Lord: Starting from the Pit-Dwelling Courtyard

Chapter 5: High-Level Spells

Fanta stood before the first foundation pile of the wooden stockade wall, watching twenty criminals carry timber under the watchful eyes of swords and knives.

The wooden stake was driven about one meter deep into the ground.

The ground in the wasteland was as hard as stone, but today's progress was twice as fast as yesterday's, not because the ground had softened, but because these people had stayed in mud houses last night and hadn't been woken up by the cold.

Now, with four mud-brick houses, three tents, and a dozen or so mud huts, every refugee and criminal has a place to keep warm and shelter from the wind at night.

The territory was beginning to resemble a village.

Old Hall had a large water vat brought out, which he had created using architectural magic.

Old Hall shouted, "Everyone did a good job today! Everyone come and get your water and food!"

Upon hearing that they could receive water, a dry, hoarse cheer erupted from the crowd.

That was the sound of someone who had been thirsty all day, shouting out with their last bit of strength.

Upon entering the wasteland, water was extremely scarce and strictly controlled. The amount allocated to each person was just enough to keep them from dying of thirst.

In addition, after a long day of work, many people couldn't stand it and even risked drinking the poorly treated sewage, which caused many to get diarrhea. Now that there is clean water to drink, how could these vagrants and criminals not be excited?

A boy of about half a year was the first to rush to the water vat. He stared at the clear water in the wooden bowl for a long time, then picked up the bowl, filled it with water, and carefully took a sip, as if he were drinking something that he was afraid would disappear if he spilled it.

"You are able to drink clean water thanks to the lord's sacrifice of magic to purify it. Everything you have is a gift from the lord. You should be grateful and pledge your loyalty to the lord..."

Listening to Old Hall's boastful talk and his brainwashing of the people, I felt very fortunate to have Old Hall by my side.

As soon as Old Hall finished speaking, someone in the crowd stood up.

It's not the one that shouts the loudest, it's the one that shouts the fastest.

He was a young man so thin you could count his ribs, but he stood up without hesitation. He even put down the bowl of water in his hand before standing up, afraid of spilling it.

Old Hall immediately pointed out the person.

"What's your name?"

"Sir, my name is Shanlier!" The person whose name was called was a young man. Although he was thin, his eyes were bright and lively, and he was obviously a clever person.

Old Hall sized the man up and then smiled and nodded: "Very good. You are the first person to pledge allegiance to the lord. From now on, you are a member of the lord's manor. Tonight you can live in an adobe house instead of a dugout."

Upon hearing Old Hall's words, Shanlier excitedly ran to Ron and knelt down on one knee to pay his respects.

Ron looked at the young man, who was so thin he was practically skin and bones, and performed a salute that someone who had never seen a real knight was imitating based on his imagination.

Clumsy, but earnest.

Ron didn't laugh. He stood up, walked over to Shanlier, and helped him up.

"Once the territory is established, if you perform well enough, I will consider granting you the Knight's Breathing Technique."

Upon hearing this, many refugees immediately joined in shouting their loyalty. Not only refugees, but also many criminals joined in the shouting.

In reality, criminals are the lowest class of people in the territory, compared to vagrants. They are almost used to death, and if they cannot change their status, they will eventually die from exhaustion in the development of the territory.

The flooding and the show that night successfully won over a large number of refugees, leaving only the seventy-odd criminals behind.

Even if these people shout themselves hoarse, Ron won't believe them. He needs to train them for a while before considering accepting them.

The next morning, Ron woke everyone up.

He drew a line in the center of the camp.

"From today onwards, everyone will be divided into three groups."

The first group, consisting of the elderly, women, and children, continued to gather firewood, boil water, and cook.

The second group, composed of young and middle-aged refugees, continued digging dug pits under Old Hall's command.

The third group, composed of young and middle-aged criminals, were driving wooden stakes and digging foundations—the foundations for the wooden walls—under Fanta's direction.

Ron stood in front of that line, but he didn't mention Harland's name.

These people don't need to know who the enemy is; they only need to know that someone will come to steal their food in four months.

"Someone will come in four months." Ron's voice wasn't loud, but the wind of the wasteland carried every word to everyone's ears. "They want 1,500 catties of grain."

The crowd stirred.

“We don’t have 1,500 pounds of grain,” Ron said. “Even if we did, I wouldn’t give it to them.”

"Because if we give you food the first time, we'll do it again. If we give you food, the next step will be to take your lives."

The entire room fell silent.

"So I gave them another answer." Ron pointed to the wooden stakes behind him, "This wall, these wells, and these houses."

"Four months later, they will come, see these things, and then they will understand that this is not a piece of meat to be swallowed casually."

After about ten seconds of silence, a woman named Martha stood up.

She carried the child and walked to the first group of people. The child stirred in her arms, and she pressed the child's head down so that he wouldn't look at Ron.

"I'll gather firewood," Martha said.

Her voice wasn't loud, but everyone could hear it.

The second person stood up. The third person.

The crowd began to move.

Ron walked up to Old Hall and asked, "Old Hall, can you teach me building spells other than building houses?"

Old Hall nodded without hesitation: "Young Master, this is my duty. However, under normal circumstances, you only need to learn higher-level building spells. There is no need to cultivate lower-level building spells at all."

"What's the difference between superior and inferior spells?" Ron had only recently become an architect and didn't know much. Before, he hadn't awakened his architect talent, so he naturally had no opportunity to learn about superior and inferior spells in the field of architecture.

Old Hall said earnestly, "Higher-level spells are for building houses. Anything that involves building structures is a higher-level spell. On the other hand, spells that involve creating complex building materials are collectively called lower-level spells. For example, the things you asked me to make yesterday, as well as digging wells, are all lower-level spells."

Ron nodded. He wanted to learn lower-level spells, the kind that simply create higher-level items from the same materials. How could he not be tempted? It was alchemy, just like the Fullmetal Alchemist.

Sometimes, materials are more important than building a house.

Ron said in a serious tone, "I have many ideas, but unfortunately I can't make them. Just like yesterday's filter and solar furnace, they all require mastery of lower-level spells. I can't just call you over for help every time I have an idea; that would only waste the territory's construction speed."

What Ron didn't say was that he felt powerless yesterday when he had Old Hall make the filter.

Those things were crystal clear in his mind, but he couldn't make them with his own hands; he had to go through someone else and explain them at length.

He didn't like this feeling.