"Few indeed, Your Highness. Only two or three of these demonic beasts emerge during the Evil Demon's Moon. Otherwise, the Long Song Fortress would face grave peril." "Excellent observation," Roland commanded Orion to rise. "What's your name? You don't look like a Graycastle." "I have half-Mojin blood. The townsfolk call me Iron Axe." The Mojins, sand-dwelling people of the kingdom's southwestern deserts, were said to be descendants of the Sand Giants. Roland searched his mind for relevant memories, using titles instead of clan names to distance himself from the sand-dwelling. His journey from the southwestern frontier to this remote land likely carried a series of bitter tales.
But none of that matters—Border Town doesn't care about origins.
Roland clapped his hands. "That's all for today, Carter. Reward each of them with ten silver wolves and lead them down." "Thank you, Your Highness, for the reward," the three of them said in unison.
After escorting the man away, Carter Lannis returned with a retort. "Your Highness, are you asking these questions to stay here?" Roland remained silent. "What do you think?" "This is absolutely unacceptable, Your Highness!" Knight declared loudly. "According to the Orion's account, the wild boar-bred demonic beasts alone are formidable. If crossbows cannot penetrate at fifty paces, they must wait until forty or thirty paces—only the fortress's elite soldiers can achieve this. With their overwhelming numbers and no solid walls to support them, relying solely on local guards would likely result in a disintegration of over a third of the troops." "You said the same thing before meeting the Witch. Can't you think positively about anything?" Roland sighed.
"This... Witch may be evil, but Miss Anna... Miss Anna doesn't seem that way. As your Knight, I must be honest." "What if I gave you a city wall?" "What?" Carter momentarily doubted he'd heard correctly.
"I'll build you a wall between the northern slope and the Chishui River," Roland said in measured tones. "Not as imposing as the walls of Graycastle the Royal Capital, but it should suffice to keep out the beasts." "Your Highness, do you even know what you're talking about?" Knight laughed in frustration. "Even mischief has its limits. If you refuse to leave, I'll have to apologize for my rudeness." "Three months? I've checked historical records. The first snowfall here usually arrives by late February after winter begins." "Three years? That's not enough! Building a wall requires massive labor. We compact the foundation with mixed earth, tamping it down every foot or two to prevent collapse. This is just the simplest earthwork," Carter shook his head repeatedly. "Stone walls take even longer. Hundreds of stonemasons carve stones into square blocks and stack them. Your Highness, every wall is built this way—there's no exception. Cities rising from the ground in a single day? That's a tale from God's stories." Roland gestured for him to stop. "I understand. Don't jump to conclusions. If we lack reliable defenses, I'll retreat with you to Long Song Fortress. I'm not going to risk my life in this cursed place." Knight knelt down. "I swear to protect you to the death!"...
In the castle garden, Roland took a sip of bitter ale and watched Anna, who was engrossed in her cream cake, feeling much better.
He has resolved to contain the demonic beasts at Border Town—how could farming be possible when even the base camp cannot be held? To construct a wall connecting the northern slope and the Chishui River within three months, a rational plan and groundbreaking technology are imperative.
Roland wasn't just making a wild guess—he'd personally surveyed the area around Border Town (though not in person). His memory held vivid images: the northern slope's base and the Chishui River were merely 600 meters apart, forming a natural pass. The northern slope's mine tunnels, worn down by years of mining, were surrounded by layers of rock fragments extracted from the shafts.
These gravel sections are grayish-white with abundant calcium carbonate content, and can be used as limestone after grinding. Having limestone is equivalent to having cement.
Indeed, this hydraulic material that revolutionized human construction history boasts abundant raw material sources and simple preparation, standing as one of the most practical farming tools.
Roland calculated that producing concrete was no longer feasible—not because of technical limitations, but due to the enormous amount of cement required. He doubted he could produce enough cement powder within three months. Moreover, concrete's poor toughness meant it needed steel reinforcement to form a solid structure, making it clearly impractical as a wall.
If we want to save cement as much as possible and use the existing materials, then the rubble wall is the most appropriate choice.
Raw stone, or unpolished stone material, retains its natural, unprocessed form. Due to its irregular edges and shapes, such stones cannot be directly assembled and must be processed by stonemasons into brick-like shapes for use. Raw stone walls employ cement as the binding agent, allowing stones of any unusual shape to be stacked together. The gaps between stones are filled with cement, which not only saves cement but also accommodates various materials.
The general plan was set, but Roland realized he'd have to roll up his sleeves and do it himself. Whether it was firing cement or laying rough stone walls, these were entirely new ventures. Nobody but himself had ever seen these things or knew how to do them. The next three months were shaping up to be a real grind.
"Look." Anna's clear voice came from behind.
Roland turned his head and saw a tiny flame flicker in her palm. Though there was no wind around, the flame tip rose and fell as if nodding at her. She flicked her finger, and the flame, like a toddler learning to walk, slowly moved toward her fingertip. Finally, it settled at the tip of her index finger, calming down.
"You did it." A breathtaking scene unfolded, Roland marveled inwardly. This wasn't some magic trick or chemical illusion—it was pure supernatural power. Yet what captivated Roland most was not the magic, but Anna's divine love, which outshone even the flames.
She gazed intently at her fingertips, her lake-like eyes reflecting dancing flames like a sapphire-encased spirit. The scars from prison's torment had faded, though her smile remained rare, her face no longer lifeless. Drops of sweat glistened on her delicate nose, and her cheeks, flushed with vitality, radiated a cheerfulness that could lift anyone's spirits.
"What's wrong with you?" "Ah... nothing," Roland finally noticed he'd been staring at her for too long. He shifted his gaze and cleared his throat. "Now, try melting the iron with it." For days, she'd practiced relentlessly in the shed, eating and sleeping no more than she needed. Her dedication left Roland utterly humbled—even during his own college entrance exams, he'd never worked so hard.
Roland thought she would soon master this power, and with that, his long-planned new project could finally get underway.