Chapter 182
Chapter 182
"You're developing a mine there?"
"Wasn't that vein depleted ages ago?"
"But if the Young Lord says so..."
"Have you ever seen the Young Lord be wrong?"
"Well, sometimes..."
"Shut it. If he says dig, we dig. Hurry up!"
The response from MacLaine Territory was swift.
Unlike other territories where resistance might be expected, everyone moved busily without complaint. The recently revitalized Halun slave market welcomed the arrival of this massive undertaking.
Exactly 152 dwarves, 5,000 laborers, 3,000 soldiers, and 100 knights—along with vast quantities of food and construction materials—arrived at the abandoned mining site just one month after Logan sent word to the territory.
Clang. Clang.
Thud.
"We're here! Everyone, out!"
The dwarves, packed into iron-barred wagons, lifted their heads at the command. Their hollow eyes took in the desolate landscape and darkened further.
Over twenty wagons disgorged their occupants—dozens of dwarf kin. Though they might have been expected to greet one another, few exchanged words.
Their new master had purchased over 150 dwarves at once and dragged them to this barren place.
What kind of work does he intend to force upon us?
The thought weighed on every dwarf's mind, fueling grim speculation.
But as the human soldiers parted, a single dwarf stepped forward—short, sturdy, and unshackled—and the atmosphere shifted instantly.
"Welcome, kin. I am Hamar, entrusted with overseeing you."
"A dwarf?"
"...And the humans acknowledge his authority?"
"Is he some kind of foreman?"
Murmurs spread.
Here was a dwarf moving freely—no chains, no manacles—issuing orders that human soldiers obeyed without hesitation. The sight left a powerful impression on the enslaved dwarves.
Then Hamar's speech sent ripples through their hearts.
"This land belongs to House MacLaine of the Grandia Kingdom. Its lord has promised to return us to the mountains after twenty years of labor—with the finest food, shelter, and clothing provided throughout."
"Can... can that be true?"
"Tch, how can we trust humans?"
"But look at that dwarf..."
The murmuring grew louder.
Had the six dwarves remaining in MacLaine Town been present, they might have recognized the scene. But with over 150 new arrivals, the noise quickly swelled to market-like clamor.
Hamar silenced them by hammering a soldier's shield with his hand mallet.
"Attention!"
Bang. Bang. Bang!
"I've verified everything—even signed a magical contract with the lord. You can trust this."
Every dwarf's gaze locked onto him.
"Exceptional performance may shorten your term. And this place, which we'll develop together, will become the kingdom's greatest mining city—paving the way for our safety and freedom."
"L-Lord Hamar, was it? May I ask a question?"
"Ask freely. But first, your name?"
"Geommaru, of the Red Mountain bloodline."
"An unusual name. Typical of the Red Mountain clan. Speak."
"Will more of our kin continue gathering here?"
"Yes. The lord has already granted workshops to other dwarves in the territory—with generous treatment. He's promised me more will come."
Around the red-bearded questioner, the mood shifted dramatically.
"Good. Then what's our first task?"
Few now doubted Hamar's words.
Dwarves, who held honesty and diligence as sacred, would not lie to their kin.
Reading the room, Hamar smiled warmly and spread his arms in welcome.
"First, we build workshops and living quarters. Materials are plentiful."
"Understood!"
Eyes that had been lifeless moments ago now blazed with energy as dwarves scurried about on short, sturdy legs.
Hamar nodded in satisfaction.
Unbeknownst to them, however—
No wonder the master keeps pulling these scams.
One dwarf, who once held honesty and diligence sacred, had long since been corrupted.
Thus, the desolate wasteland of the Taren mining ruins transformed almost instantly into a bustling construction site.
"Hey, careful with that! People are passing!"
"Build your own homes first! The shafts come later! You think this'll be done in a day?!"
"Use the materials freely! More will come! Watch it—ah, damn it! I told you to be careful!"
Chaos reigned.
Thud. Crash. Boom.
The rare sight of dwarves directing human laborers spread across the mountainside, the old mine shafts, and even the ruins of a fortress below—every corner of Taren now echoed with clamor.
Logan, watching contentedly, lifted a communication crystal.
"Well?"
[So you truly mean to rebuild a mining city? Was there still ore left?]
His master, whose white hair seemed to have multiplied lately, peered out with curiosity.
"Of course. Why else would I do this? How did His Majesty react?"
[...He's ignoring your messages again?]
"...I haven't contacted him much lately."
Logan had resolved not to obsess over central politics.
With his father-in-law and master handling things, he doubted anything too far from his intentions would occur.
But one word in his master's reply caught his attention.
"'Again'? What do you mean, Master?"
[Hmm, never mind. Nothing worth your concern. I'll handle it. Anyway, His Majesty views this positively—though royal finances can't support subsidies. MacLaine must have ample funds.]
Logan's eyes narrowed.
He swallowed the Ulvs' wealth whole, yet the royal coffers are tight?
True, he'd framed the project as risky to justify requesting aid—but something felt off.
Still, pressing my master for details seems improper.
Perhaps sensing his tension, his master added:
[Instead, His Majesty exempts all taxes on the mine's output for ten years. Will that suffice?]
Logan nearly lost his composure.
His fist clenched involuntarily.
"Ten years?"
[...Yes.]
Though he'd hoped—
Hahaha! Thank you, Your Majesty!
His unease vanished.
A magic ore mine—tax-free for a decade.
The king likely assumed it was just iron or copper.
The gold vein had been declared barren after multiple royal inspections.
Struggling to suppress a grin, Logan replied flatly:
"Hmph. Disappointing, but acceptable. Could that promise be documented?"
[Glad you're satisfied. May the development prosper. Oh—once you're free, visit the capital. We must discuss something.]
"Can't it wait for communication?"
[No.]
His master's grave nod hinted at trouble.
What's happening in the capital?
If urgent, he'd have summoned me immediately.
Logan replied breezily:
"Understood. Within a month or two, the tasks requiring my direct oversight should conclude."
[Good. See you then.]
The call ended—and Logan immediately punched the air in triumph.
"Yes! Ten years!"
Everything was falling perfectly into place.
The thrill left him unable to stay still.
As he celebrated wildly—
"You seem pleased, Young Lord."
"Of cour—ah, haha. Master Clayton, shouldn't you be busy?"
Clayton smiled and pointed downhill.
"The golems are performing well. I came to discuss something."
Forty combat golems forged by Clayton hauled materials, drove pillars, and dug earth—each task requiring dozens of men.
They worked autonomously across the vast site, from the old fortress to the mountainside.
Truly, a mage's power...
Even with simple commands, their efficiency in manual labor was staggering.
Clayton's post-transcendence affinity was "wind," with a sub-affinity of "connection"—details Logan couldn't grasp.
To him, it simply meant—
"Golem construction crew" fits better than "golem army."
Suppressing irreverent thoughts, Logan nodded.
"Speak freely. After seeing this, I'd grant any request."
"You flatter me. But... once the mine operates as planned, might the Tower claim a portion?"
Clayton, uncharacteristically hesitant, watched Logan's reaction.
The reply stunned him.
"Of course. After supplying workshops and the Tower, we'll discreetly sell the surplus."
"...Pardon?"
Clayton blinked.
To Logan, hiding the mine's true nature was obvious.
Even without the tax exemption, he'd planned to deceive or bribe any royal inspectors.
Sales would route through multiple channels to obscure the source.
Hamar had doubted the feasibility—
It's entirely possible.
His territory now housed a genius of information control—one who'd evaded imperial scrutiny for over twenty years in his past life.
With Damian handling intelligence, it'll work.
All to minimize the Empire's attention.
Even if Damian's talent isn't fully realized, rumors alone won't spur the Empire to act.
Meanwhile, MacLaine would grow exponentially—fueled by magic ore.
One hand gripping the kingdom, the other amassing power against the Empire.
Six years left... Maybe more, maybe less.
Not ample time—but no longer feeling insufficient.
Everything was progressing perfectly—
"...Young Lord?"
His musing had stretched too long.
"Ah, regardless—the Tower will receive priority supply. Rest easy."
"Th-Thank you!"
Clayton was moved.
Magic ore—a rare mineral imbued with mana.
Even without the lost experiment (packed with precious metals), lower-tier tests were feasible with just magic ore.
Key data's already secured. Sub-tier experiments alone...
As Clayton rejoiced inwardly—
Logan beamed and added:
"Gratitude? Master Clayton, the Golem Tower, and MacLaine are partners in growth."
A pretty way to say I'm never letting you go—before sweetening the deal.
"Why not relocate the Tower here? I guarantee this will become the kingdom's safest, most strategic stronghold. Direct access to magic ore would benefit you immensely."
Magic ore's value lay in its rarity.
Even the vast Empire counted its mines on one hand—worth protecting at all costs.
To Clayton, the offer was irresistible.
"I'll consider it favorably. Thank you!"
"Not at all. This serves us both. Keep up the excellent work."
And complete the Mad Archmage's research. Quickly.
Masking his greed, Logan shook Clayton's hand vigorously.