The assembly line in the courtyard was moving, but it was slow. Rian watched from the balcony as his people struggled to churn out the clay pipes.
He did the math in his head.
Time needed to make pipes: 3 days.
Time needed to install pipes & dig the garden: 7 days.
Total Manpower: 84 Serfs (All occupied).
Problem: While they make pipes, no one is digging the foundations for the greenhouse. By the time they finish, the ground will be harder than iron.
"I need more people," Rian muttered. "Machines are useless if there is no one to operate them."
He turned to Hance. "Load the sled. Put the six Snow Wolf pelts on it. And bring the gold we recovered from Thorne."
"My Lord?" Hance blinked. "Are we going to the capital?"
"No," Rian buttoned his coat. "We are going to Blackwater Outpost. I hear the slave traders stop there before heading south."
Blackwater Outpost - The Slave Market
Blackwater was a dirty, lawless town three hours away from Fort Blackiron. It was filled with mercenaries, thieves, and merchants who didn't ask questions.
Rian arrived with Garrick and two other guards. The sight of the massive, pristine white Snow Wolf pelts on their sled attracted greedy eyes immediately. In the North, one such pelt could buy a family food for a year. Rian had six.
He sold the pelts to a fur merchant for 30 Gold Coins. A fortune in this borderland.
With heavy pockets, Rian walked to the center of the town—the Slave Pens.
It was a depressing sight. Dozens of people were caged like animals, shivering in the cold. Most were war prisoners, debtors, or criminals.
A fat slave trader with a gold tooth waddled over, eyeing Rian's noble clothes.
"Welcome, Young Lord! Looking for a warm bed warmer? Or perhaps a gladiator?" The trader pointed to a muscular man in chains. "That one is a barbarian warrior. Strong as an ox. Only 10 Gold Coins."
Rian ignored him. He wasn't looking for muscles. He was looking for Labor.
He scanned the cages. To the trader, they were just meat. To Rian, they were data.
[Ding! Daily Intelligence Report - Day 7]
[1. Market Analysis: The "Trash" Lot]
The trader is selling a group of 20 "sick" slaves at a discount price (Clearance Sale).
Intel: Most are suffering from malnutrition, not plague.
Hidden Target: The skinny man in the corner (ID: 774) is not a beggar. He is a Former Miner from the Iron Kingdom who lost his leg, but his knowledge of structural support is Level 4.
[2. Hidden Target 2]
The young girl with the scarred face (ID: 890) is mute.
Intel: She has extremely high dexterity (steady hands). Perfect for detailed assembly work or textile weaving.
Rian walked past the expensive gladiators and stopped in front of the "Discount Cage."
Inside were about twenty people—skinny, coughing, and looking half-dead.
"My Lord, surely you jest," the Trader laughed nervously. "These are garbage. They will die in a week. I was about to feed them to the dogs."
"I'll take them," Rian said calmly.
"What?" The Trader blinked.
"All of them," Rian pointed to the cage of the sick and weak. "And that one-legged man over there. And the scarred girl."
"But... My Lord, they can't lift a sword!" Garrick whispered, horrified. "We need strong men!"
"We have enough muscle, Garrick," Rian whispered back. "I am buying skills."
He turned to the trader. "How much?"
"For this... rubbish?" The trader grinned greedily. "5 Gold Coins for the whole lot. No refunds when they die."
Rian threw a pouch of 5 coins. "Deal."
The Return Journey
Rian returned to Fort Blackiron with 25 new serfs.
They were a pathetic sight. They limped, coughed, and shivered. The guards looked at Rian with doubt. Why did their Lord spend money on walking corpses?
But Rian saw something else.
He ordered Hance to give them hot soup and warm clothes immediately.
Later that evening, Rian stood in front of the one-legged man he had bought. The man was terrified, expecting to be beaten.
"What is your name?" Rian asked.
"Torin, My Lord," the man rasped. "I... I cannot run. I cannot fight. I am useless."
"I didn't buy your legs, Torin," Rian said, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "I heard you used to work in the Iron Kingdom's deep mines."
Torin's eyes widened. "That was... ten years ago."
"I need someone who knows how to brace a tunnel so it doesn't collapse," Rian said, looking him in the eye. "I am digging a heating system under the earth. If I do it wrong, the garden collapses. Can you stop that from happening?"
Torin looked at the blueprint Rian held up. He looked at the angles of the support beams.
"The angle is wrong, My Lord," Torin said instinctively, pointing at the paper. "In soft soil, you need a 60-degree brace, not 45. Otherwise, the roof caves in."
Rian smiled. A genuine smile.
"Hance," Rian called out. "Make Torin the foreman of the Digging Team. He gets a chair to sit on while he shouts orders. And give him a crutch."
Rian turned to look at his new "useless" slaves.
"Feed them well. In a week, they won't be trash. They will be the foundation of our city."
[Ding! Population Updated: 121]
[Specialist Acquired: Miner (Torin)]
Rian walked away. He had spent 5 Gold Coins. He had saved 25 lives. And in return, he had just bought the expertise to build his underground empire safely.
End of Chapter 9