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Brauzeit 1th ,2488 IC
As always, my days were full.
I didn't spend all my time with the priests of Shallya handing out food or giving soap to the poor, nor receiving the old clothes the peasants left in exchange to be turned into paper. But between that, and having to assign homes to the new migrants, I didn't have a moment to breathe.
The most important thing was carefully controlling who received which house. I made sure the new neighborhoods were balanced — homes distributed among migrants from different provinces. One from Ostland on the right, one from Middenland on the left, one from Talabecland across the street. No one liked it, of course, but it was necessary. That way I avoided the formation of ghettos, and at least for now, the strategy was working.
Luckily, the migrants complained in silence. Unlike the Reiklanders, they didn't protest openly. Most had come out of desperation — fleeing hunger, the harsh punishments of their former lords, or lands plagued by danger. They didn't like having to adapt, but they understood it was that or freeze to death in the snow. With winter at the gates and no roof over their heads, any complaint was swallowed down with a bit of hard bread.
And compared to the hardheaded ones who had recently protested —lying about everything they said— these new neighbors were a blessing.
After finishing my duties for the day, I finally decided to go to the chapel of Sigmar. This time it wasn't just a courtesy visit. I wanted to do something different. For the first time since I started all this, I was going to make a long-term investment directly in the village. Something that, in the future, would allow me to benefit even more from their labor.
My intention was to found the first Sigmarite military school in Reinsfeld.
An institution to train children from a young age — not only in reading, writing, and arithmetic, but also in discipline, obedience, physical training, and —with Shallya's favor— the basics of healing.
Clearly, I needed support. Material, political, and financial support. I didn't plan on funding everything myself. Between books, benches, teachers, infrastructure, food, uniforms, and everything else, the cost would be enormous. But if I could get the Cult of Sigmar to back the project, and Shallya's cult to assist with personnel, I could reduce the cost to something manageable.
My plan was to make it mandatory for all children under fourteen. That way, I'd have a generation that was literate, disciplined, and trained from an early age. A ready labor force for the fields or the forge — and cannon fodder trained for my campaigns, should the day come.
It wouldn't be popular, I knew that. Rural parents send their children to work from age six or seven. That's two young hands to help plant, harvest, fetch water. Taking them away meant having to feed them without receiving the benefit of their labor. But with Sigmar's support, that would change. If the Cult said it was for the good of the Empire, then it became sacred word. No one would dare contradict them.
Moreover, if Shallya cooperated by assigning priests to teach healing and helped with daily food distribution at the school, parents would see it differently — one less mouth to worry about.
The timing was perfect. The harvest was ending, and although beer and bread season was beginning, that was an adult's task. The children were available. I didn't have the building yet, but that didn't matter. I could build it from scratch. As long as I had teachers instructing in reading, it was a start. If I could also get them to train their bodies through games, even better.
So, calming my nerves, I entered the Sigmarite chapel, half-expecting that —being so close to the priest and inside his temple— he might notice I'm a wizard and try to burn me alive in the name of purity.
But nothing happened.
Upon entering, I found several villagers praying silently, all kneeling before the altar. Some were begging for the god Sigmar's protection, others simply murmured memorized prayers. The priest, for his part, sat quietly on a bench, leafing through the Scriptures.
When he saw me, he looked up, smiled, and approached warmly.
"Young baron… to what do we owe the honor of such a loyal servant of Sigmar gracing this humble chapel of the mighty Creator of the Empire?" he said as he extended his hand with almost fatherly kindness.
The priest was quite old, but still held that firm gaze, full of determination — the mark of a true servant of the Empire's patron god.
"I wish I could say I came only seeking inspiration in a good book, to better serve Sigmar," I replied calmly, shaking his hand. "But sadly, I come with a matter that concerns us both — myself as a noble, and you as the protector of this town's spirit."
"Of course, of course, young lord… there's always time for the purifying sword against beastmen," the priest said with a light chuckle, guiding me to a small room behind the altar.
As expected, even that room held a statue of Sigmar — depicted with his hammer raised in one hand and the head of a greenskin in the other, staring at me with inquisitive intensity, as if asking: Have you done your part?
"Tell me, young baron… how may I help you serve Sigmar in the best possible way?" he asked seriously.
"Once again, Deus Sigmar has appeared to me in dreams," I began, using the same trick as always. "This time, in the form of a blazing comet descending from the heavens. Sigmar showed me a building, one where the youth of Reinsfeld gathered to study. They learned to read, to write, to live as true Sigmarites… and they prepared to one day march to war against all that threatens the Empire."
"Another vision…?" the priest murmured, then nodded solemnly. "That only means you have remained on the right path, young baron. Sigmar speaks to you because your cause is just."
"And it is for that reason, noble servant of Sigmar, that I come to request the support of the Cult," I continued, my tone now firmer. "I wish to build the very building Sigmar showed me. No one can teach the Empire's values better than the fervent servants of his faith."
The priest smiled with delight."I believe I can help you. I can personally teach some of the young ones what you're asking."
I shook my head."In my vision, it was all the young ones, faithful servant. Something that neither your faith nor your will could achieve alone. There are too many — you couldn't teach them all…"
I paused for a moment, then continued"That's why I want to bring in teachers from Altdorf and build a true center of learning in honor of Sigmar. For that, I need the formal support of the Cult. I need more priests capable of teaching, and the backing of the Sigmarite hierarchy. That way, we can follow the path Deus Sigmar has revealed to me," I said, as if the priest's fervor had rubbed off on me.
The priest clenched his fists. His eyes gleamed, as if a flame had lit within."You have my word, young baron. I will do everything in my power to ensure the Cult of Sigmar sends more servants to aid your cause. If Sigmar commanded you to build that school… then it shall be done. The will of Deus Sigmar will be fulfilled, no matter the cost," he declared, voice brimming with determination.
"Thank you… truly. I too will do everything within my power to make the vision Sigmar showed me a reality," I replied, bowing my head with calculated humility.
"And I will do my part by sending a letter to the local lector. With luck, it may even reach the Arch-Lector of Reikland. This mission must be followed closely and receive the full support of the Cult, young baron," affirmed the priest with such strong conviction that, for a moment, I almost felt guilty for manipulating him.
"Thank you, priest. If you'll allow me, I'll speak to my architect to see what can be done in the meantime. I'll personally send envoys to Altdorf to bring qualified teachers for this task. It won't be easy… it will be long and tedious. But the fruits will be sweet when Sigmar sees that we have followed the path He revealed to us," I said with false fervor, imitating the tone of those traveling preachers who stirred the people so easily.
I turned and walked out of the chapel with firm steps. The time for action had come.
I went straight to see Otto.
Upon reaching the northern part of the village, I found him in the thick of it, reviewing blueprints and shouting orders amid the sound of hammers, saws, and wheelbarrows. He was overseeing the construction of new homes and the expansion of the sewage system in that area.
With hundreds of workers focused exclusively on housing, the progress was impressive. Otto had set up an efficient chain of labor: each group of workers performed a single task repeatedly until they mastered it. Thanks to that, his crew of eight hundred men could build nearly twenty houses per week.
And with everything well organized — materials, tools, shifts — progress was fast. Even so, the constant influx of migrants was putting Otto under serious pressure.
"Careful, you idiot! Don't fall! Secure yourself with the rope before placing the tiles!" Otto shouted at one of his men working on the roof of a nearly finished house.
He heard me approaching — clearly from the noise of all the metal I carry — and turned.
"Baron…" he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "Everything is going according to plan. Repairs on the damaged houses are already done. If you have nothing to add, I'd appreciate not being distracted," he added while going back to his plans.
"No, I have another important contract for you, Otto. A big one. One that will require your full attention," I said, noting how overwhelmed he looked from managing so many constructions at once.
"Of course, Baron… Is it something quick, like another workshop? Or do I need to draw up plans from scratch?—HEY, IDIOT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! THE DOOR GOES THERE, DON'T LAY BRICKS!" he roared like a beast after seeing one of the workers build a room with no entrance.
"Wouldn't it be better to hire another architect to work under your command?" I asked, eyeing his overload with some skepticism.
"I can't afford that… Long-term projects with a noble who has money are rare, and there's a lot of competition. I can't suddenly expand my workforce just to be let go later and have to fire them all," Otto replied, pulling out some blank blueprints.
"It's something that needs to be planned from scratch. So no, it's not quick or easy… I need you to build something similar to the Altdorf College of Engineering," I said with a smile.
Otto turned instantly, eyes wide."Uh… now that is an interesting project… But it'll be expensive… And as you know, I'm nearly collapsing under the pace you demand for the housing. I don't have time to dedicate myself fully to something like that… I can ask for the plans if you like, I think they're still at my alma mater… but I don't have time to supervise," he said, clearly nervous.
"Then I'll hire another architect. It's not like—" I tried to say.
"None of that," Otto interrupted with a firm tone. "That contract is mine. Damn it… Give me five days and I'll find someone to replace me here. I'll send someone by boat to Altdorf to fetch the plans. But the construction of that building is entirely mine," he said, rubbing his temples.
"How much will the project cost me?" I asked.
"I need to calculate how many months of work it'll take. We have the materials… I'll give you a price next week. Does that work for you?" Otto replied, thinking.
"Of course. I'll handle determining the size," I said, pleased.
"Is it okay if I hire more people?" he asked cautiously.
"Of course… The harvest's done — they'll be fighting for your jobs," I replied sincerely.
"Good, then we'll do that, so… HEY!! THAT DOESN'T GO THERE! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" he roared again.
I saw the plan was already underway.So, I stepped away.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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