated accordingly. Overti rates for night shifts, bonuses for consistent quality, and given you'll be given days off and there will be a rotating schedule, you don't have to worry too much. Alright, clean up and we'll call it a day," Theodore announced. "Tomorrow we start production prac[Cloning] has leveled uptice. Small batches at first, until you're all comfortable with the process."

The workers dispersed, talking among themselves. Excited, from the sound of it. Hayden, on the other hand, wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation.

***

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