"Your Highness, how high and wide do you plan to build this wall?" "At least fifteen feet high and six feet wide, enough for four people to walk side by side." Roland nodded in agreement. A professional's approach is different—first gathering technical specifications, then finalizing the construction plan.
"So we need to dig a trench one man's depth to stabilize the upper wall. With the top six feet wide and the wall fifteen feet high, the lower section must be at least twice as wide," Carl replied hastily. "This alone would require a massive workforce. Your Highness, if you could provide 150 men, I should be able to complete the trench before the Demon's Month arrives." "A ditch can't stop a demon beast," Roland said without hesitation.
"Exactly. If the upper section of the wall is built with stone, it would take three years. But if the sole purpose is to ward off evil beasts, the wall need not be so tall—twelve feet would suffice—and its width could be reduced by a third, with the base shortened to six feet. Digging trenches and constructing walls should proceed simultaneously, requiring an additional two hundred workers... This way, I can complete it before the month of evil spirits arrives next year." Carlton paused before continuing, "Your Highness, let me be frank—now is not the right time to begin construction. If the walls aren't built promptly, even if the trenches are dug, they'll lose their effectiveness after being soaked by winter rains and snow. You'd then have to spend more time and labor clearing softened trenches and digging deeper." "If the wall is to be twelve feet high and four feet wide, as you suggested, how long would it take to dig the trenches?" "It should take about a month and a half," Carlton replied.
"Then proceed with this plan—digging and masonry will run in tandem, completed before the Demon's Moon arrives," Roland cut off Karl mid-sentence with a wave of his hand. "I know what you're worried about. First, take a look at this—Graycastle Alchemy Workshop's latest creation." Without time to reattach the bricks, he simply pulled out the two previously bonded ones for display. Fortunately, Prince's authority was unquestioned. When Karl heard that this alchemical cement could transform from liquid to solid overnight with extraordinary adhesive power, his face lit up with an incredulous, God-like expression.
Having devoted half his life to stonemasonry, he could only marvel at the invention's brilliance. Beyond simply bonding stones, its true power lay in the freedom to mold any form. Imagine having access to stone in any shape without the need for secondary cutting or polishing. By eliminating the laborious processing phase, the construction speed of any building would be elevated to new heights. This alone is enough to make one's heart race!
Roland studied the other's divine complexion with satisfaction and asked again, "How about it? Do you think three months is enough?" Carl Vanburt's voice trembled slightly. "If you're right—no, I mean... if the Alchemy Workshop's description of this substance is accurate, I... I'd like to give it a try." "Very well," Roland smiled. "I'll have someone write you a detailed manual on using cement. If you need anything else, just talk to my Minister's Assistant." "Mr.Carl, you're now part of the Administration Hall." The next afternoon, Roland met Nana Wa in person. The young girl stared at Anna in confusion, clutching her sleeve for a long moment before finally stammering, "Am I... dead?" The first time Roland saw her, he had to admit that the Witch's power not only granted them divine abilities but also altered their appearance and temperament to some extent. Though Anna and Nana were completely different types, both exuded a unique charm. This feeling had nothing to do with age or life circumstances—even when Anna awaited death in prison, her radiance remained undiminished. Looking through his entire memory, whether it was the street courtesans of Graycastle or the well-mannered Noble Misses, he had never felt this way. If he had to describe it, comparing them to the Witch would be like seeing colored figures in a black-and-white photograph.
Carl VanBert, who had brought her along, tactfully withdrew, leaving only Roland, Anna, and Nana Wa in the Temporary Palace garden.
"You're not dead, and Anna's doing just fine," Roland said with a suppressed laugh. "I'm the Fourth Prince Roland Wimbledon, and you're—" "I'm Nana Wa Payne," the girl exclaimed, her expression brightening at the news of her survival. She dashed straight to Anna's side, chattering away about everything under the sun, completely oblivious to Roland's identity as the Graycastle Prince. Unfazed by the fourteen-year-old's antics, Roland settled into the round table, poured himself a mug of ale, and watched the two witches go about their "daily routines" with a knowing smile.
Anna seemed a bit unaccustomed to the other's instant familiarity. Nana would only respond after saying a dozen or so words. That said, Anna was only seventeen, yet she already had the air of an older sister. Roland couldn't help but wonder how extraordinary she would become when she grew up.
As Nana's speech gradually slowed, he cleared his throat and asked, "Miss Payne, your teacher mentioned you awakened as a Witch?" Unlike most who call it' falling into Witchhood, 'Roland preferred the term' awakening. 'He didn't naively believe all Witches were flawless blank slates—those with malevolent intent would only cause greater harm once empowered. It's like weapons: they can be used to create violence or resist it, depending on who wields them. While the Church's claims about Witch massacres might have some basis, framing this as proof of the Witch community's guilt is profoundly unfair.
Nanava's expression stiffened as she whispered, "Are you going to hang me?" "No, of course not. Those who go to the gallows are the most heinous criminals. You're not one, Miss Anna, so don't worry about that." She took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm not entirely sure... The teacher said witches possess demonic power after being seduced by the Devil, but... I've never seen the Devil." "When did you notice your transformation?" "About a week ago," Nanava mumbled. "I saw a bird break its leg and wanted to help. Then... I felt something slip from my hands." "Something slipped out?" Roland pressed. "What happened next?" "Well... it suddenly wrapped the bird in a sticky, gelatinous substance," Nanava tilted her head in memory. "Then the bird's leg healed." Could her power be healing-type? Roland's heart pounded. He knew exactly what such ability meant—back in an era without antibiotics or modern medicine, where wounds and infections often meant certain death, rapid healing was like gaining an extra life. While this power might not advance civilization, it held astonishing significance for individual survival.
He rushed to the door and asked Knight, who was standing guard outside, to fetch a live chicken. If this could prove her words true, he might be able to change the cruel persecution of the Border Town Witch.