As Karl watched the heavy, four-wheeled Orc caravan slowly rumble out of the Necro-Mall's immense docking bay—a sight that signaled massive cash flow—Leo stepped forward, holding a worn leather-bound notebook. "My Lord, I've just been informed. The Kobold villagers have successfully arrived and been escorted to the residential zone."
"Good. Have someone ensure the deliveries start immediately," Karl instructed, his voice low and firm. "Food, water, and basic necessities like clothes. This is non-negotiable PR." A staff member immediately broke away to execute the order.
Leo's brow furrowed, addressing a more immediate logistical gap. "Now that the villagers from the Dark Forest have settled here, my Lord, we don't have anyone constantly delivering sulfur. We have effectively lost our primary supplier for that chemical base."
