**TWO DAYS LATER**
The designers presented their work. After numerous iterations and changes, they'd produced exactly what I wanted: black pants with a functional zipper, a crisp shirt with proper buttons, and a leather belt the dwarves had crafted that looked both practical and stylish.
I put on the outfit and looked in the mirror. For the first time since arriving in this world, I felt like myself.
"Perfect," I declared.
The designers and dwarves looked exhausted but pleased. Two days of non-stop work with me supervising every detail had pushed them to their limits.
"Mass produce this design," I ordered the tailors. "But not here in the manor."
The lead designer looked confused. "My lord?"
"I've purchased a building in the merchant district. It will serve as your workshop and storefront." I pulled out a document and slid it across the table.
"Here's the arrangement: I provide the building, all materials, and initial operating capital. The Mercantile Guild—specifically Guild Master Olivia—will supply fabric, thread and any other materials you need on credit. Buttons and zippers will be provided by dwarves."
The designers exchanged glances, uncertain where this was going.
"You will manage production, hire workers, train apprentices, and sell the finished products. After all expenses—employee wages, materials, maintenance—the net profit will be split: eighty percent to me, twenty percent to you five, divided equally."
The lead designer's eyes widened. "Twenty percent? My lord, that's... that's incredibly generous."
"It's practical," I corrected. "You'll work harder if you're earning real money, not just wages. And twenty percent of significant profit is better than one hundred percent of nothing." I leaned forward.
"But understand this: there will be no taxes, no additional fees, no hidden costs. Just the eighty-twenty split. In return, you submit monthly reports—detailed accounting of every coin spent and earned. I will audit randomly."
"Of course, my lord."
"And if you betray me—if you skim profits, steal materials, or sell my designs to competitors—I will kill you." I said it calmly, "No imprisonment, no fine. I will Kill you. Am I clear?"
The room went cold. The designers' faces paled.
"Crystal clear, my lord," the lead designer managed.
"Good. Then we understand each other." I stood.
"The building will be ready in three days. Alfred will provide the initial capital to start. I will hire workers after interview, purchase equipment, set up your workshop. I want production to begin within two days of work."
"Two days?!" one of the younger designers squeaked.
"Is that a problem?"
"N-no, my lord. We'll make it work."
"I know you will. Because you're motivated." I smiled, though it didn't reach my eyes.
"You'll make more money in a year working for me than you would in ten years working for anyone else. And all you have to do is work hard, stay honest, and not betray me. Simple, isn't it?"
They nodded frantically.
"Excellent. Alfred will handle the contracts. Sign them and I have given complete details of how the workers should do their work." I handed them the documents, which cleared stated how the morden people do their work.
As they filed out, I heard them whispering:
"Did he really just threaten to kill us?"
"He executed 173 people two weeks ago. Do you think he's joking?"
"But twenty percent! That's life-changing money if this works!"
"Better work hard and stay honest then."
I smiled. Fear and opportunity—the perfect combination for motivation.
To the dwarves, who had watched the entire exchange with interest: "Wooden training weapons first—swords, spears, shields. Priority on quantity and durability over artistry. Then real weapons for war. And then—"
I tapped the gun designs "—these. Also, I want you training human apprentices. Young ones, ages twelve to sixteen, with good hands and sharp minds. Teach them your craft. I will purchase another 50 dwarves and send them to you soon."
The scarred elder dwarf nodded slowly. "Yes, human lord. We'll do it well."
"I know you will."
They left, and I saw something new in their expressions. Not quite trust, but… interest. Purpose. Maybe even the beginning of respect.
Maybe they were starting to believe I was different.
---
Alfred completed the preparations for the census camp while also coordinating with Cecil to purchase soldiers. But when Cecil reported they'd acquired two hundred war slaves and still had nowhere to house the remaining three hundred, I had to concede.
"Buy the rest gradually over the next two weeks," I ordered. "We'll construct new barracks in the meantime. Use the timber from our forests—at least put those resources to work."
"Yes, my lord. The construction crews are already clearing ground for the new facilities."
Everything was coming together.
The mana cure was generating massive income in the first week alone, with orders still flooding in.
The territory was being modernized with new clothing designs, new weapons, new infrastructure.
Soldiers were being recruited and trained.
And somewhere out there, Baron Lupe was preparing to attack me, just as I knew he would.
Let him come.
I'd been preparing for this since the moment I arrived in this world.
Time to show these nobles what happened when they underestimated someone who'd already conquered one world's underworld.
This game was just getting started.
---
**FRIDAY MORNING – THE CENSUS**
The village square had never been so crowded. People streamed in from all five villages—farmers with dirt under their nails, merchants in slightly better clothing, craftsmen, workers, mothers carrying children, some injured people limping along with makeshift crutches. The noise was overwhelming: thousands of voices creating a constant buzz of speculation and anxiety.
"Do you think it's real?" a young woman whispered to her neighbor. "Free food and money?"
"Has to be a trick," an old man muttered. "Nobles don't give things away. They take."
"My cousin said the lord executed all those corrupt officials. Maybe he's different?"
"Or maybe he's just finding new ways to rob us."
I stood on the raised platform Alfred had constructed, surveying the crowd. My entire territory's population gathered in one place, all waiting to see if their new lord was a savior or another tyrant.
Alfred approached, looking even more exhausted than usual. Between arranging this census camp, buying war slaves, managing the mana cure production, and setting up the clothing workshop, the man hadn't slept properly in a week.
"Everything's ready, my lord," he reported. "Four stations for mana affinity testing, six for census registration, eight for medical examinations. We have enough bread, rice, and silver coins to distribute to everyone."
"Good. Begin."
Alfred raised his hands, and the crowd gradually quieted. His voice, amplified by a simple wind magic device, carried across the square.
"Citizens of the Brown Barony! Your lord, Baron Edward Brown, welcomes you!"
Everyone looked at Alfred.
"Today, you will undergo three simple processes," Alfred continued. "First, a test for magical affinity—this is completely painless and takes only moments. Second, a census registration where we record your names and occupations. Third, a medical examination to ensure your health and treat any ailments."
The crowd stirred nervously. Medical treatment? That cost money—money most of them didn't have.
"After completing these three steps," Alfred's voice rose, "each person will receive one silver coin, one loaf of bread, and half a kilogram of rice. Children under five are exempt from testing but will still receive food."
Dead silence. Then:
"Did he say we get paid?"
"One silver coin! That's... that's five months' wages for me!"
"And food? Real bread?"
"This has to be a lie!"
"Why would he do this?"
But as the first group moved through the stations and actually received their rewards, disbelief transformed into wonder, then gratitude, then joy.
**THE MANA AFFINITY STATION**
I watched as people approached the mana testing station—a simple setup with colored crystals that would glow if someone had magical potential.
Most people passed through with no reaction. Magic was rare among commoners, usually appearing in only one or two per thousand. But when it did appear, we made note immediately.
A young girl, maybe fourteen, touched the crystal. It flared brilliant blue—water affinity, and strong.
"What's your name?" the tester asked.
"M-Mira, sir," she stammered, eyes wide with fear. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No, child. You have a gift. We'll want to speak with you and your parents later about training."
The girl's father, a weathered farmer, looked terrified. "My lord won't take her away, will he? She's all I have left since my wife—"
"No one's taking anyone," I called out, stepping closer. "If Mira wants training, we'll provide it here in the territory. She'll come home every night. And your family will receive a stipend to compensate for her time in lessons."
The father's eyes filled with tears. He bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the ground. "Thank you, my lord. Thank you."
Throughout the day, we identified sixteen people with magical potential. Sixteen future mages who would have lived and died never knowing they could have wielded power.
**THE CENSUS STATION**
The census was equally revelatory. 2364 people currently living in the territory, plus the two hundred new war slaves I'd purchased, plus children under five brought the total to approximately 2635.
But what struck me most was the land ownership data.
Zero.
Not a single commoner owned land in their own name.
I grabbed the census ledger and found Alfred. "Explain this. How does no one own property?"
Alfred looked at me like I'd asked why water was wet. "My lord, kingdom law prohibits commoners from owning land. All territory belongs to the nobility. Commoners can lease land, work land, build on land with permission—but they can never own it."
I felt something cold settle in my stomach. In my past life, I'd fought against systems of oppression, but this... this was oppression codified into law, accepted as natural as breathing.
"So if I wanted to move everyone from one village to another..."
"You could do so whenever you wished, my lord. They have no legal claim to stop you."
Part of me recoiled at the injustice. Another part—the pragmatic part that had survived decades in the underworld—recognized the utility. I could reorganize my territory however I needed without legal complications.
*I will change it later,* I told myself. *First survive. Then reform.*
**THE MEDICAL STATION**
The medical examinations revealed the expected: malnutrition, untreated injuries, preventable diseases. The guild doctors I'd hired worked tirelessly, providing treatments that most of these people had never been able to afford.
An elderly woman wept when the healer set her broken finger—broken three years ago and healed crooked. "I can move it again," she sobbed. "I can actually move it!"
A young boy's infected wound was cleaned and bandaged. His mother kept thanking me over and over until I had to gently tell her to move along so others could be treated.
By evening, we'd treated over three thousand people for various ailments. The cost was significant, but the goodwill generated was worth ten times the gold.
**EVENING – THE SOLDIER RECRUITMENT NOTICE**
As people finished receiving their rewards, they noticed the new posting board Alfred had erected. The soldier recruitment notice drew an immediate crowd.
"Five silver coins per month?!"
"That's more than my father makes in half a year!"
"Look—it says women can apply too!"
That last point caused the most discussion. In this world, female knights existed but were rare—maybe three women for every fifty men. Most nobles wanted brutal strength and saw women as unsuitable for warfare.
But I'd played the game. I knew that some of the most deadly fighters in Eden's future would be women. And I needed every capable person I could get.
A young woman, probably nineteen or twenty, stared at the notice with hunger in her eyes. "Do you think it's real?" she asked her companion.
"Only one way to find out. We show up for the test."
"Yes, I should apply for it first."
**THAT EVENING – MY NEW CLOTHES**
I returned to the manor wearing the outfit the designers had finally perfected: black pants with a zipper, a crisp white shirt with buttons, a modern haircut and the leather belt the dwarves had crafted. After weeks in medieval tunics and ridiculous lace-up breeches, I finally felt like myself again.
Alfred and Cecil both did double-takes when they saw me.
"My lord," Alfred said carefully, "you look… different."
"Better different or worse different?"
"Better, my lord. Much better. You look like…" He paused, searching for words. "Like you belong in a more advanced age."
Cecil nodded agreement. "The men will respect a lord who looks ready for action rather than a tea party."
I smirked. "Good. Now, the reports?"
Alfred handed me a summary. "The census and medical camps went smoothly. However, we have a problem. Fourteen people were arrested for theft during the distribution."
My good mood evaporated. "Who steals when we're literally giving things away for free?"
"Perhaps you should see for yourself, my lord."
** The system**
The cat was lying on a cloud bed. The system started to calculate deeds. Good deeds 3367. The cat eyes were wide opened and started to talk, "did the baron knew about the hidden conditions for upgrade? I never told him. Well, it's not my problem to find hidden conditions." I will sleep until he calls me.
To be continued...