Three days passed since Rian returned from the Slave Market.
The population of Fort Blackiron had grown to 121. The 25 new serfs, though weak, were recovering fast thanks to the warmth and the wolf meat soup. Torin, the one-legged miner, was already shouting orders, supervising the digging of the greenhouse foundation with surprising efficiency.
But as the work increased, so did the hunger.
"My Lord," Hance reported during breakfast. "The wolf meat is finished. The tubers... the serfs are complaining. They lack the strength to swing pickaxes on just mashed roots."
Rian nodded. Carbohydrates gave energy, but muscles needed protein.
He looked out the window towards the North. About a mile away lay the "Mirror Lake." It was a massive body of water frozen solid under three feet of ice.
"The locals say the lake is dead in winter," Hance muttered, following Rian's gaze. "The fish burrow into the mud and sleep. No hook can catch them."
Rian smiled faintly. "Fish don't sleep like bears, Hance. They just slow down. And they all crave one thing."
"Food?"
"No. Oxygen."
[Ding! Daily Intelligence Report - Day 10]
[1. Resource Location: Mirror Lake]
The lake is teeming with "Silver-Scale Salmon" (a magical variant).
Behavior: In winter, the oxygen level under the ice drops. The fish are desperate for air.
Opportunity: You don't need bait. You need an air hole.
[2. World Intel: Threat Warning]
The forest on the far side of the lake borders the "Iron-Tusk Orc Clan" territory.
Status: They are currently hibernating/inactive due to the extreme cold, but avoid crossing the center line of the lake.
Rian stood up. "Gather the fishing team. Bring axes, spears, and... a dark tent."
The Mirror Lake
The wind on the open lake was brutal. Rian led a team of 20 serfs, including some of the new slaves who looked confused. Why were they standing on ice?
"My Lord," a serf grumbled softly. "We have tried this for years. You cut a hole, you drop a line... nothing bites."
"That's because you scare them away," Rian explained, marking a spot on the ice. "And you fish in the dark."
Rian ordered them to cut two holes in the ice, about ten meters apart.
Then, he did something strange. He ordered them to cover the first hole completely with a thick tent and snow, blocking out all sunlight.
"Now," Rian stood by the second hole, which was open to the bright sky. "Wait."
It was basic biology.
The thick snow on the lake blocked sunlight, making the water dark.
Fish are attracted to light.
More importantly, the open hole allowed Oxygen to dissolve into the water.
For the fish suffocating under the ice, this hole was like an oasis in a desert.
Five minutes passed. Nothing.
Ten minutes. The serfs started shivering.
"My Lord, maybe—"
"Look," Rian pointed.
The dark water inside the hole suddenly rippled. A silver flash darted by. Then another. Then a dozen.
Suddenly, the water seemed to boil. Hundreds of massive, silver fish—each the size of a human arm—swarmed towards the surface, gasping for the fresh air and attracted by the column of light.
"Now!" Rian shouted. "Spear them!"
The serfs didn't need to be told twice. The fish were so dense they didn't even need to aim. They just stabbed their spears into the water and pulled out wriggling, silver treasures.
Splash! Thud!
"It's a monster!" one serf yelled, pulling out a 20-pound salmon with scales that shimmered like metal.
"Silver-Scale Salmon," Rian observed. "High fat content. Perfect for winter."
Within an hour, the ice was covered with heaps of frozen fish. It was a massacre. It wasn't fishing; it was harvesting.
Torin, who had hobbled over to watch, looked at Rian with wide eyes. "In the Iron Kingdom, we used expensive magical baits to catch these. You used... nothing but air?"
"Knowledge is the best bait, Torin," Rian replied, watching the pile grow.
Suddenly, a serf pointed towards the distant treeline on the other side of the lake.
"My Lord! Look!"
Rian squinted. Through the mist, he saw massive, hulking shadows moving between the trees. They were far away, but their green skin and massive tusks were visible even from here.
Orcs.
The serfs froze in terror.
"Steady," Rian commanded calmly. "They are on the other side. They won't cross the ice today."
He remembered the System Intel. The Orcs were inactive. But seeing them was a reminder: Fort Blackiron was not alone.
"Pack the fish," Rian ordered, his voice serious. "We have enough food for a month. Let's get back before our neighbors wake up."
As the sleds returned to the castle, heavy with silver fish, the morale of the serfs soared. They looked at the distant Orc forest with fear, but then they looked at their Lord with hope.
With meat in their bellies, they could build walls strong enough to keep even Orcs at bay.
End of Chapter 10