Chapter 183
Chapter 183
Not long after Logan made his proposal, Clayton announced the relocation of the Magic Tower.
"Why again?! The designs are already finished—why bring up the Magic Tower now?! Aaargh!"
A dwarf overseeing the construction clutched his head in frustration, while Logan stood beside him, patting his shoulder in an attempt to soothe him.
"A Magic Workshop. Hmm, just the name alone sounds impressive. Think about it—the Magic Tower and the Grand Workshop working together to mass-produce artifacts. And you'll be the master of that Grand Workshop."
The dwarf, Hamar, who knew a little about Clayton's experiments, perked up at the tempting offer.
"We'll need plenty of magic for fortifications too, right? Having a large contingent of mages stationed inside will also improve security."
"Hmm, that's true..."
Logan pressed further with practical points.
And finally—
"This is all for you. Master Hamar, ruler of a strategic city with its own Magic Tower. How does that sound?"
He even threw in some honeyed words to stoke the dwarf's greedy ambitions.
"Fine. I'll do it, Master. Just trust me! Revising the designs will be quick. Let's take this chance to build a fortress city strong enough to withstand even the Magic Tower's spells!"
The dwarf's eyes gleamed with renewed ambition.
But not everyone was thrilled.
"Why the hell are we installing ballistae on the mountain ridge walls?! Who's gonna drag siege weapons up there?!"
The dwarves in charge of fortress walls were baffled.
"We were told to build houses, not art pieces! Just mass-produce efficient homes according to the blueprints!"
The city planners were equally exasperated.
"The supports are sturdy enough. The earthen walls will be raised with magic, so leave the rest to the mages. Craftsmen should focus on producing detailed items. This is supposed to be the kingdom's greatest mining city—the residents should at least have iron tools!"
Even the dwarves assigned to temporary workshops groaned.
Their foreman's inexplicable enthusiasm was deepening the dark circles under their eyes day by day.
The younger dwarves, who had been motivated by the promise of freedom after twenty years of labor, couldn't comprehend this level of zeal.
Eventually, murmurs of discontent began spreading among the newcomers.
"Are we craftsmen or just tools?"
"At this rate, we'll die from overwork before we ever taste freedom."
"Why is the foreman working so damn hard?"
During a short break, three young dwarves vented their frustrations—until a chilling voice spoke up behind them.
"Curious why I'm working so hard?"
"Eeek!"
"Gah!"
"I-I didn't say anything...!"
The three dwarves spun around in fright, only to see Hamar grinning as he patted their shoulders.
"This city will become a sanctuary for our kind. Not as grand as Stormrage, the pride of our ancestors, but a metropolis where dwarves can live in peace. That's my goal."
"But... isn't freedom the goal? Returning to the mountains..."
One of the young dwarves, Geommaru, cautiously spoke up.
"You mean following our ancestors who disappeared beyond the southern mountain range?"
Geommaru nodded as if it were obvious.
"Yes."
It was the dream shared by most demi-humans enslaved in this human-dominated continent—a hope never forgotten, even by those like Geommaru, born into human society under enslaved parents.
But—
"How do you plan to cross the southern mountains? What about the monsters there? Even if you survive, running into the legendary beasts deep in those ranges would be a fate worse than death."
"Isn't that just a myth?"
"If it were just a myth, humans would've already colonized the southern mountains."
The young dwarves, raised in human society and familiar with human history, fell silent.
"When I was young, I thought the same—that our ancestors' spirits would appear to help us. But that's never happening."
"Master Hamar, how can you say such things...?"
Geommaru bristled indignantly, but Hamar ignored him and continued calmly.
"Unless we can wield earth spirits like our ancestors and forge spirit weapons, crossing those mountains would be suicide. At best, we'd cower in some cave, praying slave hunters don't find us."
His blunt declaration darkened the young dwarves' expressions. Their elder had forced them to face a truth they'd been avoiding.
But then—
"So I decided to seek another possibility."
The same elder who had just delivered despair grinned and offered something else.
"Huh?"
"As I mentioned during the welcome speech, the lord here is... suspiciously generous."
Hamar shuddered inexplicably as he spoke, then hastily cleared his throat under their puzzled gazes.
"Ahem, I've been feeling a bit under the weather lately. Anyway—that's not the point. I want to turn this city into a metropolis where our people can live freely, thanks to the lord's favor."
"...Huh?"
"I couldn't be completely honest during the welcome speech because I expected backlash like yours. But this isn't just a stepping stone—it's a permanent home. That's the future I envision for this city."
"Master Hamar..."
"B-but is that really possible? Humans only see us as slaves..."
"Even if the current lord is benevolent, what if his successor breaks the promise? Won't everything be ruined?"
"That's why we need a contract."
"A... contract?"
"Once we prove our worth, we can draft a magical contract worth 10,000 gold. It would guarantee our freedom and rights after a set period—say, twenty years by MacLaine standards—binding the lord and his descendants for generations."
"Ah..."
The young dwarves' expressions shifted.
For dwarves, who lived an average of 300 years, twenty years was nothing—especially for true freedom.
The meaning behind Hamar's words during their arrival now struck them anew.
"A life where we don't hide in mountains but thrive in a city we built, enjoying rights and fair compensation for our work. Doesn't that sound grand?"
"Y-yes, it does."
"Absolutely!"
"We'll help however we can!"
"Good. I'm glad you understand."
Hamar smiled warmly and hugged each young dwarf.
Then—
"Work just a little harder to build a city where our kin can live freely. Even if it's exhausting."
"Yes! We're sorry for complaining, Master Hamar."
"We won't do it again!"
"No, no. Complaints about work are fine. Stress is natural—I understand. If cursing me helps, go ahead."
"N-no! From now on, we'll work without complaints!"
"Good. Until we earn that contract."
"Yes! Until the contract is signed!"
The young dwarves swore with determination.
"Then keep up the good work."
Hamar patted their shoulders once more before turning away.
To them, he now seemed almost saintly.
They had no idea his grand dream had been hastily concocted barely two months ago.
And—
"Fifty-two volunteers now striving to earn their freedom contracts. Just a little more effort. Master Hamar, ruler of the mining city Taren!"
The ambitious dwarf's gleaming eyes scanned the area for his next victims.
"Master, the outer fortress strongholds are nearly complete, and the workers' housing is finished. The mine preparations are also wrapping up."
"Good work. Then we can ease off the mining operations for now?"
The casual question mixed with praise.
But Hamar, having known Logan for years, sensed the malice (?) hidden within and reflexively countered.
"No, Master. I still need to supervise and inspect the progress—"
"So just supervision, then."
"...Ahem. Well, given the scale of the city plans and the depth of the mining tunnels, even supervision is a heavy workload."
Hamar stubbornly tried to dodge the trap, but—
"Delegate supervision to someone else. You've got other work to do."
Gulp.
"Huh? Did you just swallow hard?"
"Hahaha! Of course not, Master. Just... a toothache."
"Right. The future master of our Grand Magic Workshop wouldn't do that."
"Ahaha... So, what else do you need me to...?"
Hamar's twitching eyelids betrayed his dread as he cautiously asked—only to receive an ominous reply.
"You see that wasteland up ahead?"
"That 'wasteland'? The one that took three days to walk across?"
A creeping sense of déjà vu.
Hamar staggered back, gripped by a terrible premonition.
"Yeah. It stretches even farther north and south. The southern end meets low hills and the Luther River downstream, while the northern end leads to the Tenon River beyond the mountains."
"D-don't tell me..."
"Find a spot to tunnel through the mountains for dam construction. I'll tell Dwain to mobilize workers for the canals."
"I knew it!! Why?! Why me again?!"
Just scouting dam locations had cost him two sleepless weeks. Then supervising both the gold mine and dam construction had forced him to shuttle between sites nonstop on that cursed Kai Solon's back.
Now, those nightmares were expanding.
"Please, Master—tell me you're joking. Huh?!"
Hamar pleaded with desperate eyes, but—
"You're the only dwarf with dam-building experience. Clayton's already agreed to help from the Magic Tower. It'll be fine, right?"
"It won't be fine!!"
"Great. That's the Hamar I know—so full of confidence."
"Listen to me when I talk!!"
"I'll leave everything to you. Report regularly."
"Who are you even talking to right now?!"
"You, wasn't it?"
"Why do you only hear what you want?!"
"That fiery spirit—I like it. Keep it up."
"AAAH! Seriously!!"
Thud.
Logan shut the door of his temporary office, leaving Hamar's screams behind.
'Once Fortress City Taren is complete and we start mining magic ore, money will flow endlessly. Now, all that's left is...'
Crowne's research notes.
The possibility of mass-producing low-circle artifacts, likely hidden within.
That depended on Clayton's success.
'At worst, we might fail to replicate it. In that case, reclaiming this wasteland will be our final preparation.'
Developing the magic ore mine and transforming Taren's wasteland into fertile plains.
Once those were done, Logan's grand territory development plan—crafted to oppose the Empire—would be fully realized.
An endless supply of food and endless wealth.
Assuming all went well, the only things left would be...
'Gathering intel on the Empire and reforming the kingdom's military—especially its strength.'
Four years ago, this had seemed like an impossible dream.
Now, he had crossed ninety percent of the way.
'Careful, careful. The closer I get, the more cautious I must be. I can't repeat the mistakes of Tomodo or the civil war.'
Logan clenched his fist, steadying his restless heart as the future loomed tantalizingly close.
Just a little more patience, a little more caution.
Having steeled himself, Logan sent a magic message to MacLaine Territory.
"Send Damian Nadal to Taren. No—wait. I'll go to Town instead. Prepare a summary of our available funds."
[Understood. But... what are you planning now?]
"I'll explain when I get back. Just have it ready."
As he pieced together the final steps of his grand scheme—
[Logan. Return to the capital as soon as possible. Something urgent has come up.]
A message from his master arrived.