[Book 2 Completed] Industrial Mage: Modernizing a Magical World [Kingdom Building LitRPG] 10 – Holden Affairs & Numbers Going Up!

Ethan surveyed the n before him, schooling his expression. Cedric was one of his advisors, a lean man, taller than the average in Holden, and wiry, but with the unmistakable long and callused fingers of soone well skilled with a bow. It was odd to see such features, but Ethan wasn’t one to point it out or talk about it. A perpetual worried crease etched between his brows; he shuffled a stack of parchnts.

Beside him, Roland stood with a hand on the poml of his sword—a habit Ethan had grown accustod to. Leaning back, Ethan opened his mouth.

“Alright, gentlen. Let’s get through this.”

Cedric cleared his throat. “First, my lord, the harvest report.” He unfolded the top parchnt. “The rains were late this year, my lord. We’re looking at a significant shortfall in barley and oats.”

Ethan frowned. “Roland,” he switched focus. “The scouting report on the bandits? Has Sir Thomas revealed sothing? What about the brigands?”

“Sir Thomas has been tight-lipped. The brigands have been bolder, my lord. Spotted them harassing farmsteads near Holden’s western border.”

“Have we identified the culprits?”

“No, my Lord. But they seem organized, well-equipped. Too well-equipped, I might say.”

Ethan drumd his fingers on the desk. This wasn’t your typical ragtag group of cutthroats, that much was clear. “So sort of a group, then.”

“Yes.”

“Mobilize a patrol. Set a few archers down range. Kill the bandits on sight, we can’t have them acting bolder.”

Roland nodded, his chin bobbing, face emotionless.

“Any other news? Have we received word from the neighboring barons regarding the proposed trade agreent?” Ethan asked.

“Yes, my lord. Sir Jack inford that one of his ravens returned this morning; he says they spotted two n bearing the crest of the crown—”

“Tax collectors,” Ethan interrupted. “They should already be in Siez by now, then.”

Siez was a city two weeks’ ride from Holden.

“Well then, we must do sothing about the harvest,” Ethan murmured. He had so ideas, but all of them would require money.

“As for trade... Everyone has denied, like usual. Lord Ashton has been with Holden since Lord Baelgard’s death, but even he appears hesitant now. Cites concerns about the quality of our goods.”

“Hmm. Excuses.” Ethan sighed. “He doesn’t want to work with us anymore. He’s likely receiving pressure; I don’t bla him. I’ve offended quite a lot of nobles in my... teen years.”

Ethan cleared his throat. “We’ll send another sample,” Ethan decided, his voice firm. “Along with a personal letter outlining the benefits of trade with Holden, only this ti, including soap; I’m sure he’ll latch onto the opportunity if he has so foresight.”

Ashton was playing politics, but they couldn’t afford to alienate their only potential trading partner.

The rest of the morning was spent in a similar vein—discussing minor squabbles amongst the populace, a few dead bodies that were reported, potential repairs needed on the crumbling town walls, and other matters regarding Holden.

***

Ethan entered the space sectioned off by iron grills inside the quarantined house in the outskirts of Holden. Covering his in a mask, he stepped over the grills, into the open hall with rows of beds lining both sides. He was here to take a look at the patients and if they were getting treated. They were. Undoubtedly. So even showed signs of recovery. They stood up spotting him, then bowed.

“Lord Theodore! What an honor!” A woman said, then burst into tears holding onto her daughter’s hand. “Thank you for letting live, Lord.” She sobbed as she buried her face on the sleeping child.

Ethan frowned, feeling uncomfortable. They hadn’t gone past their third stages of the disease. They weren’t even on their second one. That was why it’d been easier to treat them.

“Yes, my lord,” a man joined them, speaking. “You’re the only noble that’s spared us peasants a glance. Truly, thank you.”

Feeling even more uncomfortable, Ethan gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I only hope you all get better.”

They smiled as he smiled back through the mask. Ethan quickly made his way out, then furrowed his brows as he t Miller outside. “Miller, why have you not pulled out those that have recovered? Letting them stay inside would only get them infected again or cause their condition to worsen.”

Miller’s face turned white. “My—my lord, but—but we cannot just remove them!” He took a deep breath. “If we let them go, they could infect others in Holden. If those infected catch wind of their neighbors recovering, wouldn’t they try to force their way into quarantine just to get healed and recover?” His eyes turned shifty, showing so sort of apprehension and panic.

Ethan glared. “Miller, you’re smart, are you not?” He narrowed his eyes. “Get them out of here, as soon as possible. I ordered everyone infected be brought in, logistics be damned! I’m paying it out of my pockets! You need not worry about those that might be infected. What do you even an? We’re constantly on the lookout, if we found soone, they’d be here already.”

“Yes, about that, my lord,” Miller said nervously, looking away. “People fear. Many would rather stay quiet than let others know if they’re infected. Plus, it’s easier said than done. My n would get attacked. Anyone can get killed easily, they’re not Classed. or a large horde of desperate people might push forward in an instant.”

Ethan didn’t say anything. Gulping, Miller continued.

“And, my n are too few. There are not enough n to patrol and get the affected. Not to ntion people would riot against it, fearing their loved ones are getting slaughtered for so ritual and that there’s no salvation. Especially given that a few dead bodies have been found recently,” Miller bowed, swallowed. “Forgive for saying this, my lord, but people do not trust you.”

Miller slumped against his chair, staring at the ceiling. Ethan silently took his seat, thinking over what Miller had said. In the end, he could only sigh. “Get every infected here, do not worry about aurums.” It costed a lot of money—aurums—to get people treated. However, it wasn’t that much. Taking a mont to gather his thoughts, Ethan changed the subject. “Miller,” Ethan said. “How’re tests going?”

Miller frowned, a finger on his chin as he humd thoughtfully. “We’ve encountered an issue; mostly with the later stage tainted. We’d expected it, too, however, we need so kind of a solution.”

“What issue?”

“Their skin is rotting; we cannot just have them use soap and hot water to keep clean. There needs to be sothing to address their wounds directly, first.” Miller sighed. “A [Healer], perhaps. But they’re expensive, my Lord. I am not sure if that is what you would want. Not to ntion, another issue is that Sir Jack has yet to build sothing he calls nexus—he says you would know what that is. He’s currently using himself as said nexus, but says he would need to talk to you on that matter later to figure out so solution.”

“Is that so?” Ethan humd, reclining back into his chair. Hiring a [Healer] would indeed be a pain. He was already paying Jack quite the sum each day, not to ntion the [Beast Tar] he’d had to hire to take care of Wynd. If he were to hire a [Healer] now, it would make a dent on his pockets that he wouldn’t be able to recover from. Not to ntion, he needed to worry more about the financial situation now—the tax collectors would be arriving sooner or later, and the rchants Guild would want their debt paid with interest. He couldn’t be stuck in a rut of indebtedness forever.

That said, soap would be excellent for the majority of the populace, the only ti there would be an issue would be when soone’s already at the stage where their flesh starts to rot. If there were sothing, he had to consider it... Are there alternatives?

Unlikely.

Ethan took a breath, then leaned back into his chair, steepling his hands. What do I currently need?

Money. Money would solve a lot of his issues. Ethan humd, stood up, then turned on his heel and walked out. Before getting out, however, he looked over his shoulder. “Tell Jack to keep working on updating the base spell. Make it more efficient, if possible. Leave the rest to .”

I’ll figure sothing out...

He needed to—he wanted to.

Roland stood outside the carriage, and as he saw Ethan approaching, he turned to him. “My Lord.”

“Roland, let’s go,” Ethan said, grabbing the carriage’s handle, pulling the door open, and climbing inside. “We have work to do.”

“As you wish, my Lord.”

Reclined against the cushioned seat of the carriage, Ethan humd. The solution to getting more money was rather simple.

My masterpiece needs to hit the market. Ethan smiled.

***

Ethan settled into a routine; he’d wake up with the first rays of sunlight filtering through his window. He’d stretch, and feel the satisfying pops in his back before heading outside to find Wynd already waiting for him, tail wagging excitedly. They’d take a brisk run through the dewy field. Ethan would spend a good hour playing with Wynd. The [Beast Tar] Grandma Millie had a natural connection with Wynd, and Ethan was learning to understand how to handle a wolf under her guidance. Ethan knew that Wynd wasn’t quite a normal magical beast, heck, he was sure that Wynd would sooner or later hit so kind of magical puberty that’ll sky rocket his intelligence and allow him to speak or whatever, but regardless of everything, learning how to handle him was a good move. He was, after all, quite like a pet right now.

Regardless, he’d practice the [Elental Spells] he knew: fire and water.

One day, he finally leveled it up.

[Elental Spells] — Lvl 9 -> Lvl 10!

Warning: Level cap for [Elental Spells] reached; satisfy the conditions to upgrade [Elental Spells].

Interesting. Ethan thought, rubbing his chin. However, given that there was no information, he was confused so as to how to satisfy said conditions. I will figure it out, he shrugged, for now I need to learn the other elents first.

Aside from that particular day's highlight, his routine would continue as usual. After a satisfying breakfast, it would be ti to get down to business. He’d perfected the basic soap recipe, and now it was ti to ramp up production. With the success in making the first batch of soap, and the thought of making money, quick, in his mind, he’d started working extra hard to get more soap made. He found himself busier than ever. He’d sit in there for hours and create rune motes after rune motes. One by one, they’d materialize on top of his palms, swirling tiny fireflies.

Just like usual, one particular day, he was creating rune motes.

Ten… twenty… thirty… his brow furrowed in concentration.

Forty… fifty… and then, sixty rune motes. [Basic Rune Creation] skill leveled up, too, and a satisfied grin spread across his face the two tis it did level up.

[Basic Rune Creation] – Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!

[Basic Rune Creation] – Lvl 6 -> Lvl 7!

The number of motes he could create and the speed at which he did it had noticeably improved after each level. It drained his mana reserves daily. He’d often find himself with a dull ache behind his eyes, but he’d pushed on regardless, ignoring the beginnings of a headache and sotis it’d blow into a full-blown migraine due to his stubbornness.

One such afternoon, as he slumped, massaging his temples, an idea struck him.

“ditation,” he murmured. Perhaps focusing his mind inward, like calming a churning lake, could help manage his mana pool. It was usually like that in those novels he used to read back in middle school.

The first few days were frustrating. He sat cross-legged on a cushion, eyes closed, trying to clear his mind, but his thoughts kept flitting back to the ever-growing pile of soap base and the dwindling supply of rune motes (Jack hadn’t disappointed him, after all; the man was fast and his money’s worth, if not more. In fact, Ethan found it harder to keep up). Just as he was getting frustrated, a warmth blood within him, a gentle hum that resonated deep within sothing he could only describe as a core. He cracked open his eyes, a surprised gasp escaping his lips.

A notification appeared before him.