Day 78.
The river was now fully flowing. The ice was gone.
Along the banks, huge wooden molds were set up. Rian was supervising the pouring of a thick, gray sludge.
Roman Concrete.
Rian had mixed Quicklime, Volcanic Ash (from the Sulfur mine), and Gravel. When mixed with seawater (or salted water), the chemical reaction created a stone that actually got stronger over time.
"Pour it!" Rian ordered.
The serfs tipped the buckets. The gray sludge filled the gap between the two wooden walls.
"When this dries," Rian tapped the mold, "a catapult stone will bounce off it like a pebble. We are not just patching the walls; we are turning Fort Blackiron into a bunker."
The Return of the Greedy
Just as the sun began to set, the sound of hoofbeats echoed from the South Road.
Rian didn't need a scout to tell him who it was. The timeline was perfect.
Sir Roderick rode through the gates. But this time, he wasn't alone. He had brought two wagons and ten extra guards.
He looked richer. His armor was polished. He wore a new velvet cloak.
"Lord Rian!" Roderick shouted, jumping off his horse with a wide grin. "My dear friend!"
Rian walked down from the wall, wiping concrete dust from his hands. "Sir Roderick. You look... prosperous."
"Prosperous? I am a sensation!" Roderick laughed, patting Rian's shoulder. "That soap! The ladies in the Capital went mad for it. I sold out in three days. They are calling it 'The White Gold of the North'."
Roderick leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with greed.
"The Baron is pleased. Very pleased. But he wants more. I want more."
He pointed to the wagons.
"I am here for 2,000 bars. And this time, I won't just take them as tax. I will pay you... let's say, 5 Coppers a bar?"
It was an insult. He was selling them for Gold and paying Rian pennies.
But Rian smiled. It was the smile of a predator watching a trap snap shut.
"5 Coppers is generous, Sir Roderick," Rian lied smoothly. "But I have a problem. The high-quality ingredients ran out. I had to use a... substitute."
"Does it look the same?" Roderick asked impatiently.
"Yes."
"Does it smell the same?"
"Yes."
"Then who cares?" Roderick waved his hand. "Load the wagons! I have a gala to attend in two weeks."
The Sabotage
An hour later, the wagons were loaded with crates marked "Premium Blackiron Soap."
Roderick rode away, dreaming of the gold he would make.
As the dust settled, Lara walked up to Rian. She looked pale.
"My Lord... those bars. You ordered Elara to add Poison Ivy extract and Ground Glass Powder to the mix."
"Micro-glass," Rian corrected. "Dust so fine you can't see it, but it creates micro-cuts on the skin. And the Poison Ivy oil... well, it takes about 24 hours to react."
Rian looked at the retreating wagons.
"When those noble ladies use that soap, their skin will glow for a day. Then, they will itch. Then, they will break out in red boils and pimples."
"But..." Lara whispered, horrified. "They will blame us!"
"No," Rian shook his head. "They bought it from Roderick. They don't know me. They know him. He claimed he 'found' the source. He took the credit."
Rian's eyes turned cold.
"When the Duchess of the North wakes up with a face full of pimples, she won't send an army to kill me. She will demand Roderick's head for selling her poison."
"Greed," Rian turned back to his concrete wall, "is a self-correcting problem."
The River's Gift
With the "Roderick Problem" solved (at least for the next few weeks), Rian returned to his work.
The concrete was drying. The walls were rising.
But the river had one more surprise for them.
[Ding! Daily Intelligence Report - Day 78]
[1. River Event: The Drifting Wreck]
Object: A small merchant barge drifting downstream, unmanned.
Status: Damaged by ice floes upstream.
Cargo: It is carrying Raw Cotton and Sugar Cane from a failed Southern expedition that tried to cross the mountains.
Opportunity: The seeds are still viable.
"Varg!" Rian shouted. "Get the ropes! There's a boat hitting the rocks!"
They ran to the riverbank.
A flat-bottomed barge was spinning in the current, crashing against the newly thawed ice chunks.
Kagan waded into the freezing water (his barbarian resilience ignoring the cold) and grabbed the anchor chain. With a roar, he pulled the entire boat toward the shore.
Rian jumped on board.
The crew was gone—likely frozen or fled weeks ago.
But the cargo hold was dry.
He cut open a sack. Soft, white fluff.
Cotton.
He cut open another crate. Brown, dried stalks.
Sugar Cane.
Caelum looked at the cane. "These are tropical plants, My Lord. They will die here instantly."
"Not in the Greenhouse," Rian grinned.
"Cotton means clothes. Sugar means alcohol... and trade," Rian calculated rapidly. "Everyone sells wool. But if I can sell Cotton Shirts and Rum in the North? I will own the market."
[Ding! Resource Acquired: Tropical Seeds]
[New Industry Unlocked: Textiles & Distilling]
Rian looked at the boat. It was damaged, but fixable.
"Repair this barge," Rian ordered. "We aren't just building walls anymore. Now, we have a navy."
End of Chapter 37