From Engineer to Lord
Author: R.L Alencar
Date: 2025-01-05T08:44:47.614000+00:00

Chapter 1

The light of the setting sun bathed the scene in shades of gold and orange, as two men on horseback rode frantically along a narrow trail through a dense forest. The sound of hooves echoed through the vegetation, resonating like muffled thunder. The fugitives, Ricardo and Miguel, exchanged quick glances of concern, knowing that their pursuers were not far behind.

Behind them, four men on black horses galloped tirelessly, their sinister silhouettes contrasting with the evening glow. The leader of the pursuers, a robust man with a stern expression, shouted orders to his companions, demanding that they pick up the pace. The distance between the groups was slowly closing.

Ricardo pulled on the reins, guiding his horse around a sharp bend, almost hidden by thorny bushes. Miguel followed closely, both men leaning over their saddles to gain speed. Branches and leaves whipped at their faces and bodies, but they did not slow down.

“What will we do when they catch up to us?” Miguel shouted, trying to make his voice heard above the roar of hooves and wind.

“Keep running, my lord!” Ricardo replied with determination. “Or find a place to ambush them.”

Further ahead, the path split in two. Without hesitation, Ricardo pointed to the left, opting for an even narrower and more winding trail. The pursuers, observing the decision, split up, two following each path to ensure no trail was lost.

The new route forced the horses to slow down. Loose stones and exposed roots posed a constant danger. Sweat ran down Ricardo’s face as he cast quick glances backward, searching for signs of the enemies. His eyes widened as he saw two figures emerge from the curve behind them.

“My lord, quickly!” he exclaimed, kicking his horse’s flanks to gain speed.

Miguel did the same, but his horse stumbled slightly on a root, almost throwing him from the saddle. Recovering quickly, he struggled to keep pace with Ricardo. The tension in the air was palpable, the sound of heavy breathing and hooves a symphony of urgency.

Finally, they spotted a small clearing ahead. Ricardo, with one last effort, pulled his horse into the opening, closely followed by Miguel. The two men dismounted quickly, hiding among the trees and readying their weapons. The plan was clear: make the clearing a battlefield for an ambush.

Seconds later, the two pursuers emerged, their horses snorting with exhaustion. Ricardo, concealed by the shadows, waited for the right moment. When the enemies were close enough, he struck both with speed and lethal precision, knocking them off their horses.

Miguel was impressed by what he saw; Ricardo was undoubtedly an experienced knight.

With no time to celebrate, they mounted again and continued their flight, knowing they were not yet out of danger. The chase was far from over, but for now, they had a small advantage.

---

The clearing closed behind us as we continued our flight. My breath was ragged, my heart hammering in my chest as if it wanted to escape. But it wasn’t just fear or exhaustion that tormented me; it was the constant and surreal awareness that, two weeks ago, I was someone else, in another place.

I was Luiz, a young engineer. That morning, I had woken up as usual, ready for another day of work on the construction of a new bridge. Now, I was riding a horse, wielding a sword, and fleeing for my life in a world that seemed straight out of a medieval fantasy novel.

The transition had been abrupt and without explanation. I woke up in a strange room, surrounded by antiquated furniture and candles instead of electric lamps. It took me a few minutes to realize that the reflection in the mirror wasn’t mine. The face was that of a younger man, calmer, without scars, and with eyes that reflected a life of tranquility. I was Miguel.

I still didn’t understand how this happened. There were no clues, no warnings. Just an instant, and everything I knew was gone. My skills as an engineer, my knowledge about machines and structures, none of it seemed useful here at the moment. I needed to learn to survive in a world of swords and horses.

Adrenaline kept my senses sharp, but my mind wandered through the memories of my former self. The comfort of my previous life seemed like a distant memory, almost a dream. And yet, I couldn’t afford to lose myself in nostalgic thoughts. There was a new reality that demanded my attention and different skills.

“Focus, Luiz... Miguel,” I muttered to myself, correcting the name as I tried to reconnect with the urgency of the present.

Ricardo looked at me, the concern on his face evident. He didn’t know my true identity, and I couldn’t tell him. Who would believe that an engineer from a different world was trapped in the body of a noble?

I needed to find a way to deal with this, to accept my new reality. Perhaps, if we survived this chase, I could find answers, understand how and why this happened. For now, my priority was to keep us alive.

The sounds of the pursuers still echoed distantly, but we knew we didn’t have much time before they found us again. Ricardo signaled for us to take a shortcut through a less obvious route. I nodded in agreement, tightening the reins and following him.

Each gallop reminded me of the disparity between my previous life and the current one. Every second, I forced myself to be Miguel, to understand that survival depended on quick adaptation and the acceptance of this new identity.

“Just keep going. Find a way,” I repeated to myself. After all, if I could build bridges in my old world, surely I could build a path to survival in this new and strange one.

---

The sun was beginning to hide behind the distant mountains, casting long shadows along the trail that Ricardo and Miguel followed. Exhaustion was etched on the sweaty, dirty faces of the two men. They had been on the run for three days, always one step ahead of their relentless pursuers.

They had no time to think, only to react. The ambush had occurred brutally and suddenly. Ricardo and Miguel were part of a larger entourage, consisting of ten people, on their way to an administrative barony that had been assigned to Miguel by his brothers. Besides the two of them, there were eight guards, all fearless and experienced. But despite all their preparation and skill, they were caught off guard and massacred.

Miguel could still hear the screams of their companions and the sound of clashing swords. He and Ricardo were the only ones who managed to escape the carnage, leaving behind fallen friends and allies.

The pursuit was relentless. Why they were being chased was a question that both carried in their minds, but the urgency of survival did not allow them the luxury of deep reflection, even though they had an idea of who had ordered this. Clearly, these were not just bandits but hired mercenaries.

The two continued riding, the sound of hooves echoing along the increasingly winding trail. Ricardo, ever vigilant, led the way while Miguel followed behind, struggling to maintain focus and energy. His body was exhausted, but his mind buzzed with thoughts of the past and present.

Miguel had been dispatched to the far south to manage a barony, a decision made by his three brothers. They saw him as an obstacle in the fight for succession of the duchy. Apparently, exiling him wasn’t enough; now, it seemed that someone wanted to eliminate him for good.

Night was beginning to fall when Ricardo found a small stream. They stopped quickly to water the horses and try to refresh themselves a bit. Miguel dismounted with difficulty, his legs trembling after hours in the saddle.

“We need to keep moving, my lord, we can’t stay here long,” Ricardo murmured, his eyes scanning the forest for signs of the pursuers.

Miguel nodded, his mind returning to the present. “I know. But just a minute… just a minute.”

Ricardo understood and allowed Miguel to kneel to drink some water. The two men knew they didn’t have time for a proper rest, but every second was precious.

When the horses were ready again, they mounted and moved on. Miguel cast a farewell glance at the stream, wishing he could stop there and rest. But he knew that wasn’t an option.

As they rode again, Miguel’s thoughts returned to his former life. The feeling of injustice consumed him, but it also gave him strength. He needed to survive, not just for himself but to prove that he wouldn’t be easily discarded. He had been an engineer, capable of building bridges and solving complex problems. Now, he needed to use that same determination and ingenuity to survive in a world that seemed to have come out of a medieval nightmare.

The sound of enemy hooves seemed more distant now, but the sense of imminent danger did not disappear. They needed to keep going, always one step ahead, always on the move. The escape was far from over, and the night promised to be long.

---

Night fell upon us, bringing with it an almost palpable darkness. Ricardo and I finally found a relatively safe spot in the forest to set up an improvised camp. We were exhausted, but we knew we couldn’t let our guard down.

With difficulty, we dismounted the horses and looked for a place where the animals could rest. The terrain was uneven and covered in leaves, but at least it offered us some protection from prying eyes. We couldn’t light a fire – the risk of being discovered was too great.

As we tied up the horses and set up the small camp, my mind couldn’t stop ruminating about the recent events. Ricardo, always vigilant, noticed my unease and broke the silence.

“You’re worried about your brothers, aren’t you, my lord?” he asked, his voice low to avoid attracting attention.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice sounding more bitter than I intended. “I can’t help but think they’re behind all this. They’ve always seen me as an obstacle, even though I’m just a bastard son with no chance of succeeding our father.”

Ricardo nodded, his eyes shining under the faint light of the moon. “It’s likely, my lord. Ambition can drive people to extreme acts. But we can’t let this destroy us. We need to focus on surviving.”

“I know, but it’s hard,” I admitted, sitting down on a fallen log. “All of this... it seems so surreal. Just a few days ago, I was at the mansion, and now I’m here, running for my life.”

Ricardo looked at me with sympathy. “I know it’s difficult to accept this new reality, but we need to adapt quickly. My lord, you have to focus on the present. Your noble title fortunately was maintained, and now you are a baron. Maybe they didn’t think your death would be so hard to achieve. Once we reach the barony in two days, we’ll be safe.”

I nodded slowly, trying to absorb his words. He was right, of course. I needed to stop lamenting what I’d lost and start finding ways to use my skills to survive in this new world. Maybe there was a way to find creative solutions to the problems we faced, but I would think about that once I was definitely safe. It’s not as if I couldn’t defend myself; I practiced Brazilian jiu-jitsu in my old life as a hobby.

The night was cold, and without a fire to warm us, the dampness of the forest seemed to seep into our bones. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, trying to retain what little heat I had. Ricardo did the same, settling into a position that would allow him to sleep a bit, but always alert to any noise.

“Let’s rest as much as we can, my lord,” he said softly. “Tomorrow, we’ll need all our strength to continue.”

I lay down on the hard ground, feeling every stone and root beneath me. The cold and uncomfortable surface made sleep difficult, but exhaustion would eventually overcome me. As I closed my eyes, I thought about Ricardo’s words and the need to accept my new reality. I didn’t know how or why I had been transported to this body and this world, but I needed to survive. And to do that, I needed to be Miguel, at least for now.

With these thoughts, sleep finally enveloped me, bringing a brief and uneasy relief from the harsh reality that awaited me at dawn.

Chapter 2

Dawn brought a glimmer of hope, but also an increase in tension. We knew we were only a day away from reaching the barony, a refuge that seemed so close and yet so far. Ricardo and I mounted our horses with renewed determination, aware that this could be the decisive day.

Our horses were exhausted, and so were our bodies, but the need for survival pushed us forward. The barony was our only chance of safety, a place where we could finally rest and perhaps plan our next move against those pursuing us.

As we rode, the feeling of being hunted intensified. The distant sound of hooves alerted us that our pursuers were getting closer. There were twenty men at the beginning, but along the way, only seven had managed to follow us, with two already fallen in previous ambushes. Five remained, and we knew these five were relentless.

The forest began to thin out, giving way to open fields that left us more exposed. Ricardo looked at me with an expression that mixed fatigue and determination. “We’re close, my lord. Just a bit more.”

I nodded, trying to ignore the growing fear inside me. “We’ll make it. We have to make it.”

But fate seemed to have other plans. As we approached a hill that would give us a clear view of the path to the barony, we heard an unmistakable sound: commands being shouted and the noise of accelerating hooves. There was no more time to flee.

We quickly climbed the hill, and upon reaching the top, we saw the inevitable sight: five men armed with swords, blocking our way. Their faces were marked by determination and fatigue, but they were ready to finish what they started.

Ricardo pulled the reins, making his horse stop abruptly. I did the same, feeling my heart race. We were cornered.

“There’s nowhere to run,” said one of the men, a cruel smile spreading across his face. “The game’s over, Miguel.”

A chill ran down my spine. I looked at Ricardo, who maintained his firm posture, but his eyes betrayed his worry.

“We’re surrounded, my lord,” he murmured, his hand discreetly going to the hilt of his sword. “But we won’t give up without a fight.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. I knew the upcoming battle would be tough, perhaps impossible to win. But there was no other choice. We had to fight, for our lives and for a chance at justice.

Silence settled for a moment, heavy and laden with tension. The five men began to advance slowly, swords drawn and ready for combat.

Ricardo’s heavy breathing beside me was a constant reminder of our desperate situation. We needed to be ready because the battle was about to begin.

The sound of the pursuers’ footsteps echoed in my mind, each one a beat in the drum of the imminent battle. My eyes quickly scanned the environment, looking for any advantage. The sword in my hand felt heavy and strange. I had never used one before; it was an alien object in my hands, and Miguel’s memories were confused, even though he had taken fencing lessons with Ricardo. I still couldn’t concentrate on those specific memories. However, something in me remembered the Brazilian jiu-jitsu lessons. I knew how to use my body, how to control the distance.

I looked at Ricardo, who was ready to fight with his sword drawn. He noticed my hesitation but said nothing. Suddenly, a clear decision took over me. I dropped the sword to the ground, the blade falling with a dull thud, and drew the dagger I carried. Ricardo looked at me, confused.

“My lord, what are you doing?” he whispered urgently.

“Trust me,” I replied, trying to keep confidence in my voice. The truth was, I had no choice. I needed to use the skills I knew.

The five men advanced, swords gleaming in the faint dawn light. My body went into alert mode, every muscle tense and ready to act. I needed to get close, close the distance where their swords would be less effective, and I could use my fighting skills.

One of the men moved first, swinging his sword with a fierce cry. I quickly sidestepped, dodging the blow, and closed the distance between us in the blink of an eye. He didn’t expect that, his balance lost for a moment, and I took advantage.

With a quick and decisive move, I plunged the dagger into his side. He screamed in pain, trying to react, but I was already moving again, using my jiu-jitsu skills to dodge and avoid his clumsy strikes. A second stab with the dagger hit his neck, and he fell to the ground, life escaping from his eyes.

The blood on the ground and the fallen body brought me a mixed feeling of triumph and horror. It was the first time I had killed someone, but I couldn’t think about it much at the moment. I had to survive. Ricardo, seeing what I had done, looked at me with a new understanding, though still confused.

“Good job, my lord,” he murmured, turning his attention to the other attackers surrounding us. “But we still have more to deal with.”

The other four men approached, more cautious now after seeing their companion fall. The sound of clashing swords and combat cries filled the air. I was focused, every move calculated, every breath controlled. I needed to survive, I needed to protect Ricardo and myself.

The fight was far from over, but the first enemy had fallen. A small victory amidst the chaos.

---

The clangor of swords echoed through the clearing, mingling with the shouts and heavy breathing of the combatants. Ricardo, his eyes burning with determination, had neutralized two attackers. Now only the leader of the pursuers and another man focused on Miguel remained. The fatigue was beginning to take a heavy toll on everyone there.

The leader, a man with a severe, scarred face, advanced on Ricardo with a series of quick, precise strikes. Ricardo dodged and blocked each one, his sword moving with lethal grace.

“Do you really think you can escape?” the leader growled between attacks. “You and that traitor are doomed.”

Ricardo responded with a disdainful smile, stopping the leader’s attack with a skillful move. “You talk too much for someone who can’t win a fair fight.”

The swords clashed again, sparks flying as the two men exchanged blows and defenses. Ricardo seized an opening, forcing the leader to retreat. But the man was skilled and quickly recovered, attacking with renewed fury.

“Traitor? Who’s the real traitor here?” Ricardo taunted, spinning to avoid a strike and responding with a quick slash that the leader barely managed to deflect.

“You understand nothing, peasant,” the leader replied, launching a side attack that Ricardo easily blocked. “Your friend is an obstacle, and obstacles need to be removed.”

Ricardo laughed, a short, humorless sound. “An obstacle to whom? To you mercenaries paid by those who don’t have the guts to dirty their own hands?”

As the two exchanged blows and words, Miguel faced his own opponent. The dagger was an extension of his arm, and he used his Jiu-jitsu skills to keep the man off balance, dodging attacks and searching for an opening.

Ricardo and the leader continued their deadly dance. The leader advanced with a vertical strike that Ricardo deflected with a circular movement of his sword, using the force of the opponent’s attack against him. Ricardo then launched a quick thrust that the leader barely blocked, retreating and trying to create space for a counterattack.

“You’re good, I’ll give you that,” the leader admitted, breathing heavily. “But it won’t save you.”

“I don’t need saving,” Ricardo replied, advancing with a series of quick strikes that forced the leader to retreat again. “I just need to finish you off.”

The two men continued to fight, each movement a testament to their skill and determination. The sound of metal against metal resonated through the clearing as the duel intensified.

---

As the fight between Ricardo and the leader continued, Miguel faced his own challenge. The man in front of him, a robust and experienced soldier, advanced with his sword at the ready. Miguel felt the familiar adrenaline of combat, mixed with the tension of knowing his life depended on each move.

With the dagger firm in his hand, Miguel used his Jiu-jitsu skills to keep his opponent off balance. He dodged the attacks, evading with quick and precise movements while searching for an opening to strike. The man swung with a powerful slash, but Miguel ducked, rolling to the side and quickly rising to strike with the dagger. The attacker blocked it, but Miguel was already moving again, using the close proximity to execute a Jiu-jitsu move that sent his opponent to the ground.

Miguel knew he had to act fast. With the man down, he pounced, pinning him to the ground and applying an arm lock he had learned in his Jiu-jitsu classes. The soldier struggled, but Miguel’s strength and advantageous position gave him the upper hand. With a precise movement, he drove the dagger into the enemy’s throat, ending the fight quickly and silently.

Back to the duel between Ricardo and the leader, the battle was intensifying. Ricardo attacked with a flurry of quick strikes, forcing the leader to retreat. But the leader was not ready to give up. With a roar of fury, he launched a series of rapid cuts, forcing Ricardo to block desperately.

The leader saw an opening and seized it, landing a blow that broke through Ricardo’s defense and struck his shoulder. The pain was intense and immediate, but Ricardo, with unyielding willpower, maintained his stance. He knew he couldn’t stop now.

“You are really good, no wonder you were the best knight of your generation,” the leader admitted, breathing heavily. “But now you’re just a lackey for that weak bastard.”

“You don’t know him well enough to make such claims, assassin,” Ricardo replied, advancing again with a sequence of quick strikes that forced the leader to retreat. “Let’s finish this.”

The leader attacked again, but this time Ricardo was ready. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he blocked the blow and spun in a fluid motion, disarming the leader with a skillful maneuver. The leader stepped back, surprised, but before he could react, Ricardo advanced with a decisive thrust, driving his sword through the leader’s heart.

The leader looked at Ricardo in disbelief before collapsing to the ground, dead. Ricardo, breathing heavily, looked around and saw Miguel, who had just neutralized his own opponent. They exchanged a glance, both aware that the battle had been won, but the war was far from over.

Ricardo staggered slightly, the pain in his shoulder becoming unbearable. Miguel ran to him, helping him stay upright.

“Are you okay?” Miguel asked, the concern evident in his voice.

“I will be,” Ricardo replied, trying to smile despite the pain. “We need to keep moving, my lord. The barony is near. We can’t stop now.”

Miguel helped Ricardo cover the wound with an improvised bandage, and both mounted their horses again, returning to the road but still cautious, as there might still be more mercenaries in pursuit.

Before leaving, Miguel and Ricardo gathered the swords of the dead mercenaries. Unfortunately, they didn’t have enough ropes to take the mercenaries’ horses, so they let them go.

Chapter 3

The sun was high in the sky when Ricardo and I finally spotted the barony in the distance. The journey had been long and arduous, and we were both exhausted and injured, but the sight of our destination brought a wave of relief. As we approached, it became evident that the place was extremely poor, with only a small wall and a few houses outside, along with some crops. The houses were small and poorly maintained, with thatched roofs and wooden walls worn by time. The small town, with fewer than a thousand inhabitants, was situated on the kingdom's border, a lonely and almost forgotten outpost.

The inhabitants watched us with curious and suspicious looks as we crossed the dirt streets. Children played barefoot, and adults interrupted their activities to examine us. The contrast with the grandeur of the capital was evident; here, life seemed to be a constant struggle for survival.

Our first stop was the guard post, a simple but well-maintained stone structure. Two guards stood at the entrance, both with cautious expressions. When they saw us approaching, they placed their hands on their swords, ready for any eventuality.

"Who are you and what do you want here?" one of the guards asked, suspicion clear in his voice.

"I am Miguel, and this is Ricardo," I replied, trying to sound authoritative despite the fatigue. "We bring an important document."

The guards exchanged looks, and one of them stepped forward. "We'll need to see that document."

Carefully, I took the parchment from my cloak and handed it to the guard. He couldn't read, so he passed the document to his companion who, fortunately, could read and write, a rarity among soldiers and villagers in this world. He unrolled it and read it carefully, his eyes widening at the sight of the duke's seal. After a few moments, he looked up at me, clearly surprised.

"This document says that the barony of Drakmoor now belongs to you," he said, disbelief mixed with respect. "We will escort you to the baron's mansion, my lord. Welcome."

The guards escorted us to the city gate and then through the streets, clearing a path through the crowd of curious onlookers. People whispered and pointed as we passed, and I could feel the weight of their expectations and doubts. We arrived at the baron's mansion, a slightly more imposing structure than the others, but still modest compared to the grand noble residences of the capital. The stone structure was robust, but the signs of neglect were evident: broken windows, moss-covered walls, and neglected gardens.

I ordered the guards to take the horses to the stable.

When we arrived, we were greeted by an elderly man with a dignified posture and a kind look. He wore a simple but well-kept uniform, indicating his position as the mansion's butler. The guard spoke first and informed the butler who I was.

"Welcome," he said, bowing. "I am Thomas, the butler of this house. I was informed about the arrival of the new baron, but we did not expect you so soon, my lord."

"Events took an unexpected turn," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "We need immediate care for my companion, Ricardo. He is severely injured."

Thomas nodded and called for two servants, who quickly appeared to assist Ricardo. "Take him to the infirmary and summon the healer immediately," he ordered.

As Ricardo was taken for treatment, Thomas guided us inside the mansion. The place, though modest, still retained an aura of nobility, with antique furniture and tapestries that, though worn, displayed a certain grandeur of the past.

"I fear the mansion has seen better days," Thomas said, noticing my gaze. "The former baron and his family disappeared while traveling to the capital, and since then, things have been difficult here."

"Disappeared?" I asked, surprised. "No one knows what happened?"

I didn't know what had happened to the former baron. When my brothers decided to send me to this border barony, I thought I would find the old baron and formally replace him, but he is missing, which makes this succession a bit abrupt.

Thomas shook his head, concern evident in his eyes. "No, my lord. They simply vanished two years ago, and since then, the barony's administration has been neglected. I have done my best to keep things in order, but the difficulties are many."

"I understand," I replied, feeling the weight of responsibility fall upon me. In my old world, I was just an engineer, and I confess that I rarely faced such hardships. "We will do what we can to improve the situation."

Thomas smiled gently, surprised by the new baron's simple and polite demeanor. "I am sure your presence here will be a relief to many, my lord. Now, please allow me to show you to your quarters so you can rest."

We climbed a narrow staircase to the mansion's second floor, where Thomas led me to a simple yet comfortable room. The bed looked like an oasis of comfort after the days of fleeing and fighting.

"If you need anything, I will be nearby," Thomas said, bowing before leaving.

I was alone for a moment, absorbing everything that had happened. The abrupt transition from fleeing to the responsibility of a poor and isolated barony was overwhelming, but I knew I needed to find strength within myself. Ricardo was being treated, and I needed to be ready to assume my new role and face the challenges ahead.

After a brief rest and a bath prepared by some maids, I went down to check on Ricardo's condition. I found him lying in a bed in the infirmary, his shoulder bandaged. The healer, a middle-aged man with skilled hands and compassionate eyes, was finishing applying an ointment.

"How is he?" I asked, approaching.

"The wound was deep, but not fatal," the healer replied. "He needs rest and care, but he should make a full recovery."

"Thank you," I said, relieved. I sat next to Ricardo, who opened his eyes and smiled weakly.

"Do I look like a war hero now?" he joked, his voice faint.

"More than that," I replied, holding his hand. "You are a friend who never gave up."

Since I arrived in this world two weeks ago, Ricardo, even unknowingly, was the only one who genuinely seemed to care about me and help me.

Ricardo squeezed my hand back, the smile becoming more genuine. "I am sorry that I couldn't keep the promise I made to your mother to always keep you safe, my lord. Things shouldn't have ended up this way."

The memories of Miguel in my mind were confusing, but I know this man is my mother's brother, a woman who was abused by the duke and ended up pregnant. When Miguel was born, his mother unfortunately died in childbirth. But before she did, she made Ricardo promise to protect Miguel at all costs. Even though the duke's family allowed him to live in the duke's mansion, they never accepted Miguel's presence.

I nodded, "Don't be too hard on yourself. If it weren't for you, I would have been dead a long time ago. So thank you very much, my friend, and you can call me Miguel when we're alone."

***

I woke to a gentle touch on my shoulder and slowly opened my eyes, still groggy with sleep. In front of me stood a young servant, his face pale and his eyes wide with fear. He seemed hesitant to speak, but I smiled to reassure him.

"It's all right," I said, trying to sound as calm as possible. "What happened?"

"Sir, breakfast is ready," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "You should come down to eat."

"Thank you," I replied, sitting up in bed and stretching to shake off the drowsiness. "What is your name?"

"J-John, sir," he answered, the surprise evident in his eyes at my asking.

"Nice to meet you, John. There's no need to be afraid of me," I said with a smile. "I'm here to help, not to scare you."

I wondered if the former baron was aggressive with his servants.

He nodded quickly, visibly more relaxed. "Yes, sir. I'll... I'll be downstairs if you need me."

I got up and started preparing for the day. After dressing, I descended the stairs to the ground floor, where the smell of some kind of tea and fresh pie greeted me. I entered the dining room and saw a modest yet carefully set table. The food was quite different from what I was used to in the capital – no sophisticated delicacies, just pie, cheese, fruit, and a jug of milk accompanied by a cup of tea.

I sat at the table and began to serve myself when a robust woman with a stained apron and a tired smile entered the room. She seemed nervous as she approached me.

"Good morning, my lord," she said, giving a small curtsey. "I am Martha, the head cook. I hope the food is to your liking."

"Good morning, Martha," I replied, taking a bite of the pie. It was simple but tasty. "The food is good, thank you."

She seemed relieved, but there was still a shadow of worry in her eyes. "I apologize for the simplicity, my lord. We've had difficulties getting fresh ingredients. Merchants rarely pass through here, and when they do, the prices are high."

I nodded, understanding the situation. "I understand. Don't worry, Martha. We'll do what we can to improve things. You've been doing a great job with what you have."

Martha smiled, albeit a bit hesitantly. "Thank you, sir. We do what we can. If you need anything specific, I can try to prepare it."

"Don't worry about that for now. I'm not going to make any demands on you, but I'll do my best to help," I promised, feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders.

As I ate, I observed the simplicity around me. The contrast with the opulence of the capital was stark, but there was a certain dignity in the way everything was maintained with care and effort. The people here, despite the hardships, worked hard to keep the barony functioning.

After breakfast, I decided to explore the mansion further. I wanted to better understand the living conditions and challenges we faced. John, the young servant, offered to accompany me and show me around. I accepted his offer, grateful for the company. Normally, Ricardo would accompany me in such a situation, but I decided it was better for him to rest and not exert himself at the moment.

After John showed me all the rooms in the mansion, which were modest, as the mansion only had three floors, we stepped outside through the front door. It was a short walk from the mansion, and we began to stroll through the mansion's gardens. The house was situated on a hill, giving me a view of the small town below.

John told me about the various families living there, each with their own stories of struggle and resilience. He took me to the mansion's food store, a small space with little variety. Most of the items were local: vegetables, fruits, and some fruits unknown to Miguel.

"How do you manage to survive?" I asked, observing the sparse shelves.

"We do what we can, sir," John replied. "We're eating only two meals a day to ration food."

"I see," I said, thinking about how I could help improve the situation. We needed to attract more merchants and ensure the barony had access to essential resources. But how?

We returned to the mansion, where I found Thomas in the main hall. He seemed relieved to see me.

"Sir, I hope breakfast was satisfactory," he said.

"Yes, Thomas, it was. But I see there are many challenges here. We need to find ways to attract more merchants and improve the local economy."

Thomas nodded, his face serious. "I agree, sir. The situation has been difficult since the former baron's disappearance. But I am confident that, with your leadership, we can find a solution."

"I hope so," I replied, determined. "We will need to work together and find ways to strengthen the barony. The first thing we need to do is better understand the population's needs and seek resources to meet those needs, and of course, improve the local infrastructure so that these lands can become self-sufficient over time."

Thomas smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. This was a peculiar noble. He still didn't know the new baron completely, but the little he had seen had sparked a bit of hope. "I am at your disposal, my lord."

Chapter 4

Miguel climbed the stairs of the mansion, feeling even more determined to resolve the barony's problems after his conversation with Thomas and the sight of the dying town. He headed to the room where Ricardo was recovering, hoping his friend was in a condition to talk.

Entering the room, he found Ricardo lying on the bed, propped up by pillows. The wound on his shoulder was well bandaged, and though his expression still showed traces of pain, he seemed more relaxed.

“Good morning, Ricardo,” Miguel said, approaching the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Ricardo lifted his head and smiled. “Good morning, my lord. I’m feeling better, thanks to the healer. It still hurts, but I’ll survive.”

Miguel pulled up a chair and sat by the bed, observing his friend. “I’m glad to hear that. You fought bravely yesterday. I’m impressed with your skill, even though you trained me, I had never seen you in combat.”

Ricardo chuckled softly, but his expression soon grew more serious. “You fought well too, my lord. But I must ask: where did you learn to fight like that? I was always the one who trained you with the sword, but yesterday, you seemed like a seasoned warrior, especially with that dagger.”

Miguel felt his heart race. He needed to find a convincing and realistic explanation for the skill he had displayed. The truth of his past life was not an option, so he opted for a half-truth that could satisfy Ricardo.

“It was a combination of necessity and adaptation,” Miguel began, choosing his words carefully. “When everything started, and after... after what happened to the guards, I realized I needed to fight in any way I could to survive. I’m not as good with a sword as you are, so I used what I knew to defend myself.”

Ricardo frowned but seemed to be considering the explanation. “That makes sense, but you seemed to have a clear strategy. The movements, the way you approached the enemies... there was more than just improvisation there.”

Miguel took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “Before coming here, I had an interest in hand-to-hand combat. In my free time, I studied it while you were in the king’s service. It was a hobby, something that helped me stay in shape and gave me a sense of control. It didn’t have much use in a sword fight, but in a desperate situation, I used what I knew.”

Ricardo nodded slowly, accepting the explanation. “I see. You’ve always been a bit different, my lord. Perhaps I didn’t realize how much before. Your mother would be proud. Anyway, I’m glad you knew how to defend yourself. It saved us in a way.”

Miguel smiled, relieved to have convinced his friend. “I did what needed to be done. And now, we need to focus on the problems this place has. I’ve decided to help these people, not for personal satisfaction, but because I can. With the knowledge I have, I can change their lives for the better in the medium and long term.”

“Yes, I agree,” Ricardo replied, determination shining in his eyes. “This place has potential, but it’s going to take a lot of work. I’m with you, my lord. I’m not very smart, but I’ll try to help you in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Ricardo. We’ll get through this,” Miguel said, holding his friend’s hand. “Rest now. We need you strong and healthy.”

Ricardo closed his eyes, relaxing on the bed. “I’ll do my best.”

Miguel stayed there for a few more moments, watching Ricardo fall asleep. He knew that. He got up, leaving the room quietly, and began planning his next steps. He was determined to transform the barony into a place of hope and opportunity for everyone. He realized that if he wanted to survive, he would have to change the world around him somehow. In a way, his brothers had sent him to an isolated place. Even though the mercenaries they hired to kill Miguel had almost prevented his arrival, he still didn't understand why his brothers would do that.

His father, the duke, was ill, a disease he had contracted two months ago. He was no longer the same and spent all day in bed. Since then, his brothers had been indirectly competing over who would inherit the duchy. Normally, it would be the eldest son, but for that to happen, the duke would have to name him as his successor, which he had not done yet.

***

Miguel and Thomas were seated in the office designated for the baron, a room that exuded an air of old-fashioned dignity. The U-shaped desk occupied most of the space, with Miguel seated at the central end and Thomas beside him, both engrossed in a serious conversation about the barony's financial situation.

“So, Thomas,” began Miguel, glancing at the scrolls and documents spread across the desk. “What’s the actual financial situation of the barony?”

Thomas sighed, adjusting his glasses and picking up a parchment that looked more worn than the others. “My lord, the situation is not good. We have only 1000 gold coins, 300 silver coins, and 2000 bronze coins in the treasury. That’s all that’s left.”

Miguel recalled the financial mathematics lessons he had during his stay at the duke’s mansion. Each gold coin was worth 100 silver coins, and each silver coin was worth 100 bronze coins. So, for example, if we want to convert our gold coins to silver, we have 1000 gold coins multiplied by 100, which will give us 100,000 silver coins.

“I understand,” Miguel said, trying to calculate mentally. “So, if we convert everything, how much would we have in total?”

“Let’s calculate together,” suggested Thomas. He took a piece of paper and a quill, starting to write. “We have 1000 gold coins. Since each gold coin is worth 100 silver coins, that gives us 100,000 silver coins. Adding to that the 300 silver coins we already have, that totals 100,300 silver coins.”

Miguel watched attentively as Thomas continued. “Now, each silver coin is worth 100 bronze coins. So, 100,300 silver coins multiplied by 100 gives us 10,030,000 bronze coins. Adding the 2000 bronze coins we already have, the total would be 10,032,000 bronze coins.”

Miguel nodded, absorbing the information. “I see. And how does this actually help us? I mean, what’s the purchasing power of 10,032,000 bronze coins?”

Thomas sighed again, a worried look in his eyes. “Unfortunately, it’s not as much as it sounds. The cost of living here, while lower than in the capital, is still high for such a poor barony. We need to pay for essential services, buy supplies and materials, and still deal with any emergencies that arise. The money we have may not be enough to sustain the barony for long, especially if we can’t increase our income.”

Miguel drummed his fingers on the desk, thinking. “We need a strategy to boost income and ensure the barony becomes self-sustaining. Perhaps we can explore new resources or find ways to attract more traders and visitors.”

“I agree, my lord,” said Thomas. “We need to be creative and find solutions that don’t solely rely on the reserves we have. I’m here to assist you in any plan we can develop.”

“Thank you, Thomas,” Miguel said, appreciating the butler’s honesty and support. “Let’s work on this together. We need to make this place thrive again.”

As Thomas organized the documents, Miguel reflected on the kingdom’s coin system. Each gold coin represented a significant amount, but the absolute number of coins wasn’t as large as it initially seemed. With 1000 gold coins, equivalent to 100,000 silver or 10,000,000 bronze coins, the challenge lay in transforming this value into something that could truly sustain the barony.

Miguel knew he needed to better understand the barony’s needs and resources. Talking to the residents, understanding their challenges and potential, and finding ways to improve the local economy would be crucial steps. He also considered the possibility of forging alliances with other baronies or even merchants from distant regions to stimulate trade.

The kingdom’s coin system was simple in theory but complex in practice. The value of a gold coin was high, but its usefulness depended on how it was used, not to mention there were other coins with different precious metals in the kingdom. The real challenge lay in turning these coins into tangible resources that could sustain and improve the lives of the barony’s inhabitants.

***

Arthur woke up early that morning, as he did every day. The metallic sound of the hammer against the anvil was almost a comfort to him now, a routine that kept him busy and focused even when times were tough and customers were scarce. He had been a blacksmith for years, following the profession his father and grandfather had practiced before him. However, unlike them, Arthur was facing hard times. Few were the customers seeking his services, and his work was mostly limited to repairing the local guards' weapons.

As he heated the forge and prepared for a day's work, Arthur was interrupted by the sound of his smithy door swinging open. He looked up and saw Raul, a familiar local farmer and one of his few friends in the village. Raul was a sturdy man, his hands calloused from hard work in the fields, and his expression reflected constant worry over the hardships they faced.

"Good morning, Arthur," greeted Raul, tipping his hat and wiping his sweaty brow. "Looks like we're in for a hot day today."

"Good morning, Raul," replied Arthur with a tired smile. "Yes, it seems so. What brings you here so early? Any trouble on the farm?"

Raul shook his head, stepping further into the smithy. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Just wanted to chat a bit. Have you heard the news about the new baron?"

Arthur paused his hammering for a moment and looked at Raul with curiosity. "Yes, I've heard something about it. What are they saying around here?"

Raul approached and leaned on the anvil, clearly wanting a longer conversation. "Well, the villagers are cautious. No one knows much about him. Some say he's young and inexperienced, others say he's just another noble who likes to flaunt wealth and will end up draining the last resources we have."

Arthur nodded, understanding the concern. "It's natural for everyone to be wary of the new baron. After what happened with the old baron and his family, it's hard to trust someone new."

"Exactly," agreed Raul. "Many fear he may not really be interested in helping our land. That he only wants to take advantage of what little we have left. You know, spending money on luxuries while we here struggle to survive."

Arthur picked up a piece of iron and began heating it in the forge. "I understand. But we need to give him a chance. Perhaps he's different. Who knows, he might have good intentions and really want to make a difference."

Raul snorted, skeptical. "I wish I had your optimism, Arthur. But you know how nobles are. Always thinking of themselves. And we, down here, are just pawns in their game."

Arthur continued working the metal, reflecting on Raul's words. "Yes, I know. But we can't judge before we know. Maybe he's just another indifferent noble. Either way, we don't have much to lose, do we?"

"We really don't," admitted Raul, sighing. "But we also can't expect miracles. If he doesn't show results quickly, people will revolt. We're already at the breaking point."

Arthur turned the piece of metal in the forge, watching the flames dance. "You're right. We need things to change, not just promises. Let's see what he has to say. And if it's not good, well, we can always make our voices heard in some way."

Raul looked down, thoughtful. "Yes, I hope he listens to us. Because honestly, I don't know how much longer we can hold on. The harvest was poor this year, and the taxes remain high. If there's no change, many won't survive the next winter."

Arthur felt a pang in his heart hearing this. He knew the situation was dire, but hearing it from Raul, who had always been a pillar of strength in the community, made it all the more real. "We need to hold on to hope, Raul. And if he really is just another spendthrift noble, we'll have to find a way to protect ourselves and take care of each other."

Raul nodded, finally straightening up from the anvil. "You're right, my friend. We need to keep hope alive, even if it's hard. And we must be ready to fight for what's ours."

As Arthur watched Raul leave the smithy, he felt the weight of his friend's worries as if they were his own. He knew the village was at a crossroads, and the new baron would play a crucial role in determining its future. He just hoped the new baron would be different, that he would see the potential and dignity in the people who fought every day to survive.

Returning to his work, Arthur thought about what he could do to help improve the situation. Perhaps he could offer more than just weapon repairs. Maybe there was a way to use his skills to benefit the village in a more significant manner. He knew he would need to be creative and resilient, but he was determined to find a solution.

As the sound of the hammer echoed through the smithy, Arthur promised himself that he would do everything in his power to support his community and give the new baron a fair chance. After all, hope was the only thing they had left, and he wasn't willing to give it up so easily.

Because the village was without a baron, many of the merchants were hesitant to do business in this place, and the steward of the mansion became the new administrator and always made the most to help the people here, but he is not a noble so other nobles from other parts of the kingdom do not accept to do a lot of business.

Arthur looked at the piece of iron he was shaping and thought about how it could be a metaphor for his own life and the lives of everyone in the village. Raw iron, with work and patience, could be transformed into something strong and useful. Perhaps the same could be said for the barony under the leadership of the new baron. Only time would tell, but Arthur was willing to give the new baron the benefit of the doubt and work towards a better future, regardless of the challenges they faced.

Chapter 5

Miguel was sitting in his office, the U-shaped desk covered with maps, scrolls, and reports. Thomas, the steward, was beside him, examining a document with a worried expression. Both knew that food scarcity was the main issue facing the barony, and they needed to find a solution quickly.

"We have about a thousand people in the village and fifty more staff at the mansion, not counting the city guards," Miguel began, looking at the scattered papers before him. "Food shortages are affecting everyone, and we need to act before the situation worsens."

Thomas nodded gravely. "Yes, my lord. The last harvest was poor, and our stocks are low. We need to find a way to ensure no one goes hungry."

Miguel ran a hand through his hair, considering their options. "We need a multifaceted approach. We can try negotiating with merchants to get more supplies, but we also need to think about how to increase our own food production. Perhaps we can encourage the community to plant more, using unused land."

"That's a good idea, my lord," Thomas replied, jotting down the key points. "But we'll need the support of the people. They're wary and fearful, especially with a new baron arriving after so long. We need to earn their trust."

"I agree," said Miguel. "We need to communicate directly with them, explain the situation and our plan. A public address in the town square might be the best way to do that. We need to be transparent and show that we're working for the good of all."

Thomas nodded again. "Yes, my lord. A public address can help clarify our intentions and mobilize the community. But we need to be prepared to answer questions and perhaps face criticism."

Miguel was impressed by Thomas' intelligence. Having him by his side is a great help, without a doubt.

"I'm aware of that," Miguel replied. "But it's a risk we need to take. Communication is crucial to overcoming this crisis. And besides, we need to ensure that everyone feels included in the process, and from what I've read in the reports and documents, the former baron was quite negligent in several aspects involving public administration."

Miguel stood up from the desk, determined. "Let's go to the town square and speak directly to the people. We'll take a few guards to ensure security, but most importantly, we need to show that we're in this together."

Thomas agreed, closing the scroll he was reading and preparing to accompany Miguel. "I'll call two guards to join us, my lord. We need to ensure everything goes smoothly."

As Thomas left the office to summon the guards, Miguel took one last look at the documents on his desk. The responsibility he felt was overwhelming, but he knew he needed to face these challenges head-on. If he wanted to make a difference and transform the barony, he needed to earn the trust of his people and work alongside them. He now understands how mayor's or leaders feel when having to manage people and resources in his previous world.

A few minutes later, Thomas returned with two armed guards. They were sturdy men with serious yet respectful expressions. Miguel and Thomas briefly explained the plan, and the guards nodded, ready to accompany and protect them.

Miguel took a deep breath and looked at Thomas. "Let's do this. We need to show the people that we're here to help and that we'll do whatever it takes to overcome this crisis."

Thomas felt a glimmer of hope; he had never encountered a noble who showed as much interest as the new baron did. He was young, but he acted with the experience of a seasoned man.

With the guards leading the way and Thomas by his side, Miguel left the mansion and began riding toward the town square, descending a road that led up to the mansion, which was built on an elevation. The streets were bustling with people going about their daily tasks. Miguel's presence, along with the guards, drew the attention of the residents, who began whispering among themselves, curious and cautious.

As they approached the square, Miguel felt the weight of responsibility increase. He needed to be clear, honest, and inspiring. He knew that the words he spoke there could determine the course of the barony in the months to come.

The town square was simple yet spacious, with a small wooden stage in the center. It was the traditional spot for announcements and community events. Upon arriving, they dismounted from their horses. Miguel ascended the stage, accompanied by Thomas and the guards who positioned themselves at the sides to ensure security.

Miguel looked out at the growing crowd, recognizing faces he had seen only in passing. Men, women, and children looked at him with expectation, suspicion, and hope. He knew this was the moment to begin building a bridge of trust with his people.

Before starting his address, Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the gentle breeze crossing the square. He needed to find the right words to calm fears and inspire action. Thomas stood beside him, a calming and supportive presence.

With the square nearly full and all eyes on him, Miguel prepared to speak. This would be a pivotal moment for the future of the barony, and he was determined to do everything in his power to ensure it was a success.

***

Arthur was in the square, surrounded by other residents who had also come to hear the new baron's speech. He had paused his work at the forge upon hearing rumors that the baron would make a public address. It was important to stay informed about the intentions of the new baron, especially in such difficult times.

Miguel, the new baron, stepped onto the stage accompanied by Thomas and two guards. Arthur watched with skepticism, prepared to hear empty promises like so many he had heard over the years. As Miguel began to speak, Arthur crossed his arms and leaned forward slightly, eager to hear every word.

"Good morning, everyone," Miguel began, his voice clear and firm echoing across the square. "I am Miguel, youngest son of the duke, and now, baron of this territory. I know many of you are worried and suspicious, and that's understandable. We're facing a food crisis that threatens all of our survival, and I know things haven't been easy."

Arthur frowned, intrigued. He expected the new baron to mention the food crisis, but he didn't expect such a direct admission.

"I am here today to say that the food crisis is the most urgent issue we need to address. I'm not here to make empty promises or to squander the few resources we have. I'm here to work alongside you and find solutions that will help us overcome this crisis."

Arthur noticed murmurs of approval among the crowd. The new baron seemed genuine, and that was starting to spark a glimmer of hope in people's hearts. But there were also cautious and distrustful individuals present, which was to be expected—it's hard to trust a noble.

"I believe that together, we can face and overcome any challenge. We have limited resources, but we have something even more valuable: the determination and skills of each one of you. I know many of you have skills that are crucial to our survival—blacksmiths, farmers, carpenters, and many others."

Arthur felt a slight shiver run down his spine as he heard those words. The baron was acknowledging the importance of local professions, something that rarely happened.

"That's why I'm asking all of you who have valuable skills for our barony to speak with Thomas today. He will note down everyone's names and skills. Tomorrow, we'll have a meeting in my office at the mansion where we'll discuss how we can utilize these skills for the good of all."

Miguel paused, looking out at the crowd with a determined expression. "Together, we can find ways to increase our food production, improve our methods, and ensure that no one goes hungry. We need everyone's effort and collaboration. This barony can become an example of resilience and unity, but only if we work together."

Arthur was impressed. The new baron, despite being young, seemed to be someone experienced and determined to make a difference.

"I ask that you all trust me and, more importantly, trust each other. Let's show that even in the most difficult circumstances, we can come together and overcome any adversity. Thank you."

The square echoed with murmurs of approval and applause as the young baron stepped down from the stage. Arthur stood still for a moment, processing what he had just heard. He felt compelled to do something he hadn't done in a long time: believe.

"Maybe he really wants to help," Arthur murmured to himself, watching the baron interact with some residents.

He decided he would speak with Thomas. If the new baron was willing to listen and work with the townsfolk, then Arthur was willing to give him a chance. He approached the table where Thomas was jotting down the names and skills of the residents. A line was already forming, with farmers, carpenters, and other professionals eager to help.

"Arthur, blacksmith," he said to Thomas when it was his turn. "I'm here to help in whatever way is needed."

Thomas smiled and wrote down Arthur's name. "Thank you, Arthur. Your help will be greatly appreciated."

Arthur nodded, feeling a surge of determination. He returned to his forge with a renewed sense of purpose. The new baron had brought hope, something the village hadn't seen in a long time. He knew the coming days would be crucial, but for the first time in a while, he felt there was a real chance for change.

As he resumed his work, Arthur reflected on the baron's words. The young baron had shown leadership and understanding, rare qualities among the nobles Arthur knew. He hoped this positive first impression would prove true, and that together, they could truly transform the barony into a prosperous and united place.

Arthur went back to his anvil, the sound of the hammer against the metal sounding different that day. It was a sound of hope, of a future that could be better. And he was ready to forge that future with his own hands.

***

The next day, Miguel's office was packed. The U-shaped desk, which had previously seemed excessively large and imposing, now appeared perfect for the meeting about to take place. Around the table, about forty people were seated, each with expressions ranging from curiosity to anxiety. Each of these individuals brought with them a vital skill for the barony: blacksmiths, farmers, carpenters, healers, and many others.

Miguel sat at the central end of the table, observing the faces around him. The responsibility weighing on his shoulders was almost tangible, and he could feel the weight of every gaze directed at him. The room was filled with murmurs and whispers as people awaited the start of the meeting, but to Miguel, the noise seemed distant, drowned out by the pressure of his own thoughts.

He knew that the decisions made today could define the future of the barony. Each of these forty people was crucial to the survival and prosperity of the community. They were there to discuss practical and effective solutions to the food crisis threatening everyone. The crisis was urgent, and every minute counted.

Miguel's apprehension was palpable. He felt the responsibility not only to lead but also to inspire confidence and hope amidst adversity. He needed to demonstrate that he was up to the task, that his promises were not empty, and that he was truly committed to everyone's well-being.

As he looked around, he saw admiration and contemplation reflected in most faces about the location they were in. It was a predictable reaction; Miguel knew that most of these people had never entered a mansion before—they were simple commoners.

While waiting for everyone to settle, Miguel took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He knew that now, more than ever, he needed to show strength and determination. This was the moment to unite the community and chart a clear path to overcome the challenges. He needed to find the right words to engage everyone in the common cause.

The meeting was about to begin, and Miguel was determined to make every second count. Observing the faces around the table, he felt a wave of renewed determination, despite the apprehension.

Chapter 6

Miguel's office was crowded with forty people, all crucial to the functioning of the barony. The U-shaped desk, which had previously seemed disproportionately large, was now filled with eager and curious faces. Miguel sat at the central end, with Thomas by his side, ready to support and guide.

***

Miguel surveyed those present: five farmers with small cattle and vegetable farms, Arthur, the lone blacksmith from what he had read, and several other essential professionals such as carpenters, weavers, healers, craftsmen, and bakers. The responsibility weighing on his shoulders was overwhelming, but he knew he needed to appear strong and resolute.

"Good morning, everyone," Miguel began, his voice echoing through the office. "Thank you for being here today. I know we are facing difficult times and that the food crisis is our most urgent issue. We are here to discuss solutions and find a way to overcome this challenge together."

He glanced at Thomas, who gave him a brief nod of encouragement before he continued. "Our goal is to create a solid plan based on the resources we have available. I'll be honest; currently, we have 1000 gold coins, 300 silver, and 2000 bronze in the barony's treasury—these are the only coins of significant value available. We also know that improving our planting techniques is crucial, but the first results of these improvements won't be seen for at least three months."

Miguel observed the serious expressions around the table and felt the tension in the air. "Therefore, we need an immediate solution to ensure that no one goes hungry while we work on long-term improvements. Considering our options, I believe the best strategy is to purchase provisions. However, since traders are avoiding our barony due to the crisis, we have one viable option: we need to seek supplies from the neighboring nation."

The silence that followed these words was deep and tense. Shocked and concerned expressions began to spread through the room, and Miguel could sense growing unease.

"Please, hear me out," Miguel said, raising his hand to calm the crowd. "I understand this idea may seem risky, but we need to explore all available options to ensure the survival of our community. I would like to know why many of you seem to be against this idea, as it is still far from a minimum and through our location, even the nearest city in the neighboring nation is at least a week's distance."

Miguel had obtained this information from a large map of the region that was kept in a drawer in the same room.

One of the farmers, an older man with a graying beard, stood up hesitantly. "Baron, the neighboring nation is inhabited by beastmen. They don't like to interact much with humans. Many of us fear they may see us as enemies or, at the very least, intruders."

Miguel frowned, processing the information. He had heard of the beastmen but knew little about them. The news that they could be hostile was troubling; he probably knew that in these areas there were Beastman, but memories of Miguel's are still confused for Luis.

A middle-aged farmer, with a severe look, also spoke out. "Baron, the last time someone tried to negotiate with them, the story did not end well. They are supposedly known to be territorial and suspicious. We may be putting ourselves at great risk by trying this approach."

The room grew even tenser. The idea of dealing with the beastmen clearly caused great discomfort among those present. Miguel needed to carefully consider the next step, not act out of prejudice and turn his back on someone who might be able to help them.

"I understand your concerns," said Miguel, trying to maintain a conciliatory tone. "But we need a solution to prevent hunger in our community. Perhaps, if we approach them with respect and show that our intention is purely commercial and peaceful, we may find a way to negotiate. We also need to think of an alternative plan in case this approach doesn't work."

Thomas nodded beside Miguel. "We need to consider all possibilities. Hunger doesn't wait, and we cannot afford to waste time."

"And besides, have any of you seen a beastman before?" Miguel asked.

Everyone shook their heads.

The room fell silent again, with everyone reflecting on Miguel and Thomas's words. The proposal to negotiate with the beastmen was risky, but the need for food was urgent.

"Let's make this decision together," Miguel concluded. "I want to hear your opinions and suggestions. We need to work together and find the best solution for our community."

With this statement, Miguel knew he still had a lot of work ahead of him. The tension in the room was palpable, but he felt a small spark of hope. If they could overcome their differences and work together, perhaps they could find a way to ensure the barony's survival.

The information about the beastmen was alarming, but Miguel was determined to explore all options before ruling out any possibility. He knew that leadership meant making tough and sometimes risky decisions. Now, he needed to strike a balance between courage and caution, guided by the greater goal of protecting and nurturing his community.

Miguel looked around the room, observing the expressions of those present. After a long discussion, it seemed that everyone had finally agreed to attempt to contact the beastmen nation. The decision had been difficult and fraught with uncertainties, but the urgent need for food had prevailed over fears.

"I have decided that I will personally participate in the negotiations," announced Miguel, noticing the surprised and concerned looks that followed. "I will take some guards with me to ensure security, and Ricardo, who is feeling a bit better, will also accompany me. While we are away, Thomas will be in charge here."

Thomas nodded beside him, showing his support and readiness to take on responsibilities. Miguel knew he could trust his steward to keep things in order during his absence.

Before delving into the details of the journey, Miguel wanted to clarify his plans for improving food production. He knew people were eager for a solution, and although he was still developing his ideas, it was important to give them some hope.

"As for our long-term plan to improve food production," Miguel began, "I have some ideas that I'm still developing. I'm confident that over time, we can significantly increase our farming efficiency. I have a project in mind that could revolutionize our agriculture."

Murmurs began to circulate in the room again, with expressions ranging from confusion to curiosity. Arthur, the blacksmith, leaned forward, interested. "And what would this project be, Baron? Can you give us more details?"

Miguel smiled, keeping the mystery for now. "I'm still working on the details, but I can assure you it's something that will greatly enhance our production capacity. Once I have the plans finalized, I'll share them with all of you, especially you, Arthur, the blacksmith. For now, I ask that you trust me and continue to do your best with the current resources."

There was a moment of silence as everyone processed this information. Some seemed more convinced than others, but the promise of a concrete and innovative plan sparked a glimmer of hope in the meeting.

"Baron," said one of the farmers, rising hesitantly, "we understand you're working on something big. But we need immediate actions. This journey to the nation of the beastmen is a risk we need to take, but what if it doesn't work out? We need a plan B."

Miguel nodded, acknowledging the valid concern. "I agree. We need a plan B. While I'm away, I want everyone to keep working in their fields and explore any methods to increase our production with the resources available. When I return, I hope to have good news and a long-term solution to share with you, but for immediate aid, I ask Thomas to prepare some coins to purchase any food from traders passing through while I'm gone."

Miguel knew his words wouldn't dispel all doubts and concerns, but he also knew that action was the only way forward. He felt a renewed determination to make his projects a reality, knowing that the survival of the barony depended on their success.

"Thank you all for being here and for your willingness to work together to overcome this crisis," Miguel said, concluding the meeting. "Let's prepare for the journey. Thomas, I need you to organize the guards and ensure everything is ready for our departure."

Thomas nodded and immediately began issuing orders to the guards present. Miguel looked at Ricardo, who was sitting further back, observing everything attentively. Ricardo stood up and approached Miguel.

"Do you really think we can negotiate with the beastmen?" Ricardo asked, with a serious expression.

"I'm not sure," admitted Miguel, "but we need to try. And I believe that, with respect and clarity, we can find a way. Meanwhile, we also need to continue working to improve our internal production. I have some ideas that might help."

Ricardo nodded, supporting Miguel's decision. "I'm with you. Let's do whatever it takes to ensure no one goes hungry."

With that, Miguel felt a wave of support and solidarity. He knew he was taking a big risk in attempting to negotiate with the beastmen, but he also knew it was a necessary risk. With Ricardo by his side and Thomas ensuring order in his absence, he was determined to do whatever was necessary to save the barony.

As preparations for the journey were made, Miguel began mentally outlining the details of his planting and irrigation projects. He knew it would take time and collaboration to make them a reality, but he believed he could turn his vision into a practical and effective solution.

With the team assembled and plans underway, Miguel felt a renewed sense of hope. He was ready to face the challenges ahead, knowing he had dedicated and committed people by his side who cared deeply about the welfare of the barony. The journey to the beastmen's nation would be just the first step on a long road to recovery and prosperity.

Arthur left Miguel's office with slow, thoughtful steps. As he walked through the dirt roads of the village, he reflected on everything discussed in the meeting. The new baron had brought a wave of hope and determination, but had also introduced a series of challenges and uncertainties.

Arthur pondered the idea of negotiating with the beastmen. The mere mention of them had stirred a mixture of fear and disbelief among those present. He himself was skeptical. The beastmen were known for their distrust and territorialism, and the possibility of successful negotiation seemed distant. However, the desperate situation called for desperate measures, and he understood the urgency of Miguel's plan.

As he walked back to his smithy, Arthur also reflected on Miguel's plans to improve food production, although the lack of details left everyone confused and somewhat apprehensive. Nevertheless, Arthur felt a glimmer of hope seeing that the young baron was willing to seek innovative and practical solutions.

"He's young, but he seems to have a good heart and a clear head," thought Arthur. "Perhaps he really can make a difference here."

Arriving at his smithy, Arthur returned to work, but his mind continued to wander through the ideas discussed in the meeting. He knew his skills as a blacksmith could be crucial in the new baron's plans and was willing to contribute in every way possible. The food crisis was a serious problem, but Arthur felt that, for the first time in a long while, there was leadership willing to face the challenges head-on.

With a sigh, Arthur picked up his hammer and began striking the hot iron, the familiar sound bringing him a renewed sense of purpose. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but he was determined to do his part to ensure a better future for everyone in the barony.

Chapter 7

Miguel watched attentively as preparations were made in the mansion stable. Horses were being saddled and soldiers were organizing their provisions. The scent of fresh hay mixed with leather harnesses brought a comforting familiarity, though the tension in the air was palpable.

Beside him, Ricardo, his uncle and friend, checked the final details of the supplies. Ricardo was a robust man, with keen eyes and a scar cutting across his left eyebrow, a reminder of past battles. He had always been a figure of wisdom and strength for Miguel.

The five soldiers accompanying them formed a disciplined line, awaiting final orders. Each of them wore lightweight armor suited for long journeys and delicate negotiations. The gleam of freshly polished swords reflected the soft morning light.

"We're ready, my lord," Ricardo said, patting his nephew on the shoulder. "The beastmen are not known for their hospitality, but we need these supplies."

Miguel nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. As baron, he knew this diplomatic mission was crucial for the well-being of his people. The recent drought had devastated their crops, and an alliance with the neighboring beastmen could be key to survival for many.

He approached the soldiers, raising his voice to ensure clarity. "Men, today we embark on a mission that demands more than just strength and courage. We need diplomacy and respect. The beastmen are different from us, but we must treat them with the same dignity we expect to receive."

The soldiers nodded in unison, respect and determination clear on their faces. Miguel continued, "Our priority is to secure a fair agreement and bring back the necessary supplies. Follow my instructions and maintain calm in all situations. Ricardo and I will lead the negotiations, but I trust each of you to perform your role with excellence."

With that, Miguel mounted his horse, a magnificent black steed named Shadow. Ricardo did the same, followed by the soldiers. The sound of horses' hooves echoed through the stable as they lined up for departure.

Before giving the final command, Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the moment. "Remember, we seek an alliance, not conflict. Let's bring hope to our people."

He raised his hand, signaling the start of the journey. "Forward!"

And so, with the newly risen sun lighting their path, the group set off into the unknown, carrying with them the hopes and expectations of the entire barony now under their command.

***

The journey towards Theragor, the land of beastmen, was long and fraught with uncertainties. Miguel and Ricardo, accompanied by five soldiers, rode in silence along a winding trail that snaked through the hills and dense forests marking the border of Baronate of Drakmoor. The sun, already high in the sky, struggled to penetrate the thick canopy of trees, casting dark shadows over the path.

The sound of horses' hooves echoed somberly along the trail, and Miguel felt a growing knot of apprehension in his stomach. He glanced at Ricardo, riding beside him, whose expression was as laden with uncertainty as his own. Ricardo, though somewhat better now, still showed signs of fatigue and pain.

"It feels like we're embarking on a suicide mission, my lord," Ricardo finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, almost a murmur. "Negotiating with the beastmen... it's too risky. I agree that I also reached the end of my travels."

"I know," replied Miguel, trying to keep his voice steady. "But we need to try. The situation in the barony is critical. If we don't get help, I don't know how we'll avoid devastating famine."

Ricardo nodded slowly, but the worry in his eyes did not diminish. "Do you really think they'll listen to us, my lord? Will they want to negotiate with us? They are free beastmen..."

Miguel sighed heavily. "I don't know. But if we approach with respect and show our peaceful intentions, perhaps we can find a way to dialogue. We must not lose hope, Ricardo, but tell me, when you want to mean by free?

Ricardo looked at Miguel with surprise. "Have you forgotten? Most of the beastmen within the borders of the kingdom and in almost all human kingdoms are slaves."

Miguel was shocked by this statement. He suspected that this existed in this world and perhaps in his memories in this new body he also knew, but this information had not yet appeared in his mind.

The soldiers behind them were silent, their somber faces reflecting the uncertainty of the mission. They knew of the dangers awaiting them in Theragor, and the tension was palpable in the air.

As they advanced along the trail, the sky began to cloud over, casting an even heavier shadow over the forest. The leaves of the trees whispered in the wind, creating a sound that seemed like a disturbing murmur. Miguel couldn't help but feel that nature itself was warning them of the danger ahead.

Then Ricardo pointed towards the horizon. "Look, my lord. That column of smoke."

Miguel followed Ricardo's gaze and saw a thin column of smoke rising in the distant sky. It was unusual to see smoke in that region, especially so close to the border with Theragor.

"Weird," muttered Miguel, furrowing his brow. "Is there a village or camp in that direction?"

Ricardo shook his head. "Not that I know of, my lord. It could be an improvised camp or something worse. We should investigate. It could be important, and we can't ignore anything in this situation."

Miguel agreed. "You're right. Let's check out the source of the smoke."

They changed direction, guiding their horses over the rugged terrain towards the column of smoke. Uncertainty hung over them like a dark cloud, and each step seemed to bring a new level of tension.

As they approached, the smell of burning wood intensified, and the air seemed laden with a sense of foreboding. The sound of the horses' hooves was now muffled by the soft forest floor, and the silence became almost oppressive.

Miguel looked at Ricardo, who seemed lost in grim thoughts. "We need to be prepared for anything," said Miguel, trying to hide his own anxiety. "We don't know what we'll find."

Ricardo nodded, adjusting his position in the saddle to ease the pain in his shoulder. "Let's keep our eyes open and stay vigilant. This journey is already dangerous enough without unwelcome surprises."

The soldiers, sensing the change in direction, moved closer to form a more defensive position around Miguel and Ricardo. They were ready for any eventuality, but the uncertainty in their eyes was evident.

When they finally got closer to the source of the smoke, Miguel felt a chill run down his spine. The column of smoke still rose, now more visible through the sparse trees. The silence of the forest, broken only by the distant crackling of wood, heightened the sense of unease.

Miguel took one last look around, seeing the concern on his companions' faces. "Let's move forward, but cautiously. We need to find out what's going on."

***

The smoke on the horizon grew thicker as Miguel, Ricardo, and the soldiers approached. The tension among the group was palpable, and the sound of the horses' hooves seemed to announce their advance through the now uncertain territory. As they drew nearer, Miguel noticed the shadow of death hanging over the trail.

"We're getting close," murmured Ricardo, his face marked with concern. "Whatever it is, it's just ahead."

Miguel nodded, his stomach churning with anxiety and fear. He had never faced such a grim situation before. The murmurs of the soldiers behind them were almost inaudible, drowned out by the growing sound of burning wood and the acrid smell of smoke.

Finally, the sight of a small village emerged among the trees. The scene unfolding before them was one of pure horror. Almost every house was engulfed in flames, and those that weren't had already been reduced to charred skeletons. The flames licked the sky, casting an orange glow that contrasted with the cloudy sky.

Miguel felt his stomach churn as he looked around. What he saw made his skin crawl and a lump form in his throat. Villagers' bodies lay scattered on the ground, some burned beyond recognition, while others bore brutal wounds. Men, women, and children lay dead in ways Miguel had never imagined possible.

"My God," whispered Ricardo, his voice filled with disbelief and horror. "Who could do such a thing?"

Miguel dismounted with trembling legs, each step heavy with the weight of what he saw. "It can't be the work of the beastmen," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "We're still in kingdom territory. This... this is something else."

The soldiers around them were equally shocked. Their expressions ranged from disbelief to sheer terror. Some were pale, while others stared blankly, as if trying to process the extent of the carnage before them. The somber silence of death was broken only by the crackling of flames and the occasional snap of wood.

Miguel crouched beside a small body, recognizing it as that of a child. The innocent face was contorted by the fear and pain of a brutal death. Miguel's hands trembled as he gently closed the child's eyes, a futile attempt to give some dignity amidst the chaos.

"Who would do this to children?" he murmured, feeling a lump in his throat. "What kind of monster..."

Ricardo approached, placing a hand on Miguel's shoulder.

"We need to find out who did this and why," he said, his voice steady despite the horror. "But we also need to be cautious. Whoever did this might still be nearby."

Miguel nodded, getting up with difficulty. He felt sick, his stomach churning with each new sight of horror. The air was thick with the smell of burnt flesh, and the sense of despair was almost suffocating.

The soldiers began to spread out, investigating the remnants of the village with expressions of horror and determination. One of the soldiers, a young man named John, was visibly shaken. His eyes were wide, and his breathing was quick and irregular.

"Sir, what are we going to do?" asked John, his voice trembling. "I've never seen anything like this before. It's... it's a nightmare."

"We need to stay calm," replied Miguel, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "We'll find out who did this. But first, we need to make sure the immediate danger has passed."

As they continued to explore the ruined village, Miguel noticed a house that miraculously wasn't on fire. The structure appeared intact, but the doors and windows were broken, indicating it had been looted.

"Let's check out that house," said Miguel, pointing to the structure. "There might be some clue about what happened here."

Ricardo nodded, and the soldiers approached the house in a defensive formation. Miguel pushed the door open carefully, revealing an interior that seemed to have been ravaged by a storm. Furniture was overturned, belongings scattered on the floor, and signs of struggle were evident in every corner.

Miguel felt a chill down his spine as he explored the house. The feeling that something terrible had happened there was overwhelming. He scanned the wreckage, searching for any clue as to what could have led to such a massacre.

"Look at this," said one of the soldiers, pointing to a toppled bookshelf. "It looks like they were searching for something."

Miguel approached, observing the scattered books and belongings strewn on the floor. There was a sense of urgency in the looters' movements, as if they were looking for something specific.

"Could this have just been a robbery?" Ricardo wondered, his voice filled with doubt. "It seems more personal. Like they were searching for something or someone."

Miguel was about to respond when a sudden sound made everyone turn. It was a muffled noise coming from the floor of the house, as if something or someone was hiding there.

"Did you hear that?" asked John, the young soldier, his voice almost a whisper.

Miguel nodded, raising his hand to signal everyone to stay silent. He crouched down, trying to locate the source of the sound. It was low but steady, as if something was trying to move beneath the floorboards.

"Stay alert," whispered Miguel, rising slowly. "Let's find out what's making that noise."

The soldiers raised their weapons, ready for any eventuality. Ricardo approached, his expression tense and alert. Miguel took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

The sense of danger was almost palpable, and Miguel knew that any wrong move could be fatal. With a nod, he signaled to the soldiers to begin searching for the trapdoor or any entrance to a basement that might be hidden in the floor.

As they searched, the sound became clearer—a faint scratching that sent shivers down Miguel's spine. The air inside the house was heavy with the scent of destruction and the shadow of whatever lay hidden beneath the floorboards.

Miguel felt the tension mounting, each second feeling like an eternity as they approached the source of the sound. He knew they needed to be ready for anything, but uncertainty and fear of the unknown hung over them like a dark cloud.

Finally, one of the soldiers found a loose board. Carefully, he lifted it, revealing a dark, narrow opening. The sound grew louder, and Miguel swallowed hard, feeling the chill of fear run down his spine.

"Stay ready," he whispered, his voice determined. "Let's see what's hidden down here."

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Chapter 8

The atmosphere inside the house was charged with tension and fear. Miguel and the soldiers were completely focused on the sound coming from under the floor, ready for anything they could find. The small opening in the dark wood looked like a portal to an unknown and dangerous world. The air was heavy, and every second seemed to stretch into an eternity of uncertainty.

With slow and cautious movements, the soldiers began to lift the planks from the ground, revealing little by little the darkness that lurked beneath. The sound, which had previously been only a slight scratch, now seemed more urgent and closer. Miguel felt his heart beat hard, each beat echoing in his ears like a war drum.

Suddenly, before they could clearly see what was inside the opening, an invisible force threw them back. Miguel and the soldiers were pushed against the walls with surprising force, and a shrill scream filled the air. It was the scream of a little girl, emerging from the darkness of the floor.

The soldiers, out of reflex, raised their weapons, ready for any threat. The confusion and fear in their eyes were evident, and the situation seemed on the verge of chaos. Miguel, still recovering from the impact, raised his hand firmly.

"Put down your weapons!" he ordered, his authoritative voice cutting through the panic. "Put down your weapons now! She's just a little girl."

Ricardo, recovering next to Miguel, looked at the scene with wide eyes. "She's a magician," he muttered, surprised. "She must have used telekinesis to push us."

The little girl was now visible in the opening of the floor, her eyes wide with fear and confusion. She was dirty, with torn clothes, and looked like she had been through hell. Her hair was matted, and the terror in her eyes was almost palpable. Trembling, she looked around, clearly frightened and not understanding what was happening.

Miguel, seeing the girl's fear, stepped forward, with his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Calm down," he said softly, his voice charged with empathy. "We won't hurt you. We are here to help."

The soldiers, obeying Miguel's orders, lowered their weapons and took a few steps back, creating a safe space around the girl. The air was tense, but the looming threat seemed to have subsided.

"Let's all step back a bit," suggested Miguel, looking at Ricardo and the soldiers. "Give her space. She's scared."

Ricardo nodded, his eyes still fixed on the girl. "Magician or not, she's just a child," he said, almost to himself. "We need to find out what happened here."

The little girl continued to look around, her eyes full of dread. Miguel kept his posture calm and gentle, trying not to scare her anymore. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "My name is Miguel. We're here to help. You're safe now."

He took a few more cautious steps towards the girl, trying to convey security. "What's your name?" he asked, keeping his voice low and reassuring.

The girl, still trembling, looked at Miguel with a mixture of fear and curiosity. "I... I'm Lila," she replied, her voice almost a whisper. "They... they came and..."

Miguel realized that she was about to break down emotionally. "It's okay, Lila. We are here now. No one will hurt you. I promise."

Lila's eyes, large and haunted, met Miguel's. He could see the pain and terror reflected in her eyes, and it made his heart ache. Miguel has never seen so much death and destruction before, and the sight of such a traumatized child struck him deeply.

"We'll take care of you, Lila," he said, reaching out to her. "You're safe now. We're here to protect you."

Lila hesitated for a moment, but then she took a wobbly step toward Miguel. Miguel felt immense relief when she accepted his hand, although her small hand trembled violently.

Miguel looked at Ricardo and the soldiers, all still visibly shaken, but now focused on the task of protecting the girl. "We need to find out what happened here," he said, determination firm in his voice. "But first, we need to make sure Lila is safe."

The soldiers nodded, ready to follow Miguel's orders. As they walked away from the ransacked house, Miguel carrying little Lila, everyone knew that the journey was just beginning and that many questions still needed answers.

Miguel was deeply impressed by the manifestation of magic he had just witnessed. Ever since he had come to this world, he had heard only distant stories about magic, always treated as something rare and almost mythical. He knew that magic manifested itself in only one person out of a hundred, and usually, it was the nobles who possessed such an ability. His own father and older brother were fire mages, able to command flames with a simple gesture.

To see a little girl like Lila demonstrate telekinesis was surprising and disconcerting. He had never imagined that he would find someone with such powers outside the restricted circle of the nobility. The idea of such a young mage, and in such a desperate situation, shook him conceptions of who could possess and control magic in this feudal world. The rarity of such an ability made Lila not only a survivor but also an exceptional figure in the midst of the horror that surrounded her, he needed to find out what happened in this village.

***

The winding road stretched ahead as Miguel, Ricardo, the soldiers, and little Lila made their way toward the kingdom of beast men. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, casting long, ominous shadows along the way. The group was immersed in a heavy silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the horrors they had left behind.

Lila, exhausted and still trembling with fear, slept on Miguel's horse, wrapped in a cloak to protect her from the cold. Miguel felt the weight of responsibility increasing. Taking the girl with them had been a difficult but necessary decision. Leaving her behind, alone and vulnerable, was not an option.

Ricardo, riding alongside Miguel, broke the gloomy silence. "We need to find out what happened in that village," he said, his voice low but firm. "We cannot ignore this. When we return to the barony, we must investigate thoroughly."

Miguel nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I agree. Something very wrong happened there. That carnage... We need answers. And we need to make sure that doesn't happen again."

John, the young soldier, looked at Lila with a worried expression. "Sir, what shall we do with the girl? We cannot leave her alone, but take her with us to negotiate with the beastmen... Is it safe?"

Miguel sighed, feeling the tension in every fiber of his being. "We have no choice. Returning to the barony and then resuming the journey would cost us precious time that we cannot afford to waste. In addition, keeping her with us will allow us to ensure her safety personally."

Ricardo looked at Miguel, his expression showing both concern and support. "What if the beast men react badly to her presence? They are already suspicious of humans. A young mage can complicate things."

Miguel frowned, pondering this. "We need to be careful. But for now, our priority is to keep it safe. We will keep her out of sight during the negotiations if possible. We can't risk more than we already are."

The group continued to ride in silence, the gloomy atmosphere reflecting the weight of their responsibilities. Night was beginning to fall, and the surrounding forest became a place of shadows and unsettling whispers. The sounds of nature, which usually brought comfort, now seemed ominous and loaded with omens.

Finally, Miguel raised his hand, signaling for the group to stop. "We're going to set up camp here for the night," he said. "We need to rest before continuing our journey."

The soldiers nodded, beginning to dismantle and prepare the makeshift camp. Miguel carefully got off his horse, holding Lila so that she wouldn't wake up from her restless sleep. He gently placed her on a blanket, making sure it was comfortable.

"We need to be on the lookout tonight," Ricardo said as he helped prepare the camp. "We don't know who or what might be lurking."

John, still visibly shaken, looked around suspiciously. "That village... I have never seen anything like this, my lord. Hopefully we can find out who did it and why."

Miguel nodded, his expression serious. "Me too. And when we find out, we will make sure justice is done. But for now, our mission is to trade with the beastmen and secure supplies for the barony."

While the soldiers pitched tents and lit a fire, Miguel sat next to Lila, watching her sleep. He felt a deep responsibility for her, a need to protect her at all costs. The sight of that village in flames, the bodies scattered on the ground, the children brutally killed... all of this still weighed on his mind.

"I don't know what awaits us, Ricardo," said Miguel, without taking his eyes off Lila. "But I know that we need to be prepared for everything. And we need to keep this girl safe."

Ricardo nodded, sitting next to Miguel. "She is special, my lord. Magic is rare, and to see it manifest so powerfully is something... astonishing. We need to find out more about her and what happened."

Miguel nodded, his face lit up by the light of the campfire. "Let's do it, Ricardo. But first, we need to survive this mission. And we need to make sure Lila gets to the barony safely."

With these words, the group finished setting up camp, night falling completely around them. The darkness was oppressive, and the silence only broken by the crackling of the fire and the distant sounds of the forest. The feeling of imminent danger did not leave them, but they knew they had to continue.

Miguel looked at the soldiers, all alert and ready for any eventuality. "We're going to take turns watching shifts," he said. "We need to be ready for anything."

The soldiers nodded, and Miguel lay down beside Lila, trying to find some rest. His thoughts were still filled with the horrific images he had witnessed, but he knew he needed strength for what was to come.

As the night wore on, the group remained vigilant, the shadows around them appearing darker and more menacing. The fate of the barony and Lila's safety depended on her determination and courage. And Miguel was determined to face any challenge, no matter how dark the road ahead.

***

The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, casting a soft, golden light over the forest. Miguel was the first to wake up, still feeling the weight of the responsibilities and horrors of the previous day. He stood up silently, taking care not to wake Lila, who was sleeping soundly next to him. His movements were smooth and calculated, reflecting the tension that still hung in the air.

Not all the soldiers were asleep. John, the young soldier, was on his last guard shift. He watched his surroundings with watchful eyes, but the fatigue was evident in his posture. When Miguel stood up, John gave a brief wave, indicating that the night had passed without incident.

Miguel began to prepare a simple porridge with the limited supplies they had, stirring the mixture over the small fire that was still crackling. The smell of the porridge slowly spread through the camp, awakening the others. Ricardo and the soldiers began to stand up, their faces marked by fatigue and worries.

"Good morning," murmured Ricardo, running his hand through his disheveled hair. "We need to feed ourselves and dismantle the camp quickly."

Miguel nodded, dividing the porridge into portions and handing them to each one. He also took a piece of stale bread, breaking it into smaller pieces to make it easier to chew. Lila woke up to the smell of the food, her eyes still wide with fear.

"Good morning, Lila," said Miguel, offering her a plate of porridge and a piece of bread. "Let's eat and continue our journey."

The girl picked up the plate with trembling hands, but ate slowly, gratefully. Miguel watched her for a moment, making sure she was comfortable and safe.

He knew they needed to move on, but he also needed to make sure Lila was well taken care of.

The soldiers and Ricardo began to dismantle the camp, working in silence. Every move was meticulous, reflecting the need for speed and efficiency. In a short time, the camp was tidy and the horses ready.

John approached Miguel, handing him the last report of his vigil. "Nothing unusual during the night, sir. But we better remain vigilant."

Miguel nodded, acknowledging John's effort. "Good job, John. Let's get ready to move forward."

Miguel helped Lila get on her horse, holding her firmly to make sure she was safe. "Let's go, everyone. We need to move on. Every moment is crucial."

With the rising sun in front of them, the group mounted their horses and began riding down the road. The shadows of previous events still hung over them, but the determination propelled them forward. The sound of horses' hooves resounded through the forest, breaking the oppressive silence and marking the beginning of another day in their journey.

Chapter 9

After several hours of riding, the group finally crossed the border from the Kingdom of Ardia to Theragor, the land of beast men. The change in landscape was subtle at first, but it soon became apparent that they were in different territory. The vegetation seemed denser, the trees taller and more robust, and the air carried a different freshness.

The sun was already high when they began to see vast agricultural fields, something Miguel did not expect to find in a land inhabited by beings that many humans considered wild and primitive. As they walked along the road next to one of these fields, Miguel saw something that left him amazed and surprised.

In the fields, wild men worked diligently. There were bipedal bears, huge and powerful, moving with unexpected grace as they ploughed the land and carried large baskets of crops. Beside them, bipedal rabbits, agile and fast, tended the crops with an almost poetic dexterity. Bears used their strength for heavier tasks, while rabbits, with their delicate hands, managed plants with care and precision.

Miguel was impressed by the harmony and efficiency of the work. The beast men worked together in perfect coordination, showing an organization and sense of community that rivaled any human society he knew. He had heard stories about beast men but seeing it with his own eyes was something else entirely. Every movement, every gesture, showed an impressive symbiosis between distinct species, something he had never seen in his own land.

As they rode down the road, the curious eyes of the beast men followed them. Some stopped working for a moment to observe the group of humans passing by. Miguel noticed the variety of expressions on the faces of the beast men – curiosity, caution, and even a slight distrust. He knew they were entering uncharted territory and that they needed to be careful in how they behaved.

Miguel felt like an intruder, a silent observer of a life that continued independently of human concerns. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live in a society as diverse and integrated as Theragor's. The idea that cooperation and difference were normal here contrasted sharply with the exclusivity and prejudice he had experienced at Ardia.

The soldiers around Miguel were also silent, absorbing the unusual sight and preparing for any eventuality. Ricardo looked at Miguel and noticed the fascination in his eyes, but he knew that now was not the time for arguments. Safety and focus were essential, especially in a territory where they were not welcome.

After a few more hours of travel, the road began to open, revealing a walled city on the horizon. The view of the city was impressive – the walls were tall and sturdy, built with huge stones that sparkled in the sunlight. Watchtowers were stationed at regular intervals, and Miguel could see sentry beast men diligently patrolling the walls.

The city appeared to be a center of activity and commerce, with several structures visible above the walls. The architecture was unlike anything Miguel had seen – a mix of practicality and beauty, with towers that seemed to rise in elegant spirals and bridges that connected various parts of the city in a harmonious labyrinth.

The group slowed the horses as they approached the entrance to the city. Miguel felt a wave of apprehension mixed with excitement. They were about to enter a place where few humans in search of friendly relations had gone before, and the mission that had brought them there was of utmost importance. They needed to ensure the success of the negotiations to save the barony of Drakmoor from starvation.

The curious and wary eyes of the beastmen followed their every move, but no one made any hostile move. Miguel knew that he would need all his diplomatic skill and the support of Richard and the soldiers to navigate the delicate situation that was approaching.

As the city approached, Miguel reflected on the incredible diversity of this world and the magic he had witnessed. This land was an enigma, a mixture of wonder and danger, quite different from his old world on earth, now all these events were more of a confirmation that this world is real, and he is part of it now, not like Luiz, but like Miguel. He mentally prepared himself for what was to come, determined to do everything in his power to ensure a better future for his people and to build bridges of understanding between the two peoples.

***

As the group approached the imposing city gates, the air was charged with tension. Miguel, Ricardo, and the soldiers kept a firm but careful step, their minds heavy with the uncertainty of what they would find. The sound of horses' shoes echoed ominously in the silence that preceded the approach.

When they were about a hundred yards from the gate, it began to slowly close with a loud, menacing creak. Not before, however, fifty well-armed guards came out, positioning themselves in defensive formation. The spears gleamed in the sunlight, and the bows were ready to be fired. Miguel's group stopped, keeping a respectful distance.

One of the guards, a bipedal leopard with a golden coat and black spots, advanced a few steps forward. His sharp eyes scrutinized each member of the group suspiciously.

"What do you want?" asked the guard, his voice deep and authoritative.

Miguel took a deep breath, remembering Thomas' words and Ricardo's advice. He stepped forward, keeping his hands visible and his tone of voice calm.

"We came in peace and sought to do business," said Miguel, trying to convey security and sincerity.

The leopard narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. Before he could answer, Ricardo advanced a little, displaying an expression that mixed authority and diplomacy.

"We understand that our arrival may be unexpected and even unwanted. But we are desperate to help our people. If we can talk to someone in a position of authority, we believe we can find a solution that benefits both sides," said Ricardo, his words full of sincerity and urgency.

The guards murmured among themselves, some more suspicious than others. The leopard kept his gaze fixed on Miguel and Ricardo, pondering his words.

"Wait here," he said finally, signaling to the nearest guards.

As the leopard walked away, a tense silence settled. Miguel could feel the curious and skeptical looks of the guards, and he himself couldn't help but feel a little unsure. He exchanged a glance with Ricardo, who gave him a slight nod, a gesture of silent support.

A brief time later, a different figure appeared. A bipedal pig, dressed in a cloak that gave him the appearance of a priest, approached. His small, cunning eyes watched each member of the group intently.

"I am Brother Boromir," he said, his voice surprisingly soft and thoughtful. "I have been informed of his arrival and intentions. Let's talk about these things you talk about, but before you go in, leave your weapons with the guards, they will be returned as soon as you leave."

As Miguel, Ricardo, Lila, and the soldiers were escorted through the city, the tension was almost palpable. The guards surrounded them, keeping a watchful eye as they guided the group through the narrow, busy streets. The architecture of the city was impressive, but the heavy atmosphere meant that any appreciation was overshadowed by concern.

Soon after entering, the guards had ordered them to leave all their weapons at the entrance. Miguel had reluctantly agreed, knowing that it was a sign of confidence they needed to show. However, the loss of their weapons left everyone feeling vulnerable.

Ricardo approached Miguel, his expression showing frustration and discomfort. "I don't like that, my lord. Leave our weapons with them... We are totally at their mercy now."

Miguel nodded, perfectly understanding Ricardo's concern. "I know, Ricardo. But we need to demonstrate our goodwill. It is a calculated risk. We need to trust that they also want a peaceful negotiation."

The surrounding soldiers murmured among themselves, clearly unsafe without their weapons. Miguel could see the uncertainty in his eyes and felt the weight of responsibility for his safety. He needed to stay calm and show confidence.

"Listen, everyone," said Miguel, trying to keep his voice steady and reassuring. "We are here on a peacekeeping mission. Laying down our weapons was a gesture of good faith. We need to trust that they will respect that. Be careful, but don't provoke any conflict."

While Miguel was trying to comfort his companions, the priest, Brother Boromir, who was walking ahead, turned, and listened to the conversation. His cunning eyes shone with a quiet understanding.

"We will not harm any of you," said Brother Boromir, his voice soft but firm. "Unless you do harm to the inhabitants of this city. Here, we value peace and coexistence. You are under our protection, as long as you respect our rules."

Miguel met the priest's eyes, trying to gauge the sincerity in his words. He saw a mixture of authority and compassion in Boromir's eyes, which gave him a spark of hope.

"We thank you for your hospitality and protection, Brother Boromir," said Miguel, bowing his head in a gesture of respect. "We are here to negotiate in good faith and seek a solution that benefits both of us."

Boromir nodded, a faint smile crossing his lips. "So, let's move on."

As they continued to walk through the city, Miguel watched the inhabitants. Beast men of various shapes and sizes worked, talked and lived their lives. The diversity was impressive, and Miguel felt a growing admiration for this unique society. However, caution remained, knowing that any mistake could be fatal.

The group was taken to a large building in the center of the city, which was a type of meeting hall or temple. The walls were adorned with intricate designs and symbols, and the atmosphere inside was solemn and respectful.

"Please come in," Boromir said, gesturing for the group to follow. "We will discuss their needs and see how we can help."

Inside the hall, Brother Boromir gestured for the group to take seats. Miguel sat down obediently, but Richard and the soldiers remained standing, keeping alert. Lila, the rescued girl, stood by Ricardo's side, holding his hand tightly for safety.

Boromir, noticing the tension in the air, offered a comforting smile. "Please feel at ease. You are safe here."

Miguel tried to relax, but the situation was still tense. "We thank you for your hospitality, Brother Boromir."

The priest nodded, his expression serious but welcoming. "Before we begin our meeting, I must inform you that I am part of the elected council of this city. In order that we may discuss their needs fairly and thoroughly, I will call upon the other members of the council to attend this meeting."

Miguel was impressed. A democracy, even a primitive one, among wild men was something he did not expect. In his homeland, leadership was often determined by birth and power, and to see a form of government where leaders were elected was remarkable.

"Have you an elected council?" asked Miguel, surprise evident in his voice.

"Yes," Boromir replied with a smile. "Our community values everyone's voice. We make important decisions together, to ensure that all aspects of our society are represented."

As Boromir retired to call the other members of the council, Miguel looked at Ricardo, sharing a look of fascination and respect. It was clear that these beast men had a complex and well-organized society, something that humans could learn to appreciate.

The soldiers remained in their positions, visibly tense, but Miguel noticed a slight relaxation in the postures of some of them. Lila squeezed Richard's hand tightly, but her expression was a little calmer, relieved by the protective presence of Ricardo and Miguel.

The hall was silent, except for the occasional murmur of curiosity from the inhabitants passing by outside. Miguel looked around, noting the intricate decorations on the walls, which told ancient stories of the beast man community. The atmosphere was solemn, but also inspiring.

As they awaited Boromir's return with the other members of the council, Miguel reflected on what lay ahead. This meeting could be crucial to the survival of the Barony of Drakmoor, and he was determined to do what he could to ensure the success of the negotiations.

With the tension in the air beginning to ease slightly, the group mentally prepared for what was to come. They knew that they needed to be ready to present their arguments clearly and persuasively, and that cooperation with the beast men could be the key to overcoming the crisis they faced.

And so, everyone waited patiently, anticipation growing as they waited for the council members to arrive.

Chapter 10

After a few long minutes, Baromir returned, accompanied by four imposing figures. The first was a majestic lion, wearing ornate leather armor that shone in the light of the hall. His golden mane was a clear sign of his status and strength. Beside him, a black bear, as impressive as the lion in size and presence, entered with heavy steps. Close behind, a fox, with shrewd and quick eyes, entered the hall, followed by a deer that moved with a natural grace.

Miguel watched as everyone settled at the large table in front of them. The lion and the bear, with their imposing three meters in height, dominated the space, while the fox seemed less at ease. She kept a suspicious look, her eyes sparking with a combination of curiosity and apprehension. The deer, in contrast, seemed more serene, though clearly attentive.

The contrast between council members and humans could not be more evident. The soldiers next to Miguel seemed smaller and less secure, but they kept their postures firm, ready for any eventuality. Ricardo, always protective, kept the girl close to him, offering her a sense of security in the midst of the strangeness of the situation.

Looking at these beast men, Miguel realized that the prejudice against these beings on the part of humans may be unfounded...

The silence in the hall was almost palpable, broken only by the sound of the bear's heavy breathing and the occasional movement of the lion's armor. Baromir sat up, and all eyes turned to him, waiting for his words.

"This is the elected council of our city," Baromir announced, his deep voice echoing through the walls of the hall. "Each one here represents a facet of our society, and we are here to hear their reasons for coming to our territory."

Miguel, observing the reactions of the council members, noticed the fox still suspicious, moving restlessly in his chair. His companions, however, seemed more receptive, although they maintained a posture of caution. The lion, with an air of indisputable authority, leaned forward, his eyes fixed on all humans.

"Who is the leader of this retinue of humans?" asked the lion, his voice firm and demanding.

The question hung in the air, loaded with meaning. Miguel felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders as he prepared to respond, knowing that his words could determine the course of events to follow.

With a slight movement, Miguel stood up, keeping his composure. "I am Miguel, leader of this group. We came in peace, seeking to negotiate with your city."

The council members watched intently, their expressions ranging from curiosity to distrust. The fox, still restless, glanced sideways at his colleagues, while the bear and the deer seemed more interested in hearing what Miguel had to say.

The lion nodded slowly, without looking away. "Very well, Miguel, my name is Ruidahr. Let's hear what you have to say. Sit down, and let's discuss."

With those words, the air in the hall seemed to ease some of the tension, but Miguel knew that the real challenge was just beginning.

***

Miguel stood up again, feeling all eyes fixed on him. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain his presence and the needs of his people. "I'm going to get straight to the point, we came here because our barony is facing a severe food crisis. We urgently need supplies to stave off starvation among our inhabitants. In return, we offer gold coins to buy the necessary food. We want to establish a fair trade relationship that is beneficial to both sides."

The silence that followed was brief. Before any of the council members could speak, the fox, with a piercing and suspicious look, spoke. "Why should we let humans into our city? Humans are not to be trusted." Her eyes were fixed on Miguel, full of suspicion and something darker. "What makes you different from all other humans? Why should we trust you?"

She continued, her voice charged with emotion. "I have witnessed thousands of wild men being killed or enslaved by human kingdoms. Our lands were invaded, our families destroyed. Why should we believe that you won't betray us in the same way?"

Miguel felt the weight of the fox's words and the tension in the air increase. He was about to answer when Ruidahr raised his hand, interrupting it. "Enough, Lysandra," said the lion firmly. "While their concerns are valid, we need to listen to what this human has to say."

Turning to Miguel, Ruidahr continued. "Lysandra is right to raise these issues. We need to know what you have to offer in return for our help and, more importantly, why we should trust you."

Miguel felt all the eyes of the council fixed on him, waiting for an answer. He realized the gravity of the situation and the depth of skepticism he faced. The task of convincing the council of wild men would not be easy. He needed to find an answer that would not only address his concerns but also demonstrate his sincerity and the desperate need of his people.

Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He knew that his next words could determine the future of his barony and the survival of his people. With all these considerations in mind, he began to formulate an answer, trying to find a way to build a little trust among everyone there.

Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the expectations and mistrust of the council members on his shoulders. He knew that his next words would be crucial.

"I understand the distrust you feel," Miguel began, looking directly at Lysandra, the fox. "And I must say that I don't blame them. History among our peoples is marked by betrayals and violence. I don't ask you to trust me easily. Nor do I trust many humans as much as I should. Several of them have tried to murder me, betray me, for political and personal reasons."

He paused, noting the expressions of the board members. They watched him intently, and he knew he had to keep going.

"But I'm here because I believe we need to do it differently," Miguel continued, his voice gaining strength and conviction. "I'm here because I want a future where we can coexist, where we can exchange and learn from each other. I want to make the world a fair place for everyone, whether noble or commoner, beast man or human. My barony is facing a crisis that we cannot solve alone, and so I come to ask for your help, not as a conqueror, but as an ally."

Miguel took another deep breath, feeling a twinge of hope mixed with the tension. "I know that words may not be enough to erase the hurts of the past, but I hope we can take a first step together. I am willing to do whatever it takes to earn their trust and build a relationship of mutual respect."

The hall fell silent. The members of the council continued to observe him with mixed expressions of curiosity, distrust, and consideration. The lion, the bear, the deer, and even the fox, Lysandra, who looked at him with piercing eyes, seemed to ponder his words.

Miguel knew that the future of his people and the possibility of a new alliance were hanging in the balance at that time. He had done his best to convey his sincerity and the urgent need for his mission. Now, everything depended on the response of the beastmen.

The silence was almost deafening as the council members exchanged glances with each other, considering their next words. Miguel waited with apprehension, aware that their verdict could change the course of history for both peoples.

Miguel took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts and the tension in his body. The hall was silent, every member of the council of beast men watching him intently. Finally, the lion, Ruidahr, broke his silence.

"Each time, with few exceptions, humans were hostile. They killed and enslaved hundreds of thousands of my species. Every village destroyed, every family shattered, is etched in our collective memory," Ruidahr said, his voice resonating with a gravity that made the hairs on the back of Miguel's neck stand on end. "However, I am willing to help. But that won't come without a price."

Miguel felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. The lion was willing to consider his proposal, but what would be the cost? Before he could ask, Ruidahr turned to the black bear sitting at the table. "Grimnir, please take some samples of soft stone."

The humans present exchanged confused looks. Soft stone? What could that be? Ricardo frowned, trying to understand what the lion was insinuating. Even the soldiers, who had remained silent, seemed puzzled.

Miguel couldn't hide his curiosity. "Forgive my ignorance, but what exactly is a soft stone?" he asked, trying to maintain a respectful tone.

Ruidahr looked at him, his golden eyes shining in the light of the hall. "Soft stone is a staple food in our lands. It has nutritious properties and is easy to grow. It's not common outside our borders and it's something we guard very carefully."

Grimnir, the black bear, got up quietly and headed out of the hall. Miguel sensed the bear's strength and grace, his heavy strides echoing off the stone floor as he walked away. Silence settled again in the hall, and Miguel could feel the anticipation in the air.

While they waited, Miguel watched the other members of the council. The fox looked even more restless, its ears moving nervously. The deer, by contrast, seemed calm and observant, its large brown eyes fixed on Miguel, as if trying to read his intentions.

Ricardo approached Miguel and whispered, "What do you think this soft stone is, Miguel?"

"I have no idea," replied Miguel, keeping his voice low. "But it seems to be something important to them. We need to figure out how it can help us."

The rescued girl, who was next to Ricardo, held his hand firmly. Miguel noticed her startled look and tried to offer a comforting smile, although he himself was nervous. It was a pivotal moment, and everyone's safety depended on how this negotiation would unfold.

Ruidahr, noticing the tension, spoke again. "While Grimnir is away, we can discuss more about the situation of his barony, Miguel. What are the problems you are facing besides food shortages?"

Miguel took the opportunity to quickly explain the difficulties they encountered: poverty, lack of resources, and the urgent need to establish trade relations to ensure the survival of his people. He pointed out that the help of the beastmen could be the first step towards a better future, not only for the humans of his barony, but also to strengthen the relationship between the two species.

The eyes of the council members lit up with interest as Miguel spoke. The fox, though still suspicious, seemed more inclined to listen. The deer nodded approvingly, as if he understood the sincerity in Miguel's words.

Finally, after a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, Grimnir returned. On its large paws, it carried some familiar-looking tubers. He placed them on the table with surprising care for someone of his size. "These are the soft stones," Grimnir said, his deep voice filling the hall.

Miguel, Ricardo, and the soldiers looked at the tubers with curiosity and admiration. Miguel was thoughtful for a moment and then, suddenly, everything made sense. "Potatoes," he muttered to himself, remembering his home world where potatoes were a common and extremely nutritious food.

Ruidahr continued, "We will discuss how soft stone can be utilized for mutual benefit. But first, we need to know if we can trust you and your men. Prove that your intentions are pure, and then we can talk business."

The tension in the air was palpable as everyone waited for Miguel's next speech. He knew this was a turning point. With a deep sigh, he braced himself to respond, aware that his words could determine the fate of his barony and the lives in his charge.

Miguel looked at the "soft stones" that Grimnir had placed on the table. The potatoes, he recognized immediately. In their original world, they were a staple food, known for their nutritious properties and versatility in the kitchen. It was surprising and strange to him that most humans in this world didn't know what potatoes were.

As he watched the tubers, his mind began to spin with possibilities. If beastmen grew potatoes, what other vegetables and foods could they be growing? The efficiency and diversity of the crops he had seen in the fields as they approached the city showed that this society had advanced agricultural knowledge. Perhaps there were other foods that were equally nutritious and unknown to the humans of their barony.

He wondered if this lack of knowledge about the potato among the Ardia humans was a cultural or historical issue. Why hadn't something so simple and useful become widespread? That could be an opportunity, he thought. If he could introduce the potato and other vegetables grown by the beast men into his barony, it could solve the food crisis and significantly improve the diet and health of his people.

Miguel also considered the possibility of learning cultivation techniques from the beastmen. The diversity and quality of the crops he had seen suggested advanced farming methods. If it could establish a relationship of exchange of knowledge and resources, it could bring enormous benefits to both societies.

Miguel's thoughts revolved around these ideas as he awaited the council's response. He knew that the key to the future of his barony might lie in cooperation and mutual learning with beastmen. He needed to convince the council of this and show that this alliance could be beneficial to all.

Chapter 11

Miguel looked closely at the potatoes on the table, pondering the next stage of the negotiations. He knew he needed to better understand what was being offered before making a definitive offer. With a sense of determination, he decided to risk a request.

"With all due respect," Miguel began, addressing the council, "before making a definite offer, I would like to see the 'soft stone' plantations. I want to better understand how you grow them and the quality of what we are trading. This will also help me evaluate how we can adapt such crops in our barony."

Miguel's request caused the council members to exchange glances with each other, clearly pondering the request. The fox, Lysandra, looked suspicious, her ears raising with cautious interest. The deer, with its calm and thoughtful gaze, remained silent but attentive. The lion, Ruidahr, stood impassive, watching every reaction.

The silence lasted for a few moments until Grimnir, the black bear, broke the tension. "I don't see a problem in showing him the crops," Grimnir said in his deep voice. "If he wants to better understand what we're offering, it's a reasonable request."

Brother Boromir, the priest, nodded in agreement. "I agree with Grimnir. Showcasing our plantations can help build trust and transparency in our dealings. We have nothing to hide."

Finally, all eyes turned to Ruidahr. The lion was silent for a few more seconds, reflecting on Miguel's request. "Very well," Ruidahr said at last. "We can allow you to see the plantations. Transparency is essential to establish mutual trust. We will lead them there."

Miguel felt relief mixed with a new wave of anxiety. He had gotten the permission he needed, but he knew there was still much to prove. He nodded gratefully. "Thank you very much. It means a lot to me and my people."

With that, everyone began to stand up. Miguel watched as the council members prepared to leave the hall, each with their own distinct characteristics and presences. Grimnir led the way, his heavy strides echoing across the stone floor. Ruidahr, with his majestic posture, followed closely. Lysandra, still suspicious, kept a little behind, while the deer moved with a natural elegance, observing everything around her.

Ricardo, the soldiers, and Lila followed Miguel, each of them showing a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Ricardo gave a light touch on Miguel's shoulder, a gesture of silent support. "Let's see what they have to show us," he muttered.

Miguel nodded, leading his group behind the beastmen. He felt the importance of this moment, aware that every step they took was crucial to building the bridge of trust necessary to save his barony.

As they left the hall and made their way through the corridors of the walled city, Miguel could not help but feel a mixture of wonder and curiosity. The architecture, the people, and the way everything seemed organized was impressive. He knew there was much to learn from the beastmen, and this visit to the plantations would be just the beginning.

As he stepped out into the daylight, Miguel felt the warmth of the sun on his skin and took a deep breath. He was ready for whatever came next, determined to do everything in his power to ensure the survival of his people and maybe, just maybe, build a future where humans and beastmen could coexist in peace and prosperity.

***

Miguel and his entourage, accompanied by the members of the council of beastmen, arrived at the plantations. The field that stretched out ahead was vast and impressive. Rows and rows of vegetables grew in fertile, well-tended soil. Miguel recognized potatoes—or "soft stones," as the beastmen called them—growing in abundance. But it wasn't just potatoes. He also identified carrots, lettuce, and other familiar vegetables from his homeland.

The view was breathtaking. The field was a tapestry of color and life, with the vibrant green of the leaves contrasting with the dark, rich soil. Miguel had never seen a plantation so well organized and so vast. The care and technique involved in cultivation was evident, and he couldn't help but feel impressed.

Grimnir, the black bear, began to explain. "Here, we grow our vegetables using techniques that have been passed down to us for generations. Our fields are blessed with fertile soil and ideal climatic conditions. Due to the abundance of crops, we face a different kind of problem: food inflation. We have far more vegetables than we can consume, and so we have huge stocks."

Miguel listened attentively, absorbing every word. The idea of having a surplus of food was almost unimaginable to him, given the state of scarcity his barony was in. "How do you deal with this food inflation?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Grimnir nodded, continuing. "Luckily, these soft stones and other vegetables are very resistant to time and the environment. We can store them for long periods without them spoiling. But still, we face the challenge of finding ways to use or distribute that excess efficiently."

Miguel looked around, admiring the beauty and organization of the field. "This is incredible," he said, impressed. "In my barony, we are struggling to get enough food. To see something like this is... inspirational. There is so much we can learn from you."

Ricardo, who was next to Miguel, also seemed fascinated. "Maybe we can adapt some of these cultivation techniques in our own soil. That could make a huge difference."

The soldiers accompanying Miguel were equally impressed. Some of them, who had experience with agriculture, observed the plantations with interest, probably thinking about the possibilities of implementing such practices on their own lands.

As they walked through the field, Grimnir pointed out different areas of cultivation and explained the particularities of each vegetable. Miguel asked questions, eager to learn more. Grimnir's every answer only increased his admiration for the efficiency and skill of beastmen in agriculture.

However, while observing the plantations, something on the horizon caught Miguel's attention. It was a distant construction, partially hidden by the relief of the terrain, but still visible. He couldn't discern exactly what it was, but the presence of that structure intrigued him.

"Grimnir," said Miguel, pointing to the construction on the horizon. "What's that?"

Grimnir followed Miguel's gaze and seemed to ponder for a moment before answering. "It is a project that we started, but unfortunately we are not able to finish. It's something that has proven to be complex, more difficult than we expected."

Miguel's curiosity was immediately aroused. He had experience as an engineer in his past life and was eager to see what could be causing so much trouble. "Can I go see?" he asked, trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

Grimnir looked at the other members of the council. Ruidahr, Lysandra, and Boromir exchanged glances, clearly pondering the request. Finally, Ruidahr nodded slowly. "Very well, we can let you see the project."

Miguel felt a mixture of relief and enthusiasm. "Thank you."

With that, everyone began to prepare to leave the field and head towards the mysterious construction.

***

Miguel and his entourage, accompanied by the representatives of the beastmen, walked towards the building that had captured Miguel's attention. As they approached, the structure began to take shape: it was an archaic attempt to build a windmill. The structure of wood and stone, with its immense blades that rose to the sky, had an air of majesty and at the same time of incompleteness.

"This is... a windmill?" murmured Miguel, more to himself than to the others, but loud enough to be heard.

Grimnir, the black bear, who was standing next to Miguel, frowned and asked, "What is a windmill?"

Miguel realized that the beastmen did not have a specific term for what they were trying to build. "A windmill is a structure that uses wind energy to grind grain or pump water. It's a very efficient way to accomplish these tasks without relying on intensive manual labor."

Grimnir's eyes widened with interest. "So, that's what we're trying to do. Finding more efficient ways to grind grain." He paused and pointed to the deer that was a little behind. "The idea was his, after a lot of trial and error."

Miguel turned to the deer, who stepped forward and looked at Miguel before starting to speak. "We have tried different methods to grind our beans more efficiently. This one looked the most promising."

The deer, noticing Miguel's curiosity and knowledge, introduced himself. "I'm Elnar, I'm sorry I didn't perform earlier. We had several ideas, but unfortunately, for some reason, this construction is not working as we hoped."

Miguel approached the structure, analyzing it with an experienced eye. He could see that the construction had potential, but there were minor inconsistencies and errors that could be preventing it from functioning. "Can I take a closer look? Maybe I can help identify the problem."

Elnar hesitated for a moment, but Miguel's sincere and curious look convinced him. "Of course, come with me," he said, leading the group toward the heart of the structure.

As they moved, Miguel observed the details of the mill. The structure was solid, but he noticed some points that could be adjusted to improve efficiency. When they reached the base of the mill, he saw the complexity of the internal mechanism: gears, shafts, and the huge blades that were supposed to catch the wind.

"You have done a great job here," said Miguel, admiring the efforts of the beastmen. "But I think I see some points where things can be adjusted. We can try a few simple fixes to get started."

Elnar looked relieved. "We thank you for your help. But do you have any experience with this type of construction?" Elnar asked when he saw the curiosity and experience in Miguel's speech.

Miguel smiled and looked directly at Elnar. "Well, let's just say I've read a lot about construction in my lifetime."

***

Miguel was concentrating on analyzing the structure of the archaic windmill. The construction was immense, measuring between 10 and 16 meters in length and with a diameter of about 7 meters. He walked around, observing every detail with a critical and knowledgeable eye.

Upon examining the gears, Miguel realized that they were well made, an impressive work of rudimentary engineering. However, one of the problems he quickly identified was in the material used to build the gears and the main structure. It was a dense and heavy wood, similar to oak. He knew that this would require significant wind power to make the mechanism rotate efficiently.

Another obvious problem was the lack of lubrication in the gears. Miguel could see where the friction was wearing down the material, creating resistance and preventing the smooth movement of the parts. He made some mental notes about possible solutions to this problem.

In addition, the mill blades, although light, were extremely fragile. He could see where they were starting to wear down and break under the constant pressure of the wind. They would need a more durable material that can withstand natural forces without deteriorating rapidly.

Miguel straightened up and looked at the representatives of the beastmen, who were anxiously waiting for his evaluation. "The structure is impressive," he began, with a tone of genuine admiration. "But I can see some problems that are preventing it from functioning."

The eyes of the beastmen were fixed on him, full of curiosity and hope. "The main problem is the material used in the gears and the main structure," explained Miguel. "The wood you are using is very heavy, which requires a very large wind force to turn the gears. In addition, the lack of lubricant is creating friction and wear, making movement even more difficult."

He paused, gesturing to the mill blades. "And the blades, although light, are very fragile. They wear out quickly and cannot withstand the constant pressure of the wind."

Miguel took a deep breath before continuing. "I believe I may have a solution to make this giant grinder work. We can use lighter and more durable materials for the gears and structure, as well as implement a proper lubrication system. And for the blades, we can use a stronger material that can withstand the forces of the wind without wearing out quickly."

The representatives of the beastmen looked at each other, processing the information and considering Miguel's suggestions. The silence was almost palpable as they pondered the proposal.

Chapter 12

The tense silence that hung over the group was finally broken by the lion, Ruidahr, who looked at Miguel with renewed curiosity. “Do you think you can get this contraption to work?” he asked, his deep voice resonating in the air.

Miguel, maintaining his calm and confidence, nodded. “Yes, I believe I can. But it will take some time. We’ll need to adjust the materials and implement some design changes to improve efficiency.”

The representatives of the beastmen exchanged glances, pondering Miguel's words. It was a bold proposal, but the determination in his eyes showed that he was serious.

Ricardo watched Miguel with surprise. He wondered how Miguel could have so much knowledge about construction. Throughout his life, Miguel's parents had always limited his education, focusing more on the arts of nobility and family traditions, even though he was a bastard. Ricardo knew that Miguel had always been curious and studious, but this level of technical knowledge seemed far beyond what he should know.

“How is it possible?” Ricardo thought. “Did he read many books about this in his childhood? Or perhaps he found a way to learn on his own?”

Ricardo decided that now was not the time to question these things. The priority was to ensure the cooperation and trust of the beastmen. He would ask Miguel his questions later, when there was a more appropriate moment.

***

The sun began to set on the horizon, painting the sky orange and purple. After several hours of discussion and planning around the mill, it was clear that night was approaching quickly. The group was tired but still excited about the possibilities that were opening up.

The priest, Brother Boromir, approached Miguel and his entourage. “It’s getting late. You must be tired. I’d like to offer you a place to spend the night.”

Miguel looked at Ricardo and the soldiers. They all seemed relieved by the offer. “We appreciate the hospitality,” said Miguel, nodding. “We accept your offer.”

The lion, Ruidahr, stepped forward. “Very well. Tomorrow, you can continue working on the mill. If you succeed, Baron Miguel, I will provide what you need to help your people.”

Miguel felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “I will do my best, Lord Ruidahr. Thank you for your trust.”

The other council members also said their farewells. Elnar, the deer, nodded, while Grimnir, the bear, gave a grunt of approval. Lysandra, the fox, still seemed suspicious but said nothing.

Brother Boromir gestured for them to follow. “Come, I will take you to an inn where you can rest.”

The group followed the priest through the city streets. Night was falling quickly, and lanterns were beginning to light up, casting long, dancing shadows.

They arrived at a cozy inn, with a warm light shining through the windows. Boromir opened the door and invited them in. “Here it is. Make yourselves comfortable. I informed the owner in advance about the possibility of visitors, so he prepared rooms for you.”

Miguel entered, followed by Ricardo, the soldiers, and Lila. The atmosphere was welcoming, with the smell of homemade food in the air. “Thank you, Brother Boromir. Your kindness will not be forgotten.”

Boromir smiled. “Rest well. Tomorrow will be an important day.”

With those words, the priest took his leave, leaving Miguel and his entourage at the inn.

As they entered the inn, Miguel and his entourage were immediately embraced by an atmosphere that exuded simplicity and rustic beauty. The interior was lit by a series of lanterns hanging from the ceiling, casting a warm and comforting glow throughout the space. The walls were of light wood, polished and adorned with colorful tapestries depicting scenes of harvests and natural landscapes.

The floor was smooth stone, covered here and there by thick fabric rugs that muffled the sound of the soldiers’ boots as they walked. At the back, there was a large stone fireplace where a crackling fire warmed the main hall. The burning wood emitted a familiar and pleasant scent of burnt logs, bringing a sense of comfort and security.

Sturdy wooden tables and chairs were arranged throughout the hall, each decorated with simple arrangements of fresh flowers and lit candles. The owner, a gentle-looking rabbit man, stood behind the counter, offering a welcoming smile upon seeing the new guests.

“Welcome,” he said in a soft and friendly voice. “Please, make yourselves at home. The rooms are ready, and food will be served soon.”

Miguel looked around, noticing the small details that made the inn so special. On the wall opposite the fireplace, there were shelves filled with books and handcrafted items, giving the place an air of culture and care. The smell of homemade food, probably a stew, mingled with the aroma of the wood, promising a satisfying meal to end the day’s fatigue.

Ricardo smiled at Lila’s expression, who was marveling at the cozy environment. “Seems like a good place to rest,” he commented, with a tone of relief.

The soldiers, who had until then maintained an alert posture, began to relax. The simplicity and beauty of the environment had a calming effect on all of them. Miguel felt grateful for the hospitality of the beastmen and knew that a good rest was crucial for the challenges they would face the next day.

“Let’s settle in,” said Miguel, leading the group to the rooms. The solid wooden doors revealed simple but comfortable quarters, with wooden beds covered by thick fabric quilts and soft pillows. The windows offered a view of the city, now illuminated by the gentle light of the night lanterns.

As they prepared for the night, each member of the entourage appreciated the simplicity and beauty of the environment. The inn was a welcoming refuge, offering brief relief from the constant tension they had felt since the beginning of their journey. Miguel knew that the night’s rest would bring renewed strength for the challenges of the next day, and with this hope, he finally allowed himself to relax and enjoy the tranquility of the moment.

***

Miguel woke up early the next morning, feeling refreshed. He knew he had a lot of work ahead of him. Determined to start the day productively, he went to the main hall of the inn in search of the owner.

“Good morning,” said Miguel upon seeing the owner. “Do you have something I can use to draw? Perhaps a pencil or a pen?”

The owner, always friendly, nodded. “Yes, I have something that might serve. Wait a moment.”

He withdrew and returned shortly with a roll of paper resembling papyrus and a rudimentary charcoal pencil. He handed the items to Miguel with a smile.

“I hope this helps,” said the owner.

Miguel looked at the materials and thought to himself, “This should do.”

“Thank you,” he said to the owner, genuinely grateful for the help.

With the materials in hand, Miguel returned to his room. He sat at the table, unrolled the paper, and picked up the charcoal pencil. He knew that drawing the plans would be quick. The real challenge would be executing the renovations, which would take a few days.

Focused and determined, Miguel began sketching the necessary improvements for the mill. He wanted to ensure that all parts worked harmoniously and that the materials were suitable for construction.

Miguel was sitting at the table in his room, concentrating on his sketches. He knew that to make the mill work, he needed to know all the materials available in the region. As he drew, he began to think about how to approach this issue with Elnar, the deer.

“I need to talk to Elnar about all the materials they have available,” Miguel thought. “I need to know about the trees, from the thinnest and most fragile to the strongest. I also need to know about the stones, from the most exotic to the most common.”

Miguel knew that understanding these details would be crucial to making the mill work. “If I know exactly what we have, I can find the best way to use these materials. This will save time and ensure that the mill is efficient and durable.”

He decided that as soon as he finished his initial sketches, he would look for Elnar. He needed a complete list of resources. “If I can use lighter materials for the gears and stronger ones for the blades, it will make a big difference.”

Miguel looked at the drawing in front of him. He was confident that his experience as an engineer could solve the problems the beastmen were facing with the mill. But he needed Elnar’s cooperation and deep knowledge of the region’s materials.

“I’ll need Elnar’s help,” Miguel thought. “He knows this land better than anyone. In fact, this whole situation is still very crazy for me, an alien world… what kind of materials might they have?” Thinking about all the possibilities made Miguel quite excited.

***

Thomas was at the mansion, in command while Miguel and his entourage were away. He was in the office, organizing some papers, when he heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” said Thomas.

The door opened, and one of the guards stationed at the barony’s entrance entered. He looked worried.

“Sir, I need to speak with you. A hooded man on horseback approached the barony’s entrance today,” said the guard.

Thomas frowned. “What happened? Were you able to identify who it was?”

“No,” replied the guard. “He was about 300 meters away. He stood there for a while, watching us, and then he left. I found it strange and decided to report to you.”

Thomas thought for a moment. “You did well to tell me. Keep watching the entrance and let me know if he returns.”

“Yes, sir,” said the guard before leaving the office.

As soon as the soldier left, Thomas pondered what this could have been. Who was this hooded man? And why was he watching the barony?

He sighed, feeling a growing concern. “I hope the new baron and the entourage are well and return soon,” he thought to himself. “We can’t allow anything to go wrong now.”

Thomas knew he needed to stay calm and continue doing his job, but the presence of the hooded stranger lingered in his mind.

***

Miguel was sitting with Ricardo at the inn, both relaxing after a busy day. The main hall was quiet, illuminated by lanterns that cast a soft glow. Other people were conversing quietly at the surrounding tables, and the atmosphere was cozy.

Ricardo began to speak, his voice low and concerned. “The girl is calm and quite cooperative, but she’s not talking much. She still seems scared.”

Miguel nodded, understanding the situation. “It’s understandable, considering what she must have gone through. When we return to the barony, we’ll need to investigate more deeply what happened in her village. We can’t leave this unanswered.”

Ricardo looked at Miguel, noticing the determination in his eyes. “I agree. We need to understand what really happened. There could be more danger lurking.”

“Yes,” said Miguel, sighing. “We need to ensure her safety and that of our people.”

After a few minutes of conversation, Miguel decided it was time to act on his plans for the mill. He stood up and approached the counter where the innkeeper was.

“Good morning,” said Miguel with a smile. “I need a favor. I’d like to send a letter to Elnar, the deer. I have some sketches ready and need to discuss with him the materials available for the mill’s construction.”

The innkeeper, always friendly and helpful, nodded. “Of course, I can take care of that for you. Tell me what you want me to write.”

Miguel took a piece of paper and a rudimentary pen and began to write the letter. “Dear Elnar,” he wrote, “I have some sketches ready for the mill and would like to discuss the available materials. Can we meet to talk about this?”

After writing the letter, Miguel handed it to the innkeeper. “Thank you for sending this as soon as possible.”

“No problem, sir,” replied the innkeeper, carefully storing the letter. “I’ll make sure he receives it.”

Miguel returned to the table where Ricardo was sitting. He felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders but also a renewed determination. Every step was crucial, and he wanted to ensure everything was done in the best way possible.

“It’s done,” said Miguel, sitting down again. “Now we just need to wait for Elnar’s response. In the meantime, we can continue planning and preparing.”

Ricardo nodded, feeling the same determination. “We’re on the right path, my lord. We’ll succeed.”

Chapter 13

Hours had passed since Miguel had sent the letter to Elnar. He was in his room, focused on drawing the sketches of the mill. The soft late afternoon light illuminated the table, reflecting on the simple tools he used for work. The paper he had seemed rustic, but it served its purpose. Miguel was immersed in his thoughts and plans, tracing lines and curves with precision.

A gentle knock on the door pulled him from his concentration. He raised his head, blinking to adjust his eyes to reality. "Come in," he said, a bit curious about who it could be.

The door opened and the innkeeper entered, holding an envelope. "Good afternoon, sir. This is the response from the deer, Elnar," he said, extending the letter.

Miguel took the letter with gratitude. "Thank you," he said, feeling a mix of expectation and nervousness. He opened the envelope and began to read.

In the letter, Elnar wrote that Miguel was invited to dinner at his house that night. He mentioned that soon one of his employees would come to the inn to pick him up and that Miguel could bring some companions with him.

Miguel read the letter twice to make sure he wasn’t missing any detail. The invitation was an important opportunity, not just to discuss the sketches, but also to strengthen the trust relationship with the beast men.

“This is good news,” Miguel said, more to himself, but the innkeeper smiled, understanding the relief and hope in Miguel's voice.

“I’m glad you received a positive response,” said the innkeeper. “If you need anything else, I’ll be around.”

Miguel nodded. “Thank you very much for your help.”

With the letter in hand, Miguel began to think about whom to take with him. Ricardo, certainly, and maybe one or two soldiers to ensure safety. He knew he needed to be well-prepared for this meeting, both in terms of plans and behavior.

He sat back down at the table, looking at the sketches before him. The night promised to be long and full of important discussions, but he was ready. Each step brought him closer to his goal of helping his people and building a better future.

With a sigh, Miguel carefully put away the sketches and began to prepare for the next phase of his journey.

***

The afternoon was already turning into night when Elnar's employee arrived at the inn. Miguel, Ricardo, the little mage, and John were ready to leave, waiting anxiously in the lobby. The employee, a bipedal rabbit with a friendly expression, gave a slight bow upon entering.

“Baron, I’ve come to fetch you. Mr. Elnar is waiting,” he said, gesturing for the group to follow him.

They left the inn, and Miguel immediately began to observe the structure of the city around him. The houses were a fascinating mix of stone and wood. The stone constructions were solid and well-made, with smooth walls and arched windows that gave the city a fortress-like air. Among these stone structures, there were wooden houses with rustic charm, adorned with vines and flowers that added a touch of life and color to the streets.

The streets themselves were paved with perfectly fitted stones, forming a smooth and pleasant path to walk on. Miguel noticed how the stones varied in shades of gray and brown, reflecting the light of the torches that were beginning to be lit along the sidewalks. It was evident that the city of the beast men valued the harmony between the durability of stone and the natural beauty of wood.

As they walked, Miguel observed the activity around them. Beast men of various species were wrapping up their daily activities, some closing their shops while others chatted at their doorsteps. There was a strong and welcoming sense of community, something Miguel deeply appreciated.

The walk to Elnar's house was pleasant, and each detail of the city continued to surprise him. Finally, they reached a more wooded area of the city, where the houses seemed more spaced out and even more impressive. Elnar's residence stood out immediately.

The facade of the deer's house was stunning. Built entirely of wood, the mansion looked like a natural extension of the trees around it. The walls were made of logs carved with intricate details, and the windows had frames of intertwined branches, giving the impression that the house had grown from the forest itself. The roof was covered with leaves and moss, completing the illusion that the house was a living part of the environment.

The house was not just a construction but a living work of art, perfectly integrated with nature. The front door, robust and decorated with detailed carvings of forest scenes, was open, and Elnar was standing at the entrance, waving them in.

“Welcome, Baron, and everyone else. Please, come in,” Elnar said with a welcoming smile. His voice had a calm and gentle tone, reflecting the serenity of his home.

Miguel felt a touch of admiration and respect as he entered the mansion. He knew that the night would be crucial for discussing the sketches and understanding the available resources, but he also felt deep gratitude for the hospitality they were receiving.

Accompanied by Elnar’s employee, the group crossed the threshold and entered the mansion. Miguel was eager to see the interior and discuss the plans, knowing that this was a unique opportunity to build a relationship of trust and collaboration with the beast men.

As they crossed the entrance, Miguel exchanged a glance with Ricardo, both aware of the importance of that moment. The little mage and John followed closely behind, equally impressed by the beauty and grandeur of the place.

Upon entering Elnar’s mansion, Miguel and his entourage were immediately greeted by an environment that seemed straight out of a fairy tale. The interior was warm and elegant, blending rusticity with a sense of refined comfort. The main hall, where the meeting and dinner would take place, was especially enchanting.

The polished wooden floor gleamed under the soft light of the lamps hanging from the ceiling. The slightly arched ceiling was supported by robust wooden beams delicately carved, displaying patterns of leaves and branches that seemed to come alive in the firelight. At the center of the hall, a large stone fireplace dominated the room. The fire crackled warmly, filling the space with a comforting aroma of burning wood.

Near the fireplace, there were armchairs and sofas of leather and fabric, all richly decorated with embroidered cushions and wool blankets. A coffee table, made from a single piece of solid wood, was adorned with wildflower arrangements and lit candles, casting a soft, dancing glow throughout the room.

On the walls, shelves filled with ancient books and handcrafted objects showcased the cultural richness of the beast men. There were wooden sculptures depicting scenes of nature and wildlife, serene landscape paintings, and colorful tapestries that added a vibrant touch to the space.

Miguel noticed a large wooden dining table surrounded by chairs that looked equally comfortable and sturdy. The table was carefully set with silver cutlery, hand-painted ceramic plates, and crystal glasses. Everything was prepared for a meal that promised to be memorable.

Elnar, with a welcoming smile, guided the group to the hall. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. We will meet down here. Dinner will be served shortly.”

The entire environment seemed a perfect combination of elegance and simplicity, as if every detail had been thought out to create a sense of well-being and harmony. The high, arched ceiling gave a sense of spaciousness, while the carved beams and branch-framed windows brought nature inside.

Miguel was enchanted by the place. “Your home is incredible, Elnar. I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said, admiring every detail.

“Thank you,” Elnar replied, visibly proud. “We want our guests to feel comfortable and welcome.”

Ricardo, John, and the little mage were also in awe. Ricardo approached Miguel and murmured, “This place is spectacular. In all my life as a knight, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

While waiting for dinner, Miguel approached the fireplace, feeling the comforting warmth and watching the flames dance. He knew that this night would be crucial, not just for discussing the mill sketches but also for strengthening the bonds of trust with Elnar and the other beast men.

With everyone settled in the cozy hall, the atmosphere was one of tranquility and anticipation. Miguel was ready to discuss the details of the sketches and hear what Elnar had to say about the available materials. But for now, he allowed himself to relax and appreciate the environment, feeling grateful for the hospitality and the chance to build something meaningful for the future of his people.

***

The table was meticulously set, and all the guests were comfortably seated, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of Elnar’s mansion. The conversation flowed smoothly as the flames from the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the carved wooden walls.

The deer, Elnar, returned to the hall accompanied by a few employees, each carrying a tray. They moved with grace and efficiency, placing a tray before each guest. As they lifted the lids from the trays, a delicious aroma filled the room: a steaming, fragrant vegetable broth.

The smell was irresistible, a blend of fresh herbs and well-cooked vegetables, promising a simple but comforting meal. The golden broth was filled with chunks of carrots, potatoes, onions, and other roots, harmoniously combined to create a nutritious and flavorful dish.

Elnar, with a hospitable smile, addressed his guests. “Please, feel free to start the meal. Once everyone is comfortable, Miguel and I will have a private conversation.”

Miguel smiled in gratitude, picking up the silver spoon beside his plate. “Thank you, Elnar. The soup looks wonderful.”

He took the first spoonful, savoring the rich and well-seasoned flavor of the broth. The food was comforting, warming him from the inside out. Ricardo, seated next to him, also tried the soup and looked at Miguel with approval. “This is incredible,” he murmured, savoring every bite.

The little mage Lila, still a bit shy, began to eat slowly, but her eyes showed satisfaction. John, on the other hand, seemed more at ease, already immersed in the meal and enjoying every bit.

The atmosphere was pleasantly tranquil, and everyone present seemed to relax as they enjoyed the meal. Miguel relished each spoonful, feeling renewed and energized. As he ate, he thought about the conversation he would have with Elnar and the details he would need to discuss about the materials for the mill.

When he finished eating, Miguel wiped his mouth with the napkin and looked at Elnar, who was finishing his own meal. He knew it was time to talk about the projects.

Ricardo, noticing Miguel’s movement, leaned in and whispered, “I’ll go with you, my lord.”

Miguel shook his head, smiling. “Thank you, Ricardo, but I’ll be fine. You should enjoy the meal and rest. I’ll be back soon.”

Ricardo seemed to hesitate for a moment but finally agreed. “All right, my lord. Just be careful.”

“Don’t worry,” Miguel replied, giving a reassuring pat on Ricardo’s shoulder.

Rising from the table, Miguel looked at Elnar and nodded, indicating that he was ready for the conversation. The deer nodded back and began to rise, ready to guide him to a more private location where they could discuss the details of the sketches and the materials needed for the mill.

Chapter 14

The deer, Elnar, guided Miguel down a well-lit corridor to an elegant office. The room exuded knowledge and history, with a huge bookshelf filled with hundreds of books and scrolls, each seeming to contain ancient secrets and accumulated wisdom. At the center, there was a polished wooden desk, robust and inviting. Elnar gestured for Miguel to sit down.

Miguel wasted no time and got straight to the point. He took the sketches of his projects out of his bag and handed them to Elnar. The deer, curious, took the drawings and began to examine them carefully.

"Do you have experience in large projects, Miguel?" Elnar asked, visibly impressed with the details of the sketches.

Miguel hesitated for a brief moment. He couldn't reveal that in his past life he was an engineer. "I've read a lot about construction during my life," he said, choosing his words carefully. "I've always been fascinated by engineering and architecture."

Elnar nodded, accepting the explanation. "Your sketches are really impressive. Now, about the materials you need... let's see what we have available."

The deer stood up and went to the bookshelf. He searched for a few moments before pulling out a large, thick book. With a slight smile, he returned to the desk and handed the book to Miguel. "This is a glossary of the materials we have available."

Miguel opened the book and was impressed to see that it was full of detailed illustrations and written in the human language, not in the beast-men's language. The pages were filled with drawings of different types of wood, stones, metals, and other building materials.

"I received this book from a human friend many years ago," Elnar explained. "That human came from the far east of the continent. He taught me a lot about construction and materials. I hope this can help you."

Miguel thanked him and began to leaf through the glossary with interest. Each page revealed new information about the resources available in the region. He saw types of wood, from the finest and most flexible to the hardest and most resistant. There were also descriptions of stones, some exotic and rare, others common and abundant.

While reading, Miguel felt a wave of gratitude and admiration for Elnar. The deer was not only willing to help but also shared his knowledge generously. This book was an invaluable tool, and Miguel knew it would be crucial for the success of the mill project.

With his eyes fixed on the glossary pages, Miguel began to mentally formulate a detailed plan. He knew that the conversation with Elnar was just beginning, but each moment brought him closer to achieving his goal. The night promised to be long and full of discoveries, but Miguel was ready to face the challenge with determination and enthusiasm.

As he leafed through the glossary, Miguel found a wood that seemed similar to something he had seen on Earth. The description spoke of a resistant, light, and durable wood, perfect for gears. He also found stones that seemed strong and durable, suitable for the base and other structural parts of the mill.

Miguel looked up from the book and looked at Elnar. "Can you easily obtain any material from this glossary?"

Elnar pondered for a moment before answering. "Some materials are easy to get. They are available in our local forests and quarries. However, other materials can only be found in more distant regions, and some I have never seen personally. We would need time and resources to obtain them."

Miguel nodded, understanding the limitations. He turned his attention to the wood he had found. "This wood here," he said, pointing to the illustration in the book. "It will be perfect for the gears. It's light but resistant."

Elnar examined the page and nodded. "Yes, this wood is quite common in our forests. We can get it easily."

Miguel felt a sense of relief knowing that at least this material would be easy to obtain. However, he knew that the mill blades would be a challenge. He hadn't seen any cattle in the region, so leather or cowhide wouldn't be viable options.

He began looking for plant alternatives in the glossary, searching for plants that were strong and light enough to serve as material for the blades. After some time of research, he found a plant that seemed ideal. The description indicated that this plant was abundant in all regions, including the area where they were.

Miguel was impressed with the technical and detailed manner in which the book was written. The language was clear and precise, almost as if it had been written by someone with advanced technical knowledge. He wondered, for a brief moment, if the book's author could be someone like him, someone who came from Earth.

With no time to delve into these thoughts, Miguel looked at Elnar with determination. "I've already gathered the necessary materials," he said, closing the glossary. "We will need the wood for the gears and this plant for the blades. We can start as soon as we have everything."

Elnar smiled, pleased with Miguel's efficiency. "Very well, Miguel. We will provide everything you need. I'm looking forward to seeing your plan in action."

Miguel felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. With the materials identified and Elnar's support, he knew he was one step closer to making the mill work. The first major stage was complete, and he was ready to continue working hard to achieve his goal.

Miguel was sitting at Elnar's office desk, focused on drawing a new sketch, much more detailed than the previous one. The deer, curious and attentive, watched Miguel's every move with great interest.

As soon as Miguel finished drawing, he began to explain his ideas. "The mill you built is impressive, but there are some fundamental problems. The internal structure, including the base, is all wood. This does not provide the necessary stability for a construction of this size."

Miguel pointed to the detailed sketch he had just finished. "I suggest we use medium-sized rocks and stones for the base. This will create a much more stable and durable foundation. We can build the base with these stones and then assemble the rest of the mill on top."

Elnar watched attentively, clearly impressed with the clarity and precision of Miguel's plan. "That makes a lot of sense," said the deer, nodding. "I agree with you. Tomorrow, we can start dismantling the existing mill and rebuilding it according to these specifications."

While Miguel and Elnar discussed the details, a concern arose in Miguel's mind. "The only thing that worries me is the time," he admitted. "All this will take weeks to be ready."

Elnar smiled, reassuring Miguel. "Don't worry about that. The beast-men are very quick with any construction. I guarantee it won't take weeks, but only a few days. We have a lot of experience in manual labor and construction. We will be able to do this efficiently and quickly."

Miguel felt a wave of relief. "That's great to know. Thank you very much for the support and trust."

With the meeting concluded and the plans established, Elnar stood up and guided Miguel to a guest room. "You should rest well tonight," said Elnar. "Tomorrow will be a busy day of work."

Miguel nodded, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally setting in. "Thank you, Elnar. I appreciate everything very much."

"You're welcome, Miguel. I'm looking forward to seeing the results of your plan," replied Elnar with a smile.

As they walked down the corridor, Elnar also guided Miguel's companions, Ricardo, John, and the little mage, to their respective rooms. Each was led to a cozy and comfortable room, prepared to provide a peaceful night's rest.

Miguel entered his room and lay down on the soft bed, feeling grateful for the hospitality of the beast-men and optimistic about the coming days. With a final thought about the plans for the mill, he let the fatigue take over and closed his eyes, ready for what the next day would bring.

The next morning, Miguel woke up feeling renewed. He got up and noticed that a polished wooden bathtub was prepared for him. The mansion's maids had filled the tub with warm water and placed some aromatic herbs, creating a relaxing environment.

Miguel took a bath, enjoying the invigorating feeling of the water. After drying off and dressing, he went downstairs to the mansion's ground floor, where he found Ricardo, John, and Lila already sitting at the breakfast table. The table was full of fresh fruits, assorted breads, cheeses, and a jug of juice.

"Good morning, everyone," said Miguel, sitting down and pouring himself some juice.

"Good morning, Miguel," responded Ricardo and John in unison. Lila smiled shyly, still getting used to the new environment.

While they ate, the deer, Elnar, appeared in the room. "Good morning," he greeted with a warm smile. "I hope you slept well."

"We slept very well, thank you," replied Miguel. "Your home is incredible, Elnar. The architecture and the environment are truly impressive."

Elnar smiled, visibly pleased with the compliment. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. We do our best to create a welcoming environment."

The deer then turned to Miguel. "We have already started providing the necessary materials for the new mill. This morning, our workers have already started dismantling the current mill. I believe everything will be dismantled by noon."

Ricardo, who was finishing his breakfast, looked at Miguel in surprise. "That's incredible. Their speed is impressive."

"I agree," said Miguel. "Thank you very much, Elnar. The efficiency of your workers is admirable."

Elnar nodded, satisfied with their reaction. "I'm glad to hear that. Once you finish eating, one of my employees will take you back to the inn if you want to return."

"I plan to go back there. I have some notes to make and want to review the details of the sketches."

"Perfect," said Elnar. "I'll check on the progress of the mill dismantling. I hope to see you later. If you need anything, please let me know."

Elnar said his goodbyes, leaving Miguel, Ricardo, John, and Lila to finish their breakfast. The atmosphere was light and filled with anticipation for the workday ahead. Miguel was eager to see the progress and continue preparing for the mill's reconstruction.

After breakfast, an employee arrived to escort them back to the inn, exactly as Elnar had promised. Miguel felt satisfied with the progress being made and was ready to dive back into his work.

Chapter 15

Miguel was sitting at the table in his room at the inn, surrounded by piles of papers and some rudimentary writing tools. The window next to him let in the soft morning light, illuminating his work. He was focused, jotting down everything he knew about this world and the technological level he had observed.

“This world is very similar to the Middle Ages,” he thought as he wrote. “But there are significant differences: magic, magical beings, monsters, and various intelligent bipedal species.”

He paused to organize his thoughts. Miguel knew that understanding these differences was crucial to adapting his engineering ideas and knowledge to the new environment. He wrote about the technologies he had seen so far: windmills, wooden and stone buildings, basic agricultural methods. All this mixed with the presence of magic and magical creatures, which added a layer of complexity to the world.

When he finished his notes, Miguel took a clean piece of paper and began sketching a new project that had been on his mind for some time: a more efficient plow for the fields in his barony. He knew that improving agricultural efficiency was crucial for the survival and prosperity of his people.

Carefully drawing, he began to sketch the plow. “A plow that can till more land in less time and with less labor will be revolutionary,” he thought. He imagined sharper blades and a structure that could be pulled with less force, yet still perform efficiently.

As he traced the lines on the paper, he thought about the available resources and construction techniques that could be used. He wanted to ensure that the plow was something that could be easily built with local materials and skills. “This will not only increase crop productivity but also free up more people for other important tasks,” he reflected.

Time passed quickly as he worked, immersed in his project. When he finally looked up, the sketch was complete. He looked at the drawing with satisfaction, feeling proud of what he had created.

“I will give this project to Elnar as well,” he decided. “He can help implement this here and, hopefully, spread the idea to other parts of the kingdom. This will benefit not only my barony but also other places facing similar difficulties.”

With the sketch finished, Miguel gathered his papers and prepared to meet Elnar again. He knew that this new project could make a big difference and was eager to share it with Elnar and start working on the next phase of his improvements.

***

Another day passed. Today, Miguel was at the construction site of the new windmill, overseeing the progress of the beastmen. He was impressed to see how the foundation and stone base had already been built. The stones, though unshaped, were of medium size and stacked efficiently and solidly. The foundation looked robust and stable, ready to support the windmill’s structure.

Elnar, who was beside Miguel, noticed his interest. “Would you like to see how we make the wooden parts?” asked the stag.

Miguel nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I’d love to see.”

Elnar took Miguel to a shed where several carpenters were working. The shed was spacious and well-organized, with different areas dedicated to various stages of woodworking. As he entered, Miguel noticed the diversity among the beastmen. There were beings resembling cats, dogs, rabbits, and even small bears, all working together harmoniously.

He found it fascinating but at the same time a bit strange to see animals with humanoid characteristics. Sometimes it was a bit unsettling, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside, deciding to focus on the work being done.

Miguel watched as the carpenters cut and shaped the wood. The technique was quite similar to what he had learned in engineering and architecture history classes. The tools they used, though rudimentary, were handled with skill and precision.

Elnar followed Miguel’s gaze and noticed his detailed analysis. “Our carpenters are very skilled. They work quickly and with great precision,” he said proudly.

Miguel agreed. “They are indeed efficient. But I notice that their tools could be better. Look, many of the axes are clearly rusted.”

As he observed the carpenters' work, Miguel began to think. “In this world, have they figured out how to make metal alloys?” he pondered. He knew that better-quality tools could further increase the efficiency and productivity of the beastmen.

“Maybe I should check this with the blacksmith in my barony when I return,” Miguel thought. “If we can improve the tools, it would benefit not only the windmill’s construction but many other activities.”

Determined to explore this idea later, Miguel turned his attention back to the carpenters’ work. He watched every movement, every technique, absorbing as much knowledge as possible. He knew that the windmill's construction was just the beginning and that many other improvements could be made with the right time and effort.

***

Four days had passed since the beastmen began building the windmill. Miguel was impressed to see the remarkable progress. They had finished. The wooden parts of the windmill were like a giant puzzle, fitting together perfectly like Lego blocks.

All the members of the beastmen’s council and Miguel’s entourage were present for the inauguration. The lion, Ruidahr, gave a brief speech, thanking the workers and Miguel’s entourage.

“We are here today to celebrate not only the completion of this windmill but also the collaboration between our peoples,” began Ruidahr. “I thank our tireless workers and Miguel’s entourage, whose knowledge and dedication made this possible.”

The stag, Elnar, held a sharp knife, ready to cut the rope that held the windmill’s blades. These blades were made from a special plant whose leaves are light and durable, similar to skin. Each leaf is at least one meter long. The beastmen had sewn several leaves together, creating a strong and durable surface.

To lubricate all the gears, Miguel instructed the beastmen to use vegetable oil. He didn’t see soy but the beastmen’s crops, so he had to be creative and find plants that could substitute. He easily found and instructed them on how to extract oil from the plants.

With a precise cut, Elnar released the ropes. The wind quickly took action, making the blades spin smoothly. The sound of the wooden gears, now well-lubricated and adjusted, began to fill the air. The blades turned gracefully, moving the grains and starting the milling process.

Everyone watched with satisfaction as the windmill operated. It was a symbol of cooperation and innovation. The lion turned his attention to Miguel. “This may be just the beginning of a good relationship between our cities,” he said, with a tone of hope.

Ruidahr then called Grimnir, the bear. “Provide all the necessary things for Miguel and his people. We will sell each kilogram of food at a very low price. And there’s no need to pay for everything now.”

Miguel thought to himself that this whole journey had really been worth it. This was the only place nearby that could offer help; other baronies were either in the same precarious situation or simply ignored all requests for help. Now his concern was different: the rescued little girl. Who could have attacked her village?

As everyone excitedly discussed the success of the windmill and future plans, a soldier from the wall appeared, hurriedly. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, with an urgent tone. “There is a human knight at the gate. He says he is a messenger from the Drakmoor Barony.”

Everyone looked at each other confused. The unexpected arrival of a messenger from the barony brought new tension to the celebration. Miguel and the council members exchanged worried glances, uncertain about what the message might contain. And he began to feel a strong chill run down his spine... Looking at Ricardo, Miguel saw the same face of uncertainty and anger... Why would these bandits be attacking the barony right now? And there was only one answer... His brothers.

---1 day earlier in Drakmoor Barony—

Thomas was in the mansion’s office, focused on organizing some important documents. The silence of the room was abruptly interrupted by a soldier who burst in, panic etched on his face.

“Lord Thomas!” exclaimed the soldier, trying to catch his breath. “There’s a small army outside the barony walls. We estimate there are between 200 to 500 armed men. From their clothes, they seem to be bandits or mercenaries.”

Thomas felt a shiver run down his spine. He knew that the hooded man was part of something larger and hoped he was mistaken about it.

He immediately stood up, his mind racing to think of a strategy. “Prepare all available soldiers,” he ordered. “We need to be ready for anything. We don’t have time to lose.”

The soldier nodded and quickly left to carry out the orders. Thomas knew the barony only had 100 soldiers, and some of them were with Baron Miguel on his trip. The situation was critical.

Before leaving the office, Thomas decided he needed to send an urgent message to Miguel. He grabbed paper and quill and began to write rapidly:

“Dear Baron,

A small army, estimated between 200 to 500 men, is outside the barony walls. They appear to be bandits or mercenaries. We are preparing for defense but need reinforcements and your leadership. Please return as soon as possible.

—Thomas”

Thomas sealed the letter and called another soldier. “Prepare a messenger immediately. He must cross the border and find Baron Miguel. Deliver this letter to him without delay. GO!”

The soldier took the letter and left to prepare the messenger. Thomas knew there was no time to waste. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. Although he was just a butler, he understood the gravity of the situation and knew he needed to act with determination.

As he walked, he observed the barony’s residents, many of whom seemed oblivious to the impending threat. The responsibility of protecting them weighed heavily on his shoulders.

When he reached the walls, he climbed the stairs leading to the top, where the soldiers were organizing themselves. They greeted him with serious expressions, aware of the gravity of the situation. Thomas looked out at the horizon and saw the small army approaching. They were numerous, armed with swords, spears, and bows. The sight was intimidating.

Thomas turned to the soldiers around him. “We are at a numerical disadvantage,” he said, his voice firm. “But we need to stay calm and be prepared for anything. Our priority is to protect the barony and its residents.”

The soldiers nodded, their expressions showing a mix of determination and apprehension. Thomas knew many of them were nervous, but he needed to keep morale high.

As he watched the enemy army, Thomas considered possible strategies. He knew that trying to directly combat such a large group would be a mistake. He needed to find a way to negotiate or, at the very least, buy time until Miguel and the reinforcements arrived.

“If they are bandits,” Thomas thought, “perhaps we can convince them not to attack. Maybe we can give them what they want willingly and avoid a bloodbath.”

Thomas remained atop the wall, his eyes fixed on the approaching army. He knew that every decision he made now could determine the fate of the barony. Considering all the possibilities, he sought a way to persuade these people not to raid his city. The weight of responsibility was overwhelming, but he was determined to protect the barony until the end.

Chapter 16

A man on horseback, accompanied by ten more riders, approached the bodies of Miguel's pursuers. The leader of the group, an imposing man dressed in leather armor over a chainmail shirt, dismounted with an agile and decisive movement. His eyes scanned the scene with cold calculation.

He walked up to the body of Rubens, the leader of Miguel's pursuers. Squatting down, the man looked at the corpse with a look of disapproval. "Always reckless," he muttered, his voice dripping with contempt.

Standing up, he turned to his riders, who were waiting for his orders. "That bastard duke's son escaped," he said, his voice firm and authoritative. "And he's probably with that lackey, Ricardo."

The leader let out a cold, calculating smile, his eyes gleaming with malicious anticipation. "This will be fun," he said to himself, almost in a whisper, as if already savoring the cat-and-mouse game to come.

He mounted his horse again, his demeanor resolute. "Let's go, we can't waste time," he ordered his men, who immediately followed his orders, mounting their horses and preparing for the pursuit. "Send a message to headquarters, we’ll need more personnel this time," he said to one of the men.

One of the riders asked, confused, "More personnel? I thought we were enough to kill that brat."

The man smiled malevolently, "Yes... we have a young Baron to kill and... a town to plunder."

Everyone laughed in agreement, eagerly awaiting the carnage ahead. With one last look at the scattered bodies, the leader tugged on the reins and set off, his group following closely behind.

---

--- Barony of Drakmoor ---

Arthur was working in the forge, immersed in the heat of the fire and the rhythmic sound of hammering. Suddenly, he noticed unusual activity in the street. Soldiers were running back and forth, preparing for something serious. Worried, Arthur put down his tools and went out to investigate.

He spotted a familiar soldier, someone he had talked to several times before. "Henrik, what's happening?" Arthur asked, addressing the soldier who seemed nervous.

Henrik, recognizing Arthur, stopped for a moment to respond. "Arthur, I'm glad I found you. There's a small army of hostiles outside the barony walls. We estimate between 300 and 500 armed men. By the way they're dressed, they look like bandits."

Arthur frowned, feeling a knot of worry forming in his stomach. "This is serious. How many men do we have to defend the town?"

"We have about 100 soldiers, but some are with Baron Miguel on his trip... Even if he returned, it wouldn't be enough to defend the town," Henrik explained, his voice laden with urgency. "We need all the help we can get. If you know how to fight, you'd be welcome in the defense. Otherwise, we need help evacuating the villagers. The orders are for civilians to go to the nearest town, near the beast-men's border. There's a garrison of soldiers there that can help, but they can't leave their post to reinforce us here."

Arthur took a deep breath, weighing his options quickly. He had military training and knew how to fight, but his son Bradd, who was beside him, was still an apprentice. "Bradd..."

"We should stay and fight, father," Bradd said, interrupting his father with determination, although there was a clear note of fear in his voice.

Arthur placed a hand on his son's shoulder, looking him in the eyes. "You don't have enough training for this. I need you to help evacuate the villagers. They need someone young and strong like you to guide them to safety."

Bradd opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur squeezed his shoulder, firmly but gently. "I will stay and fight. It's my responsibility to protect our home. You need to go and ensure others are safe. Understand?"

Reluctantly, Bradd nodded, realizing the seriousness in his father's voice. "Alright, father. But please, be careful."

Arthur nodded and looked at Henrik. "I'll join you in the defense. Where do you need more men?"

"We're gathering at the main walls," Henrik replied. "Any help is welcome. We need all the strength we can muster."

Arthur turned to Bradd, who was beginning to gather his things frantically. "Go with them, Bradd. Take what you can carry and help others get out quickly. We'll meet in the neighboring town when all this is over."

Bradd paused for a moment, his eyes shining with worry. "I love you, dad. Please, don't die."

Arthur smiled sadly and hugged his son. "I love you too, son. I'll do my best to come back. Now go and do what I asked."

Bradd walked away, still reluctant but determined to follow his father's orders. Arthur watched him join the other villagers who were already beginning to evacuate before turning back to the forge to prepare.

He donned his leather armor with a chainmail shirt underneath, feeling the familiar weight on his shoulders. He put on the iron helmet, adjusted the wooden shield on his arm, and sheathed his sword. Each movement was meticulous, filled with purpose and resolve.

With his armor complete and his sword secure, Arthur left the forge and headed for the city walls. Around him, he saw lines of people heading in the opposite direction, towards the city's rear gates, all with fearful expressions.

As he approached the walls, he climbed the stairs leading to the top, where other soldiers were already organizing. The sight he found outside made him even more determined. The small army of bandits was there, a menacing mass of armed men, as if waiting for orders. He could hear all kinds of insults and threats coming from them.

The soldiers on the wall had expressions of fear and uncertainty.

"Let's prepare to defend our home," Arthur said to the soldiers around him, his voice firm and resolute. "We won't let these bastards get through us and steal everything we have. This is our home." The soldiers nodded, inspired by Arthur's presence and determination.

---

Thomas stood on top of the wall, watching the small army of bandits surrounding the city. The tension was palpable; every soldier around him was on high alert, but with no idea of what to do other than wait. Altogether, only 100 people had decided to join the fight, totaling 200 combatants to protect the city. Half of these were trained soldiers, while the other half were ordinary citizens who took up arms to defend their homes and families.

He couldn't help but reflect on the situation. Would the new baron return in time? Miguel was young but seemed determined and intelligent. However, even if he came back, would he bring enough reinforcements? The messenger Thomas had sent should have reached Miguel by now; it was only a day's journey, but how long would it take him to gather help and return? These questions raced through his mind, one after another, offering no respite.

Thomas looked down at the city, where the evacuation of civilians continued at a worryingly slow pace. Families moved slowly, carrying belongings, children, and the elderly. Disorder was inevitable; people were scattering, searching for relatives or friends, some paralyzed by fear. Ordering this chaos seemed impossible.

The bandits remained there, motionless, observing. Why weren’t they attacking? What were they waiting for? All of Thomas’s attempts at negotiation were met with insults or absolute silence. It was as if the bandits were surrounding the city, testing everyone’s patience and courage. This only increased the tension among the men, who were already on edge.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Thomas tried to think clearly. They were only 200 against an army that could be more than twice that number. They were at a disadvantage, not only in numbers but also in morale. He felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He wasn’t a military leader, just a steward, but here he was, trying to keep everyone united and prepared.

A voice at his side pulled him from his thoughts. It was Henrik, the soldier he had known for years. “Sir, do you think they will attack today?”

Opening his eyes, Thomas saw the concern on the soldier's face. “I don’t know, Henrik. But we need to be ready for when they decide to attack. We have no other choice.”

Henrik nodded, but Thomas could see the doubt in the soldier’s eyes. He, like many others, was exhausted and worried. Thomas tried to convey confidence, but inside he was as uncertain as Henrik.

The bandits still remained unmoving. This deeply unsettled Thomas. Maybe they were waiting for reinforcements, or perhaps they were just trying to wear down the city’s resolve. Every minute that passed without an attack was a minute more to prepare, but also a minute more of uncertainty and fear.

Looking at the horizon, Thomas hoped to see any sign of Miguel and his return. Every hour that passed without news increased his worry. The city was in a precarious situation, and every decision he made could be the difference between life and death for many there.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas tried to calm his nerves. He needed to come up with a plan, something that could give everyone a chance to fight. He looked at the faces around him, soldiers and armed civilians, all with the same expression of determination and fear. They were in this together, and all they could do was wait and prepare as best as they could.

He turned his gaze back to the bandits, still motionless. “Why aren’t they attacking?” he wondered. “What are they waiting for?” The answer continued to elude him, and all he could do was hold onto the hope that Miguel would arrive in time, with enough reinforcements to change the course of the battle. Until then, he needed to stay strong, for himself and for all who depended on him.

Chapter 17

Miguel was sitting in his room at the inn, reviewing his sketches, when a breathless messenger arrived, handing him a sealed letter. With a racing heart, Miguel broke the seal and began to read.

"My lord baron,
A small army, estimated between 200 and 500 men, is outside the barony’s walls. They appear to be bandits or mercenaries. We are preparing for defense, but we need reinforcements and your leadership. Please return as soon as possible.
Thomas"

Miguel was stunned. His eyes scanned the letter repeatedly, trying to absorb the gravity of the situation. Are they attacking the barony? The barony he swore to protect, where so many relied on him?

He felt a lump in his throat and the weight of responsibility fell on his shoulders. “I need to return immediately,” he thought. Every second was crucial. He needed to gather everyone and leave as soon as possible, hoping to arrive in time to help.
But how could he help if he didn’t have enough men? Even with these thoughts, he decided he would return. But first, he needed to speak with the council of beastmen...

***

Ricardo, Miguel, and the other five soldiers of his entourage were gathered in Miguel's room at the inn, desperately trying to find a solution to save the barony. The young mage Lila was present, observing everything in silence, her large eyes attentive to every word.

“If the number of enemy men in the letter is correct, we're talking about 200 to 500 men,” Ricardo said, his voice laden with concern. “Even if we arrive in time, we are only seven. This is not an army, Miguel. This is a rescue party.”

Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to find a way to convey his determination. “Ricardo, I will not abandon the barony. And that’s what my brothers want, for me to give up and die. If they succeed, all our efforts so far will have been in vain.”

Ricardo shook his head, frustrated. “I’m not proposing we abandon the barony. I’m saying we need to be cautious. We can seek reinforcements in the villages that are part of the barony’s territory. There are people willing to fight for their homes.”

Miguel sighed. “That would take time, Ricardo. And time is something we don’t have. Every minute that passes, Thomas and the others are in danger.”

One of the soldiers, a robust man with scars from past battles, suggested, “We can hire mercenaries. They might be expensive, but they would be additional force.”

Miguel and Ricardo exchanged glances and almost simultaneously dismissed the idea. “Mercenaries are too risky,” Ricardo said. “They fight for money, not loyalty. And if they are bought by the enemy?”

Miguel nodded. “We need people we can trust. Mercenaries could betray us at the most critical moment.”

The tension in the room was palpable. Everyone was aware of the gravity of the situation, but no one had a clear solution. Lila, despite her youth, felt the weight of the discussion and the seriousness of the decisions that needed to be made.

Ricardo rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If only we had more time...”

“We can’t think about time we don’t have,” Miguel retorted. “We need to act now, with what we have. Maybe we can use our knowledge of the terrain to our advantage, create traps, ambushes...”

The soldiers murmured in agreement, but uncertainty still hung over them. The ideas were good, but execution would be difficult with so few men.

As the discussion deepened, a firm knock on the door interrupted the debate. Everyone turned simultaneously, the sudden sound catching everyone’s attention.

Miguel stood up, his heart racing with the anticipation of who might be on the other side. He gestured for everyone to be silent and approached the door.

“Who’s there?” Miguel asked, his hand resting on the doorknob.

The room fell into absolute silence, everyone holding their breath. The response didn’t come immediately, increasing the tension.

Miguel looked at Ricardo, who returned the look with concern. The other soldiers were also on alert, ready for anything.

Miguel held the doorknob for a moment, exchanging cautious glances with Ricardo and the others. With a deep sigh, he finally opened the door.

To his surprise and relief, it was only the innkeeper, a beastman with a gentle demeanor. “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen,” he said with a calm smile. “Master Elnar and Ruidahr wish to see you, sir. They want to discuss the food supplies before you can leave.”

Miguel nodded, feeling a slight wave of relief. He had expected more urgent news but knew that this meeting was also crucial. “Thank you,” he replied to the innkeeper. “We will go immediately.”

The innkeeper stepped away, and Miguel turned back to his entourage. “We need to resolve this food supply issue before we leave. They can help us ensure supplies for the barony while we’re away.”

Ricardo nodded, understanding the importance of the meeting. “Let's go, then. The sooner we resolve this, the sooner we can leave.”

The young mage Lila rose silently, her eyes as attentive as ever. The soldiers quickly prepared, adjusting their gear. The tension from the previous moment still hung in the air, but now there was a clear objective.

“Let's stick together,” said Miguel, leading the group out of the room. The inn's corridor was quiet, except for the firm steps of the entourage as they headed to the meeting with the beastmen.

They descended the inn’s stairs and stepped out into the street, where the usual hustle and bustle of the city contrasted with the urgency of their mission. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, golden shadows over the buildings.

Miguel led his entourage through the narrow streets, his thoughts still focused on the critical situation at the barony. He knew every second counted and that this meeting could be a crucial step in ensuring the safety of his people.

They approached the location where Elnar and Ruidahr awaited them. Miguel took a deep breath, prepared to discuss the details that could make the difference between the success and failure of their mission. However, now he had one more problem: he knew for sure that the mercenaries at the barony’s gates were posing as bandits, and this was his brothers' doing... scoundrels, just as bad as Miguel's father, the duke. But he wouldn't be defeated so easily. He was no longer the innocent brother they knew; he was an experienced man who would do whatever it took to survive in this new world and help whoever he could.

***

“Pleasure to see you again, Lord Miguel,” said Elnar as Miguel and his entourage approached. He noticed that everyone had tense and worried faces, including the young baron.

“Pleasure to see you too, Elnar and Master Ruidahr. How is the mill operating?” asked Miguel with a smile.

“It’s working perfectly. We are grinding grains with much greater efficiency, thanks to you,” Elnar replied.

“I have to agree with Elnar. Your work is impeccable, and he showed me your drawings—they are precise. Are you sure you’ve never been involved in construction before?”

Miguel gave a slight smile. “I didn’t do it alone; if it weren’t for everyone’s collaboration, it wouldn’t have worked.” He turned his attention to Ruidahr. “I appreciate the recognition, but I’ve never participated in any construction before. All my knowledge comes from books I read throughout my life.” Miguel chose his words carefully; he couldn’t reveal that he was someone else in this noble’s body. You never know what could happen, and he didn’t want to face some kind of alien inquisition.

“Well, we’re here to talk about the food supplies, right?” Miguel said with a smile.

“Precisely. We agreed to send a shipment to your barony in exchange for some gold coins. The details can be settled today if you prefer,” said Ruidahr.

Miguel was silent for a few moments and then responded, “That would be perfect, but unfortunately, I have to leave. The messenger brought me bad news from my home; we are being attacked by a considerable army of bandits or mercenaries—I’m not sure who they are yet,” he said, his voice tense and laden with internal pressure.

“I didn’t expect such bad news,” said Elnar, sensitized by what he heard.

“That’s why I can’t discuss it now, but I ask that when we leave, you bring us the necessary supplies. If my city is destroyed, then most likely, I’ll be dead and consequently won’t need the supplies anymore.”

Ruidahr and Elnar exchanged glances, feeling the weight of the young human’s words.

“We’ll send the food. We are preparing a caravan right now, but it will take a day to be ready to leave,” said Elnar.

“I'm sorry, I don’t have a day to wait. I will leave right after our meeting. But I reiterate, if I survive, I will gladly accept the supplies. Thank you very much. But before we leave, we’ll need our weapons.”

“Certainly, we haven’t forgotten them.” Ruidahr signaled to some guards to bring the weapons of Miguel’s entourage.

A few moments later, all their weapons were returned. Miguel looked at his sword and took a deep breath before thanking them one last time. “Thank you very much, these supplies will save us.” Elnar and Ruidahr nodded in acceptance of the thanks.

They watched as Miguel and his entourage left with their horses, crossing the city gates.

“He was telling the truth,” said a voice next to Ruidahr and Elnar. They looked to the side and saw the fox Lysandra.

“Good to see you, Lysandra,” said Ruidahr. “So, they are really going through a food crisis, and now their home is about to be destroyed?” Ruidahr asked authoritatively.

“Yes. My spies observed their barony for days while they were here; we couldn’t risk it being a lie—they could be just spies.”

“You did well, Lysandra,” said Ruidahr, crossing his arms. “And what will we do? They won’t survive.”

Ruidahr took a few moments to respond.

“Keep preparing the caravan; we’ll deliver the supplies—we always keep our promises. The council will meet tonight to discuss this unforeseen issue with the 'bandits'.”

Chapter 18

Miguel was on the road, leading his convoy at full speed. Their horses galloped tirelessly, kicking up dust and echoing the sound of hooves on the hard ground. Every second counted, and they couldn't afford to stop for rest. The twelve-hour journey would be continuous, with no breaks for the night.

As he rode, Miguel's thoughts were in turmoil. Thomas's letter was still fresh in his mind, each word etched clearly. He knew the situation in the barony was critical, and the weight of responsibility on his shoulders was crushing.

Insecurity and fear permeated his thoughts, but he couldn't let that show. His men relied on him to lead, to make the tough decisions. He couldn't disappoint them, not now.

Miguel's gaze shifted momentarily to the young mage Lila, who was being carried silently on John's horse beside him. She was far too young for a battle as bloody as the one ahead, just a child... He knew he needed to find someone who could care for her, someone to keep her safe while he and his men faced the danger.

Each mile traveled seemed to take an eternity, and the pressure increased with every passing second. Miguel felt the responsibility for his people and the barony weighing heavily on his back, but there was no choice. He needed to be strong for them.

Ricardo rode right behind Miguel, watching him closely. He could see the tension in Miguel's shoulders, the worry in his eyes. Ricardo knew Miguel was doing his best, but he also knew the burden was too great for him to bear alone. Ricardo was concerned for Miguel, aware that he was trying to be strong for all of them but battling his own demons. He was impressed by how much Miguel had changed in such a short time; had being indirectly exiled and facing multiple assassination attempts changed him so much? These were questions that lingered over Ricardo. Miguel was different, but it wasn't a bad thing. It was a side of his nephew he had never seen before, a true... leader.

The journey continued, each member of the convoy lost in their own thoughts but united by a common goal. Miguel led the way, determined to reach the barony in time, even as his doubts and fears tried to overpower him.

Night began to fall, but there was no slowing down. The urgency of their mission allowed no rest. Miguel knew they couldn't stop until they reached their destination, until they were face to face with the threat looming over the barony.

The night that seemed eternal finally passed, and rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon. Miguel continued to think about his responsibility, and it all left him with a knot in his stomach. Fear was inevitable...

Their relentless horseback ride was interrupted when a caravan of people was spotted a few meters away.

The horses, now at a reduced speed, approached the people. In a few moments, a large column of people began to pass by them. Miguel observed them until a familiar face, Marta the cook, noticed the presence of her lord.

"My lord, it is a great relief to see you again." She bowed slightly in respect.

"No need to be formal now, Mrs. Marta," Miguel said directly, and asked, "How is the situation in the town?"

She thought for a few moments and replied, "I don't know the details, my lord, but it seems that Thomas organized a defense and evacuation, leaving only the soldiers. When we left, the enemy had not yet attacked. They were just waiting; we don't know why."

Miguel felt the weight of hearing Marta's words...

"He did well to order the evacuation." Miguel smiled at Marta.

"My lord," Ricardo began. "Those bastards could indeed be mercenaries; bandits wouldn't wait to attack, especially with a numerical advantage." Ricardo approached Miguel on his horse.

Before Miguel could respond, his attention turned to a young man in the crowd who approached and said, "My lord, I beg you, bring my father back safely. He is Arthur, the blacksmith, and I am his son and apprentice."

Miguel and Ricardo looked at each other, then Miguel looked back at the young man who appeared to be the same age as him, but with a tired and fearful look, full of fear. On Earth, he might be finishing high school or having fun, but here... in this cruel world, he was just another victim.

"I promise I will bring your father back alive." Miguel's words were heavy, but the young man smiled in gratitude and said, "Thank you very much, my lord. He is all I have."

The young man returned to the crowd and continued his journey.

"You shouldn't have promised that, my lord," said Ricardo.

"I will keep my promise," Miguel replied. "But tell me, Ricardo, where do you think they are going?"

Ricardo looked at the crowd. "I would say they are heading towards the dozens of villages under the barony's domain. Many have relatives there. And our town is not the only one; it is indeed the capital of the barony, according to what I've discussed with the soldiers. There is another town, the second largest in our lands, with half our population, but it is three days away by horseback."

"I haven't had time to look more closely at the map of the region. I was so focused on solving the food crisis that I may be neglecting other towns and villages..." he sighed. "I don't know if I can do this... all these people depend on me."

Ricardo placed a hand on Miguel's shoulder. "Don't think about it, you are exactly the person they need right now. Your mother would be proud, my lord."

Miguel thanked his uncle and friend. He looked at Lila and then at Marta. "Marta," he called.

"My lord, how can I help?"

"Could you take care of this young girl while I'm away?" He pointed to Lila, who was sitting timidly with John on his horse.

"Certainly, my lord."

"Lila," he looked at the young girl. "You will be safe with her; there is nothing to fear. And I promise you we will catch those responsible for killing the people of your village."

The girl dismounted and approached Marta, who took her hand.

Miguel watched them leave and join the caravan of residents.

"They will be fine, my lord," said Ricardo in a reassuring tone.

"I hope so... my friend."

***

Thomas was at the top of the wall, watching the armed men surrounding the town. The small army of bandits or mercenaries remained there, a constant and silent threat. He knew he had to do something before it was too late.

"I will try to talk to them," Thomas said, his voice firm.

One of the soldiers, a young man with wide, fearful eyes, quickly approached. "Sir, it's too risky. You should stay on the wall, where it's safe."

Thomas shook his head, determined. "I'll be fine, young man. We have no choice. If we don't try to negotiate, our situation will only get worse. We need to buy time, and maybe I can convince them to retreat or at least give them something valuable to make them leave..."

The soldier hesitated but finally nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Alright, sir. But please, be careful."

With one last look at the city defenders, Thomas descended the wall stairs and headed to the main gate. Two soldiers would accompany him on this mission. Each step seemed to echo the uncertainty of his mission, but he knew he had to try. If there was a chance to save the city without bloodshed, he had to take it.

As he reached the gate, the guards opened it slowly, revealing the vast field where the armed men waited. Thomas took a deep breath, adjusted his clothes, and, with a racing heart, took his first steps outside.

The cold morning breeze touched his face as he advanced, feeling the weight of responsibility with every move. He knew all eyes were on him, waiting for a miracle.

Thomas approached the group of armed men, his steps cautious and calculated. Beside him, two guards followed closely, their anxious eyes scanning the field for any sign of imminent danger. The air was thick with tension, and every movement seemed to echo with a sense of uncertainty.

Ahead, a man stood out from the rest, his posture and attire clearly indicating he was the leader. The reinforced leather armor and ornate sword hanging at his waist marked him as someone accustomed to command. When he noticed Thomas approaching, a fake smile formed on his face, laden with malicious confidence.

"Welcome, sir," the leader said, his voice dripping with condescension. "What brings a man like you here?"

Thomas took a deep breath, feeling the tension rise around him. He knew that his next words could determine the fate of many. With the guards by his side, he took a few more steps, feeling the weight of responsibility increase.

The leader of the mercenaries continued to approach, his fake smile remaining on his face while his eyes assessed Thomas with a calculating gleam. The stage was set for a tense and potentially dangerous negotiation.

Thomas stopped at a respectful distance, ready to begin the difficult task of negotiating with this man. The cold breeze seemed to intensify the seriousness of the moment as everyone awaited the next move.

Chapter 19

Thomas advanced with steady steps, his eyes fixed on the man who appeared to be the leader of the group. As he got closer, he introduced himself. "My name is Thomas. What's your name? You have a name, right?"

The leader maintained his fake smile, a malicious glint in his eyes. "My name is not important," he replied, his voice dripping with disdain. "What is important is what an old man like you is doing here. I assume you are someone of respect in this pathetic town."

Thomas ignored the insult, maintaining his composure. "What do you want? This town is poor and has nothing for you."

The leader let out a laugh, the sound echoing across the field and making the men around him laugh along. "Poor and with nothing, is it?" he mocked. "Let's see how much this town is worth when we start looting and burning. Maybe then you'll realize how valuable it really is."

Thomas stood firm in front of the mercenary leader, his gaze fixed and determined. The leader took a few steps forward, his men watching with cruel smiles.

"I could leave the town in peace," said the leader, his voice dripping with false generosity. "But, of course, I want something in return."

Thomas remained silent, his gaze steady. He knew he was treading dangerous ground and needed to hear what the man had to say. The mercenary leader kept his smile, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Yes, something in return," the leader repeated before slowly turning back to his group. Thomas frowned, waiting for what would come next. The leader continued, his eyes fixed on Thomas. "I want the baron of the town. A baron is extremely valuable, and I heard that a new baron recently arrived. Nothing better than a kidnapping in exchange for a good amount of gold, right?"

The leader's words hit Thomas like a punch. He was shocked by the man's allegations, his mind racing to understand the implications.

"The baron?" Thomas thought. "This doesn't make sense. If it was just that, he could have entered and kidnapped Miguel while looting the town. Does he want to make sure he gets the right baron?"

Thomas tried to hide his shock, keeping his expression neutral.

"And if I refuse? What happens to the town?"

The leader shrugged as if the answer was obvious. "Then we'll loot, burn, and destroy. But I prefer the more profitable and less laborious alternative. So, what will it be?"

Thomas took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as he responded. "The baron is on a trip. He's... not in town at the moment."

The mercenary leader let out a cold, disdainful laugh. "Do you think I'm a fool? I know very well that the cowardly bastard, the duke's son, is hiding inside that mansion. I can see it from here..."

Thomas was confused for a few moments. So this man probably knows the new baron... could it be that their purpose is specifically Baron Miguel and not any other baron? But who would want Miguel dead... this kidnapping story didn't convince Thomas; they certainly want to kill him.

Before Thomas could react, the man stepped forward and delivered a powerful punch to Thomas's stomach. Pain exploded in his body, and he fell to his knees, gasping. His guards tried to intervene but were brutally killed by the mercenaries in seconds.

Thomas writhed in pain on the ground, trying to catch his breath. The mercenary leader approached, looking at him with disdain. "Do you think this is all a joke?" he asked coldly. "Either you bring me that bastard now, or I'll get him myself."

He stood up and, with a sharp gesture, ordered his men to tie Thomas up. The mercenaries quickly obeyed, binding him tightly as he struggled futilely with the little strength he had left.

The mercenary leader looked at the soldiers on the city wall and shouted, "Hand over your baron, and I'll spare this old man's life and your town. Do it now, or make me wait and everyone will suffer the consequences. You have until noon today..."

***

Arthur watched the whole scene unfold before his eyes in anguish. These monsters can't even be called humans... he looked around and saw the scared eyes of the soldiers.

"Men," he began. "We will not listen to this piece of shit... even if the baron were here, we wouldn't hand him over... so, our only way out is to fight and protect our families who are evacuating. Under no circumstances will these monsters get past us."

The soldiers still showed insecurity but held their position.

"Sir... I knew both dead guards... they were my friends. I don't... don't want to die, not here. I have family..." said the man as he began to panic. Most of these soldiers were just young men who had been recruited a little over three years ago and had never seen combat themselves.

Arthur approached the young soldier and placed his hands on his shoulders. "Raise your head and look at me, soldier!"

The frightened soldier looked at Arthur. "What's your name, soldier?" Arthur asked.

He stuttered with fear. "Mark-"

"Do you want your family to survive, Mark?"

The soldier hesitated, paralyzed by fear.

"ANSWER, MARK!"

"YES!" Mark shouted, still stuttering and insecure.

"Well, we all want that... and do you know what that means? That we have something to fight for... see those bastards out there?" Arthur pointed to the men beyond the walls. "They have nothing to fight for... they're no longer human. They steal, kill, rape our women, and do everything a piece of trash would do." Arthur grabbed Mark's metal breastplate, pulling him closer. "We will fight so that our families can survive and have a home to return to. We want our sons and daughters to survive to live the rest of their lives... are you with me, Mark?"

With tears in his eyes, he said loudly, "YES! I'm with you, sir."

Arthur smiled and patted the soldier's shoulder.

"Good," he looked at the other soldiers and said, "Now, all of you to your battle stations!"

***

"Sir!" one of the mercenaries said determinedly to his leader. "Why don't we attack right away?"

Paterson laughed as he peeled a beautiful apple. He had been hired by the duke's own successor, the older brother of the bastard Miguel, to kill him before he reached the barony. For some reason, those two managed to escape and reach their destination. He knew he had to kill that little shit somehow, or he would never receive his reward. So he hired one of the duchy's mercenary guilds for this task. He was part of a guild himself, but convincing a rival guild was easy when he said they could loot the capital of the Barony of Drakmoor. This place is so forgotten by the kingdom that no one will care if something happens here. He could always blame the bandits or the beastmen from the south.

"Hold that excitement, my friend. One step at a time. Their wall may be simple, but it's still hard to get through. They can still hit us with their arrows and boiling oil buckets if we try to get close."

"Why don't we go around and enter through the south gates?"

"You've never been here, have you?" Peterson bit into the apple and looked at his impatient colleague.

"Look around, this place we're in is one of the few clearings here. The city is practically surrounded by a dense forest to the east and a weaving field to the west. If we go around, they'll flank us. Here is perfect, and don't worry, we won't need a siege when our church mages arrive. If Miguel doesn't show up, we'll kill this old man and try our luck by overwhelming their defenses with the help of the holy church mages."

"They agreed to work with us?" he asked.

"Yes..." Peterson smiled. "Everyone has a price. I'll give them enchanted gems from the West. They're rare here and would fetch a fortune on the conventional market, but I convinced them to do this little 'volunteer work' in exchange for the gems."

He laughed maliciously, imagining Miguel's head in his hand and the vast amount of gold coins promised as a reward.

Chapter 20

The weight of responsibility fell like a stone on Miguel's shoulders. In his previous life, he never imagined he would end up in the middle of a conflict, especially one involving swords... the probability of survival was very low. He tried not to think too much about it; he could already see the city on the horizon. In a few minutes of galloping at full speed, they would be there... he just hoped it wasn't too late.

Miguel and his entourage arrived in the city in a frenzy of dust and pounding hooves. The scene that greeted them was desolate; the city was partially empty. The streets, which once had some life and commerce, were now almost deserted, with only a few soldiers running back and forth, hurriedly and focused on preparing defenses.

Miguel quickened his pace, his heart beating faster as he approached the main wall. The signs of an imminent battle were clear. The improvised barricades, the tense faces of the soldiers, everything indicated that the situation was desperate.

Upon reaching the wall, Miguel saw a small rampart filled with soldiers, all trying to organize a defense. The confusion and urgency in the air were palpable. He quickly slid off his horse, his eyes scanning the scene for any sign of his allies or a command post.

Determining the direction from which the command might be coming, Miguel straightened up, ready to take charge of the situation and lead his men in the defense of the barony. The fate of his home depended on the actions of the next few moments.

Climbing the wall, the soldiers looked surprised to see Miguel. As usual, he was accompanied by Ricardo.

One of the soldiers approached. "My lord, it's good to have you back with us..." His voice was tired.

Miguel nodded and asked, "Where is Thomas?" The soldier hesitated, but before he could respond, Arthur appeared. "He is a prisoner of those barbarians... My lord." He bowed slightly before straightening up again.

Miguel was in shock; his steward, one of the men who had proven most useful and necessary, was now a prisoner and in danger of losing his life...

"But... how did this happen?" Miguel asked, his voice already weak from the news. His anxiety began to rise. Just when things seemed to be going well, a wave came and destroyed his little sandcastle.

Arthur measured his words before speaking. He explained the entire situation to Miguel and how Thomas, on his own, decided to try to negotiate with the bandits and ended up being captured. To free him and spare the city, the bandits wanted Miguel in exchange.

Miguel ran his hands through his hair and looked directly at Arthur. "You should have stopped him from going there..." he sighed. "And they still want to bargain with us. It's obvious that even if I surrender to them, the city will still be attacked. They will kill everyone to leave no witnesses."

Arthur was confused by the young baron's last claim.

"My lord, forgive me for asking... but do you know these bandits?"

Miguel sighed. "They are not bandits... they are mercenaries, probably hired by my brothers to kill me. They don't want a bastard son of the duke to have the slightest chance of interfering with the succession of the duchy. Even though my chance has always been zero, as I said, I am a bastard."

Arthur processed all this information he had just received. Would the duke kill his own subjects?

"But now is not the time for this conversation," Miguel said authoritatively. "How many men do we have to defend this place?"

"We managed to gather 205 soldiers, and with you here, we are 212... However, some residents who decided to join us have only basic sword training. Of these 212, 100 are soldiers..."

Miguel thought about how precarious his situation was. He looked over the wall and saw that small sea of tents and soldiers. Surely there were no less than 500 men there.

Miguel looked around and saw some archers from the barony. He looked back at Arthur.

"How many archers do we have?" he asked.

"Only 32, my lord."

32... Miguel thought. He looked at Ricardo. "Do you have any plan to improve our efficiency in defense?" Miguel knew that in his past life he was just an engineer; he didn't understand much about military strategies. He occasionally played some battle simulators, but that hardly applied in real life. These were real lives, and any decision could kill people.

Ricardo thought for a few moments before responding.

"We can use the archers. They can shoot from atop the wall. The problem is that this wall is fragile, and we have few archers... When they get closer, they will break through the wall in no time, and it will be urban combat, a true massacre for us. There are still people evacuating; if some of them pass by us in the heat of the battle, they can reach the people..."

Just thinking about hundreds of civilians being massacred turned Miguel's stomach... He didn't want to see the same scene that happened in that village again.

"What do you suggest?" Miguel asked.

"We'll have to take the fight to them and hold them off as quickly as possible. As soon as the refugees start reaching the barony's villages, the garrisons will know what happened... Thus, in a few days, up to 1000 soldiers will be gathered. It's not enough, but it's necessary to expel these barbarians from these lands..."

"Then until then, we'll just have to hold off these mercenaries even if it means giving our lives..." These words that Miguel said did not want to leave his mouth. But he knew that now, he was the only hope for these people; he and these few soldiers would fight to the last man. He didn't want to die, not again... but if necessary, then he would have no choice.

"My lord!" Ricardo began. "You must go with the residents; your life is very important. If you die, this barony will no longer exist... They will not send a new baron, and besides, I promised your mother that I would keep you safe at all costs."

"I will stay and fight," Miguel said firmly. "I will not abandon these soldiers. And you, I know how much you strive for me, and I thank you for that, and believe me. We will fight and survive. All of us, together." Miguel looked at the men who were watching the conversation as he said these last words and repeated, "Together." He began. "Today, you do not serve me. Nor even the duchy. You serve your families, fight for them. For their lives. They depend on you, want to survive? Want to live another day so you can see them again?"

Everyone looked at Miguel with confidence as they nodded in confirmation.

"Then today we will fight! And I will not lie to you... The chance of all of us falling in battle is high, but we will not fall so easily. Today these monsters who fight only for their own ego will know what a true warrior is." He drew his sword from its sheath and raised it high. "YOU, MEN AND DEFENDERS OF DRAKMOOR. ARE YOU WITH ME?!"

Everyone did the same and raised their swords and bows. Shouting loudly in agreement, “YES!” Arthur raised his own sword, looked at the men, and shouted, “LONG LIVE THE BARON!” All the men inside the city walls began to shout and bang their shields in euphoria, and a slight spark of hope formed among the soldiers.

***

“What are those lunatics doing?” said one of the mercenaries as they all heard the war cries of the city's defenders.

Peterson, who was next to Arthur, who was tied and gagged to a tree, said, “Looks like your master has arrived... Butler.” He said while looking at Thomas with a malicious and bloodthirsty smile. “Untie him from the tree, and let's take him with us.” He then shouted to the rest of his men, “Form up for battle. WE HAVE A CITY TO SACK, LET'S SHOW THESE BASTARDS WHO WE ARE!”

A mercenary appeared, panting after running to his leader.

“The mages, they've arrived!” said the mercenary.

Peterson's smile became even more evident.

“Perfect...”

Everyone began to form up for battle, preparing to advance against the wall.

***

Miguel and Ricardo knew they were outnumbered and that the situation required a clever and well-organized strategy. Gathered at a strategic point on the wall, they quickly and precisely outlined their plan.

“We need to keep the enemies away from the walls and the city,” said Ricardo, looking at the rudimentary map of the terrain around the city. “If we allow them to get too close, we’re lost.”

Miguel nodded, focused. “We’ll use the archers to provide support while we form a line of defense outside the gates. The archers will stay on the walls... We need precision and speed to take down as many enemies as possible before they reach us. Protecting the wall and the archers is essential; if we lose them, we won’t have any means of long-range attack.”

Ricardo agreed. “Exactly. We’ll position 32 archers on the walls. The remaining 180 soldiers will go out through the gates and form up. We need to maintain a solid line and prevent the enemies from flanking us.”

They discussed the formation in detail. “The soldiers will go out in two lines,” explained Ricardo. “The front line will be curved to protect the flanks. Only the soldiers in the front will use bronze-coated shields and spears, creating an impenetrable barrier. The center and the flanks must be protected at all costs.”

Arthur and other high-ranking soldiers listened attentively.

Ricardo continued, pointing to the center of the formation on the map. “In the center, we’ll place the less prepared troops without heavy armor. They will be protected by the front line and serve as support.”

After the meeting, the soldiers were quickly organized into three rows to exit the gates in an orderly and swift manner. The tension was palpable as they prepared to exit the gates. Miguel and Ricardo checked every detail, ensuring that everyone understood their positions and roles. The archers climbed to the walls, their arrows ready, while the soldiers positioned themselves to exit.

With everything ready, Miguel approached the gate, feeling the weight of responsibility and hope on his shoulders. He turned to face the soldiers, whose faces reflected determination and a mix of fear and courage.

“Men, today we fight not just for our lives, but for our home, our families, our future,” said Miguel, his voice firm. “Maintain the formation, protect each other, and remember: our strength lies in our unity.”

He raised his sword, signaling that he was ready. The soldiers, lined up behind him, were prepared to face the impending battle. The confidence in Miguel's eyes was a beacon of hope amidst the approaching darkness.

Miguel gave one last look to Ricardo, who returned an encouraging nod. With a deep breath, Miguel turned his attention to the gates in front of him. The battle was about to begin.

Chapter 21

Miguel was breathing heavily, his only protection a leather chestplate, chainmail, and a helmet that had been given to him. The sword was heavy, his memories of fencing still hard to grasp. But he decided to keep his dagger ready in case he needed it.

As soon as they stepped outside, Ricardo and some officers shouted orders, and in moments, all the soldiers were already in the battle formation planned by Ricardo. Miguel looked through the formation and saw all those mercenaries piling up into their own battle formation, almost like a real organized army. He could hear the mercenaries' officers grunting orders while dozens of them were already preparing for combat.

In a few moments, both armies were organized and just waiting for the orders to attack.

Suddenly, a loud shout echoed from the other side of the battlefield. "Miguel!" The voice cut through the air, laden with challenge. All of Miguel's soldiers turned anxiously, their eyes seeking the figure who dared to call him by name.

Miguel walked to the front of his army, his steps firm despite the anxiety he felt. He stared at the man who had shouted, recognizing him immediately as the leader of the mercenaries. The man, with a malicious smile on his face, began to speak.

"So you really came? In the end, you're not as cowardly as I thought..." said the leader, his words dripping with sarcasm. Miguel tried to stay calm, taking a deep breath to prevent the provocations from affecting him.

As he focused, Ricardo appeared by his side, as always, a strong and reliable presence. The enemy leader turned his attention to Ricardo, a glint of recognition in his eyes.

"I see you're really a babysitter for this noble bastard," continued the leader, his tone full of disdain. "A sad end for such a renowned warrior. We could have served side by side in the guild, but you disappeared... And when I finally hear from you, look where you ended up."

The mercenary leader let out a cold laugh, clearly enjoying the situation. Ricardo remained silent beside Miguel, his jaw tense, but his gaze unwavering. The enemy's provocation, though intense, failed to shake the determination that shone in their eyes.

Miguel felt the tension rising among his men, all waiting for the next move. He knew he needed to remain calm and lead, not just for himself but for everyone who counted on him at that critical moment.

The mercenary leader observed Miguel and Ricardo's reaction before speaking again, his voice laden with false generosity. "I have a proposal for you, 'Baron' Miguel. If you're really not a coward, you'll surrender, and everyone will be spared."

As he spoke, some mercenaries dragged Thomas to the front. The butler was visibly hurt, his body marked by bruises and cuts. They threw him to his knees on the ground, in full view of everyone. Thomas tried to stay upright, but the pain was evident on his face.

"If you surrender, I'll spare this old man's life," continued the leader, a cruel smile playing on his lips. Miguel felt a wave of anxiety sweep through his body, the tension growing by the second.

The mercenary leader took a step forward. "But first, I should introduce myself. I'm Peterson." He laughed, a cold, humorless laugh. "If you refuse, I'll personally execute you last, so you can watch all this resistance of yours be exterminated."

The threat hung in the air, heavy and ominous. Miguel looked at Thomas, who, despite being injured, tried to convey a silent message of strength and courage. Miguel knew that the decision he made now could seal the fate of everyone around him.

He took a deep breath, trying to control his anxiety and find a response that could save the city and its inhabitants. Beside him, Ricardo stood firm, ready to support any decision Miguel made.

The battlefield was silent, everyone waiting for Miguel's next move. Peterson's words echoed in Miguel's mind as he prepared to face the challenge ahead, knowing that the fate of many depended on his courage and leadership.

***

Peterson watched the growing tension on the battlefield with a cold smile on his lips. He enjoyed seeing the fear and uncertainty in his opponents' eyes. One of his men approached, looking apprehensive.

"Boss, do you think that coward will really surrender?"

Peterson let out a brief, disdainful laugh. "No, he won't. We'll have to do this the old-fashioned way, killing each one of them." He laughed again, the sound echoing sinisterly in the cold morning air.

Turning his attention to Ricardo, Peterson got lost in memories for a moment. Ricardo had always been an experienced and extremely intelligent knight. His skill in military strategies was impeccable, earning the respect of many of his adversaries, albeit reluctantly. Even now, Peterson could see the mark of the old strategist in the formation before him.

With just a few soldiers, Ricardo had set up an impressive line of defense. Peterson couldn't help but admire his adversary's skill. The formation was solid, with bronze-plated shields at the front and spears ready to protect the flanks and center. In the middle, the less experienced soldiers were well positioned, protected by the veterans around them. It was a formation designed to maximize efficiency with the limited resources they had at their disposal.

"Impressive," Peterson thought, "He's still a true adversary."

But Peterson knew the bitter truth of war: even the most experienced and capable soldier could not win a battle without enough men. The numbers were in his favor, and that was an advantage Ricardo couldn't overcome with strategy alone.

Shifting his gaze from Ricardo, Peterson turned his attention to Miguel. The young baron was tense, clearly torn between the decision to surrender to save his men or fight to protect his honor and his home. Peterson could see the internal struggle on Miguel's face, and it gave him perverse pleasure.

Peterson took a step forward, his voice laden with malice. "So, Miguel, what is your decision?" The question hung in the air, a clear and relentless challenge.

Miguel remained silent for a moment, breathing deeply as his eyes scanned the battlefield. He knew that whatever answer he gave would shape the fate of many. Beside him, Ricardo stood firm, a pillar of silent strength.

Peterson seized Miguel's hesitation to continue, his voice now dripping with sarcasm. "Will you surrender like a coward and spare the life of this old man and your soldiers, or would you prefer to watch each of them be cut down before your eyes?"

Peterson's soldiers began to move slightly, preparing for the battle they knew was coming. The tension was almost palpable, the silence broken only by the sound of heavy breathing and the rustling of armor.

Ricardo, keeping his eyes fixed on Peterson, knew the battle would be difficult, but he was prepared to fight to the end. He understood that willpower and determination could sometimes turn the tide, even against overwhelming odds.

Peterson watched every reaction from Miguel, waiting to see a sign of weakness, an indication that the young baron would buckle under the pressure. However, he also mentally prepared for the inevitable battle. He enjoyed a good challenge, and Ricardo had always been a worthy opponent.

The air seemed to vibrate with accumulated tension, and everyone awaited Miguel's response. Peterson knew that regardless of the baron's decision, the fight ahead would be brutal and decisive. He was ready to lead his men and crush the resistance, no matter the cost.

Peterson's last words echoed across the field, mingling with the cold wind that blew. "Choose, Miguel. Your time is running out."

The tension on the battlefield was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Everyone awaited Miguel's response, knowing it would determine the course of events about to unfold.

The brief silence was broken by Thomas's shout. "Don't do it, my lord. You are the baron of these lands and under no circumstances should you submit to barbarians like these men. I know we’ve known each other for less than a month. But I have seen in you what I have never seen in any noble... originality, kindness, and the courage to help the needy. So please, my lord. Listen to this old man speaking to you, don't surrender to them..."

Before Thomas could finish speaking, a spear pierced his chest, making him vomit blood and fall to the ground.

"For an old man, he talked too much, don't you think?" said Peterson disdainfully as he returned the spear to the mercenary beside him. He turned his attention back to Miguel. "Your time is up... young baron." He laughed while bowing in provocation. Peterson looked at his men and said, "Start, but bring me that bastard alive, I want to kill him myself."

"But what about Ricardo, boss?" asked the mercenary.

"I'll handle him myself," Peterson replied as he drew his longsword.

"Attack, let's finish these bastards!" shouted a mercenary.

All shouted war cries and provocations as they charged towards the shield wall set up by Ricardo. A rain of arrows flew over them as the archers on the walls began to fire. But with shields raised, they didn't care about that. Even with some of their own fallen, they kept running. In moments, they clashed against the shield wall.

Chapter 22

Miguel and Ricardo, before the horde of mercenaries reached the shield wall, retreated back into the formation. The scene unfolding before Miguel's eyes was pure carnage.

The shield wall was holding well, with the barony's soldiers firm in their positions. Each shield, forged and reinforced with bronze, served as a barrier against the mercenaries' relentless attacks. The curved formation protected the flanks, creating a semicircle that enveloped Miguel's forces. Every soldier knew their role, and their discipline kept the line strong and resilient.

The mercenaries charged with fury, but were met with cold steel. Ricardo's plan included a crucial addition: spears. As soon as the enemy infantry approached, soldiers within the formation advanced their spears, stabbing at the adversaries while being protected by the soldiers maintaining the shield wall. The sound of spears piercing flesh and the cries of the wounded filled the air, a sinister chorus of war. The mercenaries were forced to retreat, only to regroup and attack again with renewed ferocity.

The carnage was immense. The bodies of the dead and wounded piled up, the ground turned into a blood-soaked field. The sacrifice was visible in every inch of ground won and lost. The barony's soldiers fell, their lives taken by the brutality of the combat. However, the enemy's losses were significantly greater. Ricardo's plan was working, even at a terrible cost.

Miguel was at the center of the formation, protecting the less experienced soldiers. His presence was a symbol of hope and leadership. He watched the battle with a keen eye, trying to remain calm amidst the chaos. Each mercenary charge was met with a coordinated response. The shields rose, the spears thrust, and the line held firm.

Ricardo, beside Miguel, commanded the soldiers with a strong, clear voice. "Hold the formation! Protect the flanks! Do not retreat!" His orders were followed to the letter, and the soldiers' discipline was as powerful a weapon as their spears. He watched every enemy movement, anticipating their strategies and adjusting the defense as needed.

The constant impact of swords against shields and the clang of metal echoed across the battlefield. The mercenaries attacked in waves, trying to break the defensive line, but were continuously repelled. The barony's soldiers' spears moved with deadly precision, piercing armor and felling adversaries.

The barony's resistance was working, but Miguel knew they couldn't sustain this defense indefinitely. Every passing minute was a victory, but also a countdown to total exhaustion. The soldiers were tired, their movements slowing. The tension in the air was palpable, each breath heavy with effort and pain.

Among the soldiers, there was a mix of fear and determination. They fought not just for survival, but for the future of the barony, their families, and their homes. Each blow struck was a reminder of what was at stake. They knew they couldn't retreat, that the only option was to fight to the end.

The flanks, protected by the curved formation, bore the brunt of the lateral attacks. Strategically positioned soldiers at the ends used their spears to repel any flanking attempts, while archers fired to prevent the enemy from attacking in large formations. Coordination between different segments of the formation was crucial, and any failure could be disastrous.

Miguel looked around, watching his men fight with everything they had. He felt a deep respect for each of them, for the courage and determination they showed. He knew his role was crucial, not just as a leader, but as a symbol of hope. His presence gave the soldiers strength, and he couldn't let that hope fade.

The sound of battle was deafening, but amidst the screams and clangs, Miguel could feel the rhythm of the fight. Every movement counted, and he knew that every second gained was a small victory. The shield wall held firm, but the battle was far from over.

As the fight continued, Miguel felt a surge of adrenaline. He knew the defense was working, but they needed something more to turn the tide. The battle was intense and brutal, and the determination of his soldiers would be the key to resisting the mercenaries' relentless assault.

Ricardo stood next to Miguel, watching the battle with sharp, calculating eyes as he shouted orders. He realized that while they were holding the line, their numbers were dwindling quickly. "My lord, this spear strategy won't hold for much longer," Ricardo said urgently. "We're losing men, even if it's few, we're already few, at this rate they'll break us."

Miguel nodded, feeling the weight of the situation. He knew Ricardo was right, but there was no time to think of a new strategy. "We need to hold out a bit longer," Miguel replied, trying to stay calm.

Suddenly, a burst of fire hit the eastern flank of the formation. Flames engulfed the soldiers, burning flesh and metal. Cries of pain and despair echoed across the battlefield, as the mercenaries cheered, exploiting the breach created by the attack.

Miguel and Ricardo exchanged horrified looks. Ricardo, with a desperate shout, announced what they both feared. "The enemy has mages!"

The tension rose immediately. The soldiers around them grew even more uneasy, their faces reflecting fear and uncertainty. Miguel knew the situation was becoming increasingly desperate. The presence of mages on the battlefield changed everything. He needed to think quickly to find a way to counter this new threat before it was too late.

Arthur slowly regained consciousness, his head throbbing with pain. An explosion had hit the formation, and he found himself lying on the ground, his ears ringing. Beside him, fallen comrades who hadn't been as lucky lay motionless. He felt a pang of sadness and anger, but there was no time to mourn. With tremendous effort, he gathered the strength to stand, his body protesting with every movement.

As he rose, a mercenary noticed his movement and charged at him with an axe. Arthur barely had time to react, raising his sword to defend against the blow. The clash of blades echoed across the battlefield, and Arthur felt the impact vibrate through his arm.

The fight began with a series of quick and fierce blows. The mercenary attacked with brutality, delivering heavy and powerful strikes. Arthur struggled to block and dodge, fatigue already weighing on his muscles. Every move was a battle against exhaustion, his reflexes growing slower.

The mercenary roared, bringing his axe in a deadly arc. Arthur barely managed to dodge, feeling the wind of the blade pass too close. He countered with a lateral strike, but the mercenary easily blocked it and pressed on with more force.

Arthur knew he couldn't keep this up for long. His arms were heavy, and each breath was a struggle. The mercenary, sensing Arthur's weakness, intensified his attacks, trying to break his defense.

With a final effort, Arthur decided to change tactics. He waited until the mercenary delivered another heavy blow and, at the last second, dodged to the side, making the axe swing harmlessly. Seizing the opening, he attacked with all his strength, his sword finding flesh.

The mercenary screamed in pain, stepping back a few paces. Arthur knew this was his chance. He advanced, ignoring the pain and exhaustion, and delivered a decisive blow. The blade sank deep into the mercenary's side, who fell to his knees, the axe slipping from his hands.

Arthur, exhausted, fell to his knees as well, his whole body trembling. He had won, but the victory came at a high cost. Breathing heavily and irregularly, he looked around, seeing the confusion and chaos dominating the battlefield.

He noticed another mercenary running towards him, his sword dripping with the blood of fallen comrades. Arthur braced himself for his fate, but at the last moment, an arrow struck the enemy's thigh, bringing him to his knees. Arthur looked back and saw one of the archers saluting him from atop the wooden wall before turning to fire at other enemies.

Before he could fully catch his breath, some of the barony's soldiers appeared, their expressions determined. “Let's go, Arthur,” one of them shouted, extending a hand. “We need to get back to the formation!”

They helped him to his feet, dragging him back to the defensive line that was desperately trying to reorganize. Arthur felt a sense of relief knowing there was still a chance to resist, even if the situation was dire. He knew every moment was crucial, and he needed to keep fighting alongside his comrades, no matter how tired he was.

Chapter 23

Peterson observed the battlefield with a mix of fascination and frustration. The formation Ricardo had organized was impressive, and he had to admit that the old warrior still had a talent for strategy. The shield line was holding firm, repeatedly repelling the infantry's attacks. The barony's archers, though few, were providing constant support from the wooden wall, their arrows flying in precise arcs to strike the approaching mercenaries.

"I have to give him credit," Peterson thought, admiring the defenders' resilience. But he knew he couldn't let this continue. He needed to find a way to break this defense and end the resistance once and for all.

He turned to one of his trusted mercenaries, a burly man with scars from past battles. "Are the mages ready?"

The mercenary nodded. "Yes, sir. There are seven mages in total. Three fire, two healing, and two water mages. They are just waiting for your orders."

Peterson flashed a cold smile. "Excellent. Order the fire mages to target the formation protecting the flanks. The healers will stay in the rear, ready to assist our wounded men. The water mages will support the fire mages, ensuring they can keep attacking."

The mercenary nodded and ran to relay the orders. Peterson continued to watch the battlefield, seeing how his men maintained pressure on Ricardo's defensive line. He knew that if the flanks gave way, the entire formation would crumble, and victory would be his.

After a few moments, he saw the fire mages positioning themselves, their eyes glowing with arcane energy. The water mages stood nearby, ready to provide support. Peterson could feel the tension in the air as he awaited the start of the attack.

Suddenly, a powerful burst of fire was launched towards the eastern flank of the enemy formation. The flames engulfed the soldiers, burning shields and flesh. Cries of pain and despair echoed across the battlefield, while the mercenaries shouted in euphoria, exploiting the breach created by the attack.

Peterson watched with satisfaction. The fire mage, after launching the burst, quickly retreated to the protection of the water mages, who were ready to replenish his magical energy. Peterson's troops began to advance in that area, taking advantage of the disorder and the break in the formation.

The defenders desperately tried to reorganize, but the impact of the fire attack was devastating. The soldiers were disoriented, and the mercenaries seized the opportunity to press harder. Arrows and spears flew, and the sound of metal clashing echoed across the field.

Peterson continued to observe, his eyes shining with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. He knew there was still much to be done, but the first step to breaking the defense had been taken. He didn't underestimate Ricardo but felt the tide of the battle was beginning to turn in his favor.

As the mercenaries advanced, Peterson kept his gaze fixed on the field, looking for any signs of a counterattack. He was prepared to adjust his strategies as necessary, determined to ensure that victory would be his.

The burst of fire had been the beginning, and now he needed to keep the pressure on, using all his forces to crush the resistance and ensure that Miguel and his army were finally defeated. The battle was far from over, but Peterson was confident that the end was near.

---

Miguel was in the center of the battlefield, watching the chaos unfolding around him. Anxiety and tension began to take hold of him, his hands sweating as he gripped his sword. He had never imagined being in the middle of a war. In his former world, he was a simple engineer, living in a relatively peaceful country. Designing structures and solving technical problems were his daily concerns, not surviving on a battlefield.

As he looked around, he saw his soldiers fighting with all their might, the sound of metal clashing and cries of pain filling the air. Blood and bodies were scattered everywhere, the scene of destruction almost unreal to him. The violence and horror of the battle starkly contrasted with the tranquil life he had known. He felt lost in his thoughts, part of his mind trying to find logic and order in the midst of chaos.

Miguel was immersed in his own confusion, trying to process everything that was happening. How had he ended up here? How could he, an engineer, be responsible for leading an army in such a brutal battle? He felt powerless, as if he were sinking into a sea of despair.

While he was lost in these thoughts, a distant voice began calling to him. At first, he could barely hear it, but gradually, the voice became clearer. "My lord!" The insistent voice pulled him back to reality.

He blinked, focusing his eyes and realizing that Ricardo was right in front of him, calling desperately. "My lord, we need to retreat! The enemy has broken the formation!"

Miguel looked around, seeing the battle dangerously close. Mercenaries were advancing, taking advantage of the breach opened by the fire mages. The horror of the situation was evident, and he realized that Ricardo was trying to protect him along with some guards. They were surrounded, and the only option was to retreat into the village.

Panic began to take hold of Miguel, but he knew he couldn't allow himself to fall apart. He needed to lead his men, even though he was terrified. "Let's go, retreat to the village!" he shouted, his voice trembling but determined.

Just as they started to retreat, a burst of fire hit the ground nearby, exploding into flames and shrapnel. The impact threw everyone to the ground, the force of the explosion stunning Miguel. He felt the heat of the flames, the smell of burning filling the air.

Miguel tried to get up, but his body was heavy, his ears ringing and his vision blurry. He looked around and saw his guards and Ricardo also on the ground, some moaning in pain. Fear turned to despair as he tried to understand what was happening.

The battlefield was ablaze, the sound of fighting mixed with the roar of the flames. Miguel knew they needed to get up and keep fighting, but for a moment, he felt completely powerless. Everything seemed to be falling apart around him, and he struggled to maintain his sanity amid the chaos.

The cries of the approaching mercenaries cut through the air, and Miguel knew they didn't have much time. With tremendous effort, he began to get up, trying to gather all his strength to continue the fight and protect those who depended on him.

---

Miguel slowly began to regain consciousness, his vision blurry and his body aching. He blinked several times, trying to focus on what was happening around him. The sound of the battle was deafening, but what caught his attention was the figure of Peterson approaching, a macabre smile on his face. Peterson's words were indistinct, a murmur that Miguel couldn't understand, but the meaning of the smile was clear.

Before Peterson could get too close, Miguel saw Ricardo running towards him, a determined expression on his face. Ricardo attacked Peterson with a ferocity that made Miguel feel a bit more hopeful. He felt strong hands lifting him, and for a moment, fear took hold of him, but then he recognized Arthur and John, one of the soldiers who had accompanied him on the journey to the beast men's city.

Arthur, urgency in his voice, said, "We need to retreat, my lord. We don't have much time."

Miguel tried to shake his head to clear his thoughts, but the pain was intense. He looked around, seeing the devastation and scattered bodies. Before they could move, a horde of mercenaries was approaching, ready to attack. John looked at Miguel with serious eyes and said, "Go, my lord! Run inside the walls!"

For a moment, Miguel felt the urge to obey, to save himself and return to the relative safety of the village. But then he looked at Arthur and John, who were there, willing to fight and die by his side. Something inside him strengthened. With a determined gesture, he crouched and picked up his sword from the ground.

"If we are to die today," Miguel said, his voice firm despite the fear he still felt, "we die together."

Arthur and John exchanged a brief look full of understanding and respect. They knew that Miguel's decision was not just about courage, but about loyalty and honor. Ricardo, still facing Peterson, gave Miguel a look of approval, noticing the determination on his face.

The mercenaries advanced, their weapons gleaming in the light of the fire consuming parts of the battlefield. Miguel, Arthur, and John positioned themselves, ready to face the enemy. The sound of swords clashing was deafening, and each blow felt like a fight for survival.

Miguel found himself in the middle of the battle, fighting with all his might. He was not a trained warrior, but the adrenaline and the need to protect his friends drove him. Each move was a battle against fear and fatigue. He blocked blows, dodged blades, and counterattacked with a ferocity that surprised even himself.

Arthur, at his side, fought with the experience of a trained blacksmith. His strikes were precise and powerful, and he used every ounce of his strength to keep the mercenaries at bay. John, though younger and less experienced, showed a bravery that inspired everyone around him.

The mercenaries were many, and the fight seemed endless. But Ricardo's presence, facing Peterson with incredible skill, gave everyone a spark of hope. Miguel knew they couldn't win by brute force, but maybe they could resist long enough to turn the tide of the battle.

Miguel's determination grew with each strike. He knew the situation was desperate, but the will to protect his barony and his friends kept him standing. Every move, every breath, was an act of resistance against the forces trying to crush them.

As they fought, Miguel realized they were not alone. More soldiers from the barony were joining the battle, forming an improvised defensive line. The sight of these men willing to fight to the end filled Miguel with a renewed sense of purpose.

The battle continued, and Miguel increasingly felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. But he also felt the strength of unity and the courage of his allies. If they were to die today, they would do so together, fighting to their last breath for what they believed in.

Every move seemed instinctive, as if he knew exactly what to do in each situation. Between blows, his mind wandered, questioning how he was managing to hold firm amidst the chaos.

He only knew jiu-jitsu, an unarmed martial art focused on leverage and immobilization techniques. Yet there he was, wielding a sword with a skill he didn't recognize in himself. Could these be remnants of the memory of the real Miguel, the young baron of this strange world?

Miguel wondered if, somehow, he was accessing the original Miguel's abilities and knowledge, the one who should be in command. Each successful strike and effective defense made him reflect on the possibility that he was not alone in this fight.

Chapter 24

Ricardo and Peterson were in the center of the battlefield, surrounded by chaos and violence. The sound of clashing swords echoed through the air, accompanied by cries of pain and roars of battle. The atmosphere was grim, the sky covered with heavy clouds that seemed to reflect the gravity of the moment.

Peterson attacked first, his sword cutting through the air in a deadly arc. Ricardo dodged with agility, his own blade ready to counterattack. The fight between the two was fierce, a duel of strength and skill.

“Why do you protect this boy?” Peterson growled between blows. “You could make much more money working for me!”

Ricardo blocked a fierce attack, his hands steady on the hilt of his sword. “I’m not doing this for money, Peterson,” he replied, his voice firm and determined.

Peterson let out a cold laugh, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Then why, Ricardo? What’s your motivation? Honor? Duty? Or is it just foolish loyalty to an insignificant baron?”

Ricardo struck with a series of quick blows, forcing Peterson to retreat. “I’m doing this because I believe in something bigger than money,” he said, each word laden with conviction. “I believe in protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”

Peterson narrowed his eyes, his expression darkening. He advanced with a powerful strike, but Ricardo blocked, spinning to avoid the impact's force. The battle between the two continued, each trying to outdo the other.

From Peterson's point of view, Ricardo was an obstacle. He saw him as a formidable opponent but also as someone wasting his talent on a lost cause. Each blow Peterson delivered was an attempt not just to break Ricardo’s defense but also his will.

“You’re fighting for an ideal that means nothing,” Peterson insisted, his words dripping with disdain. “That boy won’t get you anywhere.”

Ricardo responded with a powerful strike, forcing Peterson to defend. “You’ll never understand, Peterson. To you, everything boils down to money and power. But to me, it’s about honor and loyalty.”

Peterson felt anger rising within him. He couldn’t understand Ricardo’s logic, couldn’t accept that someone might fight for something beyond personal gain. His sword cut through the air again, but Ricardo was ready, dodging deftly.

From Ricardo's point of view, Peterson was the embodiment of everything he despised. A man without principles, without honor, willing to do anything for money. Every blow Ricardo struck was a reaffirmation of his own values, proof that he was on the right side of the battle.

The fight continued, the two warriors moving in a deadly ballet of steel and sweat. Every breath was an effort, every movement a battle in itself. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with the threat of imminent death.

“You’re wasting your talent,” Peterson shouted, trying to destabilize Ricardo. “We could achieve so much together!”

Ricardo responded with a precise blow, forcing Peterson to retreat once more. “I’d rather die fighting for something I believe in than live alongside a scoundrel like you.”

The grim atmosphere of the battle seemed to intensify with every exchange of blows. The darkened sky reflected the seriousness of the combat, as if the world itself were aware of the importance of this duel.

Frustrated with Ricardo’s resistance, Peterson attacked with renewed ferocity, their blades meeting in a deafening clash. But Ricardo, with resolute calm, held his ground, defending and counterattacking with precision.

The two warriors continued to fight, their bodies tired but their wills unbreakable. The battlefield around them was a scene of destruction and despair, but the fight between Peterson and Ricardo stood out as a confrontation of principles and values, each trying to prove the superiority of their worldview.

The battle was far from over, and both Peterson and Ricardo knew that only one would emerge victorious. With each blow struck and each word exchanged, the tension mounted, making it clear that the outcome of this duel would be decisive for the fate of all around.

---

Miguel was fighting a mercenary who was clearly stronger and more experienced. The sword in his hands felt heavy, each blow he struck was a tremendous effort. Even with the memories of the training he had received from Ricardo over the years, Miguel was struggling to hold his ground. The mercenary attacked with precision and strength, forcing Miguel to retreat with each advance.

The sound of clashing metal echoed around, mingled with cries of pain and the roars of battle. Miguel felt the fatigue accumulating in his muscles, the exhaustion slowing his movements. He blocked a heavy blow, but the impact made his arms tremble. Breathing heavily, he tried to counterattack, but the mercenary dodged easily, pressing him again with a series of rapid strikes.

Miguel was holding firm, but with each passing moment, he felt more exhausted. He knew he couldn’t give up, couldn’t let the enemy defeat him. He blocked another blow, feeling the weight of the sword pushing him back. He tried to regain his balance, but the mercenary was relentless, seizing any opening to attack.

A particularly strong strike hit his sword from the side, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground. Miguel felt the impact on his back, the air forced from his lungs. He looked up and saw the mercenary approaching, sword raised to deliver the final blow. Fear gripped Miguel, but before the mercenary could strike, a spear pierced his body, impaling him side to side.

Miguel looked in shock at the fallen mercenary, then raised his eyes and saw Arthur standing there, his expression determined. “Are you alright, my lord?” Arthur asked, his voice firm despite the chaos around them.

Miguel felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was exhausted, every muscle aching and his body nearly at its limit. The battle had been raging for hours, and he knew they couldn’t last another day at this pace. The plan had been working well until the mages appeared. If it weren’t for them, they would have inflicted enough casualties on the enemy to even the odds.

Arthur extended his hand to Miguel, who accepted it gratefully. With tremendous effort, he got up, feeling every pain in his body. He picked up his sword again, determined to keep fighting, even knowing the odds were slim.

Miguel was preparing to return to the fight, trying to gather his exhausted strength, when he suddenly saw two large fire blasts flying towards the wooden wall where the archers were positioned. The intense brightness of the flames illuminated the battlefield, creating a sinister contrast with the approaching end of the day.

The archers, realizing the imminent danger, desperately tried to get out of the wall. Some managed to throw themselves out in time, but for most, it was already too late. The fire blasts hit the wall with devastating impact, and the wooden structure couldn’t withstand the force of the attack. The shock wave caused the wall to explode, sending splinters of wood everywhere.

Miguel watched in horror, unable to do anything to help. The screams of the wounded archers mixed with the blast's roar, creating an anguishing cacophony. The sight of mutilated bodies and the flames consuming what was left of the wall was almost unbearable.

He heard a victory cry from the mercenaries, who were celebrating the wall’s destruction. The sound was a cruel reminder of the gravity of the situation. Miguel looked around, horrified to realize that, after hours of battle, their numbers were reduced to only a few dozen soldiers still fighting. Most of his men had fallen, and those who remained were exhausted and wounded.

Miguel's gaze turned to Ricardo, who was visibly tired and injured. Ricardo’s previous shoulder injury was clearly hindering him from fighting freely. He moved with difficulty, each movement an enormous effort.

Despair overtook Miguel. The battle, which seemed endless, was approaching a tragic end. He felt a mix of anger and helplessness, watching his friends and allies fall one by one. The sound of the mercenaries advancing and the sight of his soldiers fighting to their last breath left him with a lump in his throat.

Miguel knew he needed to make a quick decision. The strategy they had devised was falling apart in the face of the enemy mages’ relentless attacks. Without the wooden wall and with their archers out of combat, their defense was practically destroyed. The mercenaries’ victory seemed inevitable.

He looked at Arthur and John, who were still by his side, fighting bravely. He felt an overwhelming responsibility to protect them and to find a way to turn the tide of the battle. But with each passing moment, his options dwindled.

Miguel wanted to scream, wanted to cry out of frustration and sadness, but he knew he couldn’t show weakness. His men needed hope, needed a leader to guide them, even in the worst circumstances. He took a deep breath, trying to muster the courage necessary to go on.

With a final glance at Ricardo, Miguel knew that time was running out. They needed a miracle, something that could turn the game in their favor. But for now, all he could do was fight, keep resisting, and keep hope alive, no matter how small it was.

Chapter 25

Ricardo was engaged in a fierce battle against Peterson. Despite being tired and injured, he didn't want to give up. He fought bravely with all the strength he had left. Each strike he delivered was an enormous effort, and the weight of fatigue bore heavily on his shoulders, but he remained steadfast.

Peterson was also tired, his breathing heavy, and his movements less precise than at the beginning. However, he still resisted, keeping his guard up and counterattacking with determination. The confrontation between the two was intense, a fight of pure willpower and endurance.

Ricardo watched Peterson's every move, looking for any sign of weakness. Then, he noticed an opening. It was an opportunity he couldn't pass up. With a final effort, he advanced and delivered a precise blow, striking Peterson on the side of his shoulder. The impact was enough to make Peterson fall to the ground, clutching the wound and groaning in pain.

Ricardo saw his chance. Even exhausted and in pain, he prepared to deliver the final blow. His sword was raised, ready to end Peterson once and for all. But suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his thigh. Ricardo looked down and saw an arrow lodged in his leg. The pain was intense, radiating through his body.

Before he could react, a second arrow was fired, hitting his shoulder near the previous wound, between the gaps in his armor. Ricardo screamed in pain, feeling completely vulnerable. The strength in his legs gave out, and he fell to his knees, unable to bear the weight of the pain and fatigue.

The cold, hard ground against his knees seemed to sap even more of his energy. The sight of Peterson, still on the ground, mixed with the growing darkness that enveloped his senses. Ricardo knew he was in a desperate situation, but he couldn't get up anymore. The pain was unbearable, and his body finally succumbed to exhaustion.

Ricardo looked around, trying to find the strength to rise, but everything seemed distant and out of reach. His eyes fixed on Miguel, who was still fighting bravely, but he knew his time was running out. The battle raged around him, but for Ricardo, everything seemed to be slowing down.

Every breath was a painful effort, and every movement sent waves of pain through his body. He tried to lift his sword again, but his arm was heavy, and his strength was quickly abandoning him. The ground seemed to pull him down, and he knew he couldn't continue.

As the battle roared around him, Ricardo fell forward, supporting himself with one hand on the ground. He struggled to keep his eyes open, his vision blurred by pain and fatigue. The last sight he had before his vision darkened was of Peterson slowly rising, an expression of hatred and triumph on his face.

Ricardo knew he had done everything he could. His bravery and determination had been tested to the limit. Even fallen, he felt a brief moment of peace, knowing he had fought until the end. The shadows of the battle enveloped him, and he let the darkness take over, finally surrendering to the rest his body so desperately needed.

---

Miguel saw his friend and uncle, Ricardo, fall to the ground, unconscious. The world seemed to stop for a moment, and horror filled his heart. He silently prayed that Ricardo wasn't dead, that there was some sign of life. Feeling the desperation grow, he tried to run towards his friend, but John held him firmly, preventing his advance.

“No, Miguel!” John shouted, trying to protect him. “You can't go there!”

Miguel, without the strength to stand, began to cry. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the dirt and blood that covered his skin. He couldn't take it anymore. This life, this senseless war, the constant deaths around him, and now the sight of Ricardo, his uncle and mentor, fallen on the ground. The weight of it all was crushing.

Miguel's cries were deep and sincere. He felt powerless, lost in a world that seemed increasingly cruel and unjust. The feelings flooding his heart were intense and painful. He didn't know if it was for himself or remnants of the former owner of this body, but the pain was real and deep.

As the tears continued to fall, Miguel felt his body weaken even more. He knelt on the ground, unable to bear the weight of the suffering. The battle around him continued, but for him, everything was a distant blur. The reality of his situation hit him with full force, and he didn't know how he could go on.

The pain of seeing Ricardo fallen, combined with the weight of all the losses and sacrifices, was too much to bear. Miguel wished he could turn back time, prevent all this from happening, find a way to save those he loved. But now, all he could do was cry and hope that somehow, there was a chance for change, a glimmer of hope in the midst of despair.

Miguel hugged himself, trying to find some comfort amidst the storm of emotions. He knew he needed to find the strength to continue, but at that moment, all he could do was lament the loss and pain he felt. The tears continued to fall, a silent expression of his deep sadness and hopelessness.

---

Peterson got up from the ground, groaning in pain from the wound inflicted by Ricardo. He felt his shoulder throbbing, but his anger and determination drove him forward. He grabbed his sword, holding it firmly as he approached Ricardo. The knight was down, breathing heavily, but still alive. Even unconscious, Ricardo emanated an imposing presence, and Peterson knew he needed to finish him off.

“Finally, this ends here,” Peterson murmured to himself, preparing to drive his sword into Ricardo's chest. He still held a certain respect for the knight, acknowledging his skill and courage. However, war left no room for sentimentality.

Peterson raised his sword, aiming at Ricardo's heart. He was determined to end the life of the man who had challenged him so much. But just as he was about to deliver the fatal blow, a loud and distinct sound echoed across the battlefield.

A trumpet. The sound was clear and unmistakable, coming from the horizon, near the fields of wheat and soybeans. Peterson froze, the sword suspended in the air. He looked toward the sound, his heart beating faster. Something was happening, something unexpected.

The mercenaries around also stopped, their eyes turning towards the direction of the sound. The trumpet sounded again, strong and authoritative, filling the air with a sense of urgency and mystery.

Peterson slowly lowered his sword, his thoughts racing. What could that sound be? Who was coming? He knew he needed to find out before taking any further action.

He stepped away from Ricardo, still not taking his eyes off the horizon. The battle around seemed to slow down, all eyes focused on the origin of the sound. The sense of uncertainty and anticipation hung in the air, leaving everyone on the battlefield in suspense.

The sound of the trumpet continued to echo, each note bringing with it a promise of something imminent. Peterson knew that whatever the source of that sound was, it would change the course of the battle. He just hoped it would be in his favor.

---

The sound of the trumpets brought Miguel back to sanity. He blinked several times, wiping away the tears and trying to focus on what was happening around him. John quickly approached, helping him to his feet, with Arthur by his side, offering support.

As he stood up, Miguel couldn't help but look at where Ricardo had fallen on the battlefield. The worry for his uncle and friend consumed him. “Ricardo,” he murmured, his voice laden with anguish. He needed to know if Ricardo was still alive, but the chaos around made it impossible.

The surviving men of the barony, seeing Miguel standing again, gathered in one last defensive line around him. There was a silent determination in their eyes, a resolution to protect their leader to the end. They knew this could be their last stand, but they were willing to fight with all their might.

Miguel looked around, seeing the tired and wounded faces of his companions. He felt a renewed inner strength, driven by the need to protect those who were still alive. The trumpet still echoed, and he knew something was about to happen, something that could change the course of the battle.

The mercenaries, on the other hand, were visibly confused. Some looked to the horizon, trying to discern the source of the sound, while others looked to Peterson, waiting for orders. The hesitation was palpable among them, as if they didn't know whether to attack Miguel's defensive line or prepare for what was coming after the trumpets.

Miguel seized this momentary hesitation, giving his men a brief respite. He knew every second was crucial. With a firm voice, though still laden with emotion, he said, “Hold the line. Do not retreat. Whatever it is, we will face it together.”

The soldiers nodded, gripping their weapons tighter, ready for anything. The worry for Ricardo was still present, a constant pain at the back of Miguel's mind. The sound of the trumpets continued, bringing with it a mixture of hope and fear. Everyone knew the battle was not over yet, but the arrival of that mysterious sound could be the signal of an imminent change.

Chapter 26

Miguel watched the horizon intently, the silhouette of the person blowing the trumpet beginning to take shape. The loud, clear sound continued to echo across the battlefield, bringing a new sense of tension and anticipation. As the vision became clearer, he noticed that the mercenaries were now practically ignoring him, focusing on the figures emerging from the nearby horizon.

Peterson and other mercenaries, who seemed to be the leaders, began shouting orders, urging their men to form up. The initial confusion among the mercenaries was dissipating, and they quickly organized to face this new threat.

John, next to Miguel, suggested, "We should retreat inside what's left of the walls. We need to take advantage of this distraction."

Miguel didn't want to miss this opportunity. He saw that the mercenaries were focused on reorganizing, giving them a chance to regroup. "Alright, let's fall back," he ordered. "Everyone inside the walls!"

As they began the retreat, Arthur approached Miguel. "Let me retrieve Ricardo," he said firmly. "He's not far, and the mercenaries are moving away to form a line near the fields."

John, hearing this, spoke up, "I'll go with him. We can't leave Ricardo behind."

Miguel looked at the two, feeling the urgency and courage in their words. "Go," he said, nodding in agreement. "Bring Ricardo back."

Arthur and John nodded, preparing for the dangerous mission to rescue Ricardo. Miguel watched as they quickly moved away, running towards his uncle's fallen body. Concern for Ricardo and the hope of seeing him rescued filled his thoughts.

As Arthur and John approached Ricardo, the rest of Miguel's troops began to retreat into what remained of the city's wooden walls. The soldiers, wounded and weary, moved with determination, knowing that every second was crucial. They understood that the relative safety of the walls would give them a chance to reorganize and perhaps resist a little longer.

Miguel kept his eyes on the horizon, the silhouettes of the figures now clearer. The identity of the newcomers was still a mystery, but he hoped they were allies. With a heavy heart worrying for Ricardo and a mind focused on survival strategy, he led his men to the relative safety of the city.

Arthur and John moved quickly, finding Ricardo's body among the battle's debris. They checked that he was still alive, though gravely injured. With effort, they lifted Ricardo, supporting him between them, and began to move back towards the walls.

Miguel watched his friends anxiously, hoping they would make it back unscathed. The sound of trumpets continued, and the mercenaries were clearly more concerned with the new threat than with the withdrawal of Miguel's forces.

As Arthur and John neared the walls with Ricardo, Miguel felt a wave of relief. They had succeeded. Now, within the city, they needed to prepare for what would come next. The trumpets still echoed, and Miguel knew the battle was far from over.

---

Peterson observed the battlefield with a mix of frustration and apprehension. He decided that, for now, he would set up a defensive line until he knew who was on the horizon. He saw the bastard Miguel retreating back to the city again, but that didn't concern him much. He could still kill him once he discovered the origin of the trumpet.

"Defensive formation!" shouted Peterson, his voice laden with authority. The mercenaries, though confused, began to organize, forming a defensive line while Peterson kept his eyes fixed on the horizon.

The mercenaries were on high alert, their weapons ready. The tension was palpable, the sound of the trumpets continued to echo, creating a climate of expectation and fear. Finally, the figures on the horizon began to become clearer. Peterson squinted, trying to understand who they were.

When the figures fully revealed themselves, Peterson felt a chill run down his spine. They were beast-men. In a line formation, and worst of all, they were mounted on red horses. These horses were huge, much larger than common horses, about two meters taller, and extremely fast.

The sight was terrifying. Peterson knew how formidable these beast-men could be in combat. The trumpet sounded again, and this time, the cavalry charge advanced against them. If Peterson had to estimate, he would say there were between 60 and 70 riders.

"Damn," Peterson muttered, fear growing inside him.

One of his mercenaries, with a face pale with fear, asked, "What will we do, chief?"

Peterson thought quickly, but no viable solution came to mind. The only option that seemed to make sense was to flee. He could order them to hold the line, but he knew it would be useless. The strength and speed of the beast-men riders were overwhelming.

"Retreat! Run!" Peterson shouted, his voice filled with despair. He quickly ran to one of the horses on the battlefield, mounting it with agility. Some of his comrades did the same, but for most, it was already too late.

The beast-men cavalry charge hit the mercenaries head-on. The red horses, with their enormous stature and speed, were unstoppable. One of the fire mages tried to cast a spell, but a spear thrown by a lion-man flew in his direction, impaling him against a tree. The mage let out a scream of pain before falling dead, his body pinned to the tree by the spear.

The other mages, seeing this, panicked and began to flee. Peterson, already mounted on his horse, watched the disorder around him. The mercenaries were being massacred, and the defensive line had completely disintegrated.

Peterson looked towards the city walls, where he saw Miguel watching everything. Peterson's eyes filled with hatred as he shouted, "This isn't over yet, you bastard! We will return!"

He pointed to the beast-men, now dominating the battlefield. "The church will want to get involved," he continued, his voice full of venom. "And not just the church, but the king too. Now they have a reason to call you a traitor."

Peterson turned his horse and sped away, disappearing with some of his men into the trees. The sounds of the battle began to diminish, and the victory of the beast-men seemed certain. The mercenaries who couldn't flee were quickly being defeated.

***

Miguel watched as the beast-men advanced against the mercenaries' lines. It was an impressive and frightening sight. The enormous red horses, imposing and fast, charged with overwhelming force. Miguel had never seen animals so large. They were giants, taller and stronger than any common horse.

The mercenaries tried to flee desperately, but the beast-men's onslaught was relentless. The riders, with their spears and swords, cut through the enemy lines with ease. The mercenaries' defensive formation disintegrated before the brute force and speed of the beast-men riders.

Miguel watched the mercenaries being knocked down, their cries of desperation mixing with the sound of weapons clashing. Some mercenaries shouted orders, desperately trying to maintain control, but it was clear they were losing the battle. The battlefield was in chaos, with mercenaries running in all directions, trying to escape the fierce attack.

Beside him, Arthur watched the whole situation with a mix of surprise and relief. "This is amazing," he murmured, eyes wide as he watched the enemy lines' destruction.

John, next to Miguel, looked at him with an expression of hope. "If they're here, does that mean they brought food?"

Miguel smiled, feeling a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. He placed a hand on John's shoulder, trying to convey some reassurance. "Yes, John. They brought the food."

Relief washed over Miguel, but before he could do anything else, his vision began to blur. He felt the world around him spinning, his strength finally abandoning him after the long and exhausting battle. The last thing he heard was John's muffled voice calling him, "My lord!" before he fainted and fell to the ground.

The beast-men's onslaught continued, relentless and devastating. Their red horses trampled the mercenaries who couldn't flee in time. The riders' strength and skill were evident, each strike delivered with deadly precision. The mercenaries who tried to resist were quickly knocked down, their attempts at defense crushed by the beast-men's superiority.

The riders maintained an organized formation, advancing like an unstoppable tide. The spears pierced through armor and bodies with ease, while the riders wielded their swords with skill. The battle, though brief, was brutal and bloody. The mercenaries who managed to escape were few and scattered, their lines collapsing under the overwhelming attack.

Miguel, now unconscious, was safe within the walls, his men attending to him while the battle outside unfolded. The victory of the beast-men was clear, and the mercenaries' threat was being swiftly eliminated. Arthur and John, still beside Miguel, took care of him, ensuring he was safe while the battlefield calmed down.

The battle was nearing its end, and the beast-men's victory brought new relief to the barony's defenders. Their presence not only saved the day but also brought hope that tough times could be overcome with unexpected allies. Miguel, even unconscious, had managed to lead his men through one of the most difficult battles of their lives, and now, with the help of the beast-men, they could begin to rebuild and prepare for the future.

Chapter 27

Miguel woke up the next day in the mansion. The morning sun gently streamed through the windows, illuminating the room with a golden light. For a moment, he wished it was all just a dream, a nightmare from which he was waking. But as he moved, he felt the pain in his body, reminding him of the battles he had fought the previous day.

He remembered everything that had happened: the beastmen's assault, the mercenaries' destruction, and Thomas's death. Sorrow filled his heart, and he rose slowly, feeling the weight of exhaustion and responsibility.

As he stood, John, one of the young servants of the mansion, appeared at the door. He called out to a guard, announcing that Miguel was awake. John entered the room with a look of relief and concern. He saw Miguel sitting on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, his gaze partially downcast. Miguel's expression reflected the pain and exhaustion of all he had been through.

“Good morning, my lord,” John said, trying to keep his voice steady.

Miguel lifted his eyes, trying to find strength in the young servant’s words. “Where is Ricardo?” he asked, his voice heavy with concern.

John hesitated for a moment before answering. “He is being cared for by the healers, my lord. He is gravely injured but still alive. They are doing everything they can to help him.”

Miguel felt a wave of relief mixed with worry. Knowing Ricardo was alive gave him a spark of hope, but he knew his uncle’s condition was still critical. The responsibility of leading and protecting his people weighed on his shoulders, but he couldn’t help but worry about those close to him.

“I need to see him,” Miguel said, determination returning to his eyes.

“Of course, my lord,” John replied, stepping forward to help Miguel stand. “The healers said he is in the main hall, where they can better care for him.”

Miguel stood with John's help, feeling every muscle protest. He knew the path ahead would still be full of challenges, but Ricardo's survival gave him the strength to continue. As he left the room, his mind was already focused on the next steps, the difficult decisions he would need to make to ensure the safety and future of his barony.

The weight of leadership and the reality of war were still present, but with unexpected allies and renewed hope, Miguel was ready to face whatever came. The battle of the previous day was just a chapter in the long journey ahead. And, with each step, he was determined to do his best for his people and those who depended on him.

Miguel walked with John to the main hall. Upon entering, he was greeted by the sight of several lined-up beds, each occupied by wounded barony soldiers being treated. The smell of medicinal herbs and bandages was strong in the air, mixed with the sounds of groans and murmurs from the injured. Even after a day, the number of wounded was still great, and the atmosphere was one of continuous work and relentless care.

Miguel watched the healers working attentively. He was surprised to see several beastmen among them, assisting the human healers. The cooperation between the two races was something he had never seen before, and it brought a feeling of gratitude and respect. The beastmen moved with grace and efficiency, their healing knowledge complementing the human healers' skills.

He anxiously searched for Ricardo among the wounded. When he finally found him, he saw that Ricardo was lying in a bed, still unconscious. Ricardo's face was pale, but his breathing was steady and calm. Miguel approached, feeling a wave of relief seeing his uncle alive.

“How is he?” Miguel asked the nearest healer, his voice laden with concern.

The healer, a beastman with soft fur and gentle hands, looked at Miguel and replied in a calm tone, “He is recovering well, my lord. His wounds have been treated, and he is just sleeping now. He needed to rest.”

Miguel let out a sigh of relief, feeling a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. He thanked the healer with a nod. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”

The healer nodded back and returned to his work. Miguel stayed by Ricardo’s side for a few moments, watching his uncle sleep. The sight of Ricardo alive and recovering brought him much-needed comfort after the horrors of battle.

Determined to check on the city, Miguel turned to John. “I need to go and see the city,” he said, his voice firmer now.

“Of course, my lord,” John responded promptly. He helped Miguel walk out of the hall and to the stable where the horses were kept.

In the stable, John chose a strong and calm horse for Miguel. Carefully, he helped the baron mount. Miguel, still feeling the pain and fatigue in his body, accepted the help with gratitude. Once on the horse, he held the reins firmly, feeling a bit more prepared to face whatever came next.

“Take care of Ricardo and the other wounded,” Miguel told John before leaving. “I will return soon.”

John nodded. “Yes, my lord. We will be here.”

Miguel looked around once more, taking in the sight of the hall turned into an infirmary, before guiding the horse towards the exit. He knew he needed to see the city, understand the extent of the damage, and start planning the next steps.

Riding through the streets of the city, the sight before him was a stark contrast to what it was before. The streets, once vibrant and full of life, were now marked by the signs of the recent battle. He saw some beastmen and surviving soldiers of the barony, many of them still with tired eyes and weary faces, but with a determination that seemed unwavering.

As he moved slowly, he waved to some soldiers who greeted him respectfully. The looks of recognition and gratitude on their faces touched him deeply. He knew these men had fought bravely and that many of them had lost friends and comrades in the battle.

Miguel continued his ride, absorbing the scene around him. The houses and buildings showed the damage from the battle, some with destroyed walls, others with collapsed roofs. But there were also signs of reconstruction: soldiers and beastmen working together to remove debris and repair what they could.

Turning a corner, he spotted Arthur, who was giving orders to some soldiers. Arthur was clearly in command, his presence inspiring confidence in the men around him. He moved with purpose, gesturing and speaking clearly, ensuring that everyone knew what to do.

Miguel approached Arthur, guiding his horse carefully to avoid disrupting the ongoing work. He observed for a moment, seeing the efficiency and determination with which Arthur led. It gave him a sense of comfort, knowing he had competent people by his side.

He stopped the horse close to Arthur, still without speaking. He wanted to observe a bit more, to absorb the situation and understand what was being done. He knew that reconstruction and reorganization were essential for the barony’s survival and that every detail mattered.

Arthur noticed Miguel’s presence and turned, offering a tired but sincere smile. “My lord,” he said with a respectful nod.

Miguel returned the smile, feeling a wave of gratitude for the man who was so dedicated to the barony. “Arthur, thank you for the hard work you’ve been doing. Without your leadership, we’d be in a much worse situation.”

Arthur shook his head modestly. “I should be thanking you, my lord. You fought for the barony and our homes. We couldn’t have asked for a better leader.”

Miguel was touched by Arthur’s words. He knew the struggle had been hard for everyone, but seeing the confidence of his men renewed his strength. “Thank you, Arthur. I heard you ordered some soldiers to go after the villagers and tell them they can return. That’s essential for our recovery.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, my lord. We need everyone here to help with the reconstruction and to let people know it’s safe to come back home.”

Miguel sighed, thinking of all the sacrifices made. “How many died in the battle, Arthur?”

Arthur took a moment to respond, his somber gaze reflecting the gravity of the situation. “Of the 200 men of the barony, 120 were killed or injured. Of the mercenaries, we estimate there were about 700 enemies involved, of whom 600 were killed. But that is largely due to the last-minute assistance of the beastmen.”

Miguel nodded slowly, processing the losses. “It’s a great loss for all of us, but indeed, the help from the beastmen was crucial. I never imagined seeing beastmen fighting alongside our soldiers.”

Arthur agreed. “Neither did I, my lord. It’s something I never thought I’d see. But it’s a good change. Maybe the world is really changing.”

Miguel looked around, seeing the soldiers and beastmen working together. “Yes, the world is changing. And that change starts here, with this barony. We have the chance to build something new, something better.”

Arthur smiled, sharing Miguel’s optimism. “We will succeed, my lord. We will rebuild and be stronger.”

Miguel placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Where are the bodies of the fallen soldiers and mercenaries?”

Arthur looked into the distance for a moment before responding. “They are in a more remote location. We have arranged a place to prepare the burials and separate the enemy bodies. I will take you there if you want to see.”

Miguel nodded, knowing it was important to pay his respects to the fallen. “Yes, please. I want to see.”

Arthur gestured for Miguel to follow him. Together, they started heading to the location where the bodies were being prepared, their presence bringing a sense of leadership and care that the soldiers and beastmen around appreciated. The road ahead was full of challenges, but with everyone united, Miguel felt they could overcome any obstacle.

Chapter 28

Miguel observed the bodies of the dead with a heavy heart. The beastmen, along with some soldiers from the barony, were separating the bodies between mercenaries and their own soldiers. The sight was desolate. Each body represented a lost life, a sacrifice made in the name of a greater cause. The silence around was broken only by the sound of the living at work, a constant reminder of the battle that had ended but left deep scars.

As he looked around, Miguel found the body of Thomas, his dedicated butler. The sight of Thomas’s body, lying motionless on the ground, brought a wave of pain and sadness. Thomas had been more than a butler; he had become a loyal friend in a short time. The loss was immense, and Miguel felt his heart tighten with pain. The guilt for his death was his. He had indirectly attracted these assassins to this barony. But now, all he could do was mourn…

Arthur, noticing Miguel’s state, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “There was nothing we could have done to prevent this,” Arthur said, his voice low and full of compassion.

Miguel remained silent for a few moments, struggling to find words. Finally, he spoke, his voice firm despite the sadness. “We will rebuild and create a place where they cannot threaten us again.”

Arthur nodded, Miguel’s determination reinforcing his own will to move forward. “Yes, my lord. We will do that.”

Miguel looked at Arthur, an idea beginning to form in his mind. “Did you gather all the iron swords and armor from the mercenaries?”

Arthur seemed confused by the question but replied, “Yes, we gathered all the spare iron. Why do you ask, my lord?”

Miguel smiled slightly. “I have plans for all that iron. We’re going to use it for something useful.”

Arthur was still confused but confident in Miguel’s judgment. “What do you have in mind, my lord?”

Miguel looked at the now-destroyed wooden wall. “Have you ever heard of concrete bricks?”

Arthur shook his head, the confusion evident on his face. “Never heard of that, my lord. What are they?”

Miguel chuckled lightly, appreciating Arthur’s curiosity. “Well, let’s make some. Concrete bricks are a mix of cement, sand, gravel, and water. They are extremely durable and can be used to build strong, resistant walls.”

Arthur began to understand Miguel’s vision, even though he didn’t know the ingredients Miguel mentioned for making concrete. “You want to rebuild the wall with these bricks?”

“Exactly,” Miguel replied. “We need stronger defenses, something that can withstand future attacks. And we have the iron from the swords and armor to reinforce the structure.”

As they returned to the city, Miguel felt a renewed sense of purpose. He knew that rebuilding would be difficult, but he also knew it was necessary to ensure the safety of his people. The idea of using the iron from the mercenaries to build something lasting gave him hope that they could turn the tragedy into strength.

Suddenly, he heard a voice calling him. He turned and saw the servant Elnar approaching, accompanied by a lion with beautiful ornate armor. The lion was imposing, his presence bringing an aura of authority and strength. Miguel stopped and waited as they approached, curious to know what this new visit brought.

Arthur, beside Miguel, watched the approach with interest. The presence of the lion indicated that something important was about to be discussed. Miguel, trying to maintain composure despite the fatigue and turbulent emotions, prepared for the conversation ahead.

When he approached, the lion removed his helmet, which resembled a Greek helmet, revealing himself to be Ruidahr, the lion.

Elnar and the lion finally reached where Miguel was. The servant made a respectful bow before speaking. "My lord, this is Ruidahr, one of the leaders of the beastmen you met in our city."

Miguel looked at Ruidahr, impressed by his presence. "Ruidahr," he said, nodding in respect. "It is an honor to see you again."

Ruidahr gave a slight nod, his eyes shining with a mixture of curiosity and authority. "Baron Miguel," he replied, his voice deep and resonant. "We have much to discuss."

Miguel felt a wave of anticipation. He knew Ruidahr's presence meant important discussions about the future of his barony and the alliance with the beastmen. He was ready to listen and learn, knowing these conversations would be crucial for the next steps in rebuilding and securing his people.

With one last look at Arthur, Miguel stepped forward, ready to face another challenge. The rebuilding of the barony was just beginning, and he knew he would need all the help and wisdom available to ensure a safe and prosperous future for everyone under his protection.

***

A week had passed since the great battle. The barony was still in the process of healing, both physically and emotionally. All the burials had been conducted with due solemnity, honoring the brave soldiers who lost their lives defending their land. The loss was felt by everyone, but there was also a sense of renewal and hope.

Miguel had managed to reach an important agreement with the beastmen. In exchange for cooperation and a mutual alliance, he promised to help develop the civil and military infrastructure of both peoples. This alliance marked the beginning of a new era for the barony and the beastmen, based on trust and mutual aid.

The beastmen, honoring their commitment, brought 40 huge carts loaded with hundreds of kilos of food. The sight of these carts entering the city was a relief to everyone. Hunger would no longer be an immediate concern, and stocks could be replenished.

In addition to the food, it was agreed that some beastmen would stay in the barony to assist the local farmers. They brought valuable knowledge about cultivation techniques and soil management that would be essential to increase crop productivity. Among the volunteers was the servant Elnar, who volunteered to stay and help with the reconstruction.

A small contingent of beastmen guards also decided to stay. Their imposing mounts, the enormous red horses, were an impressive sight. The presence of these guards not only reinforced the security of the barony but also symbolized the strength of the new alliance.

Miguel observed all this with a mix of relief and determination. There was a lot of work to be done, but the support of the beastmen was a big step in the right direction. He knew that rebuilding would take time, but with the new allies and the resources brought, there was hope for a better future.

The days passed at an intense pace, with everyone dedicating themselves to restoring the barony. The farmers worked side by side with the beastmen, learning new techniques and improving their practices, even though many still felt prejudice towards their new companions. Some came to speak with Miguel, complaining about this new cooperation and that having the beastmen here was practically declaring war on the church and the entire kingdom.

Miguel had no rest, always supervising and planning the next steps. He felt responsible for each of his subjects and was determined to ensure that everyone had a safe and prosperous future. With the alliance established and the help of the beastmen, he knew they were on the right path.

The winds of change blew through the barony, and Miguel was prepared to face any challenge that arose. The union of different peoples and the promise of a better future were the pillars on which he would build a new era for his barony. The fight was far from over, but with courage and determination, Miguel would lead his people through the storms towards better days.

---

Miguel was in his office, the environment heavy with an atmosphere of responsibility and mourning. The absence of Thomas was deeply felt. The old butler had always been present with his wise advice and a calming presence. Now, without him, Miguel felt strangely lonely and overwhelmed by leadership.

By his side were Arthur and Ricardo. Miguel was focused, making some sketches of his new project. On a sheet of parchment, he was drawing wooden molds for bricks, a crucial part of his reconstruction plan. He wanted to ensure that every detail was perfect.

After finishing the drawing, Miguel looked at Ricardo. “Ricardo, bring João to my presence, please,” he requested, his voice firm but gentle.

Ricardo nodded and left the office to fetch John. Meanwhile, Arthur took the opportunity to talk to Miguel. “It was a good choice to appoint the guard John as the head of the city guard,” Arthur commented. “He is young, but he has already become an experienced knight, and the others trust him.”

Miguel nodded in agreement. “Yes, John has shown great potential. I have ordered the recruitment of new soldiers and that they receive proper training. In a few months, if all goes well, we could have double or more soldiers than before.”

Arthur smiled, pleased with Miguel’s vision. “That will be essential for the security of the barony. With the threat of the mercenaries and the need to maintain peace with the beastmen, we need a strong and well-trained military force.”

Miguel looked at his sketches, his eyes full of determination. “We need everything we can to ensure that our home is safe and prosperous. These concrete bricks are just the beginning. We will rebuild and fortify every part of this city.”

Arthur nodded, sharing Miguel’s vision. “With your plan and the determination of our people, we will succeed. Thomas would be proud to see what we are doing.”

The memory of Thomas brought a melancholy smile to Miguel’s face. “Yes, he would. We will honor him with our work.”

At that moment, the door opened, and Ricardo entered, accompanied by John. The young servant looked curious and a little nervous. Miguel raised his eyes and smiled at him.

"João, thank you for coming," said Miguel, indicating for him to come closer.

João approached, trying to maintain his composure. "At your service, my lord."

Miguel looked at Ricardo and Arthur, noticing the support and confidence in their eyes. He knew that what he was about to discuss was crucial for the future of the barony. The scene was set for a new chapter in his leadership, and Miguel was determined to do his best for his people.

Miguel looked at João, feeling the importance of what he was about to say. "João, please sit down," he requested, indicating a nearby chair. João obeyed, looking a bit nervous. "Have you ever been to the mansion's library?"

"Yes, my lord," João replied. "I used to help Lord Thomas keep everything clean and well-organized."

Miguel smiled, pleased with the response. "Great. I need you to look for more detailed maps of the region. The only map I have on hand is a rudimentary world map. I want a map of the barony itself, showing everything we have: forests, villages, mountains... everything. I know there's an ocean coast to the east, but no port. I need to know more about what's in this barony."

João quickly nodded. "Understood, my lord. I will look and return. But it might take a while, as I'm not very good at reading."

"Don't worry about that," said Miguel, handing John the library key. "Just bring all the maps you find."

João took the key with reverence and stood up. "Yes, my lord. I will go right away." He left the room, determined to fulfill the task.

Arthur also prepared to leave. "I have a lot of work to do at the forge," he said with a smile.

Miguel smiled back. "I hope I haven't asked for something too difficult."

Arthur laughed lightly. "It's something I've never done before, but it's not impossible. These new iron reinforcements are something innovative." With that, he bid farewell and left the room to carry out his own mission.

As soon as Arthur left, Miguel turned to Ricardo. "Ricardo, please bring Lila. I should have spoken with her already, but I've been very busy."

Ricardo nodded and left the room to fetch the young mage. Miguel, now alone, returned to reviewing his sketches. He looked carefully at the drawing of the new plow, more efficient and large enough to be pulled by a single red horse. With this plow, they could till twice the land as before, increasing agricultural production and ensuring the barony's food security.

Satisfied with the drawing, he took another piece of paper and began sketching something he never thought he would one day: a giant automatic crossbow. His idea was to create a weapon that could fire ten two-meter arrows in sequence, each capable of shattering upon impact, causing more damage. For this, he would need to use a material that was light yet strong.

Miguel paused for a moment, reflecting on the enormity of the project. He knew it would be a challenge, but he was also aware that this weapon could revolutionize the barony's defenses. He made some notes about the necessary materials and began thinking about another revolutionary idea that could change the course of his world: a firearm...

His mind was buzzing with possibilities and plans, but he knew that to realize his ideas, he would need the right ingredients. It was a difficult task, but Miguel was determined to find a way to turn his dreams into reality.

While waiting for Ricardo to return with Lila, Miguel continued to work on his sketches, immersed in thoughts about the future of the barony. He knew that each drawing, each project, was a step toward a safer and more prosperous future for his people.

Miguel's determination was unwavering. He knew the challenges ahead would be great, but with the help of his friends and allies, he was prepared to face any obstacle. He looked at the sketches before him, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. The fight for reconstruction was just beginning, and Miguel was ready to lead his people through any storm.

While waiting for Lila to arrive, Miguel took a deep breath, feeling more prepared and determined than ever. The fight for the future of his barony was just beginning, and he was ready to face any challenge that came his way.

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Chapter 29

Lila entered the room accompanied by Ricardo, her expression shy and somewhat nervous. Miguel, upon seeing her, offered a welcoming smile. "Hello, My lord," she said softly.

"You can call me Miguel when we're not in public," he replied, trying to make her more comfortable. "Please, have a seat."

Lila nodded and sat down, still a bit hesitant. Ricardo remained standing, watching attentively. Miguel looked at Lila, his expression softening. "How are you? Are you adjusting well here at the mansion?"

"Yes," Lila replied. "Everyone here is very attentive to me. I'm fine, thank you."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Miguel, genuinely relieved to know she was being well treated. He paused, carefully choosing his next words. "Do you know why I called you here?"

Lila nodded, indicating she did. Miguel took a deep breath before continuing. "I need to know who it was and, if possible, why they attacked your village. As far as I know, the village you came from is within the domain of this barony. Something like this happening is very concerning."

Lila bit her lower lip, looking thoughtful. She lowered her eyes for a moment before looking back up at Miguel. "Yes, My lord," she began, quickly correcting herself. "I mean, yes, Miguel. I know the reason why my village was attacked."

Miguel leaned slightly forward, showing his full interest and concern. "Then please, tell me. What was the reason?"

Lila took a deep breath, trying to gather the courage to speak. She knew that what she was about to say was important and that Miguel needed to know all the details. Ricardo was also attentive, understanding the gravity of the situation.

"My village was hiding something," Lila began in a low voice. "Something the attackers wanted. And I think it has to do with my magic."

Miguel remained silent, absorbing the information. He knew that magic was rare and powerful, and Lila's presence in her village could have attracted unwanted attention.

"You believe they attacked because of your magical ability?" Miguel asked, his voice calm but full of concern.

"Yes," Lila replied. "But I'm not sure who they were. I just know they were after something, and I believe it was me."

Miguel nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation. He knew he needed to protect Lila and learn more about the enemies who had attacked her village. "We will find out who they were and why they attacked," he promised. "And we will do everything we can to keep you safe."

Lila nodded, looking a bit more confident with Miguel's words. "Thank you, Miguel. I trust you."

Miguel gave an encouraging smile, feeling more determined than ever to protect those under his care. He knew that Lila's presence and her magical ability could be a key element in uncovering the mysteries surrounding the attack on her village.

With the conversation underway, Miguel prepared to listen further and fully understand the situation. The protection and safety of his barony depended on it, and he was determined to do whatever was necessary to ensure a secure future for everyone.

Miguel looked at Lila, his expression filled with concern and curiosity. "Is there anything you remember that might have attracted the attention of these attackers?" he asked, trying to understand more about what had happened.

Lila took a deep breath, trying to contain the emotions that were beginning to surface. "A priest from the church appeared a few days before," she began. "He was very enthusiastic about my magic. He said it was something extraordinary... because I don't need a catalyst to use magic..."

"Catalyst?" Miguel asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Lila nodded, explaining carefully. "I was also unsure about it, but the priest told me that I don't need to use magic gems or staffs to channel my magic."

Miguel was surprised, as was Ricardo, who stood beside him. "That's rare," Ricardo murmured, understanding the gravity of the situation.

Lila continued, her voice trembling slightly. "A few days after the priest left, these armed men appeared. They started killing everyone in search of me. I managed to hide, but my parents ended up dead..." Her voice broke, and tears began to stream down her face.

Miguel stood up and went to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's okay now," he said softly. "You are safe here. We will find out who these men are and ensure this doesn't happen again."

Lila nodded, trying to control her tears. "Thank you, Miguel," she murmured, her voice still shaky.

"You may go and rest," Miguel said gently. "We will take care of this."

Lila stood up, still wiping away tears, and left the room. Miguel watched her leave, feeling a weight on his heart. He knew that protecting Lila and learning more about these attackers would be crucial for the safety of the barony.

When the door closed behind her, Miguel turned his gaze to Ricardo. "This is more serious than we thought," he said in a low voice. "We need to investigate this priest and the men who attacked Lila's village."

Ricardo nodded, his expression serious. "We will do that, Miguel. We won't let something like this happen again."

Miguel sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He knew the road ahead would be difficult, but with the determination of his allies and the strength of his leadership, he was prepared to face any challenge that arose.

***

Miguel was in his office, reviewing some documents, while Ricardo organized some scrolls on a nearby shelf. The atmosphere was calm, but there was a tension in the air due to the recent revelations and concerns about the barony's security.

Suddenly, the door opened and the young servant John entered, carrying a wooden box. "Here are all the maps I found, my lord," he said, placing the box on Miguel's desk.

Miguel looked at the box with interest and thanked him. "Thank you, John. You may leave now."

John bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him. Miguel opened the box and saw various papyrus maps carefully stacked. He looked at Ricardo and said, "Let's look for any map that seems useful and shows the local geography. Any information is important."

Ricardo nodded and approached the table. Both began taking the maps out of the box, spreading them on the table to examine them. There were all kinds of maps, some more detailed, others rudimentary, each offering a different view of the region.

Miguel picked up one of the maps and opened it, scanning the lines and symbols drawn on the papyrus. "We need something that shows the exact location of villages, forests, mountains, and any other strategic points," he said, focused.

"Understood," Ricardo replied, picking up another map and doing the same. "Let's see what we find."

The search was meticulous and detailed. Miguel and Ricardo carefully examined each map, looking for any clue that could be useful. The room was silent except for the soft sound of scrolls being unrolled and analyzed.

Time seemed to pass slowly as both focused on the task. Miguel knew that finding the right map could make a difference in the security and planning of the barony. He felt the importance of this search and was determined not to let any detail slip by.

With the maps spread across the table, Miguel and Ricardo continued to examine each one, knowing that any relevant information could be crucial for the next steps they needed to take.

---

Miguel was examining one of the maps when something caught his attention. He found a map detailing the barony's mountains and forests. His eyes widened as he noticed the vast amount of forests and woods covering the region. It was impressive to see how nature dominated the territory.

While looking at the mountains and their descriptions, one in particular stood out. The mountain was painted in a shade of red, differentiating it from the rest. Curious, Miguel showed it to Ricardo and asked what it meant.

Ricardo studied the map for a moment before responding. "I've seen this before in some specifications. This red-painted mountain is known as a fire-spitting mountain. They rarely do this. There are reports that the last time one of these mountains spat fire was 400 years ago."

Miguel pondered for a few moments. The description Ricardo gave was clearly of a volcano. If it was indeed a volcano, it could have one of the main ingredients for making Roman concrete, volcanic ash. This would mean not only stronger walls but also more durable roads and buildings.

He turned to Ricardo with a determined expression. "If this mountain is what I think it is, we can obtain the material needed to make concrete. This would change everything."

Miguel looked at Ricardo and asked, "How long do you estimate it would take us to reach this mountain on horseback?"

Ricardo looked at the map again and mentally calculated the distance. "If this location is correct, it would take 3 to 4 days to get there."

Miguel was grateful that Ricardo knew how to read maps so well. "Perfect. Prepare a slightly larger escort. In two days, we will leave for that mountain."

Ricardo was confused and concerned. "That mountain is dangerous. Why do we need to go there?"

Miguel looked directly into Ricardo's eyes, his determination unwavering. "Trust me. There is an important ingredient for my plan on that mountain. We need to go."

Ricardo slowly nodded, accepting Miguel's explanation. He left the room to start the preparations. Miguel remained alone, looking out the window of his office. His thoughts were full of possibilities. If he could produce concrete, he could completely transform the barony's infrastructure.

As he gazed at the landscape, he imagined unbreakable walls, durable roads, and resilient buildings. The future seemed promising, and Miguel was determined to do whatever it took to turn his visions into reality. With the right materials, he could ensure the safety and prosperity of his people, building a lasting legacy.

The journey to the mountain would be just the beginning of a new era for the barony. Miguel knew the task would be arduous, but the reward would be worth the effort. With one last look out the window, he turned to his sketches, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

Chapter 30

Miguel woke up to another day, feeling the excitement and tension of the upcoming journey. After a quick breakfast, knowing that Ricardo was out organizing preparations, he felt eager to continue his work. On his way back to his office, Miguel greeted some mansion staff, who returned his greetings with respectful and hopeful smiles.

Arriving at the office, Miguel picked up one of the sketches he had made the previous night. It was a detailed drawing of a rudimentary automatic crossbow, an innovation he planned to implement to strengthen the barony's defenses.

The automatic crossbow Miguel planned was an impressive weapon. The main structure would be made of sturdy wood, like oak, reinforced with iron strips to ensure durability. The firing mechanism would use a system of pulleys and springs, also made of iron, to provide a consistent and rapid firing rate.

The sketch clearly showed how the crossbow would work. The weapon would be capable of firing 60-centimeter arrows, an ideal size to balance range and penetration power. Miguel planned a firing rate of 30 arrows per minute, a remarkable feat for such a weapon.

For the arrows, he thought of using lightweight wood, like birch or ash, with iron tips. The arrow fletching would be made of treated leather to ensure flight precision. Additionally, he planned to use a type of metal alloy for the crossbow's internal components to minimize wear and increase durability.

Miguel also designed an automatic feeder for the arrows, made of wood and metal, which would be loaded at the top of the crossbow. This feeder would ensure that arrows were quickly fed into the firing mechanism, allowing for the rate of 30 arrows per minute.

As he reviewed the sketch, Miguel thought of all the possibilities this weapon could bring to the barony's defense. An automatic crossbow could be placed on the walls, providing continuous and efficient defense against any invader.

He felt confident that, with the right materials and craftsmanship, he could turn his sketch into reality. The idea of using oak for the structure, iron for reinforcement and pulleys, and a metal alloy for the internal components seemed solid. Miguel knew that execution would be complex, but he was determined to see his plan come to fruition.

Miguel set the sketch aside and picked up another piece of paper. He began making notes about the necessary materials and steps to build the crossbow. He knew he would need Arthur's help and the carpenters to work with the iron and wood, and perhaps even assistance from the beastmen to ensure the precision of the mechanism.

As he continued planning, Miguel felt a renewed sense of purpose. He was creating something that could make a real difference in the barony's security. With a final look at the sketch, he smiled, satisfied with the progress made.

The work had only just begun, but with each step, Miguel felt closer to turning his visions into reality. He knew the journey ahead would be full of challenges, but with determination and the support of his allies, he was ready to face any obstacle that came his way.

---

Miguel left his office, feeling the need to get out and continue with his plans. He opened the door and went looking for João. As he walked through the mansion's corridors, he couldn't help but think of Thomas, the butler, and how his absence made everything more difficult. Thomas had always been by his side, offering wise counsel and a reassuring presence. Now, without him, the responsibility seemed even greater.

Deciding not to delve deeper into these thoughts, Miguel focused on the task ahead. He quickly found João and asked him to accompany him to the town. “We need to meet with Arthur and a carpenter,” Miguel explained.

João nodded, always ready to help. “Of course, my lord.”

Together, they headed to the stable, where they took two horses. Miguel mounted his horse with ease, feeling the familiarity of the saddle and reins in his hands. João did the same, and soon the two were riding toward the town.

As they rode, Miguel observed the landscape around him. The town seemed more invigorated with the new food brought by the beastmen. The people on the streets appeared more cheerful, and he noticed children playing, merchants selling their goods, and workers busy with their daily tasks.

Every now and then, Miguel received one or two letters from residents wary of the beastmen’s presence. He partially understood this prejudice, knowing that changes bring insecurity. It was something he needed to address with patience and time, showing that cooperation between peoples was beneficial for everyone.

As they approached Arthur’s smithy, Miguel felt a renewed sense of purpose. He knew that finding Arthur and the carpenter was crucial to continue his construction plans. With new ideas and sketches, he was determined to transform the barony into a safer and more prosperous place.

Upon reaching the smithy, Miguel and João dismounted their horses. The sound of the hammer striking metal and the heat of the forge created an intense work environment. Miguel felt confident that, with Arthur and the carpenter's help, he could turn his ideas into reality.

Arthur noticed Miguel and João’s presence and stopped what he was doing to greet them. “My lord,” he said, wiping his hands on a cloth and approaching.

A young man working in the smithy also approached Miguel. “Thank you, my lord, for keeping your promise,” the boy said, with a gleam of gratitude in his eyes.

Miguel looked at the boy, trying to remember where he knew him from. Suddenly, the memory came back. He remembered promising the boy that he would bring his father back alive. “You are... Arthur’s son?”

Arthur smiled proudly. “Yes, this is my son, Benjamin.”

Miguel leaned down to greet the young man. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Benjamin. As baron, it’s my duty to protect my subjects.”

Benjamin smiled, looking relieved and grateful. “Thank you, sir.”

Arthur then turned his attention to Miguel. “What brings you to my smithy today, my lord? I’ve already finished some of the iron rods you requested.”

“I want you to help me with another project,” Miguel replied. “And I also need to find a carpenter. But for now, I’d love to see how the iron rods are coming along.”

Arthur led Miguel to where the iron rods were stored. There were 30 iron rods, all neatly lined up. “We still have plenty of steel left from the spoils,” said Arthur. “We can produce more as needed.”

Miguel examined the rods, satisfied with the work. “You’re doing excellent work, Arthur. This will be a great help in the reconstruction.”

“Thank you, my lord,” replied Arthur, clearly proud of his work.

“Do you know a good carpenter in town?” Miguel asked, turning to Arthur.

“Yes, I do,” Arthur replied. “But why do you need both a carpenter and a blacksmith?”

Miguel smiled enigmatically. “I have something in mind. Once we find the carpenter, I can explain better what it is.”

Arthur nodded, accepting the answer. “Very well, let’s find this carpenter, then.”

---

Miguel and João mounted their horses, while Arthur followed on foot. It took a few minutes to reach a simple, closed establishment. The facade looked more like an ordinary house than a carpentry shop. Arthur stopped in front of the door and knocked firmly.

After a few moments, the door opened, revealing a tall, strong man with a stern face. He looked at Arthur and then at Miguel, and his expression immediately softened. “My lord,” he said, looking directly at Miguel with a tone of respect. “Please, come in.”

Miguel and João dismounted and followed Arthur into the carpenter’s shop. Upon entering, Miguel was impressed with the variety of wooden furniture scattered around. There were chairs, tables, barrels, cabinets, and a multitude of other items, all crafted with skill and attention to detail.

The man closed the door behind them and turned to Miguel and Arthur. “I’m Marcus,” he said, introducing himself with a slight nod. “How can I help you today?”

Miguel looked around the shop, admiring Marcus’s work. He realized he had found someone truly talented. “Thank you for receiving us, Marcus,” he said, still observing the furniture. “Your work is impressive.”

Marcus smiled modestly. “I do my best, my lord. What brings you here today?”

Miguel exchanged a glance with Arthur, who nodded slightly, confirming Marcus’s capabilities. “I have a project in mind, and I believe you might be the right person to help me.”

Marcus seemed intrigued but didn’t ask further questions. “I understand, my lord. I’m available to help with whatever you need.”

Miguel nodded, satisfied. “Thank you, Marcus. We’ll discuss more details soon. For now, I just wanted to see your work and assess your skills.”

As Marcus watched curiously, Miguel and Arthur exchanged a look of understanding. They knew this was the first step toward a significant project, and they were confident that with Marcus by their side, they could turn their ideas into reality.

The carpenter’s shop was full of potential, and Miguel felt that he was on the right path to strengthening the barony and ensuring a prosperous future for everyone.

Chapter 31

Marcus began to show some of his wooden products. Everything was very rudimentary, but beautiful and efficient. Miguel recognized one of the chair models, very similar to the one he used in his office.

"Was it you who provided the furniture for the baron's mansion?" Miguel asked, curious.

Marcus nodded. "Most of it, yes. Some were bought from merchants by the old baron, but the table, chairs, and shelves were made by me."

Miguel then asked, "Have you ever made anything more exotic?"

Marcus was confused for a moment and replied, "No, nothing out of the ordinary."

Miguel smiled and showed his sketch to Marcus, placing the paper on a table. Arthur approached to see it as well. Both began to analyze the drawing, intrigued.

"It's an automatic crossbow," Miguel explained with a smile.

Arthur looked at the drawing and commented, "This looks like a hand crossbow used by some infantry in the kingdom, but this design seems like the crossbow is larger."

Marcus asked what the exact size of the crossbow would be.

"It would be one meter," said Miguel. "But it will be placed on top of the new wall we are going to build. And that's not all. We will create dozens or even hundreds of these. And this isn't even the only defensive weapon I want to develop for our barony."

Marcus and Arthur, looking at the drawing, were enthusiastic about the challenge.

"Do you agree to participate in this new arms revolution?" Miguel asked, full of expectation.

Arthur and Marcus responded in unison, "Yes."

Miguel smiled, satisfied. "That's perfect. Tomorrow, before leaving on a trip, I will deliver the sketches of a prototype."

***

The next day, Miguel was at the main gate of the mansion, feeling the light morning breeze touch his face. Beside him, Ricardo was checking the final details of the entourage. Fifteen soldiers from the barony, all well-armed and prepared, waited with serious and focused expressions. They knew the mission wouldn't be easy, but the confidence in Miguel's command kept them determined.

John, who volunteered to accompany the expedition, was visibly disappointed for not being able to go. Miguel had insisted that he stay to take care of the city in his absence, a crucial role, especially considering the recent attacks and the need to maintain order.

"I trust you, John. The city needs your leadership now," Miguel said, placing a reassuring hand on the young knight's shoulder.

"I understand, my lord," John replied, although with a trace of reluctance in his voice. "I promise the city will be safe until your return."

The servant Elnar, one of the beast-men volunteers, was also present, ready to join the entourage. His presence was a symbol of the new alliance between humans and beast-men, a sign of changing times. Elnar, with his strength and knowledge, would be a valuable addition to the expedition.

Miguel looked around, assessing each face present. The soldiers, although young, were full of courage and determination. They knew the mission to the volcano was risky, but they also knew that success would mean a significant advance for the barony. The production of concrete could revolutionize their defenses and infrastructure, ensuring the safety and prosperity of all.

Ricardo, always the faithful advisor and protector, stood by Miguel's side, ready for any challenge they might encounter. "Everything is ready, my lord," he said, with a look of determination. "We are just waiting for your command to depart."

Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the heavy responsibility on his shoulders, but also a firm determination. "Very well," he said. "Let's review our plan one more time before we leave."

He knew that preparation was the key to success. He explained the route details again, the possible stops, and points of interest. They had enough supplies for the journey, and the soldiers were well-trained for any eventuality. The volcano was three or four days away, and every detail needed to be meticulously planned.

While reviewing the plan, Miguel couldn't help but feel a mix of anxiety and excitement. This journey was not just an exploration mission; it was a crucial step for the future of the barony. Looking at the faces around him, he knew he wasn't alone in this endeavor. He had loyal and brave allies, all ready to face the unknown by his side.

The morning light illuminated the mansion gate, a symbol of new hopes and challenges. Miguel was prepared to lead his entourage on a journey that could define the destiny of his people. He knew that, with courage and determination, they could overcome any obstacle and ensure a prosperous future for the barony.

Before departing, Miguel took one last look at the mansion, his mind full of plans and possibilities. The future was in their hands, and he was ready to face anything to ensure the safety and prosperity of his people.

--- DUCAL MANSION ---

A woman walked through the long corridors of an imposing mansion. Each step she took reverberated on the stone floor, her majestic stride exuding an unshakable confidence and a fear that spread to everyone around her. The long corridors were adorned with richly embroidered tapestries and torches that cast flickering light, creating dancing shadows on the walls.

She wore simple yet well-maintained armor that gleamed under the torchlight. The simplicity of her armor did not diminish her presence; on the contrary, it highlighted her strength and authority. At her side, two guards in plate armor accompanied her closely, their heavy boots echoing in unison with her steps. Their faces were serious, demonstrating the importance of their mission and the respect they had for her.

As she walked, the servants and guards she encountered along the way stepped aside, bowing their heads in respect and perhaps a little fear. The woman seemed not to notice, or maybe she didn’t care. Her gaze was fixed ahead, her expression stern and determined. Each of her movements was calculated, demonstrating a discipline and rigorous training.

The corridors were long and winding, with high windows letting in sunlight, illuminating the path. Portraits of ancestors adorned the walls, silently watching as the woman passed by. She was a contrast to the opulence around her, a figure of power in a luxurious environment.

At the end of the corridor, a large carved wooden door awaited her arrival. Two guards stood by the door, their spears upright and expressions impassive. Seeing her approach, they quickly moved to open the door, their actions swift and efficient.

The woman paused for a moment, watching the door open before her. The guards followed her closely, always vigilant. The large door opened slowly, revealing a room beyond that could not yet be seen.

With one last look of determination, the woman entered through the door, her powerful and imposing presence filling the space. The guards closed the door behind her, leaving only the resonance of her entrance echoing through the corridors.

---

Aurélio Vonmain was sitting at the head of a large round table, his fingers drumming distractedly on the polished wood. His piercing eyes watched the door open, and upon seeing Amélia enter, a malicious smile appeared on his face. Beside him was Augusto Vonmain, the duke's third son, who maintained a thoughtful and slightly bored expression.

Amélia Vonmain entered the room with the same aura of confidence and power that accompanied her through the corridors. Her cold gaze met Aurélio's for a brief moment before she looked away and sat apart from her two brothers. Aurélio chuckled softly, amusement evident in his tone. “I see you haven’t changed at all over the years, Amélia.”

Amélia kept her gaze steady, deliberately ignoring Aurélio’s comment. Her face was a mask of determination. “Let’s get straight to the point, Aurélio. What’s the purpose of this meeting?”

Augusto, who had until then remained silent, leaned forward, his eyes shining with renewed interest. “Yes, brother, I’m curious. Has our father finally passed away?”

The room seemed even more opulent than the corridors. The large round table was decorated with intricate wood carvings, and the chandeliers on the ceiling cast a soft, golden light, highlighting the aristocratic features of the Vonmain siblings. The walls were adorned with tapestries and portraits of their ancestors, watching the meeting with attentive and expressionless eyes.

Aurélio let out a sigh, his eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and impatience. “No, Augusto, our father still breathes. But there are urgent matters we need to discuss, and that’s why I called this meeting.”

Amélia wasted no time, crossing her arms and leaning slightly forward. “What matters, Aurélio? I’m busy and prefer not to waste time with games.”

Aurélio leaned back, a calculated smile playing on his lips. “All in good time, sister. We have much to discuss, and everyone’s presence is essential.”

Augusto, always the most direct of the three, glanced sideways at Amélia and then at Aurélio. “Then please, clarify the reasons for this meeting. We’re here now, so save your mysterious air and get straight to the point.”

Aurélio nodded slowly, as if savoring each moment of anticipation. “Very well, brother. But first, an update on Miguel. You know he was sent to that insignificant barony in the far south, right? It seems he’s encountered some difficulties...”

Amélia interrupted, her voice cutting. “Miguel is not our concern. He’s far away and out of our way. Let’s focus on what really matters.”

Augusto, always impatient, let out a snort. “And what really matters? Has our father finally passed away?”

Augusto’s question hung in the air like a sentence, laden with expectation and tension. The ensuing silence was palpable, and all eyes turned to Aurélio, waiting for his response.

Chapter 32

Aurélio then smiled, a cunning glint in his eyes. “The reason for this meeting is really about Miguel,” he said, watching his siblings’ reactions.

Amélia and Augusto exchanged glances, clearly confused. Why would their insignificant bastard brother be the reason for such an important meeting?

“Why should we care about Miguel?” Amélia asked, impatience evident in her voice. “He’s finally gone, far away from here.”

Aurélio chuckled softly, savoring the moment. “Miguel unfortunately arrived safely at the barony of Drakmoor.”

Amélia narrowed her eyes. “And what do we have to do with that?”

Augusto, suspicious, leaned forward. “What did you do, brother?”

Aurélio picked up a bottle of wine and filled his glass with deliberate, almost theatrical movements. He stood up from the table and walked to the window, where the light breeze made his long red hair flutter. He took a sip of the wine, savoring the taste before responding. “Let’s just say I tried to reduce the competition for the duchy.”

Amélia started laughing, a cold and cutting sound that echoed through the room. Augusto gave her a reproachful look. “This isn’t funny, Amélia,” he said, turning to Aurélio. “What exactly did you do, Aurélio?”

Aurélio remained silent, gazing out the window. The sun was setting on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The atmosphere in the room was tense, laden with unanswered questions and growing expectations.

Augusto repeated the question, his voice firm. “Aurélio, what exactly did you do?”

The silence that followed was almost deafening. Amélia and Augusto waited, their eyes fixed on Aurélio, who finally turned around, an enigmatic smile still playing on his lips.

Before Aurélio could respond, Amélia interrupted, addressing Augusto. “He tried to kill him,” she said, her voice sharp and full of certainty. She then turned her cold gaze to Aurélio. “Isn’t that right, brother?”

Aurélio laughed, a soft sound that echoed through the room. “You really are the best of us three, aren’t you, sister?” he said, with malicious admiration.

Augusto let out a laugh of relief. “So you really tried to kill that bastard, brother,” he said, his expression relaxing a bit.

Amélia, however, was not distracted. “But something didn’t go as planned, did it?” she asked, fixing her gaze on Aurélio, who was no longer laughing. His expression became serious, his eyes fixed on the wine glass in his hand.

Silence returned to the room, heavy and full of tension. The three Vonmain siblings, each with their own ambitions and secrets, were now united by a moment of unspoken truth. Amélia, always perceptive, had uncovered Aurélio’s plot, but the implications of his failure were yet to be revealed.

Aurélio looked out the window again, the sunset painting the sky with vibrant colors. The breeze that once seemed light now carried a sense of unease. He knew he would need to reveal more than he was willing to, and the mood in the room reflected the gravity of the situation.

Amélia and Augusto waited, each with their own conflicting emotions. The meeting that started with indifference and irritation was now full of new urgency. Aurélio’s actions, though initially dismissed, now carried a weight none of them could ignore.

Aurélio took a deep breath and answered frankly. “Yes, I tried to kill Miguel. But that bastard somehow endured the entire journey and reached the barony. And that’s not even the main thing that bastard did.”

Amélia frowned, clearly irritated. “You should have consulted me before taking such a deliberate action,” she said, her voice full of disapproval. “But what does it matter if he is alive or dead? He is just a bastard who is now far away. From what I recall, that barony is bankrupt and will soon collapse.”

Aurélio shook his head, denying. “That is not entirely true, not anymore. From the information I have, Miguel received help from beast-men.”

Amélia and Augusto were speechless, surprise evident on their faces. “How can you be sure of that?” Amélia asked.

Aurélio began to explain, his tone loaded with frustration. “I hired some mercenaries to kill Miguel, and yet he managed to survive and reach the barony. I gave Peterson, from the mercenary guild, full freedom to do whatever it took to have Miguel killed. Within a few days, Peterson gathered a small army. From what he told me, they were almost subduing Miguel, but a cavalry of beast-men appeared. You know how beast-men use more robust and large horses. They didn’t stand a chance. The last information I received is that Miguel is holed up in that barony, and alive.”

Amélia pondered all this information, her mind working quickly. “You are irresponsible, Aurélio. You tried to act alone and only worsened the situation,” she said, with a cold look. “And why did you want so much to kill Miguel, just a bastard?”

Aurélio, his voice loaded with hatred, replied: “It’s precisely because he is a bastard who doesn’t deserve to live with our family’s name.”

Augusto interrupted, his expression worried. “You know that, in practice, the beast-men invaded our duchy. And even worse, the kingdom. His Majesty, the king, will want to react when he finds out about this, and especially the church...”

Aurélio nodded in agreement. “The king has already been informed. I will leave for the capital of the kingdom in two days for a meeting with the king and the church priests.”

Amélia stood up abruptly, her face a mask of determination. Without saying anything more, she began to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” Aurélio asked, somewhat surprised.

“I’m going to fix all this mess you caused,” Amélia replied, without looking back, leaving the room with determined steps.

***
Miguel and his entourage rode steadily towards the volcano. A day had already passed on their journey, and Miguel was impressed by the landscapes they encountered along the way. The barony's territory revealed itself to be diverse, with majestic mountains in the background and vast flatlands stretching as far as the eye could see. He saw several rivers winding through the land and many dense forests, which, though beautiful, brought to mind the concern of being potential hideouts for criminals.

Riding beside him was Ricardo, ever vigilant. Right behind them, fifteen armed soldiers followed with discipline, ready for any eventuality. Two wagons accompanied them, carrying various empty sacks. Miguel planned to reach the volcano’s slopes and collect volcanic ash, one of the essential ingredients for Roman concrete. Considering the technological limitations of the medieval world he found himself in, he concluded that reproducing Roman concrete would be less complicated and more efficient.

To his left was Elnar, the deer. His robust and calm presence offered an interesting contrast to the surrounding landscape. Miguel looked at him, curious about the glossary of engineering and architecture that Elnar possessed.

“What was the man like who gave you that glossary on engineering and architecture?” Miguel asked, trying to imagine the person who had introduced such knowledge to Elnar.

Elnar seemed thoughtful for a moment. “I do not recognize those last two words,” he said, intrigued.

Miguel smiled slightly, understanding the confusion. “Engineering and architecture are ways people like you and me design things,” he explained. “Engineering is the study and application of techniques to build machines and structures. Architecture is the art and science of designing and constructing buildings and other physical structures.”

“I see, I didn’t know there were names for those specific things. You humans are peculiar,” Elnar said.

Miguel knew that in this world, humans also didn’t have a name for this concept, but that wasn’t so important now.

As they conversed, the surrounding landscape continued to change. The mountains in the distance seemed closer now, their bases covered by dense forests. Sunlight filtered through the trees, creating a play of light and shadow on the forest floor. The sound of horse hooves and the creaking of wagon wheels were the only sounds breaking the tranquility of the place.

Miguel looked at the rivers winding through the land, reflecting the sunlight in a sparkling shimmer. He thought about the importance of these water sources for the survival of his barony and the possibilities of using these resources more efficiently in the future. The forests, despite their beauty, were a constant concern. He knew these areas could easily harbor bandits and other undesirable elements.

“These forests could be problematic,” Miguel commented, more to himself than to the others.

Ricardo nodded. “Yes, my lord. We must stay vigilant. Criminals could be lurking.”

The journey continued, and the entourage advanced at a steady pace. Miguel felt hopeful and determined. He knew the journey to the volcano was essential for the future of the barony. The concrete he planned to produce would be a crucial innovation to strengthen their defenses and build a more resilient infrastructure.

As they continued their ride, Miguel observed the details of the surrounding landscape, mentally storing each element. He knew every piece of information could be useful for his future plans. The journey was just beginning, and Miguel was ready to face any challenge that came their way.

The wind blew gently, bringing with it the fresh smell of earth and vegetation. Miguel felt connected to the world around him, even as a stranger in a foreign land. The determination in his eyes was clear, and he knew that with the help of his allies, he could transform the barony into a prosperous and safe place.

Chapter 33

The journey passed without incident, much to the relief of Miguel and his entourage. As they advanced, the volcano began to outline itself on the horizon, an imposing presence that dominated the landscape. The mountain was enormous, its base vast and its steep slopes covered in volcanic rocks and sparse vegetation. Miguel couldn't help but feel a mixture of reverence and apprehension as he contemplated that monstrosity of nature, hoping it was inactive.

Hours passed, and the entourage continued advancing, the volcano growing larger in their view. The tension they felt about the possibility of dangers along the way began to dissipate, replaced by the expectation of the work ahead. The soldiers remained vigilant, but the path was quiet, allowing them to focus on the mission.

Finally, they reached the slope of the volcano. The close-up view was even more impressive, with dark, irregular rocks stretching in all directions. Miguel dismounted and looked around, absorbing the details of the terrain. He saw areas covered in volcanic ash, exactly what he was looking for.

"Let's stop here to rest and eat before we begin the work," ordered Miguel, his voice firm but calm.

The soldiers began to dismount and set up an improvised camp. The wagons were brought closer, and the empty sacks prepared for the work ahead. Ricardo supervised everything, ensuring every detail was attended to.

Miguel sat on a flat rock, watching his entourage as they prepared. Elnar approached with some supplies, offering Miguel a simple but nutritious meal. The baron accepted gratefully, realizing the importance of maintaining his strength for the hard work ahead.

"It's quite a sight, isn't it?" said Elnar, looking at the volcano with an expression of mixed fascination and respect.

"Yes, it's impressive," agreed Miguel. "And also an invaluable resource if we can use this volcanic ash to produce concrete."

While eating, Miguel took the opportunity to reflect on the next steps. He knew the work would be arduous, but he also knew it was essential for the safety and prosperity of his barony. He looked at Ricardo, who was checking the tools and instructing the soldiers, and felt grateful to have such a dedicated ally by his side.

After the meal, Miguel stood up, feeling rejuvenated. He observed the sky, noting that the sun was still high, giving them enough time to start collecting the volcanic ash. "Let's begin," he said with determination. "We have a lot of work ahead of us."

The soldiers nodded in agreement, ready to follow his orders. The entourage was prepared to face the challenge, with Miguel's leadership guiding every step. They knew the task would not be easy, but they also knew it was a crucial step in strengthening the future of the barony.

---

Some soldiers stood guard, along with Ricardo, while others helped Miguel fill the sacks with volcanic ash. The slope of the volcano was covered by a thin layer of ash that had accumulated in small depressions in the terrain. The wagons were strategically positioned to facilitate the transportation of the collected material.

Elnar, beside Miguel, worked with a shovel, meticulously filling the sacks. His expression was one of curiosity as he watched Miguel work with determination.

"What is this concrete you talk so much about?" asked Elnar, breaking the silence with his deep voice.

Miguel laughed, appreciating the deer's curiosity. "Concrete is a mixture of volcanic ash, lime, and water that, when it dries, becomes extremely hard and durable. It's used to build strong structures, like walls and buildings."

Elnar frowned, trying to understand. "I see. It sounds really useful. It would be a revolution if it works as you say."

Miguel smiled, pleased with Elnar's interest. "It certainly will be. Imagine being able to build houses and fortresses without having to move huge rocks."

Elnar nodded, continuing to fill the sacks. "Our people build large buildings or temples similarly to humans. We take rocks and carve blocks to build. It takes a lot of work, and we often need great effort to move those rocks."

Miguel sighed, thinking about the work that must involve. "Exactly. If the concrete works as I hope, you won't need to move large rocks anymore. It will be much easier and faster to build anything."

Elnar looked at Miguel, admiringly. "That really would be a revolution. Let's hope it works."

They continued collecting the volcanic ash, working in silence. With each sack filled, Miguel felt closer to achieving his goal. He knew that this effort could mean a significant change for his barony and the beastmen. The idea of introducing such advanced technology into a medieval world filled him with hope.

The sun began to dip towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the slope of the volcano. The work was arduous, but Miguel and his companions' determination made every movement worthwhile. The soldiers maintained constant vigilance, ensuring everyone’s safety while they worked.

Miguel looked around, observing the progress they were making. He felt a sense of pride and gratitude for having such dedicated allies by his side. "We're doing well," he said, more to himself than to the others.

Elnar, noticing Miguel's satisfaction, smiled slightly. "Yes, we are. And soon we will see the result of our efforts."

Miguel nodded, determined. "Yes, we will. And when we return to the barony, we will have the foundation to build something new and lasting."

They continued to work, each shovelful of volcanic ash bringing them closer to a promising future. Night began to approach, but Miguel’s entourage was prepared to continue until they had enough for their needs.

---

With night falling, Miguel ordered the tents to be set up. Fatigue was starting to weigh on everyone, but the sense of progress gave them energy. Half of the sacks were already filled, and one of the wagons was completely loaded with volcanic ash. The anticipation of finishing the work the next day and returning to the barony was on everyone’s mind.

“Let’s rest now. Tomorrow morning we’ll finish the work and return to the barony,” said Miguel, his voice firm and encouraging.

Ricardo, ever efficient, organized the night watch. He assigned shifts to the soldiers, ensuring that security was maintained while everyone slept. He knew that despite the apparent tranquility, there was always the possibility of unexpected dangers.

Miguel stepped away a bit, observing the preparations for the night. He thought to himself about the next step. “Now we just need to find lime, and that probably won’t be difficult,” he reflected, feeling a slight relief. Roman concrete was getting closer to becoming a reality, and he couldn't help but feel anxious about what it would mean for the barony’s future.

The night passed quickly. The fatigue and hard work had taken their toll, and everyone slept deeply. When morning came, Miguel was the first to rise, followed by Ricardo and the other soldiers. The morning air was fresh, and the light of the rising sun painted the volcano with golden hues.

Everyone began to work immediately, with renewed determination. They spent the entire morning filling the last sacks with volcanic ash and completing the final wagon. The work was hard, but each filled sack was a step closer to their goal.

Miguel coordinated the efforts, encouraging and guiding when necessary. He knew that, although they were tired, the end was near, and this gave everyone a new burst of energy. Elnar, always by Miguel’s side, continued to collect ash with precision and care.

By the end of the morning, the last sacks were loaded onto the wagon. Satisfaction was visible on everyone’s faces. Miguel felt a deep pride as he looked at the work accomplished. “Good job, everyone,” he said, with a grateful smile. “Now we can return to the barony with the assurance that we are on the right path.”

Ricardo approached, adjusting his sword at his waist. “We are ready to depart, my lord. The wagons are loaded, and the men are prepared.”

Miguel nodded. “Let’s head back. We have much to do and little time to waste.”

With everything ready, the entourage began the journey back to the barony. The wagons loaded with volcanic ash represented more than just a construction material; they were a symbol of Miguel’s hope and determination to transform his barony into a prosperous and safe place. The journey was far from over, but with each step taken, Miguel knew he was closer to achieving his goal.

Chapter 34

Miguel and his entourage returned safely to the barony after nearly a week of traveling to the volcano's slope. During the journey, Miguel reflected on the barony's infrastructure. He knew he was far from being able to build railways, but the vast, flat terrain was perfect for roads. For now, he decided to build roads connecting the nearby villages and even to the border with the land of the beastmen. However, the idea of constructing railways for resource transportation remained in his mind. For that, he would need something truly revolutionary in this world: a motor.

Back in his office, Miguel worked on the sketch of the plow he had promised to build. The irrigation system was still in planning, and he knew he would have to deal with the nearby river, which had many trees around it. He finished the plow sketch, satisfied with the progress. Now, he needed to talk to Arthur and Marcus. During the days he had been away, the two seemed to have finished the prototype of the automatic crossbow.

Miguel left his office, closely followed by Ricardo. They walked through the mansion's corridors, greeting the servants and guards along the way. As they passed by the storage room, Miguel paused for a moment to observe the hundreds of sacks of volcanic ash they had collected. The sight filled him with satisfaction and hope for the future of the barony.

"Let's go, Ricardo," said Miguel with determination. "We have a lot to do."

Ricardo nodded, accompanying the baron to the stable. They mounted their horses, ready to head to the town. The sound of hooves echoed through the courtyard as they advanced toward the main gates.

The road to the town was busier than usual, with residents and soldiers working on improvements and constructions. Miguel waved to some of them, receiving respectful greetings in return. The presence of the beastmen helped maintain order and security, and Miguel felt that his decision to form an alliance was starting to bear fruit.

As they rode, Miguel and Ricardo discussed the next steps. "We need to check on the preparations for building the wall next," said Miguel. "And also ensure that Arthur and Marcus have everything they need to finalize the crossbow prototype."

Ricardo agreed, his expression serious. "Yes, my lord. I will closely supervise to ensure everything is in order."

The town was in sight, with its simple but sturdy buildings, and the constant movement of people working and talking. Miguel knew that much work still needed to be done, but he felt optimistic about the progress. The collaboration between humans and beastmen was a sign that significant changes were on the way.

Upon arriving in the town, Miguel and Ricardo dismounted their horses and headed towards Arthur's blacksmith shop. They were eager to see the progress of the crossbow prototype and discuss the next projects. The feeling that they were building something important for the future of the barony gave them the energy needed to continue.

As they walked through the streets, Miguel felt a mix of pride and responsibility. He knew that his role as a leader was crucial for everyone's well-being and was determined to do his best. Ricardo, by his side, shared the same commitment and confidence in the future.

Arthur's blacksmith shop was just ahead, and Miguel knew that the hard work and dedication of the past days were about to show their results.

Miguel arrived at the blacksmith shop and found Arthur focused on his work, placing a sharp steel tip on one of the arrows Marcus had created for the crossbow. Noticing the baron's presence, Arthur and his son, Benjamin, stopped what they were doing to greet him.

"Good morning, my lord," said Arthur, with a respectful nod. Benjamin smiled shyly beside his father.

"Good morning, Arthur, Benjamin," replied Miguel, returning the greeting with a warm smile. "Is everything ready?"

Arthur nodded, visibly proud. "Yes, sir. Marcus and I decided to place the crossbow near the west wall, outside. Some guards and beastmen are keeping an eye on it."

Miguel smiled, pleased with the news. "Then let's go see it, my friend."

The three began walking towards the location where the crossbow was installed. As they walked through the town's streets, Miguel observed his surroundings attentively. He noticed how all the roads and streets were dirt, easily turning into mud during rain. This was a significant problem that he needed to solve quickly, speeding up the construction of paved roads.

The simple houses of the residents were lined along the streets, with children playing outside and adults engaged in their daily activities. The presence of the beastmen working alongside the humans was an encouraging sign of the cooperation Miguel was promoting.

As they approached the west wall, Miguel could see the imposing figure of the crossbow installed on an elevated platform. Barony guards and beastmen were around, watching closely and discussing among themselves.

"We're almost there," said Arthur, pointing to the crossbow. "Marcus did an excellent job on the woodwork, and the arrows we created are quite efficient."

Miguel felt a wave of pride upon seeing the result of his team's joint efforts. He knew that this innovation would be a crucial step in strengthening the barony's defenses and ensuring everyone's safety.

The three men continued walking, with Miguel feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation for what he was about to see. The automatic crossbow was just the beginning of a series of innovations he planned to implement, and each step taken towards this future filled him with hope.

When they finally arrived at the site, Miguel could see up close the ingenuity and hard work that had been dedicated to the crossbow's construction. He paused for a moment, absorbing the sight of the machine that represented the future of his barony.

"Let's see what this marvel is capable of," said Miguel, with a determined smile.

Miguel inspected the crossbow, and it was magnificent, exactly as he had sketched it. The robust and well-finished structure reflected Arthur and Marcus's effort and skill. Beside him, Marcus was present, with a satisfied smile, while Arthur watched with pride.

"Both of you did a great job," said Miguel sincerely. "Arthur, you made some parts with metal, and Marcus, the body of the crossbow is perfect."

The crossbow was mounted on a wooden stand with wooden wheels, an improvised solution by Marcus to facilitate transport. Miguel ran his hand over the structure, feeling the texture and solidity of the material. He was impressed with the functionality of the design.

"I made this stand and the wheels to make the crossbow easier to transport," explained Marcus, pointing to the ingenious movement system.

Miguel nodded, admiring. "It's a brilliant idea."

Marcus then showed the compartment where the arrows would be placed. After each shot, the next arrow would roll down by gravity. Next to the crossbow, a lever allowed the string to be cocked for the next shot, making the process efficient and quick. He also showed that the crossbow has an aiming system that allows it to turn in any direction quickly while on the stand.

"Let's test it," said Miguel, eager to see the crossbow in action.

They positioned six wooden targets 200 meters away. Miguel volunteered to take the first shot. He prepared himself, leaned on the structure, and aimed carefully. The lever was relatively light due to the oil lubrication, making the movement easy.

When he pulled the trigger, the arrow shot out at high speed, emitting a whistle that quickly faded away. After a few seconds, it hit the target accurately.

"That was fast," said Miguel, surprised by the speed.

"I used a lighter wood for the arrows and lubricated the firing barrel with oil," explained Marcus. "That helped increase the firing speed."

Miguel pulled the lever again, cocking the crossbow for the next shot. He repeated the process, hitting the second wooden target with the same accuracy. With each reload, the lever slid smoothly, allowing a quick reload of four seconds between each shot.

He continued until he hit all the remaining targets, each one struck with impressive precision. The soldiers and beastmen watching the demonstration were visibly impressed, murmuring among themselves about the effectiveness of the new weapon.

Miguel stepped away from the crossbow and turned to Arthur and Marcus, a satisfied smile on his face. "You have exceeded my expectations. This will revolutionize our defenses."

Arthur and Marcus exchanged proud looks. "We are ready to start producing other units, my lord, but we can only produce one or two per week due to the low workforce," said Marcus.

"Perfect," replied Miguel. "We will ensure that each wall and strategic point has one of these. And Marcus, the stand with wheels is an excellent addition. We need more of these to facilitate transport."

Marcus nodded. "We can start working on that immediately."

Miguel felt full of hope and determination. With the automatic crossbow, the barony would be more protected and prepared for any threat. He knew there was still much to do, but this was a crucial step toward a safer and more prosperous future.

"Let's return to the city and organize everything," said Miguel, looking at Ricardo. "There is still much work to be done."

Chapter 35

Miguel returned to his office, feeling satisfied with the success of the crossbow project on the first attempt. Perhaps he had underestimated the skill and potential of the people around him. Upon entering the office, he found Marcus and Ricardo already waiting for him.

"Well, gentlemen, we have more work ahead of us," said Miguel, settling into his chair. "Marcus, I need you for another project."

Marcus, always attentive, leaned in slightly to listen better. Miguel pulled a sketch from his desk and handed it to the carpenter. "I want you to make brick molds," Miguel explained. "We will use these molds to create the concrete bricks we need for the new wall and concrete roads."

Marcus took the sketch, examining it carefully. He analyzed every detail, his eyes scanning the precise lines of the drawing. A confident smile appeared on his face. "This will be easy, my lord," he said, laughing. "By the end of the day, I'll have a mold ready for you."

Miguel smiled, relieved. "That's perfect, Marcus. Your efficiency is impressive."

"I'll do my best, as always," replied Marcus, humbly.

"Great. You may go now and start the work," said Miguel, nodding.

Marcus nodded and stood up, bidding farewell to Ricardo with a nod before leaving the office. Ricardo watched the interaction with approval. He knew that every small innovation was contributing to a stronger and more resilient barony.

Miguel turned to Ricardo, feeling energized by the progress. "Ricardo, we need to ensure that the workers are ready to start brick production as soon as Marcus finishes the molds."

"Leave it to me, my lord," replied Ricardo. "I will organize everything and ensure they are prepared."

Miguel nodded confidently. "Thank you, Ricardo. We have a lot of work ahead of us, but I feel we're on the right track."

Ricardo left the office to start organizing the workers. Miguel, now alone, took a deep breath and looked at the sketches on his desk. He knew that each step was crucial to the transformation of the barony. With the success of the crossbow and the start of concrete brick production, he was more determined than ever to continue his mission.

He picked up another blank paper and began sketching the next project in his mind. He knew that with allies like Marcus and Ricardo by his side, he could overcome any challenge and build a bright future for everyone in the barony.

---

Miguel left his office accompanied by a guard. He decided to go to the site in the city where they produce charcoal. João, the young deer, had told him the other day that, thanks to these large furnaces, it was possible to produce enough charcoal for the winter. Miguel wanted to see with his own eyes, not just the charcoal production but also to gather information about the possibility of obtaining lime, a crucial element for concrete production.

The walk to the charcoal production area was peaceful. As they approached, Miguel noticed the wooden structure that stood out in the landscape. It looked like a large hall, robust and well-built, highlighting the importance of charcoal production for the village. As they approached, the heat emanating from the furnaces could already be felt, and a light smoke rose into the air, carrying the characteristic smell of burning wood.

Miguel pushed open the heavy door and entered, feeling the intense heat from the furnaces. Four large furnaces dominated the space, their flames crackling fiercely as workers fed the fire with large pieces of wood. The environment was hot and noisy, with the constant sound of hammers hitting, wood being broken, and the crackling of flames.

Looking around, Miguel saw a huge stockpile of charcoal stacked near the furnaces. It was an impressive sight, a true mountain of black and shiny charcoal, carefully stored for the winter.

"Incredible," Miguel said to himself, marveling at the efficiency and organization of the place. He approached one of the workers, a robust-looking man with calloused hands from hard work.

This man, who seemed to be one of the leaders of the workers, noticed Miguel's approach and said, "My lord, it is a surprise to see you here. How can I help?"

Miguel smiled, recognizing the dedication in the worker's eyes. "I was curious about how you produce charcoal, and I am impressed with the amount you have here."

The man nodded proudly. "Charcoal production was started generations ago in this barony. My great-grandfather was one of the workers who began it all, and now I follow that tradition." He pointed to the stone furnaces, which looked robust and ancient.

Miguel looked at the furnaces with renewed interest. "Do you know if they produce anything other than charcoal in these furnaces?"

The man shook his head negatively. "No, my lord, only charcoal."

Miguel reflected for a moment before continuing. "I am thinking of using one of the furnaces to produce an important element called lime. It is extracted from limestone."

The man looked confused. "I've never heard of that, my lord."

"That makes sense," Miguel murmured to himself, understanding the man's unfamiliarity with the material. He then turned to the worker and explained, "Lime is an essential element that will help us defend the village and build more resilient structures."

The man pondered the information and asked, "Where can we get this limestone?"

"There is a quarry nearby," replied Miguel. "I believe we will find limestone there."

The man frowned, recalling something. "The quarry was closed generations ago by order of the king of the time. These furnaces were built with stones from that quarry." He looked at Miguel with determination. "If you wish, my lord, we can use one of the furnaces for this limestone."

Miguel thanked him with a grateful smile. "Thank you. I will return with some limestone to start the production."

With that, Miguel and the guard accompanying him bid farewell to the worker. He felt that another important stage was about to begin. As he walked back through the city, the sight of the furnaces and the huge charcoal stockpile still impressed him. He knew that the journey to transform the barony was just beginning, but each step forward filled him with hope and determination.

Leaving the wooden structure, Miguel looked around, observing the movement of the workers and the vitality of the city. He felt inspired by the history and commitment of the people who kept the traditions alive while preparing to embrace the innovations he was bringing.

"Let's go, we have a lot of work to do," Miguel said to the guard as they headed back to the mansion. The idea of obtaining limestone and producing lime to strengthen the defenses and constructions of the barony was just one of the many plans he had in mind. And with everyone's help, he knew he could turn these ideas into reality.

---

Miguel was in his office, lost in thoughts about the ingredients needed to produce Roman concrete. The only component missing was sand, but the barony's coastline seemed too far away for now. He concluded that, for the moment, the best option would be to crush stones and use them as aggregate instead of sand until he found a way to reach the coast.

As he reflected on this, he heard a knock on the door. It was the young servant João, who entered and said, "Afternoon coffee is ready to be served, my lord."

Miguel smiled and replied, "Thank you very much, João. I'll be there shortly."

He stood up from his chair and walked to the window, from where he could see the city in the distance. The mansion was built on an elevated peak, providing a strategic view of the entire region. He had always found this view fascinating, and at that moment, he felt a wave of inspiration and responsibility.

The city was bustling with activity, with workers moving along the dirt streets, children playing, and merchants selling their goods. Miguel knew he had a crucial role in improving the lives of these people, and building the new wall was just one of the many steps he needed to take.

He walked to a dark wood cabinet, opened the door, and took out a bottle of wine that seemed quite old. "The older the wine, the better," he said to himself, remembering the saying. Carefully, he took a delicate glass goblet and poured himself a drink. The wine had a deep, rich aroma, promising a pleasurable experience.

Miguel returned to the window, holding the glass of wine. He looked at the city again, his mind full of plans and strategies. He knew that the road ahead would not be easy, but he was determined to do everything he could to transform the barony into a prosperous and safe place for everyone.

He brought the glass to his lips and took a sip, feeling the robust flavor of the aged wine. The liquid went down smoothly, warming him from the inside. The combination of the inspiring view and the quality wine made him feel momentarily at peace, despite the numerous challenges he faced.

"The new wall will be a priority," he murmured to himself, mentally tracing the next steps. "As soon as we start producing the bricks, we will need to ensure that construction is quick and efficient. Every day that passes, we become more vulnerable without adequate defenses."

He finished the wine, leaving the empty glass on the table beside him. Miguel knew that the hard work was just beginning, but he also felt that each small advance was a victory. He was determined to keep fighting for his barony, ensuring a better future for everyone.

With one last look at the city, he turned and walked toward the door, ready to face the next challenges.

Chapter 36

That night, Miguel was once again in his office, checking some important documents of the barony. He thought to himself that he urgently needed a new butler. But who could he appoint for that position? He didn't know anyone who stood out for the role.

While looking at the documents, the door opened, and Ricardo entered, not alone. Beside him was Marcus, holding wooden boards in his hands. It was the mold for the bricks.

"Good evening, my lord," greeted Ricardo, followed by Marcus.

"Good evening," replied Miguel, rising from his chair. "Marcus, have you finished the mold?"

"Yes, my lord," said Marcus, smiling. "I'd like to demonstrate how it works."

Miguel nodded and indicated the table where Marcus could show the mold. Marcus placed the wooden boards on the smooth surface and began to explain.

"This is the mold," he said, pointing to the moving parts. "The sides and the bottom are fitted with small wooden dowels. See, you can disassemble and reassemble it easily, just as your sketch directed."

He pulled one of the dowels, sliding the side of the mold out, revealing how the pieces separated. "This way, you can place anything inside and wait for it to dry."

Miguel watched attentively as Marcus reassembled the mold, fitting the wooden dowels back with ease. The moving parts allowed the mold to be disassembled and reassembled quickly, making the brick-making process more efficient, just as he had planned in the sketch.

He thought he would definitely need to apply a thin layer of oil to the sides and bottom to facilitate the removal of the dried bricks.

"Impressive," said Miguel, admiring the simplicity and functionality of the design. "This will greatly ease brick production, you've made it exactly as I drew in the sketch."

"Yes, my lord," agreed Marcus. "This mold looks like it will be very useful to you."

Miguel smiled, satisfied with the progress. "Excellent work, Marcus. We'll start production in a few days."

"With pleasure, my lord," said Marcus, nodding. "I will organize the workers and ensure everything is ready."

Miguel thanked Marcus again and looked at Ricardo, who also seemed pleased. "Ricardo, we will need a good amount of limestone to produce lime. Do you think we can start exploring the quarry tomorrow?"

"Yes, my lord," replied Ricardo. "I believe we can arrange a team for that tomorrow."

Miguel nodded, feeling confident about the next steps. "Very well. Let's make sure the barony is prepared."

As Marcus and Ricardo left, Miguel turned his attention back to the documents on his desk. He knew the hard work was just beginning, but each small victory filled him with hope and determination.

He sat down again, looking at the mold on the table. He felt he was on the right path, turning his visions into reality. With people like Marcus, he knew he could overcome any obstacle and build a better future for everyone in the barony. He knew he was just an engineer and couldn't accomplish any of this alone.

With a satisfied sigh, Miguel picked up a pen and began to jot down the next steps in his plans. He was more determined than ever to continue fighting for his barony, ensuring each advancement was a step towards a prosperous and secure future.

Miguel was with Ricardo and the new city guard commander, John. John took them to an old tool shed near the military inn. It wasn't very big and had only 30 pickaxes and some materials for working with stones.

After organizing everything, Miguel headed to the quarry with a group of 20 people, including some soldiers. Ricardo, as always, was by his side. When they arrived, Miguel observed the abandoned place, filled with huge rocks and stones. He quickly identified the limestone.

"Look here," said Miguel, pointing to a large whitish rock. "This is limestone. We need to identify and collect as much as we can."

He quickly explained to the workers how to identify the limestone, describing its distinctive characteristics. "Look for rocks that have this color and texture," he said, showing an example. "These are the ones we need."

The workers began to spread out through the quarry, collecting the identified rocks. Miguel also ordered them to collect all the rocks that weren't too large, as he planned to crush them all to use as aggregate in the concrete.

While the workers gathered the rocks, Miguel and Ricardo watched closely. "This place has a lot of potential," said Miguel, looking around. "We can get a lot of material from here."

"Yes," agreed Ricardo. "We just need to ensure everything is done safely and efficiently."

After a few hours of hard work, the carts were loaded with limestone and other rocks. The return trip to the barony took about three hours. When they arrived, Miguel felt a sense of accomplishment as he saw the construction site that had been organized in his absence.

The construction site was impressive, with designated areas for each stage of the process. There was a section for lime production, another for crushing the rocks and creating the aggregate, one for mixing the concrete, and finally, an area for molding the concrete bricks.

Miguel watched as the workers began unloading the carts and headed to the person in charge of the operation. "Let's start with lime production," he said. "Let's take the limestone rocks to the furnace and start the heating process."

Miguel in the furnace hall, explaining to the furnace workers how to make lime. The process would take 24 hours, so he suggested using not-too-large limestone rocks, allowing them to obtain a significant number of calcified stones in less time. The workers listened carefully to his instructions, ready to start the work.

The next day, the calcified limestone rocks were carefully removed from the furnace and placed in wooden buckets to cool. Heat still emanated from the white and crumbly stones, but the calcination process had been a success. Once the stones had cooled, they were sent to the construction site.

Miguel, always attentive to details, instructed the workers to crush the calcified limestone with sledgehammers. The sound of the hammers striking the stones resonated throughout the construction site, creating a steady rhythm of activity. Larger pieces of limestone were broken into smaller pieces and eventually into a fine, white powder.

"Make sure the lime powder is well ground," said Miguel, watching the progress. "Store all the obtained lime powder in bags so we can use it in concrete production."

The workers followed his instructions, filling the bags with lime powder. Each bag was carefully sealed and stored, ready to be used when needed. The process took a week, during which a significant amount of lime and crushed stones was obtained.

Miguel supervised every step, ensuring everything was going according to plan. He knew every detail was crucial to the success of the project. Lime production was just the beginning, but it was an essential step in turning his visions into reality.

During that week, Miguel also spent time planning the next steps. He knew that with the lime and crushed stones, he could finally start concrete production and, later, the bricks they would use to build the new wall.

When the week ended, Miguel felt a deep sense of accomplishment. The lime bags were stacked and ready for use, and the crushed stones were enough to start concrete production.

He looked at Ricardo, who was by his side, and said, "We are ready. With this amount of lime and crushed stones, we can start producing concrete and then the concrete bricks."

Miguel observed the construction site, now full of activity and progress. He felt that every effort was paying off, and that the barony was transforming, step by step, into a stronger and more resilient place. The future seemed promising, and he was more determined than ever to keep moving forward, ensuring a prosperous and secure future for all.

With the construction site organized and the materials ready, Miguel knew the next step would be crucial. He was prepared to face any challenge, determined to turn his visions into reality and build a lasting legacy for the barony.

In the past week, besides the progress in lime and crushed stone production, another ballista was almost finished. The delay was justified by the fact that Marcus had made three dozen brick molds, addressing the urgent need for production.

Miguel, while observing the hard work of Marcus and Arthur, thought to himself that they needed to train more people to assist in their respective areas. The workload was becoming too heavy for just two men, no matter how skilled they were.

"This will be something to resolve soon," murmured Miguel to himself, noting the importance of expanding the team.

With the second ballista almost ready and the brick molds producing at a steady pace, he felt they were approaching the point where they could start the planned constructions. Each small step brought a sense of progress and accomplishment.

Chapter 37

Miguel positioned himself in the center of the construction site, where the workers were already gathered and the necessary materials were arranged in organized piles. He knew that explaining the preparation of ancient concrete would be an essential task to ensure the quality of the buildings they planned to erect.

"Good morning, men," Miguel began, his voice firm and clear to ensure everyone could hear him. "Today, I will teach you how to prepare a mixture that is strong and durable."

He pointed to the materials arranged before them. "We have here lime, volcanic ash, fine aggregates, and coarse aggregates. First, we will prepare the mixing area. Use this clean and flat space that we have previously prepared."

Miguel picked up a bucket of lime and a bucket of volcanic ash. "To start, we need to measure the materials correctly. We will use a ratio of one part lime to three parts volcanic ash." He showed the men how to fill the buckets with the correct amounts and pour them onto the ground, forming a mound.

"Now, mix the lime and volcanic ash with a shovel until they are well combined," he instructed, demonstrating the broad and efficient motion with the tool. The workers mimicked him, and soon the gray ash and white lime were blending uniformly.

"Next, we add the fine aggregates," Miguel continued, taking a quantity of crushed stone powder and pouring it over the lime and volcanic ash mixture. "Mix again until everything is uniform." Once more, he demonstrated how to do it, and the men followed his example.

"Now, make a hole in the center of the dry mixture," Miguel said, kneeling down to form a hole with his hands in the middle of the mixture. "We will gradually add water, pulling the dry materials into the center as we mix." He began to pour water into the hole and mix with the shovel, showing the necessary motion to create a homogeneous paste.

After some time of mixing, Miguel checked the consistency. "If the mixture is too dry, add more water, but be careful not to add too much. The consistency should be pasty and moldable."

He stood up and grabbed a bucket of pebbles. "Now, we add the coarse aggregates, like pebbles or rock pieces." He poured the pebbles into the mixture and started to stir again. "Mix well until all the aggregates are covered by the paste."

After ensuring that the pebbles were well incorporated, Miguel drew the men's attention to the next step. "The mixture is ready. We need to use it immediately. Today, we will use it to make bricks. Pour the concrete into the prepared wooden molds."

He demonstrated by filling a wooden mold with the mixture and compacting it well. "Compact it well to remove air bubbles," he instructed, showing how to use a simple tool to ensure the mixture completely filled the mold.

Finally, Miguel spoke about the curing process. "To ensure the durability of the concrete, we must keep it moist during the curing process, which can take several days. Cover the molded bricks with wet burlap sacks or spray water regularly."

He picked up a burlap sack and showed how to place it over the fresh bricks, wetting it with a small amount of water. "This way, our bricks will be durable and as strong as rocks."

Miguel stood up, wiping his hands. "Follow these steps carefully, and our bricks will stand the test of time. Good work, everyone!" The workers nodded, ready to apply their newly acquired knowledge to their tasks.

---

Ricardo watched attentively as Miguel explained to the workers how to make "concrete." He was intrigued, as he had never heard of this type of construction material before. Miguel detailed the process clearly, describing how to mix lime, ground stone aggregate, and water to create a strong mass.

When Miguel finished his explanation and stepped away from the men, Ricardo took the opportunity to ask his question. "Miguel, where did you learn about this? This 'concrete' is something I've never heard of..."

Miguel thought for a moment before responding. "I read about it in my spare time," he said, trying to sound convincing.

Ricardo frowned, clearly unconvinced, but decided not to press further. "I see," he said, though his curiosity still nagged at him. "What you're doing here is really impressive."

Miguel nodded, feeling the weight of responsibility in Ricardo's words. "We have a lot of work ahead of us, Ricardo. But I'm confident we can do it."

Ricardo watched Miguel for a moment, still trying to understand where all this knowledge came from. He decided, however, to keep his questions to himself, at least for now. There were more urgent things to be done, and the success of the barony depended on their collaboration and mutual trust.

With that, they both turned back to the workers, ready to continue with the plans and ensure everything was executed in the best possible way. The construction of the barony was just beginning, but each new step was a significant advance towards a stronger and safer future.

***

The next day, Miguel was back in his office, a sense of responsibility weighing on his shoulders. In front of him, sitting with an imposing posture, was Ruidahr, the lion leader of the beast-men. They were there to discuss matters of defense and security for both peoples.

Ruidahr began to speak, his words laden with concern. "Miguel, I decided to help you because you have proven to be a strong ally, faithful in your values, and I respect that. However, since the moment you crossed the border and fraternized with the beast-men, you betrayed your own kind. They will come after you, it is inevitable."

Miguel listened attentively, feeling the weight of Ruidahr's words. "I am sorry for involving your people in all this. My intention was just to resolve the food issue for the barony."

Ruidahr nodded, his golden eyes fixed on Miguel. "I respect that in you. And I must say, I am impressed with the advancements you are making. That ballista you built... it is an incredible weapon. The firing rate and robustness of it are impressive."

Miguel smiled humbly. "I only provided the blueprint and the idea. The credit goes to the carpenters and blacksmiths who put it into practice."

Ruidahr laughed, a deep and powerful sound. "Stop trying to deflect the credit from yourself, Miguel. You have a brilliant mind."

He then added, "At this very moment, my people are already building more windmills to grind the grains, thanks to your collaboration. Without you, I might have canceled the project."

Miguel felt a warmth in his chest, a mix of pride and gratitude. "I'm glad to hear that, Ruidahr. Our success depends on mutual cooperation."

He then stood up, took a bottle of wine from a nearby cabinet, and poured two glasses. "Let's toast to this partnership," Miguel said, handing a glass to Ruidahr.

Ruidahr accepted the glass with a smile, his eyes shining with camaraderie. "To our alliance," he said, raising his glass.

"To our alliance," Miguel echoed, touching his glass to Ruidahr's.

The sound of the toast echoed through the office, sealing a pact of friendship and cooperation. Miguel and Ruidahr drank the wine, savoring the deep and robust taste of the aged wine.

Ruidahr commented on the wine. "This wine is extremely good, Miguel."

Miguel laughed and replied, "I had the same reaction when I first tasted it."

Ruidahr then took on a more serious tone. "I shouldn't tell you this, but I trust you a lot, Miguel, and I have no reason to hide it anymore."

Miguel nodded, his eyes fixed on the beast-man leader.

Ruidahr began to explain. "Our kingdom is divided into dozens of autonomous cities that formed an alliance with a common goal about 100 years ago." Miguel listened attentively, trying to understand where Ruidahr was going with this.

"For many years and even to this day, dozens of beast-man kingdoms and cities have been annihilated by human empires and kingdoms. Since the church banned the slavery of humans as a crime against the gods centuries ago, they turned to the beast-men and saw us as easy prey to be the new slaves. Since then, we have always been hunted."

Miguel felt a chill upon hearing this. He knew the cruelty of humans, but hearing about this oppression so directly and personally was distressing.

Ruidahr continued. "We are planning a large-scale invasion of all human kingdoms that hold our people as slaves. I'm telling you this because I trust you and believe this plan will soon come into action."

Miguel sat down in his chair, thoughtful. He took a moment to process the information before responding. "I don't blame you for that, Ruidahr. I abhor slavery of any kind. In your position, I would do the same."

Ruidahr was impressed by Miguel's understanding. "You really are different, Miguel. Most humans I've met don't share this view."

Ruidahr then revealed another crucial detail. "Your barony would be one of the first to be attacked, as it is the gateway to the Kingdom of Ardia, one of the largest that holds slaves. However, now, with this turn of events, it has been decided to spare your barony."

Miguel was pensive. He knew that Ruidahr's people were suffering from oppression and injustice, but the beast-men's plan would start a bloody war and a massacre. He reflected on the moral dilemma and the consequences this war would bring.

"I understand the need to fight for freedom," Miguel said finally. "But I fear for the innocent lives that will be lost on both sides. It's a difficult situation, but I know that freedom must be won."

Ruidahr nodded, understanding Miguel's concern. "This war will be inevitable, Miguel. But know that you have an ally in us. We will protect your barony while we prepare for what is to come."

Chapter 38

Miguel responded firmly, "I will strengthen the barony's defenses and, if everything goes as planned, develop weapons that can change the fate of this world. Weapons that no army will be able to stop. You were impressed with the crossbow, weren't you?" Miguel asked Ruidahr with a smile. "This is just the beginning. You haven't seen what we're capable of yet."

Ruidahr nodded, intrigued and hopeful. "Do you really believe this is possible?"

"Yes," Miguel said with conviction. "I guarantee I will help you in liberating your people. You saved the people of this barony twice, once when you sent supplies and another when you drove out the mercenary army. You had no obligation to do this, but you did it anyway. For this, I promise to help you and your people. We will prove that humans and beastmen can share a society and a world together, free and without oppression or prejudice. It will be a difficult path, but we will achieve it."

Ruidahr smiled, his eyes shining with gratitude and determination. "You are a very optimistic human, Miguel, making me want to believe this future is possible."

They both raised their wine glasses and toasted again, a silent pact of friendship and commitment forming between them. Together, they looked out the window, observing the city in the distance, each lost in thoughts about the challenges and opportunities the future held.

---

A few days later, brick production was in full swing. Hundreds of concrete bricks had already been produced, and dozens were made each day. Miguel managed to organize an efficient logistics system for mining limestone, gravel, and collecting volcanic ash.

The workers followed a steady rhythm, breaking stones, collecting ash, and processing limestone in the furnaces. The process efficiency significantly increased with the help of dozens of beastmen, whose skills and strength sped up the work.

The construction site was always bustling with activity. Piles of bricks grew rapidly, and Miguel watched the progress with satisfaction. Carts loaded with limestone arrived regularly from the quarry, while others transported the newly produced bricks to construction sites.

Closely monitoring each step, Miguel felt a growing sense of accomplishment. The collaboration between humans and beastmen was proving fruitful, and the vision of a strengthened barony was beginning to materialize.

With brick production stabilized and logistics running smoothly, Miguel knew they were ready to start building the new walls. He felt hope renewing, confident that they were building a safer and more prosperous future for all.

---

Miguel was taking a last look at his construction plans, spread across different papers. He knew that every detail was crucial for the project's success. The construction would begin with the foundation. They would dig trenches two meters deep and one meter wide. These trenches would be filled with a layer of large stones to ensure stability. On this base, a mixture of concrete would be poured, creating a solid and durable foundation.

The wall would be ten meters high and three kilometers long, surrounding the entire city. It would be built in layers, with concrete bricks being stacked and bonded with mortar. Every meter of height, horizontal iron reinforcements would be added to increase structural strength. Inside the wall, Miguel planned to build rooms with small openings facing outward. These rooms would serve as watch posts and storage areas. The openings would allow guards to observe the outside without exposing themselves to danger. Additionally, some rooms would be used as shelters in case of emergency.

Four immense gates would be constructed, one at each end of the wall. These gates would be made of wood reinforced with iron strips, providing durability and security. Each gate would be wide enough to allow carts and troops to pass through. Mechanisms would be in place to lock them quickly in case of an attack. On top of the wall, Miguel planned to install dozens of automatic crossbows. These weapons would allow defenders to fire a large number of arrows in a short period, repelling any invading force. Besides the crossbows, there would be platforms for soldiers to patrol and watch the surrounding area.

Miguel also took care of the construction's logistics and organization. He divided the workforce into teams, each responsible for a specific part of the project. This would ensure that everyone knew their roles and could work efficiently. With all this planned, Miguel felt confident that the new wall would not only protect the city but also serve as a symbol of strength and unity between humans and beastmen. He knew that the success of this project could change the fate of the barony and perhaps the entire kingdom.

The first day of construction began at dawn, with a sense of anticipation and determination in the air. Miguel and Ricardo arrived early at the construction site, where human and beastmen workers were already gathering, all prepared to start the ambitious project.

The trenches were the first to be dug, starting at the city's main entrance. With simple but effective tools, the workers began to carve the two-meter-deep and one-meter-wide grooves. The sound of shovels and pickaxes hitting the ground filled the air as the land was carefully prepared.

Miguel closely observed each step, giving instructions and ensuring all details were followed to the letter. The team of humans and beastmen worked in sync, showing impressive efficiency. Every meter dug was a step closer to a solid and durable foundation.

With the trenches dug, the next step was to fill the base with a layer of large stones. Carts full of stones were brought from the quarry, and the workers quickly began placing them in the trenches. The foundation needed to be robust to support the ten-meter-high wall, and each stone was carefully positioned to ensure maximum stability.

After placing the stones, it was time to pour the concrete mixture over the stone base. The workers used large buckets to transport the fresh concrete, pouring it into the trenches and leveling the surface with hand tools. Miguel constantly checked the quality of the mixture and the uniformity of the application, knowing that any mistake at this stage could compromise the integrity of the wall.

As the day progressed, the foundation began to take shape. They had completed 200 meters of foundation at the city's main entrance, a crucial stretch that would be the base for the immense gates they had planned. Miguel couldn't help but feel a growing sense of pride as he watched the progress. He knew this was just the beginning of a long and challenging process, but the first day of construction was a success.

The workers, though exhausted, showed signs of satisfaction and accomplishment. They had done hard and well-executed work, and this was visible on their faces. As night fell, Miguel gathered everyone to thank them for their effort and dedication. He knew there was still a lot of work ahead, but with the motivated and committed team, he felt confident that they would achieve their goals.

With the foundation completed at the city's main entrance, they were ready to move on to the next stage. The wall's construction was officially underway, and Miguel knew that each day would bring them one step closer to a safer and more prosperous barony.

---

The second day of construction began with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sky tinged with a light pink that announced another day of hard work. Miguel and Ricardo were again at the construction site, ready to lead the team of human and beastmen workers. The atmosphere was charged with energy and determination.

The day's focus was to start building the wall itself. With the foundation at the city's main entrance completed, the workers began stacking the newly produced concrete bricks. With precision and care, the first rows of bricks were laid, each bound by a layer of mortar. Miguel watched closely, ensuring everything was aligned and level. The progress was slow but steady.

Throughout the day, the workers managed to raise two meters of the city's front wall. It was impressive to see the structure beginning to take shape, and this brought a sense of accomplishment and motivation to everyone. The wall, even in its early stages, already gave a feeling of security and strength.

In parallel with the wall's construction, another team was tasked with continuing the trench digging. Another 200 meters of trenches were dug, following the planned perimeter for the wall. The sound of shovels and pickaxes hitting the ground echoed in the air, mixing with the noise of conversations and supervisors' commands.

Miguel moved between the two teams, checking progress and offering guidance when necessary. He knew that maintaining high morale and efficiency was crucial to the project's success. He didn't hesitate to get his hands dirty, helping to carry bricks or dig when he saw a need.

The interaction between humans and beastmen continued to be harmonious, a testament to the new alliance Miguel had formed. They worked side by side, sharing tasks and knowledge, creating an atmosphere of collaboration and mutual respect.

As night fell, fatigue was evident on the workers' faces, but there was also a glow of satisfaction. Two meters of the wall had been raised, and another 200 meters of trenches dug. Miguel gathered the team again to thank and acknowledge everyone's effort.

"We are making progress," he said with a firm and encouraging voice. "Today we raised the first two meters of the wall. We will continue to work hard and build a safer future for all of us. Thank you for your dedication."

Chapter 39

A week after the construction began, the progress was significant. The entire foundation of the wall had already been excavated, and the work was advancing well. However, during the construction of the first few meters of the wall, a critical problem arose, something Miguel felt was a major oversight on his part. The wall would be tall, but how to place bricks so high?

Miguel had to think quickly and found a solution: to build a wooden platform with an improvised elevator. This unforeseen issue temporarily halted the construction of the wall but allowed more bricks to be produced, accumulating a considerable stock for when construction resumed.

Miguel dedicated himself to sketching the lifting platform. He drew a 15-meter-high wooden structure, planned to be built lying down and later raised by ropes. The base of the structure had wooden wheels, allowing the platform to be moved along the wall as needed. In the center, an improvised elevator with a lever and rope mechanism allowed the person inside the elevator to turn the lever until reaching the desired height.

The sketches were detailed, showing each component and explaining how they should be assembled. Miguel led the construction of this platform, dedicating himself tirelessly to the project. He worked side by side with carpenters, blacksmiths, and laborers, ensuring that each piece was built as planned.

The construction of the platform took a week. First, the structure was assembled on the ground. Large wooden logs were used to form the base and the main structure. The wooden wheels were carefully adjusted to ensure the platform could be moved easily. Once the main structure was complete, the lifting mechanism was installed. Sturdy rope and a robust lever were integrated, ensuring the elevator could be operated efficiently and safely.

Finally, the moment came to raise the platform. With the help of ropes and a coordinated team of workers, the structure was slowly lifted to a vertical position. The beastmen, with their considerable strength, played a crucial role in this process. The ropes were pulled with precision, and the structure was carefully placed in its final position.

Miguel watched with pride as the lifting platform became operational. He knew that this innovation would allow the construction of the wall to advance efficiently and safely. He planned to build at least ten of these platforms but needed to find a way to reduce the construction time for each one.

The servant Elnar, who had been present throughout the entire process, was impressed with the ingenuity of the platform. He approached Miguel, admiring the structure.

"This is incredible, Miguel," said Elnar. "I've never seen anything like this before. You truly have a talent for creating innovative solutions."

Miguel smiled, pleased with the compliment. "Thank you, Elnar. It was hard work, but necessary. Now, with this platform, we can continue building the wall and ensure the barony's safety."

With the first lifting platform completed and operational, Miguel felt renewed confidence in his plans. The construction of the wall could continue, and each day brought them closer to a safer and more prosperous future for everyone in the barony.
---
A week had passed since the construction of the wall resumed. The front part was already taking shape and looked well-finished. The progress was visible, and in the center of the wall, a huge opening marked the spot where the great gate would be placed. Miguel watched the construction, aware that more lifting platforms would be needed to maintain the pace.

During a meeting, Elnar suggested that the new platforms be built in the city of the beastmen, near the border. Miguel thought the idea was excellent and quickly drew detailed sketches of the platforms, handing them to Elnar to take to his city. With this efficient logistics, they could further speed up the construction process.

Now, Miguel had another task at hand: designing the sketches for the great gate and its manual mechanism. He sat in his office, spreading the papers on the table and beginning to sketch.

The gate would be made of robust wood, reinforced with iron bars to ensure its strength and durability. He drew the two gate leaves, each five meters high and two meters wide, which would meet in the middle of the wall opening. The iron reinforcement would be arranged in a cross pattern, ensuring stability and additional strength.

For the opening and closing mechanism, Miguel designed a manual system of pulleys and counterweights. At the top of the gate, pulleys would be installed connected to sturdy ropes. These ropes would descend inside the walls of the wall and be fixed to large stone counterweights. When a lever was activated, the counterweight would rise, pulling the rope and consequently opening the gate. The same mechanism would work to close the gate, using the gravity of the counterweights.

Miguel ensured that the mechanism was efficient and easy to operate, even in emergency situations. He drew the levers in strategic locations, allowing them to be quickly activated by the guards.

With the sketches completed, Miguel called Marcus and Arthur to discuss the construction of the gate. They met at the construction site, where Miguel explained the details of the sketches.

"Marcus, you will be in charge of building the wooden gate leaves. They need to be sturdy and well-reinforced with these iron bars," said Miguel, pointing to the sketches. "Arthur, you will be in charge of the hinges and the iron bars. They need to be strong enough to support the weight and pressure of the gate."

Both nodded, examining the sketches carefully.

"We'll start as soon as possible," said Marcus. "We need to make sure the gate is ready before the wall advances much further."

The construction of the gate began immediately. Marcus and his team of carpenters worked tirelessly, cutting and shaping the wood for the gate leaves. The wood was treated to withstand the weather and wear over time.

Meanwhile, Arthur and his blacksmiths worked on the iron bars and hinges. The sound of the hammer hitting the hot iron echoed through the construction site, a melody of progress and determination. The iron bars were shaped and fixed to the wooden leaves, forming the reinforced skeleton of the gate.

The pulley and counterweight mechanism also began to be installed. The pulleys were fixed at the top of the gate, and the sturdy ropes were carefully connected to the stone counterweights. Miguel supervised each step, ensuring that everything was according to the sketches.

After two weeks of hard work, the gate was finally ready. The wooden leaves, now reinforced with iron, were installed in the wall opening. The pulley and counterweight mechanism worked perfectly, allowing the gate to be opened and closed with ease.

Miguel, Marcus, and Arthur watched with satisfaction as the gate opened for the first time, moved by the manual system. The sense of accomplishment was palpable.

"Excellent work, all of you," said Miguel, smiling. "This gate will be one of the first lines of defense for our barony. Let's continue with the wall construction and ensure our city is protected."

With the gate installed and functioning, the construction of the wall could continue with renewed vigor. Miguel's vision of a safe and prosperous barony was increasingly becoming a reality.
---
A month and a half had passed since the construction of the wall began, and 40% of the structure was already standing. It was an imposing sight, and the city was beginning to feel safer with the growing protection. About 400 men, both humans and beastmen, worked tirelessly every day to make this possible. The accelerated pace was impressive, and the collaboration between the species showed the strength of the formed alliance.

In recent weeks, Elnar had returned with five new lifting towers. Miguel was impressed not only with how quickly the towers were built but also with the significant improvements made to the original design.

Elnar explained the improvements while showing the new towers to Miguel and Ricardo.

"The towers have been reinforced with a wider and more stable base," said Elnar. "We added wooden supports at angles to increase stability, allowing the tower to support more weight and prevent swaying during lifting."

Miguel examined the wooden supports, noticing how they were intelligently arranged to better distribute the weight. The wider base certainly gave a more robust and reliable appearance to the structure.

"We also implemented a double pulley system," Elnar continued. "This reduces the force needed to lift heavy materials and increases the overall efficiency of the lifting process."

He showed Miguel the double pulleys installed in the towers. With this system, the force applied to the lever was divided, making it easier for the workers to lift heavy loads without excessive effort.

"Additionally," said Elnar with a smile, "we used hemp ropes reinforced with silk fibers. They are lighter, more durable, and have less risk of wear."

Miguel touched the ropes, feeling the softness combined with the strength of the fibers. It was an innovative solution that increased the safety and longevity of the equipment.

"These improvements are incredible, Elnar," said Miguel, admiringly. "You really exceeded my expectations. These towers will further speed up the construction."

Elnar smiled modestly. "It was a joint effort. The engineers from our city, as you call them, helped perfect the original design. We wanted to ensure these towers were as efficient as possible."

Ricardo, who was observing closely, nodded in approval. "This will make a big difference. We can work faster and safer now."

Miguel thanked Elnar and his team for the excellent work. With the new lifting towers in operation, the construction of the wall advanced at an even faster pace. Each tower was strategically positioned along the wall, allowing materials to be lifted and placed efficiently.

The collaboration between humans and beastmen continued to strengthen. The wall was not just a physical structure; it symbolized the unity and determination of everyone to protect the barony and build a safer and more prosperous future.

Miguel watched the construction with a sense of accomplishment and hope. With 40% of the wall completed, he knew they were on the right track. The improvements to the lifting towers were a testament to the ingenuity and collaborative spirit that permeated the entire project.

As the towers lifted concrete bricks to the necessary heights, Miguel thought about the future. He knew there were still challenges ahead, but with allies like Elnar and the determination of the workers, any obstacle could be overcome.

"Let's keep up this pace," said Miguel, inspiring confidence in everyone around him. "We are building something extraordinary here, and each one of you is a fundamental part of this effort."

With Miguel's words echoing among the workers, the construction continued, and the wall rose ever higher. The vision of a protected and prosperous barony was closer each day, and Miguel knew that together, humans and beastmen could achieve great things.

Chapter 40

Miguel was in his office, attentively observing the papers scattered across the desk. The construction of the wall was going well, but his thoughts were far from there. He picked up a glass of wine and walked to the window, gazing at the distant city. The newly installed hoisting towers moved constantly, lifting bricks to ever greater heights. The sight of the progress brought him some relief, but also a sense of unease.

He pondered the silence from the duchy and his brothers. Surely they knew he was alive, and for some reason, they hadn't acted again yet. Miguel feared that more assassins could be sent at any moment. With a sigh, he took a sip of wine, trying to push away these dark thoughts.

As the crimson liquid slid down his throat, his mind wandered to his former life. It was strange to be a 20-year-old again. Before, as a 30-year-old engineer in a peaceful country, his life was average, full of routine and security. Now, he was Miguel, living in a medieval world, struggling to protect a barony and facing constant threats. He wondered what had happened to the real Miguel. Had he died? Or was he living in his original body, trying to understand what had happened? There were so many possibilities that he knew it wasn't worth speculating.

He continued to drink the wine, enjoying the view from the window. In the distance, he saw the wall rising, the result of the joint effort of humans and beastmen. These people believed in him, placing their hopes in his hands. It was a huge responsibility, but also a powerful motivation.

While he was lost in his thoughts, he heard a knock on his office door. He turned and asked the person to come in. It was Marta, bringing the young Lila with her. The girl, who seemed to be only 14 years old, had a shy look, but there was determination in her eyes. Marta, always attentive, left the room, allowing Miguel and Lila to talk alone.

Miguel looked at Lila with an encouraging smile. "Hello, Lila. How are you today?" he asked, trying to break the ice.

Lila gave a small smile, still a bit nervous. "I'm fine, Mr. Miguel. I... I wanted to talk to you about something important," she said, hesitantly.

Miguel nodded, gesturing for her to sit. "Of course, Lila. You can talk. I'm here to listen," he said, curious about what the young mage wanted to discuss.

Lila sat in the chair in front of Miguel's desk, adjusting the simple dress she wore. Her eyes shone with a mix of fear and determination. She took a deep breath, gathering the courage to speak.

Miguel watched the young girl attentively. He knew that Lila had gone through many hardships, just like everyone there. "You don't need to be afraid, Lila. I'm here to help," he said softly, trying to reassure her.

Lila looked at him and opened her mouth to speak but hesitated again. Miguel waited patiently, not pressing her. He knew that forcing the situation would not help. While waiting, his thoughts briefly returned to his former life and all the changes he had faced since then.

Finally, Lila seemed to find the necessary courage. She straightened her shoulders and began to speak, her voice still low but firm. "Mr. Miguel, I..." she began, but Miguel raised his hand to gently interrupt her.

"Lila, you can just call me Miguel. We're not in public, so there's no need for formalities," he said with an encouraging smile.

"Miguel, I... I want to talk about my powers," she began, looking directly into his eyes. "I need to learn to control the magic within me. I need a tutor."

Miguel was surprised by the request. He didn't know how to react or how he could help Lila. He began to think quickly, looking for a solution. The only option that came to mind was to ask the beastmen for help. He couldn't trust the church, suspecting that they were responsible for the attack on Lila's village, and somehow, they were after her.

"I... understand, Lila," Miguel responded, trying to process the situation. "I will look for someone who can help you. Maybe there are magicians in the beastmen society."

Lila seemed relieved by Miguel's response, but there was still a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes. Miguel stood up and called for João, the young servant who appeared to be around 15 or 16 years old. John appeared promptly.

"João, I would like you to accompany Lila so she can take a walk around the city," Miguel said. "She has been inside this mansion for too long."

Lila shook her head, refusing the suggestion. "I'm fine, I don't want to go out at the moment."

Miguel approached her and spoke softly. "Lila, it will be good for you. Since you arrived here, you haven't gone out once. You can't just lock yourself up in here."

After hesitating a bit, Lila finally agreed. The two left the room, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts. He returned to the window and poured another glass of wine, thinking about his younger siblings he had in his former life. Lila and John reminded him of them, and he felt a pang of homesickness and concern.

As he looked at the distant city, Miguel knew that he had many responsibilities and challenges ahead. Finding a tutor for Lila was just one more, but he was determined to find a solution and ensure that everyone there was safe and protected. He took another sip of wine, trying to push away his worries, and turned his attention back to what still needed to be done.

---

On top of the front wall, a guard watched the construction. The wall was partially finished, and three ballistae had already been installed in this section. The morning was calm, the sound of workers filling the air, when another guard caught his attention, pointing toward the trees.

“Look over there,” said the second guard, with a worried expression.

The first guard followed the pointed finger and saw five riders emerging from the trees, mounted on beautiful black horses. The sight of these riders immediately put the guard on alert. Without wasting time, he ordered the gates to be closed.

“Close the gates, now!” he shouted to the soldiers below. “Even though the southern, eastern, and western sections are not yet complete, the front and western zones are. We need to maintain security.”

The soldiers quickly obeyed, and the gates began to close with a heavy creak. The three ballistae were quickly armed and aimed at the approaching riders. The tension was palpable as the guards readied their weapons, prepared for any eventuality.

“Call John,” the guard ordered. “We need him here immediately.”

A soldier ran down the stairs of the wall towards the barracks to fetch John, while the other guards remained vigilant, their hands firm on the levers of the ballistae. The riders continued to approach, their movements elegant and coordinated. The distance between them and the wall slowly diminished, and everyone anxiously awaited John's arrival to decide the next step.

The atmosphere was charged with uncertainty and tension, each guard feeling the weight of responsibility on their shoulders. The presence of the unknown riders posed a potential threat, and they knew they couldn’t let their guard down for a second.

John arrived at the wall with hurried steps, worry etched on his face. He looked at the soldiers present and quickly asked, “What’s happening?”

One of the soldiers pointed to the group of five riders ahead, watching the wall closely. John squinted and quickly recognized the uniforms. They were guards of the duchy, and with them was a woman wearing simpler, yet no less lethal, armor.

“Damn,” John muttered to himself, his heart racing. Before he could give any orders, the woman on the horse shouted, her voice full of authority, “Hey, you there. Call your baron. I have matters to discuss with him.”

John thought he saw a malicious smile on the woman’s face. Her gaze was sharp and determined. He took a deep breath and asked, “What do you want?”

The woman rolled her eyes, irritated. “That’s none of a mere soldier’s concern. And if you don’t call the baron soon and make me wait any longer, I’ll take your head off myself.”

John felt a chill down his spine but remained calm. With no other choice, he ordered one of his men to go to the mansion and summon Baron Miguel. The soldier left immediately, running through the town towards the mansion. Meanwhile, John kept an eye on the riders, the tension increasing with every second. He knew their presence meant trouble, and the woman’s threat was not something he could ignore.

The other soldiers kept the automatic ballistae aimed at the riders, ready for any suspicious movement. The atmosphere was thick with uncertainty and danger, and everyone knew that the next step could determine the future of the barony.

Chapter 41

Miguel was in his office, sitting at his desk and discussing strategies with Ruidahr. The construction of the wall was progressing well, but there were always more details to resolve. The conversation was serious, but it was interrupted by an urgent knock on the door.

“Come in,” said Miguel, looking up from the papers.

A soldier entered, visibly agitated. “Sir, we have an emergency at the main gate.”

Miguel exchanged a worried look with Ruidahr and immediately called for Ricardo. The three of them left the office and headed to the main gate with quick and determined steps.

Arriving at the wall, Miguel hurried up the stairs, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his veins. At the top, he found John, the captain of the guard, waiting for him with a grave expression.

“What’s happening, John?” Miguel asked, trying to stay calm.

“We have some duchy soldiers at the gate, sir. And one of them insists on speaking with you,” John replied, pointing to the riders ahead.

Miguel looked in the direction John indicated and felt a chill run down his spine. The duchy’s riders stood there, their armor shining in the sunlight. But it was the figure in the center that made his blood freeze. He immediately recognized the woman in simple yet imposing armor. His sister, Amelia.

The sight of her brought a mix of conflicting emotions: fear, anger, and a hint of sadness. He hadn’t seen Amelia in a long time, and the last time they met, the circumstances weren’t friendly.

Miguel took a deep breath, trying to process his sister’s unexpected presence. He knew her arrival was not a good sign, and his heart pounded as he prepared to find out the reason for her visit.
---
Amelia waited impatiently, observing the barony’s soldiers lined up at the top of the wall. She noted that the structure was in an advanced stage of construction. “How did he manage this so quickly?” she thought. It had been less than three months since Miguel was sent to this place, a barony on the brink of collapse. The last time she was there, five years ago, the wall was made of wood, barely standing.

She looked at the wall again and frowned. The material didn’t seem like stone. It was something different, but she couldn’t identify what exactly. The texture and color were strange, something she hadn’t seen in other constructions. “What could this be?” she questioned herself.

Her eyes moved to the soldiers again. They were alert, watching her movements, ready for any sign of threat. Amelia noticed three large ballistae aimed in her direction. She had seen hand ballistae before, used in battles and defenses, but never something of this magnitude. “What kind of weapon is this?” she asked herself, intrigued. The presence of these giant ballistae added a layer of mystery and concern. Miguel wasn’t just surviving; he was fortifying the place.

Finally, she saw Miguel appear at the top of the wall, hurrying up the stairs. He looked down, his eyes meeting hers. The shock and fear on his face were evident, an expression Amelia immediately recognized. She had expected a reaction, but the intensity of his gaze surprised her.

Amelia kept her face impassive, hiding any emotion that might betray her position. “Miguel,” she murmured to herself, a mix of disdain and curiosity in her voice. She was there for a reason, and nothing in her brother’s frightened look would change that. She waited for him to take the initiative, already anticipating the conversation that would follow. The tension in the air was palpable, and she knew the real confrontation was just beginning.
---
Miguel was sweating cold with the presence of his sister, Amelia. A sense of anxiety took over his body, making his hands tremble slightly. He mentally wondered if this reaction was due to the original Miguel or if he himself was afraid of this woman. Amelia always had an intimidating presence, and now, here, in front of him, she seemed even more terrifying. As he began to lose himself in his thoughts, he felt Ricardo’s hand on his shoulder.

“Is everything alright, my lord?” Ricardo asked, his firm voice bringing Miguel back to sanity.

Miguel took a deep breath and looked at his sister. At that moment, he heard her call him by his name, her voice laden with disdain and provocation.

"I see you're doing well, little brother," said Amelia, laughing mockingly. "But this doesn't seem like a place for a civilized conversation."

Miguel clenched his fists and asked directly, "What do you want, Amelia?"

She laughed again, her eyes gleaming with malice. "I think it’s better if we discuss this in a more private place, don’t you?"

Miguel thought for a moment and, despite his reluctance, agreed. "Alright. Let's talk in my office."

Ricardo immediately disagreed. "This isn’t a good idea, my lord. She might be planning something."

Miguel looked at Ricardo and tried to reassure him. "She won’t harm anyone, Ricardo."

Amelia turned to her soldiers and ordered, "Wait outside the wall. I'll go in alone." The huge gates opened, revealing the complexity of their construction. Amelia couldn’t help but be impressed by the ingenuity and robustness of the gates, not knowing exactly how they worked.

When the gates closed behind her, Amelia looked around and was surprised to see Ricardo beside Miguel. But what really caught her attention was the presence of a beast-man, with the appearance of a lion and an imposing stature.

"So the rumors are true..." she thought when she saw the lion-man.

Miguel approached Amelia, but Ricardo was the first to speak. "If you do anything to harm Miguel, I will end your life myself," he threatened, his tone cold and serious.

Amelia laughed and patted Ricardo on the shoulder. "Always so dramatic, Ricardo," she said disdainfully.

Miguel interrupted the growing tension. "Let's go to the mansion. We'll discuss this in my office."

With that, they began to walk toward the mansion, the atmosphere heavy with tension and expectation. Amelia continued to observe everything around her, her mind working quickly to understand what exactly her brother was doing there. Ricardo and Ruidahr followed closely, ready to intervene at any sign of danger.

On the way to the mansion, Amelia meticulously observed every detail of the city. The buildings were the same as years ago, many still falling apart and showing a lack of maintenance and resources. However, something unexpected caught her attention: the presence of beast-man soldiers, patrolling alongside human soldiers.

More than that, she noticed that some beast-men were working on various tasks around the city, making repairs to buildings, transporting materials, and even helping with the construction of the wall. The sight was surprising and starkly contrasted with her expectations.

"This doesn’t make sense," Amelia thought. "If they were slaves, they wouldn’t be armed or helping so willingly."

She continued to observe as they walked, her eyes registering every interaction between humans and beast-men. The expressions of the workers didn’t show signs of fear or submission, but rather of cooperation and even mutual respect. The beast-man soldiers patrolled alongside the human soldiers, indicating a level of trust and camaraderie she would never have imagined seeing.

Amelia couldn’t hide her surprise and confusion. "What exactly are you doing here, Miguel?" she thought, her curiosity and suspicion growing with each step.

Finally, they arrived at the mansion. Miguel led Amelia to his office, where she hoped to finally get answers to the many questions bubbling in her mind.
---
In the office, Miguel took a deep breath and gestured for Ricardo and Ruidahr to wait outside. Ricardo, though reluctant, obeyed Miguel’s orders, but not without giving Amelia an intimidating look first. Ruidahr also left, leaving Miguel and his sister alone.

"Please, sit down," said Miguel, indicating a chair in front of his desk. Amelia kept her malicious smile as she sat, her eyes fixed on him as if studying his every move.

Miguel walked to a sideboard where glasses and a bottle of wine were. He picked them up, trying to appear calm while pouring the drinks. The truth was his heart was racing, and he could feel cold sweat in his palms. When he offered one of the glasses to Amelia, he noticed his hands were trembling slightly. She accepted the wine, keeping her eyes on him, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

He sat on the other side of the desk, trying to look relaxed. "So, Amelia, what do you want?" he asked, finally, trying to keep his voice steady.

Amelia took a sip of her wine, her smile remaining. "You were always the weakest of all of us, Miguel. I never imagined you could do something as grand as that wall you're building out there. I'm impressed," she said, with a note of sarcasm in her voice.

Miguel leaned back in his chair, trying not to let his irritation show. "I didn’t ask you to come here to praise or insult my achievements, Amelia. Just say what you want."

She smiled enigmatically and replied, "Actually, I don’t have anything specific in mind. But I came to warn you. The king and our brothers are not happy with your... adventure with the beast-men."

Miguel took a deep breath before responding. "And since when do you all care about what I do? If it weren't for the beast-men, we would all have starved to death in this barony."

Amelia laughed, a cold and sarcastic sound. "You were always weak and cowardly. But why have you now decided to defy the king and make some kind of alliance with these monsters?"

Miguel looked at her with determination. "They are not monsters, Amelia. They are as sentient as you and I."

She narrowed her eyes. "Brother, come back with me to the duchy’s capital. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you and we'll leave this matter for others to resolve."

Miguel shook his head. "Why now? My place is here."

"Stop being stubborn," she retorted, impatient. "You know what will happen when people find out that a member of the duke’s family has allied with these beasts..."

"If it weren’t for these 'beasts', the mercenaries hired by Aurelio would have killed everyone here. Including me," Miguel replied.

Amelia paused, then murmured, "I will deal with Aurelio. He won’t dare harm you if I am protecting you."

Miguel took a deep breath. "I appreciate that, truly. But I don’t trust you, nor any of our brothers. If I remember correctly, you agreed to exile me to this place."

Before Amelia could respond, Miguel continued. "I am officially declaring today the independence of this barony from the kingdom and the duchy. We are now an independent realm. The duchy has always neglected this region, and now I will govern it with or without their help."

Amelia laughed incredulously. "You’re insane. There’s no way to manage this place alone and with these beast-men around."

"We'll see," Miguel replied firmly.

She stood up, still laughing. "If you continue with this charade, I won’t be able to protect you. Aurelio won’t be the only problem. The king... do you think he will allow this fantasy of independence?"

"I won’t back down. This place is now independent and no one will change that," Miguel affirmed.

She looked at him with a mix of disdain and admiration. "For a bastard, you’re quite brave." Amelia left the office.

Miguel felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest as she closed the door. He looked at his trembling hands and tried to compose himself. Ricardo and Ruidahr entered the room, concerned.

"Are you really going to declare the independence of this barony?" Ricardo asked, curious.

Ruidahr added, "That’s quite impressive. I didn’t expect that."

Miguel nodded, still breathing heavily. "I’ve been planning this for a few weeks. I will announce it to the people and ask them to vote on whether they want independence."

He stood up and walked to the window, watching Amelia head toward the gate. His thoughts were on the future he was creating for the barony of Drakmoor, an independent future free from the duchy and the kingdom’s chains.

Vol 2 Chapter 42/ From engineer to King

A week had passed since the unexpected visit from his sister, Amélia. Miguel still felt shaken by the encounter, but he knew he had to move forward and make crucial decisions for the future of the barony. Now, he focused on organizing a fair vote to determine if the population within the border wanted to be independent from the duchy. Sitting in his office, Miguel pondered ways to proceed with this monumental task.

Initially, he considered consulting the beastmen about how voting and elections worked among them. However, he decided that this matter should be resolved by himself, without further burdening his allies. Miguel knew he needed to find a solution that respected the people's will and was practical to implement.

After much reflection, the only viable option that came to mind was to personally visit each village and ask the people directly. Miguel took a detailed map of the barony's villages and began to study it. There were a total of 37 villages spread across the region. He did not know the exact total population of the barony but estimated it to be low, considering that the only city, Drakmoor, had just over 1,000 inhabitants.

With a plan in mind, Miguel decided to send two soldiers to each village. Their mission would be to ask the local residents if they wanted independence from the duchy. He instructed the soldiers to ask only adult women, whether married or not, or those already working. The same would apply to the men. Miguel knew that in this world, children started working early, so he felt it was fair to include those who worked in the voting.

Additionally, he directed the soldiers to count all adults, regardless of whether they were men or women. They should also record the number of children, even those not yet working. Miguel wanted to collect as much data as possible to create a sort of demographic survey of the region.

Sitting at his desk, he meticulously wrote down all the instructions on a piece of paper. His handwriting was careful, reflecting the seriousness of the situation. He listed the villages, voting criteria, and information the soldiers should collect. Every detail was important to ensure that the people's will was respected and the final decision was fair and legitimate.

While writing, Miguel couldn't help but think about the uncertain future he was charting. The barony's independence could bring prosperity and freedom, but it also represented a great risk. He knew that by making this decision, he was challenging not only the duchy but also the kingdom itself. However, his determination to create a better place for everyone was unwavering.

After finishing writing his instructions, Miguel reviewed each point to make sure nothing was forgotten. With a deep sigh, he stood up and carefully stored the paper. The next step would be to gather the soldiers and explain their mission. He hoped the people's response would be positive and that he could lead the barony toward an independent and prosperous future.

Miguel looked out the window of his office, observing the city in the distance. The wall was almost finished, a testament to the collective effort of humans and beastmen. He knew that with unity and determination, they could achieve great feats. And now, it was time to give the people a voice and let them decide their own destiny.

---

The next day, after Miguel instructed the soldiers, they quickly departed for their missions. Each pair received a village to visit and collect votes. Meanwhile, Miguel, alongside Ricardo, headed once again to the city square. He knew it was a crucial day for the future of the barony and needed to communicate this to the inhabitants of Drakmoor.

The square soon began to fill with curious people, drawn by the presence of the baron and his guards. Miguel climbed onto an improvised platform, made of planks and boxes, so everyone could see him. The crowd quieted, and he began his speech with a firm and emotional tone.

“My dear citizens, I stand before you today to express how proud I am of each and every one of you. This barony has faced trials and adversities that few would imagine. I remember those who fell in battle so that we could all be here today, safe. Men and women who gave their lives to protect this place we call home.”

Miguel paused, observing the attentive faces in the crowd. He saw determination and hope in his people's eyes. “Today, we are faced with an important decision. Due to the negligence of the kingdom, and especially the duchy, I believe it is a just action for this region to become an independent realm.”

A murmur of surprise and admiration ran through the crowd. People began to talk among themselves, processing Miguel's proposal. Suddenly, one of the residents shouted, “My lord, you are our savior! If it weren't for you, we would be starving or in the hands of those assassins!”

More and more people began to thank Miguel, expressing their gratitude for everything he had done. Miguel raised his hand, asking for silence again. “Freedom is an achievement, and everyone here has that right. I am a servant of the people now, and I did no more than my duty.”

The crowd applauded in approval, moved by Miguel's speech. He then organized tables for the voting, with the help of some soldiers. The tables were strategically positioned around the square, each with improvised ballot boxes where votes would be deposited. Miguel explained the voting process, encouraging everyone to participate but not forcing anyone.

While the tables were being organized, people continued to chat animatedly about the independence proposal. The square was full of life and hope. Miguel observed the scene, feeling a mixture of anxiety and confidence. This was the moment to decide the barony's future.

Finish the scene with Miguel and the soldiers finalizing the preparations for the vote, but without starting the process yet. He ensured that everything was in order, ready to give the people the opportunity to decide their destiny.

The atmosphere in the square was charged with expectation and emotion. Miguel knew this was an important step, not only for him but for everyone living in that land. The decision they would make today would shape the future of Drakmoor and all its inhabitants.

---

The voting process was meticulously planned by Miguel to ensure it was fair and anonymous. He knew this decision was crucial for the barony's future and wanted each vote to be cast without pressure or external influence.

Miguel and his soldiers prepared improvised ballot boxes, using small barrels with a narrow opening at the top to deposit the votes. Each voting table was covered with an improvised tent, made of sheets and wooden poles, to provide privacy for the voters. Inside each tent, there were two urns, each with a symbol drawn on the front: a "V" for "in favor" and an "O" for "against."

When a person arrived to vote, they received a piece of paper and a piece of charcoal from one of the guards. The guard then explained how the process would work: “You will enter the tent and see two urns. If you want the barony to become independent, draw a 'V' on your paper. If you are against independence, draw an 'O'. Deposit the paper in the urn corresponding to your vote and then leave the tent to make way for the next voter.”

Once instructed, the person entered the tent, voted in private, and left. The next voter then repeated the process. The guards ensured that everything ran smoothly and that no one was interrupted while voting.

The square was organized with several of these voting stations, allowing many people to vote simultaneously. Miguel watched closely as everything was prepared, ensuring the soldiers were aware of their responsibilities and that the voters understood how the process worked.

It was a simple but effective system designed to respect each voter's privacy and ensure that the people's will was clearly expressed. Miguel knew this was a monumental task, but he was determined to see it done correctly.

The explanation was given to the guards and citizens, and everyone was ready to start voting. The ballot boxes were prepared, the tents set up, and the charcoal and papers distributed. The square was silent, awaiting the start of this historic moment.

---

Miguel attentively watched the people vote. The buzz of the square filled the air, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of pride and anxiety. The sight of the improvised ballot boxes, small barrels with a narrow opening, and the people heading to the voting tents was a milestone of change. He thought about his luck in discovering the huge stockpile of papyrus in the mansion's basement. These papers were essential for the voting, allowing him to distribute hundreds to the soldiers who went to the villages, along with two urns for each pair.

As people voted, Miguel reflected on the importance of this moment. Each person approaching the improvised tents carried the hope of a better future. He knew that most nobles didn't care about the opinions of their servants and subjects, but he wanted to be different. He wanted every voice to be heard and every vote to count.

Ricardo approached, bringing with him a sense of unwavering support. “I never thought I’d see a vote with the population. Most nobles don’t care about the opinions of their servants and subjects. Your mother would be proud of the man you’ve become, Miguel.”

Ricardo's words hit Miguel deeply. He thanked his uncle for the praise and support, but deep down, he felt uneasy. He knew he was not the real Miguel but Luiz, and that, even now being Miguel, it was Luiz who was receiving the true credit. This duality troubled him profoundly. He thought about the sacrifice and courage this required, but also about the burden of living a life that was not originally his.

Observing the square, Miguel realized how crucial this moment was. It was not just a vote; it was the building of a new identity, both for him and for the barony. Each paper deposited in the urns symbolized the trust the people placed in him. He knew he had a huge responsibility and needed to keep going, despite the uncertainties and challenges that lay ahead.

He looked around and saw familiar and unfamiliar faces, all united by a common cause. It was a historic moment, and Miguel knew that, regardless of the results, he was doing the right thing. Even feeling sorry for the real Miguel, he committed to honoring that name and carrying forward the dream of a place where everyone had a voice and a chance.

Vol 2 Chapter 43

Arthur attentively watched the townspeople vote. He had never participated in something like this before and felt a mix of curiosity and pride. Beside him, his son was clearly excited, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. Arthur also felt contagious energy. He approached the tent, and soon it was his turn. A soldier greeted him and led him inside the tent, where he explained how the vote would work before leaving.

Arthur, one of the few who could read, found it incredible that Miguel had taken the time to use symbols and paper to represent the vote. It was an inclusive way to ensure everyone could participate, regardless of literacy. He looked at the paper in his hands, reflected for a moment, and marked the symbol in favor. Then, he placed the paper in the ballot box and left the tent.

His son entered right after, and Arthur waited outside. He looked around, observing people talking animatedly, sharing their hopes for the future of the barony. Shortly after, his son came out of the tent even more enthusiastic. “Father, the future is now! I am optimistic about the baron and hope that a kingdom with freedom is truly built.”

Arthur smiled and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. “Me too, son. Let's go back to the forge. We still have a lot of work ahead of us.”

As they walked back, Arthur felt renewed. Participating in the vote, the excitement of the people, and the palpable hope in the air filled him with a sense of purpose. He knew that regardless of the result, the simple act of voting was already a victory for everyone. He looked at his son beside him, feeling proud of the young man he was becoming and for being able to share this historic moment with him.

Upon arriving at the forge, Arthur couldn't stop thinking about how the barony was changing. It was a new beginning, and he was determined to be part of this transformation.

---

It took a week for all the villages to vote and another two days to tally all the votes. During this period, anticipation and anxiety grew throughout the barony. Messengers came and went, bringing the ballot boxes and vote counts from each village, while the citizens eagerly discussed the future of the region.

Finally, all the votes were counted. All the villages voted in favor of independence with an average of 90% approval. Miguel was impressed by the enormous support from the local population. Much of this was due to the food crisis he had managed to resolve with the help of the beast men, thus ensuring the survival and trust of the people.

After the vote count, Miguel realized that the total population of the barony was 21,000 people. Of these, 3,000 were children between 1 and 12 years old, 6,000 were teenagers from 13 to 17 years old, 9,000 were adults from 18 to 50 years old, and the rest were elderly. He also noticed that the female population outnumbered the male, representing 60% of the total, while men were only 40%. This disparity made him curious, making him wonder if it had always been like this and what could have caused such an imbalance.

As he reflected on these numbers, Miguel felt a wave of responsibility. The massive support from the population gave him strength but also increased the pressure to lead and protect his people. He knew that now was the time to prepare for the challenges ahead. Building the wall, organizing defenses, and developing infrastructure were just the first steps of many that would need to be taken to ensure the prosperity and security of the new independent kingdom.

Miguel looked at the maps spread across his desk and the detailed notes he had made in recent weeks. Every decision, every plan, now seemed more important than ever. He knew the road ahead would be arduous, but he was determined to lead with wisdom and courage, inspired by the trust his people had placed in him.

After finishing reviewing the votes and demographic data, Miguel felt a mix of pride and humility. The journey was just beginning, and he was ready to face whatever came next, confident that with the support of his people, he could transform the barony of Drakmoor into a strong and independent kingdom.

---

Arthur headed again to the town square, where a large crowd had already gathered. Baron Miguel had summoned everyone for an important announcement. The atmosphere was one of expectation and excitement, as people murmured among themselves, eager to hear their leader's words.

Miguel stood in the center of the square, on an elevated platform, so everyone could see and hear him clearly. Beside him were Ricardo and some soldiers, who ensured order and security. With a wave of his hand, Miguel called for silence, and the crowd gradually quieted.

“My friends, my companions,” Miguel began, his voice firm and filled with emotion. “We are here today to celebrate a historic moment. A week ago, we held a vote in all the villages of this barony. You were called to decide whether you wished to remain under the yoke of the duchy and the kingdom or if you preferred to follow a new path, a path of independence.”

The crowd reacted with murmurs of approval and anticipation. Miguel paused, letting his words resonate.

“Your response was clear and resounding. In every village, in every town, the overwhelming majority voted in favor of independence. Today, with a heart full of pride and gratitude, I declare that the barony of Drakmoor is no longer a barony. We are now an independent kingdom, free from the shackles of the duchy and the kingdom!”

The crowd erupted in applause and cheers. Miguel raised his hands, asking for calm, but the smile on his face showed that he shared in the people’s euphoria.

“This is just the beginning,” he continued, once the crowd had calmed down a bit. “We have a lot of work ahead of us. We will build a strong and just kingdom, where each of you will have a voice and be respected. Together, we will make this place an example of prosperity and freedom.”

Arthur, who was at the front of the crowd, felt a wave of emotion course through him. He looked at his son beside him, seeing the spark of hope in the young man’s eyes. Without hesitation, Arthur shouted a cry that echoed through the square: “King Miguel! King Miguel!”

The crowd followed his lead, repeating the chant in unison. “King Miguel! King Miguel!”

Miguel felt a shiver run down his spine as he listened to the growing chorus. He looked at Ricardo, who smiled and nodded, supporting the acclamation. Miguel raised his hand again, and when the crowd quieted, he spoke with humility.

“Thank you, my friends. I am no more than a servant to all of you. Together, we will build a bright future for our new kingdom. Thank you for trusting in me. Let us move forward, always united!”

The crowd exploded in applause and cheers once again, and Miguel knew at that moment that he was ready to lead his people with courage and wisdom, always faithful to the ideals of freedom and justice.

---

A month had passed since the declaration of independence of the new Kingdom of Drakmoor. Miguel was in his office, immersed in organizing documents and drafting plans for the future. The wall, which now surrounded the entire city, was 90% complete, with only the installation of the southern and western gates remaining. The sight of the imposing structure brought a sense of security and pride to all the inhabitants.

Miguel was pleased with the progress of the automatic ballistae construction. Five more had been completed, and he had shared the project with the beast men, ensuring that for every two ballistae they built, one would be sent to the new Kingdom of Drakmoor. This collaboration strengthened the alliance and increased the defensive capability of both nations.

Now, Miguel was focused on his next major project: paving the city's streets and establishing important routes to strategic villages in the kingdom. He wanted to use bricks, following the example of the ancient Romans, to create durable and efficient roads.

He sat at his desk, took a sheet of paper, and began drawing. First, he sketched the city's streets, highlighting the main roads that needed to be paved. He planned to start with the streets connecting the central square to the gates of the wall, ensuring that the entry and exit routes were the best structured.

Miguel noted the necessary materials: thousands of bricks, sand, and mortar. He planned the mass production of bricks using the molds that Marcus had created. The brick factory was operating at full capacity, and he knew he would need to increase production to meet the demand of this new project.

After finalizing the sketch of the city’s streets, Miguel turned to the maps of the kingdom. He carefully analyzed the villages and towns, looking for the most strategic routes to pave. He wanted to ensure that the roads connected the main agricultural production areas and trade points, facilitating the transportation of goods and the movement of people.

Miguel traced a route that started from the city, passed through three agricultural villages, and continued to the border with the beast men’s territory. He also planned a road that connected the city to a fishing village near the coast. These routes would not only improve the kingdom’s infrastructure but also strengthen the economy and integration between the different communities.

With the detailed plans on paper, Miguel stood up and looked out the window. He could see the bustle of people in the city, the sound of construction tools, and the enthusiasm of the workers. The sight of the nearly completed wall and the thought of the future brick roads brought a feeling of accomplishment and hope.

Miguel knew the work was just beginning, but he was determined to transform the Kingdom of Drakmoor into an example of progress and unity. He sat down again, reviewed the sketches, and prepared to share his plans with Ricardo and the leaders of the beast men. Together, they would pave the way for a bright and prosperous future.

Vol 2 Chapter 44

A week had passed since Miguel began planning to pave the city's streets with bricks. Now, the project was in full swing. Excavations in the central square had started, and the city was in a frenzy of activity. The sound of shovels and pickaxes echoed through the streets as human and beast-men workers joined forces to turn Miguel's dream into reality.

The central square was the heart of the city, and all the paved roads would start from there, connecting to the four gates of the newly constructed wall. Miguel knew that the square was the strategic point to ensure all main routes were efficient and accessible. He got up early every day to supervise the works, ensuring everything went as planned.

The first week of construction was dedicated to excavation and leveling the ground. The road connecting the main gate to the central square was the initial priority. This section was crucial as it facilitated the entry and exit of the city, improving logistics and trade. Ricardo, always by Miguel's side, helped coordinate the workers and solve problems that arose along the way.

The workers began the day by removing the soil and leveling the ground. Then, a layer of smaller stones was placed as a base, ensuring the road's stability. Miguel insisted on precision and quality of work, reminding everyone of the importance of this project for the kingdom's future. As the days went by, the road structure began to take shape.

Marcus and Arthur also played crucial roles in this project. Marcus supervised brick production, ensuring all were of high quality and met demand. Arthur, in turn, provided the necessary technical support for the tools and machinery used in the works.

Midweek, the first bricks began to be laid. It was a meticulous process: each brick had to be carefully set, with mortar prepared on the spot to ensure the road's firmness and durability. The workers, divided into teams, followed Miguel's plan precisely, adjusting the bricks to fit perfectly. The hard work and collaboration between humans and beast-men were evident, and Miguel felt proud seeing the daily progress.

As the road progressed, the city was filled with curious onlookers. Locals stopped to watch the construction, amazed by the transformation happening before their eyes. Some residents, inspired by Miguel's enthusiasm, volunteered to help, further increasing the available workforce.

At the end of the first week, the road connecting the main gate to the central square was completed. Miguel walked the entire length of the new road, inspecting every detail. He noted how the bricks formed a smooth, even surface, suitable for pedestrians, horses, and carriages. The road not only improved mobility within the city but also gave an air of modernity and organization that had not existed before.

On the last day of the week, Miguel gathered all the workers in the central square for a brief thank-you speech. He praised everyone's dedication and hard work, emphasizing the importance of unity and collaboration for the project's success. The applause and proud expressions on the workers' faces were evident, and Miguel felt a wave of satisfaction seeing the positive impact of his plan.

With the first road completed, Miguel knew there was still much work ahead. He returned to his office, where detailed maps and sketches awaited. Strategic routes needed to be planned, villages connected, and more roads paved. However, with the experience and success of the first week, he was confident they were on the right track to transform Drakmoor into a prosperous and well-connected kingdom.

As he reviewed the plans for the next stages, Miguel couldn't help but think about the future. He envisioned a vibrant city with well-paved and safe roads, facilitating trade and communication between the villages and the main city. The work was just beginning, but with the determination and support of everyone, Miguel was certain that the dream of an independent and prosperous kingdom was becoming a reality.

---

Miguel was sitting in his office, surrounded by papers, sketches, and notes. The soft afternoon light came through the window, illuminating the desk where he worked. Next to him, Elnar watched attentively, curious to understand the new projects Miguel was about to design.

"Let's start with the iron plow," said Miguel, grabbing a blank sheet and a pencil. He drew the basic structure of the plow, explaining each step to Elnar.

"The first step is to create a sharp, curved iron blade," said Miguel, drawing a robust and pointed blade. "This blade needs to be strong enough to cut through the soil and curved to turn the earth efficiently."

Elnar nodded, interested. "I understand. And how do you plan to connect this blade to the rest of the structure?"

Miguel continued drawing, adding an iron bar that connected the blade to a main wooden frame reinforced with iron. "Here, we'll use an iron bar that will be attached to a wooden frame. The wood will be reinforced with iron strips to ensure durability and strength."

He drew a central axle that allowed the plow to be pulled by a horse or an ox. "This axle will be the connection point to the animal that will pull the plow. We'll use a combination of leather and iron to create a comfortable and secure harness."

Elnar watched closely. "And how will you ensure the plow remains stable while being pulled?"

Miguel drew two small iron stabilizers on the sides of the blade. "These stabilizers will help keep the plow stable and prevent it from moving sideways. Additionally, we'll make adjustments to ensure the blade stays at a constant depth in the soil."

He looked at Elnar, waiting for his opinion. "What do you think so far?"

"This looks very promising," said Elnar, smiling. "But how do you plan to make the plow accessible to all the farmers in your new kingdom?"

Miguel nodded. "We'll mass-produce it. I'll work with Arthur and Marcus to create molds that allow for the serial production of these iron blades. This will reduce the cost and ensure all farmers have access to this new technology, and I am also planning to train new blacksmiths, craftsmen, and carpenters."

With the plow designed, Miguel turned the page and began to draw the windmill. "Now, let's move on to the windmill."

He drew a tall structure with a vertical shaft and four large blades. "The structure will be made of wood reinforced with iron, similar to what we did with the plow. The blades will be long and light, made of a combination of wood and canvas to capture the wind efficiently."

Miguel drew a gear system at the base of the mill. "We'll use wooden gears to transmit the wind's energy to the grinding stones. The idea is that as the wind turns the blades, the gears drive a shaft that rotates the grinding stones."

He drew the grinding stones, detailing how they would be positioned inside the mill structure. "The stones will be adjustable, allowing us to control the fineness of the grinding. This will be crucial to ensure the grains are ground uniformly and efficiently."

Miguel continued. "We'll add an energy storage system. When the wind is strong, part of the energy will be stored in a counterweight that, when needed, can be released to keep the grinding stones rotating. This will ensure the mill operates even on days with little wind."

Elnar nodded, satisfied. "This is really impressive, King Miguel. I'm looking forward to seeing these projects in action."

"Me too," said Miguel, putting away the sketches and standing up. "Let's talk to Arthur and Marcus and start the production of these prototypes. With this new equipment, we'll significantly increase the barony's productivity."

As they prepared to leave, Miguel felt a wave of satisfaction. He knew these projects would not only improve the lives of the barony's inhabitants but also further strengthen the region's independence and self-sufficiency.

Miguel looked at the road project sketch in his office, aware that it would still take a few months to complete. He knew the construction of the roads was essential for the barony's development, but he couldn't just sit around waiting. He needed to start other projects simultaneously, such as the iron plow and the windmill.

While reflecting on the projects, his mind wandered to Lila, the young mage. Miguel knew she needed a tutor to help her control her magic. The church was not a safe option, so he would need to seek help from the beast-men. But besides that, Miguel was concerned about understanding why they wanted Lila dead. What was it about her that attracted so much dangerous attention?

He needed answers and protection for Lila. These thoughts kept him awake at night, but Miguel was determined to find a solution. He knew he couldn't fail. Lila's safety and the kingdom's future depended on his actions. Taking a deep breath, he turned his attention back to the sketches, determined to move forward with all the necessary projects to ensure his new kingdom's prosperity and safety.

Vol 2 Chapter 45

The sun shone brightly over the fields as Miguel, Elnar, and some farmers gathered around the new plow prototype. The large and imposing plow was ready for its first test. Pulled by a robust red horse, it looked like a promising machine that could revolutionize agriculture in the barony.

“Let's begin,” said Miguel, watching intently as a farmer climbed onto the small platform to guide the horse. The horse started pulling the plow slowly, and the blade cut through the soil with ease. The farmers watched with interest, murmuring among themselves about the potential of the new tool.

Elnar, next to Miguel, was equally curious. “If it works as expected, this will save a lot of time and effort,” he commented.

Miguel nodded, focused on the plow's movement. The first pass was a success; the plow cut uniform rows in the soil. The men watched with enthusiasm, already imagining the benefits this innovation would bring to their crops.

When the farmer began the second pass, something went wrong. There was a loud metallic sound, followed by a creak. The plow started to shake, and suddenly the blade tilted to the side, going off course.

“What happened?” shouted Miguel, running towards the plow with Elnar right behind him. The farmer stopped the horse, and everyone gathered around the damaged plow.

Miguel knelt to examine the blade and noticed that the support was loose. “It looks like the blade support didn't hold,” he said, touching the metal piece that was supposed to keep the blade firm. “It could be an issue with the fastening or the material.”

Elnar observed closely. “Maybe the metal isn't strong enough to withstand the constant pressure,” he suggested.

Miguel nodded in agreement. “We need to reinforce this part. If the support isn't firm, the blade will always go out of position.”

As Miguel examined the plow more closely, Elnar pointed out another possible cause. “Look here, at the base. It could be that the pressure is concentrating too much at this point, causing the wear.”

Miguel frowned, thinking of a solution. “We need to redistribute the pressure along the support and maybe use a stronger metal. I'll adjust the design to strengthen this area.”

He stood up and looked at the farmers who were watching with concern. “We'll fix this. This was just the first test, and adjustments are normal. Thank you for being here to help,” said Miguel, trying to ease the tension.

The farmers nodded, visibly relieved by Miguel's response. As they began to dismantle the plow to take it back to the workshop, Miguel and Elnar discussed possible improvements to ensure the next test would be a success.

Miguel was sitting in his office, the sound of a pencil scratching paper the only noise filling the room. He was deeply concentrated on the design improvements for the plow prototype. After analyzing the blade support failure, he had an innovative idea. The blade was made of wrought iron, a robust material, but it clearly wasn't enough to withstand the constant pressure of the plow.

He thought of a solution: creating a more resistant metal alloy. If he could add carbon during the iron smelting, he could create a more durable material capable of withstanding the hard work in the field. He knew where to find the necessary carbon; the village was full of coal deposits.

Determined, Miguel quickly got up from his chair, put away his sketches, and headed towards Arthur's smithy. On the way, he thought about the best way to explain his idea to the blacksmith. Upon arriving at the smithy, he was greeted by the rhythmic sound of hammers striking metal and the intense heat of the furnaces.

Arthur, noticing Miguel's presence, interrupted his work and approached to greet him. “Good morning, my lord. What brings you here today?” asked Arthur, wiping sweat from his forehead with a cloth.

Miguel smiled and shook Arthur's hand. “Good morning, Arthur. I have an idea I'd like to discuss with you,” began Miguel, trying to convey his excitement. “I was thinking... have you ever tried smelting a different material along with the iron?”

Arthur frowned, intrigued. “No, I've always just smelted iron. What do you have in mind?”

Miguel picked up one of the mercenaries' armor pieces that were piled up in the smithy and showed it to Arthur. “What if we added carbon to the iron during the smelting process? The carbon can be extracted from the coal we have in abundance. This could create a more resistant metal alloy.”

Arthur looked closely at the armor piece and then at Miguel. “Carbon, huh? I've never heard of that before... it sounds interesting. It's worth a try,” he said, beginning to share Miguel's excitement.

“Great!” exclaimed Miguel. “Let's do some tests. I want to see if we can create a more resistant blade for the plow. I'll help you with the process.”

Arthur agreed, and the two began working together, preparing the iron and coal for smelting. Miguel explained how the carbon could bond with the iron to form a harder and more durable alloy. Arthur, although skeptical at first, became increasingly excited about the idea.

With the furnace heated to its maximum, they began the smelting process, carefully adding the coal to the molten iron. The intense heat and red glow of the furnace created an almost magical atmosphere as the liquid metal transformed before their eyes.

Miguel watched closely, hoping his theory was correct. If they succeeded, not only would they have a more efficient plow, but they could also revolutionize the manufacturing of tools and weapons in the barony.

Arthur, focused, skillfully handled the metal, controlling the temperature and mixing the materials with precision. “This might actually work,” he murmured to himself, eager to see the results.

After some time, they poured the molten metal into molds and eagerly awaited the cooling. When they finally removed the pieces from the molds, they examined the result carefully. The metal alloy appeared brighter and sturdier than regular iron.

Miguel smiled, satisfied with the progress. “Arthur, I think we did it. Let’s test these new blades on the plow and see how they perform.”

Arthur nodded, also pleased with the work. “Let’s do it, my lord. I’m eager to see the results.”

With that, Miguel and Arthur began preparing the new blades for the plow, eager to test the durability of the new metal alloy they had created together.

---

Miguel, Arthur, Elnar, and some farmers were gathered again, eager for the test of the improved plow. Miguel was confident that the new metal alloy, developed with Arthur, would resolve the previous issues. Arthur was curious and excited to see how the new metal would perform under the pressure of fieldwork. Elnar, always by Miguel’s side, watched the preparations closely.

The plow was hitched to the large red horse, which was impatient to begin. One of the farmers took position, ready to guide the animal. Miguel gave the command to start. The farmer pulled the reins, and the horse began to walk, dragging the plow across the soil.

The first pass was a success. The blade cut through the earth easily, leaving deep, even furrows. Miguel watched every movement closely, ready to spot any problems. But, to his delight, everything went perfectly.

“Let’s go for the second pass,” Miguel said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

The farmer guided the horse again. The blade continued to cut through the earth without any difficulty. Arthur looked at the plow with a mix of pride and admiration. He knew they had created something special. Elnar, beside Miguel, let out a slight sigh of relief.

By the third pass, the tension began to ease. The farmers watched with interest, hoping the success would continue. Elnar cast a confident look at Miguel, acknowledging the effort and innovation they had put into the project.

The fourth pass was as successful as the previous ones. The furrows were perfect, and the blade seemed tireless. Arthur couldn’t contain a satisfied smile. He was impressed with the durability and efficiency of the new metal alloy. Miguel noticed the enthusiasm in the blacksmith’s eyes and felt a wave of pride for what they had achieved together.

By the fifth pass, everyone was visibly more relaxed. The plow continued to work smoothly, cutting through the earth as if it were butter. When the pass was completed, the farmers hugged each other, excited about the success of the new plow. They knew this tool would revolutionize how they worked the land, making the process much more efficient.

Elnar looked at Miguel with a look of confidence and gratitude. “You did it, Miguel. This plow is going to make a huge difference for all of us.”

Arthur was also excited. He approached Miguel and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “This blade is incredible, my lord. I’ve never seen anything like it. This metal really makes all the difference.”

Miguel smiled, relieved and satisfied. “We did it, everyone. This is just the beginning. We have many more innovations to implement, but this is a great step forward.”

With the success of the test, Miguel knew they were on the right path. They had overcome a significant challenge and could now focus on other projects to further improve life in the barony. He thanked everyone for their dedication and hard work, feeling more confident than ever in his role as a leader and innovator.

Vol 2 Chapter 46

Miguel was habitually in his office, sitting at his wooden desk full of papers and sketches. The soft afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the room with a warm glow. John, the captain of the city guard, stood before him, displaying a more mature and confident posture than ever. Miguel watched this change with admiration.

"John, I'm impressed with your development. You have truly become a leader," Miguel said, smiling.

"Thank you, my lord," John replied humbly. "I have been striving to meet the expectations."

"How is the recruitment process and the strengthening of the army?" asked Miguel, eager to know the details.

"In these past two months, I have trained two hundred new recruits who are being integrated into the city's military force as we speak," John responded firmly. "Including all the villages and guard posts, we have nearly twelve hundred soldiers. Additionally, three hundred more have volunteered and are in training."

Miguel reflected on this information; the number of soldiers was extremely low... It was understandable due to the low population density of this new kingdom. For now, Miguel decided to ask about the soldiers' payments.

"I understand, John. And are you handling the payments as I directed?" Miguel asked.

"We are paying the soldiers' wages with silver coins and food rations, as per your instructions, my lord," John replied. "This has kept everyone motivated and well-fed."

Miguel nodded, satisfied with the progress. "You are doing an excellent job, John. If you need more resources, do not hesitate to inform me."

After some conversation about operational and logistical details, Miguel changed the subject. "Now that I am king, I have many matters to handle. I have decided to delegate administrative tasks to better manage the kingdom."

John looked at Miguel with an expression of curiosity and anticipation. "What do you have in mind, my lord?"

"I am going to appoint you as the Secretary of Defense of the kingdom," announced Miguel. "You will be responsible for all administration and defense strategies."

John was visibly surprised and somewhat confused. "Secretary of Defense? How exactly does that work?"

Miguel smiled, anticipating John's reaction. "Essentially, you will be the head of the military forces. All strategic and administrative decisions related to defense will go through you. It is a position of great responsibility, but I trust in your ability."

John felt a mix of pride and responsibility. "It will be an honor, my lord. I will do my best."

"With this new role, we will need a new captain of the guard," Miguel continued, looking at Ricardo, who was standing nearby. "Ricardo, you will be the new captain of the guard. Do you agree with this?"

Ricardo, always loyal, nodded. "It will be an honor, my lord. I will do everything necessary to protect our city and our kingdom."

John also agreed. "I think it is an excellent choice, my lord. Ricardo has the experience and wisdom needed for this position."

Miguel felt a wave of relief and satisfaction. "Then it is decided. John as Secretary of Defense and Ricardo as Captain of the Guard. Together, we will further strengthen our kingdom."

The three men exchanged looks of understanding and commitment. Miguel knew he was surrounded by reliable and capable allies, ready to face any challenge that might arise. He felt he was on the right path to building a strong and prosperous kingdom.

Miguel then turned back to the documents on the desk, knowing that with the right team by his side, he could focus on the next steps for the growth and defense of Drakmoor.

---

Miguel observed the documents and sketches spread across his desk with an intense and worried look. The lit candles illuminated the office, casting dancing shadows on the walls. He was deep in thought, trying to find a solution to the problem he had just realized. He wanted to produce various items en masse, but how could he do that without industry, without factories? This place lacked the necessary infrastructure to support a modern production line.

He ran his hand through his hair, feeling the tension building in his head. All of this was another headache. He knew he needed a practical and quick solution, but in a feudal world, things were very different from what he was used to in his previous life as an engineer.

He thought about how to mass-produce the plow. He knew that now a large part of the city's workforce was focused on brick production and road construction, but that wasn't enough. The city was still vulnerable, and he needed an efficient production system to strengthen defenses and ensure the prosperity of the new kingdom.

He got up from his chair and began pacing the office, trying to organize his thoughts. He needed to find a way to increase productivity with the limited resources at his disposal. Ideas rushed through his mind, but none seemed to be the ideal solution.

Miguel thought about the possibility of implementing a kind of rudimentary assembly line, where different stages of production would be carried out in different locations and then assembled at a single point. He would need to train more people to work as blacksmiths and carpenters, but that would take time. Time he did not have.

He looked out the window and saw the city in the distance, the lights of the houses shining in the darkness. The sight of the city gave him a new perspective. He knew he needed more skilled labor, but how to attract these people to his kingdom?

He decided he needed to invest in education and training. He needed to create a system to train new blacksmiths and carpenters, even if rudimentary at first. He could build schools and workshops where the more experienced could teach the novices. In this way, he would soon have an army of specialized workers ready to help with mass production.

Additionally, he thought about the possibility of forming trade alliances with the beastmen. They might have resources and skills that would complement those of the kingdom of Drakmoor. Miguel knew he would need diplomacy and negotiation skills to establish these alliances, but he was willing to do whatever was necessary.

He also considered the idea of creating an incentive system to attract more skilled workers from other regions. Offering better living conditions, security, and growth opportunities could be an attraction for artisans and workers from other areas to move to Drakmoor.

Miguel sat down again at the table and began to write down all these ideas on a parchment. He knew it wouldn't be easy to implement all of this, but he was determined to do whatever it took to ensure the prosperity and security of his kingdom.

As Miguel worked in his office, immersed in his thoughts about the difficulties and challenges he faced, he heard a gentle knock on the door. He looked up and, to his surprise, saw Marta, the cook, entering with a tray. She brought a steaming pot of tea and a small tray of cookies.

Marta smiled warmly as she entered. "Good evening, my lord. I brought some tea and cookies to help you relax while you work," she said, placing the tray on Miguel's table.

Miguel smiled back, grateful. "Thank you, Marta. But you don't have to do this at this hour of the night. I know you already have a long day of work."

She shook her head with a serene smile. "It's the least I can do, my lord. My family and I are very grateful for everything you are doing. If it weren't for your leadership, we would be starving or in the hands of those mercenaries."

Miguel was touched by her words. He knew that the weight of the responsibility he carried was great, but hearing Marta's sincere thanks made it all worthwhile. "Do you have a family in the city, Marta?" he asked, interested.

"Yes, my lord. I have a 10-year-old daughter, and my husband is a farmer. We all live in the city," she explained, with a proud sparkle in her eyes.

Miguel nodded, feeling a lump in his throat. He remembered that each person in the kingdom had a family and a life, and now their hopes and futures were in his hands. "I'm glad to know you're safe. It's for you that we are fighting to improve this place," he said, with a reassuring smile.

Marta nodded, her eyes shining. "Thank you, my lord."

She then left, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts. He looked at the tray of tea and cookies, feeling a wave of gratitude and responsibility. He took a sip of the tea, feeling the comforting warmth spread through his body, and bit into a crunchy cookie.

As he savored the tea and cookies, he reflected on Marta's words. He knew he could not forget the importance of each life in his kingdom. He needed to keep working hard to ensure a better future for everyone. He finished the tea and cookies, feeling renewed, and returned to his documents, determined to do his best for his people before finally going to sleep.

---Royal Capital, Kingdom of Ardia---

The training field was bustling that morning. Under the scorching sun, one man stood out. He was shirtless, sweat running down his defined muscles. He wielded a wooden sword, simulating a fight. Three soldiers, also armed with wooden swords, surrounded him, ready to attack. Other soldiers watched, eager to see the spectacle.

Erondir, the blond man with long hair, looked at each of his opponents with a determined gaze. With impressive speed, he moved to the left, dodging the first strike. He spun around and struck the soldier on the back with the wooden sword, knocking him to the ground.

Without giving the second soldier time to react, Erondir advanced, blocking the attack with his sword and delivering a quick blow to the shoulder, making the opponent stagger back. With an agile move, he turned to the third soldier who was already attacking. Erondir ducked, avoiding the strike, and used his sword to hit the soldier's legs, bringing him down.

The fallen soldiers groaned, trying to recover, while Erondir stood, panting but victorious. Erondir’s impressive combat skills left everyone present in awe.

From the side of the field, Erondir heard slow and sarcastic clapping. He looked over and saw the king's advisor, a man with a treacherous smile on his face. Despite his general distrust of advisors, Erondir knew this was one of the few who inspired some degree of trust.

“Incredible as always, Erondir,” said the advisor, with an approving tone in his voice.

Erondir grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face, handing his wooden sword to a nearby soldier. He approached the advisor, looking him in the eyes. “What is such a noble man doing in this den of real men?” he asked with an ironic smile.

The advisor gestured for them to leave. “It's better we talk in a more private place,” he said, leading Erondir to a secluded area. As they walked, the advisor complained about the difficulty of finding Erondir. “I should have remembered that, above all, you are a soldier. Of course, you'd be here if not in other places.”

Reaching a more secluded spot, the advisor got straight to the point. He handed Erondir a letter sealed with the royal symbol. “It was written and signed by the king himself,” said the advisor, before leaving.

Erondir, now alone, sat on a bench and carefully opened the letter. The contents were clear and direct. King Albert III wrote firmly, ordering Erondir to be an observer in the duchy of the Vonmain family. The letter stated that Erondir should help the duchy root out treason. According to the king, one of the duke’s sons was aligning with the beastmen of the region, something unacceptable to the crown.

The king also ordered that, if possible, the duke’s traitorous son be brought back alive, as he intended to use him as an example in the capital for all to see what happens when someone aligns with these beasts, whether they are peasants or nobles.

Erondir closed the letter, reflecting on the orders he had received. He knew the mission would not be easy. The alliance with the beastmen was a delicate and dangerous matter. The kingdom was in a moment of great tension, and any false move could trigger a war. But, as a loyal soldier to the king, Erondir knew he had to fulfill his mission, even if it meant infiltrating a territory filled with intrigues and dangers.

He resolved to carry out King Albert III’s order, knowing that the future of the kingdom and the Vonmain family duchy depended on his actions. With one last look at the training field, where the soldiers were recovering from the simulated fight, Erondir stood up, ready to face the new challenge ahead.

“Well, it seems I have no choice after all.”

Vol 2 Chapter 47

In the mansion's courtyard, Ricardo and Miguel were in position, ready for another training session. With wooden swords in hand, they faced each other with determined looks. Ricardo, always the strict mentor, shouted, "Focus, Miguel!" The wooden swords clashed with force, echoing through the courtyard and drawing the attention of the nearby staff.

The young mage Lila and the servant John were among the spectators, watching intently. The two sat side by side, their closeness suggesting a budding friendship. John explained to Lila the movements and techniques Ricardo and Miguel used, while she watched with interest.

Ricardo attacked with a series of quick, precise strikes, and Miguel defended with increasing skill. They moved with grace and agility, each strike countered by a skillful defense. The sun shone high, casting dancing shadows over the courtyard and intensifying the heat of the battle.

"Faster, Miguel!" ordered Ricardo, increasing the pace. Miguel, sweating and panting, tried to keep up with his mentor's accelerated rhythm. Each time their swords met, imaginary sparks seemed to fly.

The staff stopped their chores to watch the fight. They quietly gathered, forming a circle around the two combatants. Among them were guards and other servants of the mansion, all eager to see the young king's progress.

Ricardo, with a swift and precise movement, disarmed Miguel, who fell to the ground, exhausted. Ricardo extended a hand to help Miguel up. "You're getting better, Miguel. Your swordsmanship is becoming sharper. One day, you'll be as good with a sword as I am."

Miguel accepted Ricardo's help, feeling proud of his mentor's praise. "Thank you, uncle. I'm doing my best."

Ricardo, with a mischievous smile, added, "Now, I want us to fight without the swords, just like you did with those mercenaries in the forest."

Miguel was taken aback. He hadn't expected that. Training with swords was challenging enough, but fighting without them? Ricardo was clearly trying to push him beyond his limits.

The staff and guards watching murmured among themselves, curious about the next bout. Some of the mansion's servants joined the group, increasing the small crowd around the courtyard.

Miguel took a deep breath, trying to calm the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He knew Ricardo was right. He needed to be able to fight in every way possible, especially without weapons, to protect himself and his kingdom. Looking at the growing circle of spectators, he felt a surge of determination.

"Let's go, Ricardo," said Miguel, preparing for the next bout.

Ricardo smiled, assuming an unarmed combat stance. "Show me what you've learned, Miguel."

The two repositioned themselves in the center of the courtyard, ready to begin the new training. The anticipation in the air was palpable, with all eyes fixed on the two combatants. Miguel knew this training was crucial, not just for his skill, but to show the people he was committed to becoming the leader they needed.

With one last look of determination, Miguel prepared to face his mentor once more, this time without the safety of the wooden sword.

After preparing, Miguel and Ricardo started the hand-to-hand combat. The mansion's servants and some guards watched anxiously, forming a circle around the two combatants. The tension in the air was palpable.

Miguel took a deep breath, assuming the fighting stance he had learned in jiu-jitsu. Ricardo, on the other hand, adopted the rudimentary combat stance he had learned at the military academy of the Kingdom of Ardia.

Ricardo made the first move, quickly advancing with a direct punch. Miguel, agilely, sidestepped, grabbing Ricardo's arm and attempting to apply an arm lock. Ricardo, however, was strong and managed to break free, pushing Miguel back.

"Impressive," murmured one of the guards, observing the skill of both fighters.

Miguel wasted no time and advanced again, trying to take Ricardo down with a low strike. Ricardo jumped back, but Miguel quickly grabbed his legs, pulling him to the ground. Ricardo deftly rolled to the side and stood up quickly, keeping his guard high.

"He's fast," commented one of the mansion's servants, his eyes fixed on the fight.

Ricardo attacked again, this time with a series of punches and kicks. Miguel blocked most of the attacks, but one punch hit his stomach, causing him to recoil with a groan of pain. Ricardo seized the opening and tried to grab Miguel, but using jiu-jitsu technique, Miguel ducked and spun, sweeping Ricardo to the ground.

The spectators held their breath, watching the skill and speed of both combatants' movements. Lila and John were particularly fascinated by the fight. John whispered to Lila, trying to explain each move that Miguel and Ricardo made, even though he didn't understand any of the techniques.

Ricardo quickly got up, dusting off his clothes. "Where did you learn that, Miguel?" he asked, visibly impressed.

Miguel smiled without answering and advanced again. Ricardo attempted a high kick, but Miguel grabbed his leg and brought him down again, trying to immobilize him with a leg lock. Ricardo, however, twisted free and rolled away, getting back to his feet.

"This fighting style... I've never seen anything like it," Ricardo murmured to himself, still impressed with Miguel's technique.

Miguel, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins, knew he needed to keep up the pressure. He advanced again, this time using a combination of strikes and jiu-jitsu holds. Ricardo tried to resist, but Miguel's technique and precision were starting to overcome his brute strength.

In a quick move, Miguel managed to pin Ricardo to the ground, applying an arm lock. Ricardo struggled to break free, but Miguel's technique was flawless. After a few seconds of intense struggle, Ricardo finally gave in, tapping the ground to signal his surrender.

The spectators erupted in applause and cheers. Lila and John smiled, visibly impressed with Miguel's skill. The guards and servants murmured among themselves, admiring the young baron's technique and ability.

Ricardo, still on the ground, smiled at Miguel. "You really surprised me, Miguel. This fighting style is something I've never seen before, even having witnessed you defeat two mercenaries with it."

Miguel, helping Ricardo up, smiled back. "It was a good training session, uncle. You made me sweat."

Ricardo laughed, dusting off his clothes. "You're becoming an excellent fighter, Miguel. Keep it up, and you'll be unbeatable."

The spectators continued to applaud as Miguel and Ricardo exchanged mutual respect. The fight had shown not only Miguel's skill but also his determination and courage. He knew he still had much to learn, but each day he was becoming more prepared to protect his new kingdom.

***

Miguel was in his office, analyzing various sketches and documents, with a worried expression on his face. Around him were Elnar, Arthur, and Marcus, all sharing the same concern: the lack of specialized labor in the new kingdom. The room was silent, except for the occasional sound of paper being handled and the heavy breathing of the men present.

"Elnar," began Miguel, "the situation is tough. We have many projects underway, but the lack of specialized labor is delaying us."

Arthur, the blacksmith, nodded. "My son and I are working non-stop, but we can't keep up with everything. Marcus is also overwhelmed with carpentry projects."

Marcus, the carpenter, added, "We need more people, Miguel. If we could train more people to help us, it would solve part of the problem, but we don't have the time for that."

Elnar, with his usual calm, offered a solution. "I can send some of our blacksmiths and carpenters to help. It's not many, but it should ease the workload a bit."

Miguel thought for a moment, considering the offer. "That would be a great help, Elnar. I appreciate your offer and accept the help. But even so, we need a more lasting solution. We need more trained people or a more efficient system."

He looked at the sketches on his desk, thinking of a solution. "A production line, like an industry... but how can we do that here?"

Arthur frowned, confused. "A production line? How would that work, My King?"

Miguel tried to explain. "In my world... I mean, in theory, a production line divides the manufacturing process into specific stages, where each worker or machine performs a single task repeatedly. This increases efficiency and production."

Marcus seemed intrigued. "That sounds interesting, but how can we implement something like that here? I've seen many carpenters working together in other places but not in the way you described."

Miguel sighed, realizing the complexity of the situation. "I need to think more about this. I need to find a way to adapt this idea to our reality."

He stood up and thanked everyone for their help and ideas. "Thank you for your help and suggestions. We need more time to solve this. Please leave so I can think a little on my own."

The three men nodded and left, leaving Miguel alone in his office. He sat back down and looked out the window, observing the growing city. He knew that finding a solution to the lack of specialized labor was crucial for the kingdom's future.

Miguel picked up a glass of wine and took a sip, trying to relax and think clearly. The idea of a production line was still on his mind, but he needed to find a way to adapt it to the reality of his new world.

Vol2 Chapter 48

Miguel was sitting in his office, the candles casting flickering shadows on the walls as he pondered deeply. Maps, sketches, and documents were scattered across the desk, silent witnesses to his tireless efforts to transform the kingdom of Drakmoor. He had achieved impressive advancements so far, but he knew that the key to true progress lay in efficiency.

The idea of Ford's assembly line lingered in his mind. He remembered how Henry Ford revolutionized the automotive industry in his original world by simplifying the manufacturing process into standardized steps. Each worker performed a single task repeatedly, increasing the efficiency and speed of production. Instead of an artisan producing an entire object, different workers specialized in a single step, passing the product to the next stage.

Miguel thought about how this approach could be applied in Drakmoor. He visualized blacksmiths and carpenters, each focused on a single step of the manufacturing process, increasing the production of weapons, tools, and other essential items. But he knew that implementing such a system would be a massive challenge. It would require intensive training, coordination, and a significant cultural shift.

He sighed, knowing that this would not be an easy task. "Everything must be planned carefully, every detail meticulously considered," he thought. "Any failure in execution could result in disaster." He made a mental note to dedicate time and effort to planning the production line, but he knew that for now, there was another priority.

Another project occupied his mind, something that could drastically change the future of Drakmoor. Something that would give his kingdom an extreme advantage over the others. But it would require resources, knowledge, and above all, secrecy. "For now, this secret will remain with me," Miguel thought, with a satisfied smile on his face. "First, I have to note down everything I will need to put this into practice."

He stood up and went to the window, observing the city that was growing and prospering under his leadership.

--- Duke's Mansion ---

Aurélio Vonmain was in the imposing duke's hall, his gaze serious as he analyzed maps and documents spread across the table. Beside him was Augusto, the younger but no less determined brother. The hall, decorated with tapestries and luxurious furniture, reflected the power and wealth of the duchy. The tall windows let in soft light, illuminating the tense faces of the brothers.

"So, our dear bastard brother has decided to rebel and declare independence," said Aurélio with a tone of disdain. "Miguel really thinks he can get rid of us that easily."

"He is more foolish than we thought," replied Augusto, crossing his arms. "But we cannot underestimate him. He has been surprisingly effective in gaining local support and that of the beastmen."

Aurélio nodded, agreeing reluctantly. "We need to crush him once and for all. Show him and the people of Drakmoor that rebellion comes at a high price. How many soldiers do we think will be necessary?"

Augusto picked up a scroll with the duchy's troop numbers. "We have a total of 40,000 soldiers. If we are serious about this, we can mobilize six thousand in a month. It's a significant portion of our army, but we need to ensure he is completely crushed."

Aurélio looked at the map, his eyes fixed on the barony of Drakmoor. "Six thousand soldiers... yes, that should be more than enough to quell any resistance. We cannot allow this affront to continue."

"Agreed," said Augusto. "But we need to be swift. We don't want the kingdom to discover this little rebellion before we can deal with it. The last thing we want is royal troops interfering."

Aurélio grumbled, his frustration evident. "Why didn't Miguel accept his fate and just die? That would have been much easier. Now, we have to deal with this mess."

Augusto placed a hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Calm down, Aurélio. We will deal with him. And when we do, everyone will know that challenging the Vonmain is a fatal mistake."

Aurélio let out a heavy sigh. "Let's start the preparations. Send messengers to the troop commanders. I want everyone ready to depart in a month. Miguel chose his death, and I will ensure he receives it."

As the two brothers continued to plan, their determination to crush Miguel's rebellion grew. They were willing to sacrifice a significant part of their army to ensure that Drakmoor returned to the duchy's control and that Miguel paid dearly for his audacity.

The duke's hall, usually a place of political decisions and long-term strategies, now became the center of a conspiracy to crush the rebellion of a brother who dared to dream of independence. And for Aurélio and Augusto, there was no turning back.

Amélia was behind the closed door, listening to the brothers' conversation. Her expression hardened as she heard Aurélio and Augusto's words. "That bastard Miguel should have made things easier," she murmured to herself. She was serious when she said she would protect him, but now everything seemed more complicated.

What made her extremely angry was not Miguel, but the fact that Aurélio knew about the independence. "Aurélio is spying on me," she thought, clenching her fists. "He wants to get rid of me the same way he tried to get rid of Miguel?" She didn't like being underestimated, and this was the last straw.

The shadow of a cold smile crossed her face. "He will pay for this," she whispered. Amélia stepped away from the door, her mind racing. Aurélio had crossed a line, and she was determined to show that no one spied on her with impunity.

---

Amélia was in the stable of her personal mansion, watching her favorite horses as she thought about the urgency of her mission. She knew she needed to act quickly to warn Miguel before her brothers launched an attack against the new kingdom. Around her, the stables were full of activity, with horses being prepared and riders gearing up for the journey.

She called her most loyal riders, about 100 men who had proven their loyalty in countless battles. They were well-trained soldiers, all with serious and determined expressions, ready to follow their leader at any moment.

“Listen carefully,” Amélia began, her voice firm and authoritative. “We are not setting out to attack Miguel's barony. On the contrary, we are going to warn him of an imminent danger. My brothers are planning a massive attack, and we need to reach him before they do.”

The riders nodded in unison, mounting their horses efficiently. Amélia mounted her favorite horse, a sturdy black horse with bright eyes and a long, wavy mane. As she adjusted the reins, she looked at her men with a mix of determination and concern.

“We will depart immediately. Every moment counts. Our loyalty and speed could make all the difference for that little bastard Miguel and his new kingdom, of course.” She continued, “My brothers Aurélio and Augusto disrespected me... They will certainly try to kill me at some point... So let's give them a reason for it.” She smiled maliciously and raised her sword.

The soldiers did the same and raised their swords in unison. They left at night to avoid suspicion. Due to the spies likely working in her mansion, her brothers would soon know she had left and the reason why.

With one last look at the stables, Amélia turned her horse towards the gate and gave the order to advance. The riders followed her, the sound of hooves echoing through the courtyard as they galloped out of the mansion.

--- Kingdom of Drakmoor ---

Miguel was sitting in his office, with various papers scattered across the desk. His eyes fixed on a large map of the region, he knew he needed something grand to interconnect the entire new kingdom with brick roads. The 200 bricks produced daily by the workers were just a fraction of what was needed to accomplish this task. He needed a more efficient solution, a true production line that could meet the colossal demand.

He decided that the best way to test this production line was by building a brick factory. The space within the city was limited, so he opted to construct the building outside the urban limits, near the south gate. The flat, wooded area there would be perfect. The location also offered easy access for transporting materials, being only two hours by cart from the city.

Miguel began sketching the building plans. The ground floor would have a large space, with various sections dedicated to different stages of production. He envisioned a rectangular structure, about 50 meters long by 30 meters wide, enough to house all the necessary operations.

At the entrance of the building, there would be a reception and sorting area for materials, where carts would unload clay and other supplies. Next to this area, Miguel planned a large storage area for clay and limestone, as well as bags of lime and coal. This would ensure that the production line never stopped due to a lack of materials.

Just after the storage area, Miguel drew a processing section. Here, the clay would be mixed with limestone and lime in large tanks, forming the mortar that would be used to mold the bricks. He imagined huge stone wheels, powered by horses, to mix the ingredients evenly.

Next was the molding section. Miguel sketched several long tables where workers would place the mortar into wooden molds. Each mold would produce a set of bricks, and the tables would be organized in rows to maximize efficiency. Once filled, the molds would be taken to a drying section.

Miguel thought about the brick drying process. The area would be covered and well-ventilated, allowing air to circulate freely to speed up the process. Wooden racks stacked on top of each other would hold the bricks while they dried, with enough space for thousands of units.

Finally, the firing section would be the heart of the factory. Giant kilns would be built to bake the bricks, making them hard and durable. Miguel planned kilns capable of operating continuously, fueled by coal and wood. He drew a complex network of chimneys to ensure the smoke was properly expelled, keeping the work environment safe.

After firing, the finished bricks would be stored in a large adjacent warehouse, ready to be transported wherever needed. Miguel calculated that with this structure, they could produce up to 1,000 bricks a day, depending on the number of workers and the efficiency of the process.

To build this facility, Miguel made some quick calculations. He estimated that about 20,000 bricks would be needed to erect the outer walls, plus 5,000 for the internal partitions. The foundation would require a large amount of mortar, and he also had to consider the construction of the kilns and chimneys.

Miguel, after spending hours in his office drawing and calculating the details of the brick factory building, took stock of the available resources. He found that there were 8,000 bricks in storage, plus the 200 bricks produced daily by the workers. This gave him the confidence that, although the construction would be a major undertaking, they had a good starting point.

He decided that the next day, he would visit the chosen site for the factory, near the south gate. He wanted to examine the area personally, check the terrain, and plan the start of the foundation. He knew this initial step was crucial to ensuring the factory was built with maximum efficiency and safety.

Vol2 Chapter 49

The next morning, Miguel prepared for his visit to the chosen site for the brick factory. Mounted on his horse, he led a small entourage composed of Ricardo, the servant Elnar, and a few soldiers. The group rode towards the south gate, where the flat, wooded land stretched out.

Miguel looked around as they rode. The verdant landscape, dotted with sturdy trees, offered a serene and promising setting for the new enterprise. When they arrived at the site, Miguel dismounted and began to inspect the land carefully. Ricardo and the soldiers maintained a vigilant watch while Elnar approached, clearly curious.

“So, this is where you plan to build the brick factory?” Elnar asked, a gleam of admiration in his eyes.

Miguel nodded, his eyes scanning the expansive space. “Yes, Elnar. This land is perfect. It’s flat, accessible, and sufficiently far from the city to avoid any disturbances.”

Elnar observed Miguel with interest. “I’ve never heard of this term, factory. What exactly does it mean?”

Miguel smiled, appreciating the opportunity to explain his vision. “A factory is a place where production is carried out in an organized and efficient manner, with different stages of the manufacturing process happening simultaneously. Here, we will be able to significantly increase brick production using an assembly line.”

Elnar was impressed. “That’s truly brilliant, Miguel. I never imagined something like this. Organized large-scale production… It’s quite fascinating.”

Miguel nodded. “And that’s exactly what we need. With this factory, we can produce many more bricks, allowing us to build roads, buildings, and fortresses more quickly and efficiently.”

He walked across the land, visualizing where each part of the factory would be erected. “Here,” he pointed, “will be the area for storing raw materials. Over there, we’ll install the kilns for firing the bricks. And in that section, we’ll set up the production line where the bricks will be molded and prepared.”

Ricardo, ever watchful, observed Miguel’s inspection. “This can truly transform our kingdom, Miguel. But it will require a lot of specialized labor.”

“Yes, Ricardo, I know,” Miguel replied. “That’s why I’m accepting Elnar’s offer to bring blacksmiths and carpenters from his kingdom to help us. We need all the help we can get.”

Elnar nodded vigorously. “We’re ready to help, Miguel. Our men will work side by side with yours.”

Miguel continued his analysis, evaluating every detail of the land and mentally noting the next steps. The construction of the foundation would be crucial, and he wanted to ensure everything was prepared so they could start as soon as possible.

As he walked, he felt a mix of excitement and responsibility. This factory was more than just a building; it was a symbol of progress and innovation. Miguel knew he was charting a new path for the kingdom of Drakmoor, a path that would require courage, determination, and vision.

After finishing his inspection, he turned to his entourage and said, “Let’s get to work. We have a lot to do, but together, we can achieve great things.”

Elnar smiled, visibly excited, and Ricardo nodded with a look of determination. With a clear vision in his mind and the support of his companions, Miguel was ready to turn his idea into reality.

---

Miguel was in his office, seated at his large oak desk, the wine bottle nearly empty beside him. He had already had several glasses, and now he felt relaxed, though somewhat introspective. The wine was becoming a constant habit, something he knew he needed to control, but for now, it helped to calm his restless mind.

He spread out a large papyrus on the desk, smoothing it carefully before starting to draw. With a sharp quill and black ink, he began to trace the lines of the brick factory plan. Each stroke was made with precision, reflecting his experience as an engineer.

Miguel started by drawing the main entrance, a large wooden door reinforced with iron bars. Below the entrance, he noted: “Main entrance door – 3 meters wide by 2.5 meters high.” The plan clearly showed the wide entrance, allowing the passage of carts loaded with materials.

Next, he drew the raw material storage area, a wide-open space. “Storage area – 20 meters by 15 meters,” he wrote next to the drawing. He detailed the locations where sacks of volcanic ash, crushed limestone, and gravel would be piled.

Further along, Miguel outlined the kiln section. He drew three large kilns in a row, each with its own chimney to expel smoke. “Firing kilns – 4 meters in diameter each, with chimneys 10 meters high,” he noted. He knew these kilns would be the heart of the factory, where the bricks would be hardened and prepared for use.

Then, Miguel traced the production line. He drew a long wooden conveyor belt, manually operated by levers, where the bricks would be molded. “Production line – 30 meters long,” he wrote. He detailed the molding sections, where workers would fill molds with the concrete mixture, and the drying areas, where the newly molded bricks would stay until ready for firing.

Next to the production line, he drew a small break room for the workers, a place where they could rest and eat. “Break room – 5 meters by 5 meters,” he noted. It was important to him to ensure the workers had a comfortable space to recharge.

Finally, he drew the factory exit, a wide door similar to the entrance, allowing the easy exit of finished bricks ready for transport. “Exit door – 3 meters wide by 2.5 meters high,” he wrote again.

Miguel leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied at the final drawing. The plan was clear and detailed, yet simple enough for anyone to understand. He knew this project was crucial for the future of the kingdom of Drakmoor, and he was determined to make everything work perfectly.

He drank the last sip of wine from the glass and set the bottle aside. He knew he needed to keep his mind clear and focused, especially with so many challenges ahead. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, knowing he was one step closer to turning his vision into reality.

---

The next day, the sun had barely risen on the horizon when Miguel, Ricardo, Elnar, and three dozen workers gathered in the town's central square. Miguel made sure to pay the workers in silver coins and food, knowing this would not only incentivize the work but also help sustain their families. Elnar's workers would take a few more days to arrive, so Miguel decided not to waste time and start laying the foundation with the available manpower.

Equipped with shovels and pickaxes, the group set out towards the construction site of the brick factory, near the south gate. The two-hour journey was peaceful, with the workers chatting amongst themselves, excited about the prospect of stable work and fair rewards. Elnar, beside Miguel, expressed curiosity and enthusiasm about the project.

Upon arrival, Miguel instructed the workers to organize into groups and begin excavating the foundation. He had brought with him the factory plan, which he had meticulously drawn the night before, and used it to guide the workers on where each section of the foundation should be dug.

Miguel walked around the site, inspecting and directing the workers with precision. Ricardo was by his side, helping supervise and ensure all details were followed according to plan. Elnar, with his imposing yet calm presence, helped coordinate the workers and kept morale high.

The workers began digging the foundation vigorously, their tools striking the ground with determination. Miguel observed every movement, ensuring the depth and width of the excavations were correct. He knew the foundation was the most crucial part of the project; any error here could compromise the entire factory structure.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, progress was visible. The lines of the foundation began to take shape, clearly outlining the contours of the future factory. Sweat ran down the workers' faces, but the pace did not slow. The promise of fair rewards and Miguel's inspiring vision kept everyone motivated.

Miguel took every moment to teach and correct, showing the workers the importance of each step in the process. He knew that while he was hurrying the start of construction, precision and quality could not be compromised.

By the end of the day, the foundation outline was nearly complete. Miguel felt satisfied with the progress. He gathered the workers and thanked them for their effort, highlighting the importance of this project not just for the city but for the entire new kingdom of Drakmoor.

The workers left the site tired but with a sense of accomplishment. Miguel, Ricardo, and Elnar stayed behind, observing the work done. Miguel knew there was still much to be done, but this was a significant step in the right direction. The vision of a factory that would transform brick production and pave the way for a more prosperous future was beginning to materialize.

Vol 2 Chapter 50

The next day, Miguel was back at the construction site, ready to continue the brick factory project. The foundation excavated the previous day was prepared to receive the layer of bricks and concrete. The sky was clear, promising a day of hard but productive work.

The workers, under Miguel's supervision, began organizing the necessary materials. Piles of bricks were lined up beside the trenches, while buckets of concrete were prepared with the correct mixture of lime, volcanic ash, and crushed stones. Miguel guided the workers on how to start laying the bricks on the foundation.

With the factory's blueprint in hand, he positioned himself at the center of the site, checking every detail and measuring proportions to ensure everything was according to plan. He directed the workers where to place the first bricks, explaining the importance of a solid and well-leveled base.

The workers began aligning the bricks in the excavated trenches, carefully positioning and pressing them firmly into the fresh concrete. Miguel supervised each step, ensuring the rows of bricks were level and that the concrete was evenly distributed. The filled trenches began to shape the foundation, creating a robust and stable structure for the future building.

As the work progressed, Miguel felt a growing satisfaction seeing his vision materialize. The sound of hammers and the murmur of the workers filled the air, creating a symphony of progress. Miguel knew that each brick laid, each bucket of concrete poured, was a step towards a more prosperous future for the kingdom of Drakmoor.

With the foundation taking shape, Miguel decided it was time to delegate the management of the work to someone he trusted completely. He approached Elnar, the cervine servant, and handed him the detailed blueprint. Elnar was surprised by the responsibility, but Miguel smiled and said:

"Elnar, you are very intelligent and capable. I want you to manage this work. The blueprint has all the necessary explanations and calculations, including how to properly position the bricks."

Elnar accepted the task with a determined look. He knew this was a great responsibility, but he trusted Miguel's guidance and his own ability to lead the workers.

With the management of the work handed over to Elnar, Miguel bid farewell to the workers and left the site. He knew he now needed to focus on another crucial aspect of the project: planning new kilns for the factory. These kilns would not only be useful for brick production but also for other needs of the kingdom.

As he rode back to the city, Miguel began formulating plans in his mind. The new kilns needed to be more powerful and efficient, capable of withstanding high temperatures and producing high-quality materials in greater quantities. He knew this project would require a lot of planning and innovation, but he was determined to take the kingdom of Drakmoor to a new level of development and prosperity.

With a final look at the construction site, Miguel felt confident that under Elnar's supervision, the brick factory would become a solid and efficient reality. He spurred his horse, eager to start working on the kilns that would help shape the future of his kingdom.

---

The next day, Elnar arrived early at the construction site, determined to start another day of work. The makeshift tents for the workers were arranged in an organized manner, creating a small temporary village dedicated to the construction of the brick factory. One of these tents served as Elnar's office, a simple but functional space where he could review the blueprint and coordinate the day's activities.

Elnar sat at an improvised table, the factory's blueprint open before him. He scanned Miguel's detailed instructions, impressed by the clarity and simplicity of the explanations. Miguel had made sure to make the information accessible so that anyone with some construction knowledge could understand and follow the guidelines.

After reviewing the plan, Elnar decided that the next step would be to start raising some of the factory's internal walls. He knew the structure needed to be solid and well-built, and this began with correctly erecting the walls. He left the office and walked to the center of the construction site, where the workers were already gathering, ready to start the day.

Elnar called the workers' attention and began explaining the plan for the day. He used the factory's blueprint to show where each internal wall should be erected, highlighting the importance of following Miguel's instructions exactly. With patience and clarity, he explained each detail, ensuring everyone understood their tasks.

"We will start with the internal walls. I want these to be done with the same precision we used for the foundation. Remember to align each brick correctly and use the concrete uniformly," Elnar instructed, pointing to specific areas on the drawing.

The workers nodded and began moving towards the designated areas. Elnar accompanied them, closely supervising each step of the process. He checked the alignment of the bricks, the consistency of the concrete, and the precision of the angles. His attention to detail was meticulous, reflecting the rigor with which Miguel had planned everything.

As the internal walls began to take shape, Elnar not only observed but also actively participated, helping position bricks and ensure everything was according to plan. His constant presence and clear instructions increased the workers' confidence, who followed his directions with dedication. Even though some workers looked at him with distrust for being a beast-man, he decided to ignore these small actions.

Elnar felt a wave of satisfaction as he saw the walls rise. He knew that under his supervision, the work was progressing as planned and that each day of work brought them closer to completing the factory. The collaboration between him and the workers flowed harmoniously, and Miguel's vision was beginning to materialize tangibly.

As the day advanced, Elnar continued to guide and oversee the construction, ensuring each internal wall was erected with maximum precision and care. He knew that the solid foundation and well-built walls were essential for the success of the brick factory and was determined to maintain the standard of excellence established by Miguel.

With the sun beginning to set, Elnar took one last look at the walls that had been erected. He felt satisfied with the day's progress and confident that under his supervision, the construction of the factory would continue to advance efficiently and safely. He gathered his things and headed to the makeshift office, ready to plan the next stages of construction, certain they were on the right path to turning Miguel's vision into reality.

---

Miguel was in his office that night, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls. He sipped a glass of wine as he looked out the window at the city. The streets were quiet, but his mind was restless. Miguel's thoughts were consumed with uncertainty about when his brothers and the king would react to his declaration of independence. He knew time was against him and that he needed to further strengthen his new kingdom to face the inevitable retaliation.

He sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. "They probably already know I declared independence," he said to himself, trying to predict his adversaries' next moves. The tension was palpable, but he knew the only way to ensure his people's safety was to continue advancing his modernization and defense plans.

With this thought, Miguel decided it was time to start sketching the new kiln. He knew that an efficient kiln would be crucial to increase the production of bricks and other construction materials needed to fortify Drakmoor. He took a piece of papyrus and a quill, beginning to draw the initial lines of the project.

Miguel decided that the new kiln needed to be simple to build but revolutionary in its efficiency. He remembered the lessons he learned as an engineer in his old world, where using air to increase the temperature of kilns was a common technique. He began to draw a vertical kiln, with a wide base for stability and thick walls to retain heat.

In the center of the kiln, he drew a ventilation tube extending from the base to the top. This tube would be essential for air circulation, allowing oxygen to feed the flames and increase the internal temperature. At the base of the kiln, he added an adjustable air intake opening. This airflow control would allow regulating the fire's intensity as needed.

Around the ventilation tube, Miguel drew several layers of refractory bricks. These bricks would withstand high temperatures and help retain heat, making the kiln more efficient. He also drew an opening at the top of the kiln for the gases and smoke to exit, ensuring complete and clean combustion.

Next, he thought about how to fuel the kiln. He decided the best way would be to build an elevated platform next to the kiln, where fuel such as coal or wood could be easily fed through a side opening. This would allow the kiln to operate continuously without interruptions.

Miguel knew that this new kiln could revolutionize production in the kingdom of Drakmoor. With a higher and more constant temperature, the production of bricks and other materials would be significantly increased. Additionally, the kiln's efficiency would reduce fuel consumption, making the entire process more sustainable.

Satisfied with the initial sketch, Miguel leaned back in his chair and took another sip of wine. He knew this was just the beginning, but each step he took towards strengthening his kingdom was a step in the right direction. The night was calm, but he knew dawn would bring new challenges and opportunities. With the new kiln in mind, Miguel was more determined than ever to transform Drakmoor into a bastion of strength and innovation.

Vol 2 Chapter 51

The following morning, Miguel took the sketch of the furnace and headed to the city's furnace hall. The sun was rising, casting a golden light over the buildings and streets of Drakmoor. He walked with determination, knowing that each step brought him closer to a safer and more prosperous future for his kingdom.

Upon reaching the hall, Miguel found the person in charge of the furnaces, a sturdy man with a steady gaze named Bartolomeu. Bartolomeu was known for his skill in handling intense heat and his expertise in producing charcoal, essential for the local economy.

Bartolomeu was standing beside one of the large furnaces, watching the fire crackle and send sparks into the air. When he saw Miguel approaching, he wiped his hands on a cloth and extended his hand in greeting.

“Good morning, my lord!” said Bartolomeu with a smile, his eyes shining with respect and curiosity. “What brings you here so early?”

Miguel shook Bartolomeu’s hand, feeling the firmness and honesty in the grip. He smiled back, grateful for the dedication of those who worked tirelessly for the good of Drakmoor.

“Good morning, Bartolomeu,” Miguel replied, returning the greeting with an equally firm handshake.

Miguel looked at Bartolomeu with determination and a slight smile on his lips.

“Tell me, Bartolomeu, do you know how to build furnaces?” asked Miguel, trying to gauge the man’s experience.

“Yes, my lord,” Bartolomeu responded with a nod. “My family has always built furnaces for charcoal production. I know the craft well.”

“Great,” said Miguel, taking the sketch of his new furnace from under his arm and unrolling it on a nearby table. “I have a new furnace in mind. I want your help to build it.”

Bartolomeu leaned in to get a better look at the drawing, curious.

“This furnace,” Miguel began, pointing to the details of the sketch, “is different from the ones you usually build. It will use an air circulation system to increase the temperature. The idea is to allow fresh air to enter here,” he indicated an opening at the base, “and for hot air to exit here,” he showed the chimney at the top. “With this, we can achieve higher temperatures more quickly and efficiently.”

Bartolomeu furrowed his brow, studying the sketch closely. “Interesting, my lord. I’ve never seen a furnace like this before. It looks like an ambitious project.”

“Yes, it is,” Miguel admitted. “But I believe it can revolutionize the way we produce not just charcoal, but many other materials needed for the growth and defense of our kingdom.”

Bartolomeu stroked his chin, thoughtful. “Well, my family always said that true advancement comes from those who dare to dream big. We’ll need specific materials and perhaps some adjustments during construction, but I’m willing to try if that’s what you wish.”

Miguel smiled, pleased with Bartolomeu’s response. “Perfect. Let’s work together to make this happen.”

Miguel continued explaining to Bartolomeu the details of the new furnace, pointing to different parts of the sketch as he spoke.

“For this furnace to work correctly, we will need some specific materials,” Miguel began, with a serious look. “First, we will need refractory bricks. These bricks are essential to withstand the high temperatures we want to achieve. They should be made of a special mixture of clay and silica.”

Bartolomeu nodded, absorbing the information.

“We will also need a good supply of high-quality charcoal to fuel the furnace. The charcoal must be pure and well-prepared, without impurities that could hinder the burning.”

“We can easily get the charcoal,” said Bartolomeu. “We already have a good stock and can increase production if necessary.”

“Perfect,” Miguel replied. “Additionally, we will need iron pipes for the air circulation system. These pipes need to be heat-resistant and well-fitted to avoid air leaks.”

Bartolomeu scratched his chin again, thoughtful. “We have the blacksmith Arthur in town who can help us make these pipes. It will be a tough job, but it’s possible.”

“Great,” said Miguel. “Finally, we need high-strength mortar to bond the refractory bricks. The mortar should be made with a special mixture of sand, lime, and cement.”

Bartolomeu nodded again. “Understood. We will need a good amount of lime and sand, as well as cement. This should be feasible, especially with the new lime production you initiated.”

Miguel smiled, pleased with Bartolomeu’s understanding. “Exactly. If we can gather all these materials and work together, we can build a furnace that will not only improve charcoal production but also open new possibilities for our kingdom.”

Bartolomeu took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility but also the excitement of the challenge. “Let’s do this, my lord. I will try to gather the materials, and we can start working immediately.”

Miguel nodded, confident. “Thank you, Bartolomeu. I’m counting on you.”

Miguel headed to Arthur’s forge, where the heat from the furnace and the constant sound of hammers striking metal created an environment of intense activity. He spotted Arthur, who was supervising the work of his son, Benjamin, a strong and dedicated young man who was quickly becoming a skilled blacksmith.

“Arthur, I need to discuss something important with you,” said Miguel, approaching the two.

Arthur stopped what he was doing and turned to Miguel. “Of course, my lord. What do you need?”

Miguel began to explain, taking the furnace sketch from his bag. “We are planning to build a new furnace to improve our production. We will need iron pipes for the air circulation system. These pipes need to be heat-resistant and well-fitted to avoid leaks.”

Arthur studied the sketch for a moment, his face showing a mix of interest and concern. “I understand. This will be delicate work. Iron pipes are not easy to make; they need to be perfect for the furnace to work correctly.”

At that moment, Benjamin, who had been listening to the conversation, stepped forward. "Father, I can do this. I feel ready for this task."

Arthur looked at his son with an appraising gaze. "Do you think you are ready for something this complex, Benjamin?"

"Yes, Father. I have practiced a lot and I know I can do it. I will do my best to ensure everything turns out perfect," Benjamin replied, with determination in his eyes.

Arthur smiled, proud of his son's confidence. "Very well, then. If you believe you are prepared, I agree to let you take on this task. But remember, it’s a big responsibility. Every pipe needs to be perfect."

Benjamin nodded, determined. "I know, Father. I will do everything with the utmost care."

Miguel watched the exchange with a smile. "Thank you, Arthur, and thank you, Benjamin. I trust in your abilities and know you will do an excellent job. We need these pipes to ensure the furnace works correctly and helps us advance even further."

With a final nod, Miguel left the forge, feeling more confident about the progress of his plans.

***

Amélia stood in the middle of a clearing, her breath heavy as she observed the soldiers around her. The sun shone brightly, illuminating the battle scene. The clearing was surrounded by tall trees, their canopies creating a natural barrier around the fight. With a command shout, she launched herself against the baron’s soldiers who had been sent to kill her.

The clang of swords clashing echoed through the clearing, and Amélia moved with the grace of a dancer, dodging and attacking with deadly precision. Her sword, a thin and lethal blade, glinted in the sunlight as she cut down one enemy after another. Beside her, her soldiers fought bravely, but the attackers’ numerical superiority was starting to take its toll.

Amélia stepped back, blocking a blow and spinning to deliver a deep cut to the soldier who had attacked her. He fell to the ground, and she raised her sword again, her eyes fixed on a new target. A baron’s soldier charged at her, his sword raised for a killing blow. Amélia dodged effortlessly, striking him on the side and bringing him down.

“Protect the rear!” she shouted as more enemy soldiers emerged from the surrounding forest.

Her blonde hair flew in the wind as she fought, each movement calculated and precise. Another soldier advanced on her, and she blocked his strike with a quick movement of her sword. With a flick of her wrist, she disarmed the adversary and brought him down with a strike to the leg. She knew that despite her skills, the situation was becoming increasingly desperate.

One of her soldiers, a burly man with a scar on his face, approached her as he fought. “Lady, we need to retreat! We are being overwhelmed!”

Amélia knew he was right. The baron’s soldiers were pressing harder, and her own men were starting to fall. She blocked another strike and countered, bringing down another enemy soldier before shouting an order to retreat.

“Everyone, fall back! Protect the rear!”

With a final effort, she cut down two more enemies before turning and running towards the edge of the clearing. Her men followed, fighting bravely to cover the retreat. The forest around them was dense and dark, providing some cover as they fled.

The sounds of battle faded as Amélia and her soldiers ran through the forest. She knew they were leaving many of their own behind, fighting to buy them time, but there was no other choice. They needed to reach Miguel. She thought to herself and hoped all this sacrifice would be worth it. She did not like Miguel, but ever since she left Drakmoor, she could not stop thinking about those walls... She was a curious person by nature and wanted to know more about everything that bastard was doing. Besides, Miguel was the only one who, for some reason, did not look at her with eyes of subjugation; to him, she was just another person... And that made her trust him now more than her other two blood brothers.

After a few minutes of frantic escape, Amélia and twenty of her soldiers emerged into a new clearing, breathless and covered in sweat. She stopped to catch her breath, her eyes scanning the surroundings to ensure they were safe, at least for now. She knew the battle was far from over, but she also knew they needed to keep moving. Her brothers would not give up so easily.

“Let’s go, we can’t stop now. We need to reach my bastard brother,” she said, and with a final look of determination, she led her men through the forest, leaving behind the sound of battle and the promise of more conflicts to come.

Vol 2 Chapter 52

Miguel was in his office, absorbed in the task of signing a pile of papers accumulating on his desk. The ink of the quill glided over the paper, tracing the letters and words that would shape the future of his kingdom. His thoughts were divided between daily responsibilities and the challenges that still lay ahead.

A light knock on the door interrupted his concentration. "Enter," he said, straightening in his chair.

The soldier entered quickly, bowing before speaking. "My lord, Ruidahr is here."

Miguel nodded. "Let him in."

Ruidahr entered the office, as imposing as ever, with his upright posture and determined look. Beside him, a slim and agile figure with bright, intelligent eyes: Lysandra, the fox. Miguel stood up to greet them.

"Ruidahr, it's good to see you," said Miguel, extending his hand.

"It's good to see you too, Miguel," replied Ruidahr, shaking his hand firmly. "I brought some blacksmiths and carpenters to help you with your projects."

Miguel smiled, relieved. "Thank you very much for this, Ruidahr. They will be of great help."

Ruidahr gestured towards Lysandra. "This is Lysandra. She has been watching the borders and various regions of your kingdom with her fellow foxes. They are extremely skilled in stealth and espionage."

Miguel looked at Lysandra, impressed. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Lysandra. Your skills are very welcome here."

Lysandra bowed slightly. "It's been a long time... young king."

Ruidahr continued: "Lysandra is here because she reported a battle within your kingdom's borders. She saw some soldiers led by a woman coming this way. We couldn't identify the exact reason, but they will arrive today."

Miguel frowned, thoughtful. The only woman he knew who could lead men like that was his sister, Amelia. But why would she return? He knew she could be unpredictable, but he didn't expect something like this.

"We'll organize a defense immediately," said Miguel, determined. "If it's my sister, we need to be prepared for anything."

Ruidahr nodded. "We'll be by your side, Miguel."

Miguel looked at Lysandra. "Can you and your fellow foxes continue to watch the area and keep us informed of any suspicious movements?"

Lysandra nodded positively with a slight bow.

---

Miguel was on the wall, the cold wind hitting his face as he watched the tree line in the distance. Beside him, Ruidahr, imposing and alert, scanned the landscape with his penetrating eyes. John, the defense secretary, stood on one side, his expression serious and focused. On the other side, Ricardo, always vigilant, adjusted his posture and stared fixedly at the tree line. Above them, seven giant automatic crossbows were ready, capable of firing every two seconds. The tension was palpable, and everyone awaited the approach of the unknown.

Lysandra, the fox, reappeared with quick and silent steps, as was her custom. "They are fleeing, as they are being pursued again," she said, her voice calm and controlled. "Only eight are alive and running... I counted 60 enemies right behind them."

Miguel frowned. "Describe the woman leading the group," he requested.

Lysandra gave a detailed description, and Miguel had no doubt: it was his sister, Amelia. But why would she be pursued?

Miguel's eyes narrowed as he looked intently at the tree line. Finally, he saw the group emerge from the forest, running desperately. His sister and the few survivors were exhausted but still moved with determination. Right behind, a large number of soldiers appeared, some firing arrows and others running to catch up.

Miguel was momentarily paralyzed by indecision. Doubt gnawed at his mind. Ricardo approached and said, "This is reckless. It could be a trap..."

Miguel knew Ricardo was right, but the sight of his sister in danger was too much for him to ignore. Even after everything, he couldn't be responsible for Amelia's death. "Open the gate!" he ordered, his voice firm despite the internal hesitation.

The gates began to open, and Amelia and her men ran inside without hesitation. For a brief moment, Miguel and Amelia exchanged looks. No expression of recognition, just a silent understanding of the situation. Immediately after the group entered, the gates were closed.

"Fire!" shouted Miguel.

The archers and soldiers manning the crossbows responded promptly. Arrows flew through the air, followed by the sharp sound of the crossbows firing. Several of the pursuing soldiers fell, and chaos ensued among the enemy ranks.

One of the enemy soldiers shouted to retreat, and in a few moments, they all disappeared among the trees. John watched intently until the last silhouette vanished, then raised his hand, ordering them to stop firing.

Miguel took a deep breath, trying to process what had just happened. He looked at Ricardo, who just nodded slightly, acknowledging the difficult decision Miguel had to make. Ruidahr watched in silence, while Lysandra remained alert, ready for any eventuality.

The tension still hung in the air, but at least for now, the immediate danger had passed. Amelia and her men were safe within the walls of the kingdom of Drakmoor.

Amelia and her soldiers were surrounded by Miguel's soldiers, all with spears pointed at the group. The sound of the newcomers' heavy breathing and the rustling of armor filled the air. Amelia, catching her breath, raised her eyes and saw Miguel approaching, accompanied by Ricardo, Ruidahr, and John. She gave a mocking smile, still trying to steady her breathing.

"It's good to see you again, little brother," she said, her tone laden with sarcasm.

Miguel stopped a few steps away, observing the situation cautiously. His soldiers kept their positions, spears firmly pointed at the intruders. Amelia looked around, assessing the spear tips too close for her liking.

"Is this how you treat your little sister?" she continued, the mockery evident in her voice.

Miguel kept his gaze fixed on her, a mix of distrust and concern in his eyes. "Given the circumstances, I can't be too careful," he responded, trying to remain calm.

Ricardo stepped forward, still with his sword in hand, and looked severely at Amelia. "What are you doing here, Amelia?" he asked, his voice laden with authority.

She sighed, as if the answer was obvious. "I was pursued by Aurelio's men. He tried to kill me, Miguel. I came here to warn you and ask for help."

Miguel narrowed his eyes, still uncertain if he should trust her. "And why would he try to kill you?"

Amelia took a step forward, making Miguel's soldiers tense their spears even more. "Because I'm not just a threat to you, Miguel. I'm a threat to him as well. He doesn't want anyone interfering with his plans."

Miguel reflected for a moment, analyzing each word said by his sister. He looked at the soldiers around and made a gesture with his hand. "Lower the spears," he ordered.

The soldiers hesitated for a moment but soon obeyed, retreating a bit and lowering their weapons. Amelia smiled slightly, still catching her breath.

"Thank you," she said, although there was still a tone of sarcasm in her voice. "Now, can we talk like civilized people?"

Miguel nodded, although his expression remained cautious. "Come. Let's go to a safer place to discuss this."

With that, he turned, indicating for her to follow him. Amelia gestured to her men, who approached closer but still maintained a respectful distance from Miguel's soldiers. The tension still hung in the air, but at least for now, the situation seemed under control.

They began to walk towards the mansion, ready to discuss the next steps and the threats approaching, both from within and outside the new kingdom of Drakmoor.

---

Amelia and Miguel were seated in the office. The candlelight cast soft shadows on the walls, giving the conversation an even more serious air. Miguel, with a closed expression, asked again why she was there. "Even if Aurelio wanted to kill you, there are other places where you could exile yourself."

She hesitated for a moment before answering. "I feel safer with you, even if you're a bastard...," she admitted, though the last part seemed difficult to say.

Miguel stood up and went to a side table, picking up a wine bottle and filling a goblet. He handed it to Amelia and then filled one for himself. "I don't understand you. Throughout my life, you ignored me while our brothers beat or mentally abused me."

She remained silent, looking at the wine in the goblet.

Miguel took a sip, observing her. "And now here you are, exiling yourself with a bastard."

She sighed. "Even if you're a bastard, I never had anything against you. I hate what our father did to your mother. No woman should go through that."

Miguel filled his goblet again, taking another deep sip. "And the region you manage? What happened to it?"

"It must have been taken by Aurelio by now," she replied, with a bitter tone.

"And you're okay with that?" he asked, curious.

"I don't care," said Amelia, shaking her head. "All those nobles tried several times to depose me in unconventional ways."

Miguel watched his sister's face, looking for some sincerity. He knew she was strong, but he also knew she hid much more than she showed. "Are you a prisoner here?" she asked.

"No," replied Miguel, firm. "As long as you follow the rules, you can live here."

She seemed relieved for a moment but soon became serious again. "I need to tell you something," she said, leaning forward

Miguel nodded and sat down, ready to listen.

"Aurelio is planning to launch an offensive against your new 'kingdom,'" she said, the words coming out as a whisper.

Miguel showed no immediate reaction, as if he had already suspected this would happen. He remained silent, letting her words settle in the heavy air of the office.

"How many men does he have?" Miguel asked finally, his voice controlled.

"I don't know exactly, but he's willing to use significant force," Amelia replied. "He doesn't just want to defeat you. He wants to annihilate you."

Miguel took a deep breath, trying to process the information. "You've brought more problems than solutions by coming here, Amelia."

"I know," she said, almost whispering. "But I can't change the past. I can only warn you about what's coming."

Miguel looked at his sister, feeling a mix of anger and compassion. He knew she was there for a reason, and although he didn't fully trust her, he couldn't ignore the warning.

"Let's get ready," he said finally. "And if he comes, i will be prepared to face him."

Amelia nodded, her expression determined. "I'll help you, Miguel. As strange as it may seem, we are on the same side now."

Miguel raised his wine goblet, silently toasting to the unexpected and uncertain alliance forming. The battle for the new kingdom of Drakmoor was just beginning.

Vol 2 Chapter 53

Miguel set aside a room in the mansion for his sister, while the soldiers who accompanied her were reassigned to the city guard. Now, sitting in his office, he was ready to go check on the progress of the factory construction. He decided to call the young João and Lila to accompany him. Lila didn't like to leave the mansion much, so he invited her, hopeful that a bit of fresh air might do her good.

"João, go to Lila's quarters and tell her I want her to accompany us. We need more company today," Miguel said.

Shortly after, João returned with Lila. She seemed hesitant, but Miguel encouraged her with a smile. "Come on, Lila. It will be good for you."

Together, they set off, accompanied by some guards, all on horseback. The trip to the construction site took an hour. Miguel used this time to chat casually with João and Lila, trying to ease the tension.

As they approached the site, Miguel was impressed to see that several walls had already been erected. The construction was progressing rapidly, much beyond what he had expected. He saw Elnar, some beastmen, and humans working side by side. The sight of these two races collaborating always impressed him.

Elnar noticed Miguel's presence and walked over, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his shirt sleeve. The servant was clearly tired, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. The construction was progressing well, and Elnar was proud of the work done so far.

Miguel dismounted his horse, observing the tall walls and the bustling activity around him. Men and women carried bricks, mixed mortar, and carefully aligned the newly erected walls. Every detail seemed to be in its proper place, and the harmony between humans and beastmen brought a sense of hope to Miguel.

Lila, at his side, looked around curiously. The vastness of the project seemed to capture her attention, and Miguel hoped it would distract her from her worries.

"Let's take a closer look," said Miguel, motioning for João and Lila to follow him as they approached Elnar. He was eager to hear about the progress and share his ideas for the next steps in the factory's construction.

Elnar greeted Miguel, young João, and the little mage Lila with a tired but satisfied smile. "Good to see you here," he said with a slight bow.

"How's the construction going?" Miguel asked, looking around with interest.

Elnar began to explain, gesturing to the various sections of the site. "In these three days, we focused on erecting the internal walls first. This helps provide more structure and stability to the building while we work on the external parts. We also managed to raise some support columns to ensure the walls stay firm. Just yesterday, we received a reinforcement of beastmen workers, which sped up the process quite a bit. We've already completed about 10% of the work."

He pointed to different parts of the site, where beastmen and humans were working together. "The internal walls are essential to maintain the building's integrity. We started with a base layer of concrete, then added layers of carefully aligned bricks. Each brick is placed with precision, and the support columns are positioned to ensure nothing collapses during construction, just as you instructed. We're progressing well, but there's still much work to be done."

Miguel observed the details, impressed by the progress. "You've done an excellent job, Elnar. The factory is taking shape faster than I expected."

Elnar smiled, but Miguel noticed the fatigue in his eyes. "Just remember not to push yourself too hard. It's important to rest when necessary. We don't want anyone getting hurt or sick from overworking."

Elnar nodded, grateful for the advice. "Don't worry, Miguel. We'll maintain a healthy pace. Everyone here is committed to the project, but we also know the importance of keeping our health in check."

"Great," Miguel replied, satisfied. "I'm looking forward to seeing the progress continue. Keep up the excellent work."

Elnar smiled again and turned back to the workers, ready to resume his tasks. Miguel, João, and Lila continued to observe the site for a few more moments, appreciating the collective effort that was turning their visions into reality.

***

The next day, Miguel was in his office, surrounded by papers and sketches. He was reviewing the construction plans when he heard a knock on the door. "Come in," he said, not lifting his eyes from the documents.

The door opened and Benjamin, the young blacksmith, entered carrying a set of iron cylinders. "Good morning, sir," Benjamin greeted, placing the cylinders on Miguel's desk.

"Good morning, Benjamin. Let's see what you brought," Miguel replied with a smile.

Benjamin began to briefly explain how he had made the iron tubes. "I used a sand mold to form the cylinders. I melted the iron and added a bit of carbon to strengthen the alloy, as you suggested. Then, I poured the molten metal into the mold and let it cool. Once it solidified, I removed the cylinders and finished them to ensure they were smooth and free of imperfections."

Miguel picked up one of the cylinders and inspected it closely, impressed with the quality of the work. "Excellent work, Benjamin. These cylinders are exactly what we need for the new furnace."

Benjamin smiled, visibly pleased with the compliment. "I'm glad you like them, sir."

Miguel then began to talk about the need to expand the mining and production of metals. "We have many projects underway and we need more resources. We need to increase our mining capacity."

He took out a map and showed it to Benjamin. "Two days' ride from here, there used to be an iron mine. Do you know why it was closed?"

Benjamin looked at the map and then replied, "Yes, sir. It was simply because there weren't enough workers anymore. This happened two years ago, around the same time the old baron disappeared. Without leadership and with the difficulties the region was facing, the mine was abandoned."

Miguel reflected on the information and made a plan in his mind. "We need to reopen that mine and bring in more workers. With the iron we can extract from there, we will be able to supply our needs and even expand our operations. Additionally, reopening the mine can provide jobs and revitalize the local economy."

Benjamin agreed. "Certainly, sir. We can start organizing an expedition to assess the state of the mine and see what's needed to get it running again."

Miguel nodded. "Perfect. Let's do that. Also, find the former mine workers and tell them to come here tomorrow. And thank you again for the cylinders, Benjamin. Your work is essential to our success."

Benjamin thanked him and left, leaving Miguel to plan the next steps for reopening the mine and ensuring the iron supply for all his future projects.

---

A week later, Miguel headed to the furnace hall to speak with Bartolomeu, the one responsible for charcoal production and now for the new furnace. He was eager to check the first prototype created based on the specifications he had provided.

Upon arrival, Bartolomeu was waiting for him next to the new furnace. "Good morning, sir," greeted Bartolomeu with a proud smile. "The prototype is ready."

"Good morning, Bartolomeu. I'm eager to see how it turned out," replied Miguel, approaching the structure.

Bartolomeu began to explain how he had built the furnace. "I followed your specifications precisely. The main structure is made of refractory bricks, which can withstand high temperatures without deteriorating. I used lime mortar to bind the bricks, ensuring the joints are durable and heat-resistant."

He pointed to the furnace's details. "Inside, I built a combustion chamber lined with an additional layer of clay to increase thermal resistance. For the air intake, I used iron tubes, as you suggested. They are positioned in a way that the air can be directed to increase combustion efficiency."

Miguel observed each detail as Bartolomeu continued. "I added a cast iron grate at the base of the combustion chamber to allow ashes to fall into a removable tray below. This will make cleaning and maintaining the furnace easier."

He ran his hand over the furnace's body, highlighting the materials used. "I also used a combination of stone and clay to insulate the outer part of the furnace, ensuring the heat stays inside and the external surface doesn't get too hot. This improves safety for the workers who will be operating the furnace."

Miguel was impressed with the attention to detail and the quality of the work. "You've done an excellent job, Bartolomeu. It looks like this furnace will be extremely efficient."

Bartolomeu smiled, satisfied with the praise. "I'm glad you're pleased, sir. We tested the furnace yesterday and it reached the expected temperatures quickly, maintaining stable combustion. I'm confident this furnace will be very useful for our projects."

Miguel nodded, still examining the structure. "I'm eager to see how it performs in continuous operation. Let's start using it for brick production and see how it goes. If it works as well as it looks, we can build more of these furnaces to increase our production."

Bartolomeu agreed. "Certainly, sir. I'm ready to start production as soon as you give the order."

Miguel took a step back and looked at the furnace with satisfaction. "Then let's begin. Thank you for your hard work, Bartolomeu. This is just the beginning of many great things we'll accomplish together. Call one of the brickmakers so he can guide you in production."

Bartolomeu thanked him and began preparing the furnace for production, while Miguel walked away, confident that he was on the right track to strengthen his realm and face future challenges.

Vol2 Chapter 54

Miguel was sitting in his office, the atmosphere filled with a slight tension of expectation. Next to him was Ricardo, ever vigilant. In front of them, four men were seated, former miners of the town who had worked in the old iron mine before it was closed. The men looked at Miguel with a mixture of hope and curiosity.

Miguel began the meeting, carefully observing each of the miners. "Gentlemen, we are here to discuss the possibility of reopening the iron mine. Given the current situation of our new kingdom, we need to maximize all available resources, and this mine could be crucial."

The miners exchanged excited glances. One of them, an older man with visible scars on his calloused hands, took the lead. "My lord, this mine was our source of livelihood for many years. When the old baron disappeared and the mine was closed, our lives became much harder. We are eager to return to work."

Miguel nodded, understanding the mine's importance to the community. "I understand. I am willing to pay a fair wage, with monthly silver coins and an annual bonus of two gold coins for each of you. The work you will do is vital to our prosperity."

The miners' faces lit up with the promise of a stable and fair wage. However, one of them, a middle-aged man with graying hair, raised a concern. "My lord, there is a problem. We no longer have carts to transport the iron ore. The carts were broken or are being used to transport raw materials for bricks."

Miguel frowned, recognizing the gravity of the situation. He needed to solve the cart issue to ensure the mine's reopening was viable. "I understand. This is a significant problem. But it is not insurmountable."

He paused, thinking quickly. "We will authorize an expedition to the mine to check its conditions. You four will lead this expedition and will be accompanied by some soldiers for protection. Meanwhile, I will start working on a project to build new carts."

The miners nodded, visibly relieved by Miguel's decision. The prospect of reopening the mine and returning to work was a great relief for them. Miguel felt a weight on his shoulders, knowing that the responsibility to provide the necessary means to get the mine operational again fell on him.

After the miners left, Ricardo remained by Miguel's side. "Do you really think we can build new carts in time?"

Miguel sighed, but there was determination in his eyes. "We have no choice, Ricardo. We need that iron ore to strengthen our position. I am thinking of talking to the beastmen Ruidahr brought, it seems there are blacksmiths and carpenters among them, they can help design and build the carts. We can use wood and reinforce it with metal where necessary."

Ricardo nodded, trusting Miguel's judgment. "I will organize the expedition and ensure that the miners and soldiers leave tomorrow morning."

"Great," replied Miguel. "Let's solve this together. Every step we take is a step toward the independence and prosperity of our new kingdom."

With that, Ricardo left to prepare the expedition, while Miguel began sketching ideas for the new carts.

Miguel was back in his office, the soft light of late afternoon streaming through the windows. He sat at his desk with a large blank sheet of parchment before him. He knew that designing a more efficient cart would be crucial to solving the logistical problem he faced with reopening the iron mine.

He took a deep breath and picked up a quill and ink. His thoughts buzzed with ideas as he began to draw. First, Miguel sketched the base of the cart. The basic structure would be made of sturdy wood, reinforced with iron bars for greater durability. He decided that the cart should be longer and wider than the current ones to maximize load capacity, but without compromising maneuverability. The cart would be approximately four meters long, two meters wide, and one meter high from the ground to the top edge. The choice of material fell on oak wood, known for its strength, reinforced with iron bars.

Next, he drew the wheels. Instead of simple wooden wheels, he opted for larger wheels with iron rims and internal reinforcements to better support the weight and rough terrain. The wheels would have a diameter of approximately one meter and twenty centimeters, made of oak wood with iron rims and internal metal reinforcements. The axle would be made of iron, lubricated with oil to reduce friction.

Miguel knew that suspension was crucial to prevent the cart from being damaged on uneven terrain. He designed a basic suspension system using steel springs, something that was not common at the time but he knew was possible. He positioned the steel springs between the cart's structure and the wheel axle, allowing the impacts of the terrain to be cushioned, increasing the cart's durability and the safety of the load.

For the cargo area, Miguel designed removable sides that could be raised or lowered as needed. This would allow for easier loading and unloading of the iron ore. The sides would be made of reinforced wood and adjustable, allowing for a capacity of up to two tons of iron ore.

Finally, he added an innovative detail: a wheel locking system. This would allow the cart to remain stationary during loading and unloading, increasing the workers' safety. The system would consist of a manually operated iron lever, positioned near the wheels, easily accessible to the operator.

Miguel stepped back from the drawing and examined it carefully. He was satisfied with what he saw. The cart looked sturdy, efficient, and practical. He knew that this could make a big difference in the logistics of his new kingdom.

Miguel stood up from the desk and looked at the sketch once more, feeling confident in the solution he had found. He knew that this cart design could be the first step toward creating a more efficient and lasting infrastructure.

The next morning, Miguel met with a pair of brothers who were beaver men, very experienced with wood. Along with them was also a beastman with the appearance of a black panther. Miguel tried not to show his fascination and a bit of strangeness towards the beings in front of him. He showed and explained the cart sketch to the three.

"Here is the sketch of the cart we need to build," said Miguel, pointing out the details on the large parchment spread out on the table. "The base will be made of sturdy wood, reinforced with iron bars. The larger wheels with iron rims will ensure better durability on rough terrain. And this suspension system with steel springs... it's something innovative that I believe will increase the cart's efficiency."

The beaver brothers, named Bearnard and Bartholomew, studied the sketch with interest. Their furry and skilled hands went over the details of the drawing, while they exchanged low and quick comments between them, clearly impressed by the complexity and innovation of the project.

Miguel then turned to the panther man. "Do you think you can create the iron parts of the cart?"

The black panther, who was called Nyall, looked directly at Miguel, his golden eyes shining with confidence. "Yes," Nyall replied in a deep, smooth voice. "I brought my own materials and tools. With an adequate supply of iron, I can forge these parts easily."

Miguel nodded, pleased with the response. "That's good. We will provide the necessary iron so you can work without hindrance."

Bearnard, the older of the beaver brothers, spoke next. "We can start working immediately. We will need to go to the nearby forest to collect the necessary oak. The main structure can be erected in no time."

Miguel looked at the brothers with anticipation. "How long do you think it will take to have a prototype of the cart ready?"

Bartholomew, the younger, answered enthusiastically. "In a week, at most. Your sketch is very detailed and easy to follow. With everyone working together, it will be a quick process."

Miguel smiled, relieved by the positive response. "I am glad to hear that. I appreciate your readiness and commitment. I will offer a fair payment for your work."

The three left, leaving Miguel alone in the office. He got up from his chair, feeling a mixture of relief and determination. He walked to the window, picked up a bottle of wine, and filled his glass. The city stretched out before him, with its construction in progress and the movement of workers. The new kingdom of Drakmoor was beginning to take shape in a promising way.

As he looked out at the view, Miguel thought about the many tasks and challenges he still had ahead. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He took a sip of wine, feeling the robust and full-bodied flavor of the drink. He knew that every small step, every innovation, and every collaboration with the beastmen brought him closer to his goal: to transform Drakmoor into a prosperous and self-sufficient kingdom. And with the help of his new allies, he was determined to achieve this dream.

Vol2 Chapter 55

-- a month earlier ---

Miguel's two brothers, Aurélio and Humberto, were seated in a meeting room lit by chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. At the table with them were several army officers and the king's envoy, Erondir. The atmosphere was charged with tension and expectation as Humberto explained the situation.

“We have assembled an army even larger than our initial estimates,” Humberto began, his voice filled with pride and determination. “We now have a total of 7,000 soldiers ready for the campaign. In addition, we have managed to recruit 200 mages of all types to assist in the battles. They will be essential in breaking any resistance Miguel might put up.”

Aurélio smiled, satisfied. “Excellent, Humberto. This should be more than enough to crush that bastard and his little kingdom once and for all. We cannot allow him to continue challenging our authority and the king’s.”

Erondir, the king’s envoy, nodded. “The king is eager for results. He expects this rebellion to be swiftly quelled and order restored to the duchy.”

Humberto turned to Aurélio. “I will lead the attack personally. I will be accompanied by Erondir, who will ensure that everything is in accordance with the king’s wishes. I need you to stay here in the capital, Aurélio. The administration of the duchy cannot be neglected, especially in times like these.”

Aurélio agreed, his expression turning serious. “You are right, Humberto. Someone needs to stay and ensure everything runs smoothly; for now, I will let you have all the glory of the battle.” Aurélio said with a sarcastic laugh. “I trust that you will be able to handle Miguel and restore order to our duchy.”

“Rest assured, Aurélio,” Humberto said with confidence. “I will make sure Miguel is dealt with as the traitor he is.”

The officers at the table nodded, clearly confident in the plan. Erondir looked at Humberto and said, “I will stand by your side to ensure everything goes smoothly. Let’s do this quickly and decisively.”

Erondir added, “The king wants Miguel brought to the capital to face punishment.”

Aurélio, raising his voice, protested in disagreement. “Miguel should be killed immediately here in the duchy.”

Erondir then asked, “Do you wish to contest a royal order?”

Aurélio fell silent.

“That’s what I thought,” said Erondir. “Miguel will be killed at the end of it all, whether it is here in the duchy or in the royal capital.”

---

Miguel was restless in his office, fingers drumming nervously on the table as he listened to Lysandra’s report. She stood in front of him, alongside John, with a grave expression on her face.

“A significant army is approaching,” Lysandra began. “They are almost two weeks’ travel from here.”

Beside Miguel, Ricardo remained silent, watching attentively. Miguel felt a knot form in his stomach. He looked at John and asked, “How many men can you mobilize immediately?”

John, maintaining his composure, replied, “At most 2,000 trained soldiers, if we include the troops scattered across the Drakmoor realm.”

Miguel bit his lip, knowing this number was alarmingly low. He knew he was the main target, and the city would be the first place attacked. Taking a deep breath, he ordered, “Mobilize those men immediately and call up as many soldiers as possible to defend the city. We don’t have time to waste.”

John nodded and left the room, ready to carry out his orders. Miguel then turned to Lysandra. “How many battle-ready beastmen do we have in the city now?”

“We have only 200,” Lysandra replied, “and 70 of those are knights.”

Miguel felt a pang of frustration. It was an extremely low number, but it was what they had. “Inform Ruidahr to prepare his troops to protect the city. Unfortunately, I know he won’t be able to mobilize more soldiers in this short time.”

Lysandra nodded, understanding the urgency of the situation. Miguel stood up, his eyes fixed on the window. He needed a plan, and he needed it quickly.

“Ricardo,” Miguel called, “prepare the city. And summon the two beavers, Bearnard and Bartholomew, the panther Nyall, Arthur, and Marcus here immediately.”

Ricardo nodded and left the room, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts. The young king looked out the window, a worried expression on his face. He knew the upcoming battle would be decisive. His new kingdom was in danger, and he needed all the help he could get.

The weight of responsibility on his shoulders had never been so heavy. The city streets were quiet, but Miguel knew this tranquility was merely the calm before the storm. He needed to stay strong and determined. Every decision he made now could mean the difference between life and death for himself and his people. With one last look at the city he had fought so hard to protect, Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, seeking strength from within. He knew the challenge ahead was immense, but he was determined to fight to the end to defend his kingdom and his people.

---

The beaver brothers, Bearnard and Bartholomew, the panther Nyall, Arthur, and Marcus were gathered in front of Miguel, all with anxious expressions while he took one last sip of wine. The atmosphere was laden with tension, and Miguel felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.

“Sorry for interrupting your work,” Miguel began, his voice firm but with a touch of concern. “An army is coming towards the city.”

The expressions of concern on their faces intensified. They knew the situation was serious.

Miguel continued, “I'll get straight to the point. Do any of you have experience in building catapults?”

Marcus stepped forward. “Yes, I worked for a few years in the neighboring barony on a catapult project with the local carpenters.”

Miguel felt a momentary relief. “That's good... Can you build one or more catapults in just a week, with the help of the people in this room?”

Marcus looked around, quickly assessing the available human resources. “I can make up to two catapults if everyone works exclusively on this. I can gather the city's carpenters and the rest of the workers to help.”

Miguel nodded, already forming a plan in his mind. “That will be enough. I'll inform Elnar to halt the construction and send all the necessary manpower to you.”

He turned to Arthur and Nyall. “You two will help with any metalwork that Marcus needs.”

Both nodded, determination in their eyes. They knew the importance of their tasks.

Then Miguel looked at the beaver brothers, Bearnard and Bartholomew. “You will assist Marcus as well. Your woodwork experience will be vital.”

Arthur raised a crucial question. “What are we going to fire with the catapults? We don't have large enough stones...”

Miguel smiled despite the gravity of the situation. “I'll take care of that.”

Everyone left the room, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts. He looked out the window, contemplating the city he had worked so hard to protect. The challenge ahead was immense, but he was determined to use every available resource to defend his kingdom.

He knew that every decision he made now could mean the difference between victory and defeat, between life and death. With one last sip of wine, Miguel mentally prepared for the impending battle, confident that, with the help of his allies, he could face any adversity.

---

Miguel stood with his back to the window, sipping wine and reflecting on the challenges he faced. He wondered why his brothers wouldn't leave him in peace. The weight of responsibilities and the imminent threat of the duchy's army left him restless.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Then, his sister Amelia entered and closed the door behind her. Miguel glanced over his shoulder and let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, it's you, Amelia.”

She made a sarcastic remark, “Not happy to see me, little brother?”

Miguel, lacking patience for her jokes, replied seriously, “I'm not in the mood for your jokes, Amelia. We're in a very serious situation.”

Amelia laughed, noticing the change in her brother. “You're quite different now. Not the coward I used to know.”

Miguel laughed too, but with a melancholic tone. “We all change, sometimes...”

She asked directly, “What are you going to do, Miguel? You don't think you can defeat the duchy's army, do you?”

Miguel sighed, thinking about the complexity of his situation. “I'm not thinking of defeating anyone, Amelia. I just want to live in peace... far from all the kingdom's problems. But here I am, at war again with my own brothers. And for what?”

Amelia stood up, went to a table, picked up a glass and a bottle of wine. She filled the glass and approached Miguel, both looking out the window. The peaceful landscape contrasted with the turmoil inside Miguel.

“I don't understand what you see in this place, Miguel. We banished you here; theoretically, you were supposed to hate it all.”

Miguel smiled softly and took a sip of wine. “This is my home now. And also for these people. They have nothing to do with our family's political disputes, but here they are.”

Amelia remained silent for a moment, absorbing her brother's words. Then, she asked about the beastmen. “You not only provoked the king but also the church, Miguel. They won't rest until you're dead for heresy.”

Miguel shrugged, with a firm determination in his eyes. “They can try, but they won't take my life. The freedom of an entire race is more important than my safety.”

He then turned to her and asked directly, “Do you think it's right to enslave an entire species, Amelia?”

She hesitated before responding, aware of the implications of her words. “That's how the world works, Miguel. Trying to change that is meddling with powerful people.”

Miguel shook his head, disappointed by her response. “I know it's dangerous, but someone has to do something. And I'm willing to risk my life for it. These people, humans and beastmen, deserve a chance to live in peace and freedom.”

Amelia took a long sip of wine, reflecting on her brother's words. She knew Miguel had changed, becoming a leader willing to face the greatest challenges for a greater ideal. And, though she didn't want to admit it, she respected that in him.

They remained silent, side by side, looking at the landscape beyond the window. The impending battle was inevitable, but at that moment, there was a silent understanding between the two. Miguel was determined to fight, and Amelia, despite all her doubts, knew he wouldn't back down.

Vol2 Chapter 56

The next day, Miguel was in his office, restless. The barony was in danger, and he knew he needed something innovative to stop the approaching army. He needed a projectile for the catapult that was more effective than simple stones. Something that would cause a great impact and could change the course of the battle. As he thought, an idea began to take shape in his mind. What if he created an explosive projectile? But for that, he would need gunpowder.

Miguel stood up and began to pace back and forth. "Gunpowder... where am I going to find gunpowder in this feudal world?" he murmured to himself. He knew that gunpowder was made up of some basic ingredients, but the question was where to get those ingredients and how to mix them correctly. He sat down again and picked up a piece of paper and a quill. He began to write down the basic ingredients of gunpowder.

"Charcoal, sulfur, and potassium nitrate..." he wrote.

He knew that charcoal was relatively easy to find, as it was already being produced in the barony's furnaces. Sulfur, on the other hand, could be a bigger challenge, but he remembered that some types of volcanic soil, like the volcanic ash they had collected earlier, could contain sulfur. Potassium nitrate, or saltpeter, would be the hardest to obtain, but he knew it could be extracted from natural deposits or even produced from organic waste.

He knew that his knowledge of chemistry was limited and that stabilizing the mixture would be a challenge. The exact proportion of these ingredients and how they were mixed could significantly affect the efficacy and safety of the final product. It would be necessary to conduct several tests to ensure that the gunpowder worked as desired without causing more problems than solutions.

With the basic recipe noted, Miguel began to think about the next steps. He would need to find sulfur and potassium nitrate. Additionally, he would need to create a safe environment to conduct the tests, as gunpowder was highly volatile and dangerous.

As he made his notes, a renewed determination took hold of Miguel. If he could create these explosive projectiles, he could give his new kingdom a chance to survive the impending offensive. He knew that success was not guaranteed, but the desperate situation required desperate measures.

Miguel looked at the paper with the recipe and took a deep breath. He was about to embark on yet another risky venture, but he knew he had no other choice. The freedom and safety of his people depended on it.

Miguel was in the mansion's courtyard, where the morning sun shone brightly, casting soft shadows on the ground. In front of him, he had a wooden bucket full of charcoal pieces, ready to be turned into powder. This was the first step in the production of gunpowder, and he knew he needed to be meticulous to ensure that each ingredient was in the correct form.

He picked up a heavy mallet, feeling the comfortable weight in his hand. He looked at the bucket of charcoal and focused, knowing that patience would be essential. He placed the bucket on the ground, securing it with his feet so it wouldn't move while he worked. Then, he began to strike the pieces of charcoal with the head of the mallet.

Each blow reverberated in the courtyard, echoing through the air. Miguel applied constant but controlled force, breaking the larger pieces of charcoal into smaller fragments. After a few minutes of effort, he began to notice that the pieces were turning into a mixture of small fragments and coarse powder. This was not enough; he needed the charcoal to be reduced to a fine and uniform powder.

He tilted the bucket slightly to the side and continued to hammer, applying more pressure. The charcoal began to disintegrate more easily now that the larger fragments had been broken. The black powder accumulated at the bottom of the bucket, and Miguel noticed the smoothness of the material when he used his fingertips to feel the texture.

"Slow and steady," he thought. With each blow, he visualized the final goal: charcoal powder as fine as possible. He continued hammering, pausing occasionally to shake the bucket and ensure that the larger pieces didn't get stuck at the bottom. The powder rose in small black clouds each time he stirred the contents, covering his hands and arms with a light layer of soot.

After about an hour of continuous work, Miguel felt that he was close to the desired result. He poured the contents of the bucket into a fine sieve he had prepared. Using a spatula, he began to press and rub the charcoal through the sieve, ensuring that only the finest powder passed through.

The powder that accumulated in the container below the sieve was smooth and uniform, exactly as he needed. Miguel smiled, satisfied with the progress. He knew this was just the first step, but each small victory was crucial. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, leaving a black stain on his skin due to the soot.

With the charcoal powder ready, Miguel carefully picked up the container, taking it back to his office. Now, he needed to think about the next steps: finding sulfur and potassium nitrate. But for now, he could be proud of having completed the first part of the gunpowder creation process.

He felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, but also the determination to protect his new kingdom. Each step forward was a step closer to ensuring the freedom and safety of all who depended on him.

---

Miguel met with a local farmer, determined to obtain potassium nitrate, an essential ingredient for gunpowder. Knowing that the decomposition of organic matter was key, he asked the farmer about the fate of the animals' waste on the farms.

"What do you do with the animals' waste?" Miguel asked, looking directly at the farmer.

"We usually pile it all together with dry branches and leaves. We let it decompose over time," the farmer replied, a robust man with a sun-weathered appearance.

A satisfied smile appeared on Miguel's face. He knew he was on the right track. "Can you take me to the place where you do this?" he asked.

The farmer nodded, and Miguel, accompanied by Ricardo and a few guards, followed the man. The place was a little away from the town, and the group rode at a steady pace, passing through fields and small hills. Finally, they arrived at an isolated area where a large pile of decomposing waste and organic matter had accumulated.

"Here it is," said the farmer, pointing to the pile. It was an impressive sight, a mix of animal waste, dry branches, and leaves, all in various stages of decomposition.

Miguel dismounted his horse and approached the pile, picking up a long branch from the ground. He began to stir the pile, turning over the material. The smell was strong and pungent, but he didn't mind. He knew what he was looking for.

As he stirred the pile, the decomposing organic matter revealed itself to be rich in nutrients. Miguel smiled to himself, knowing that this would serve perfectly to obtain potassium nitrate.

---

Miguel was determined to obtain the potassium nitrate needed for the gunpowder. With a wooden bucket in his hands, he approached the large pile of decomposed organic matter, guided by the farmer. The guards watched closely as he carefully chose a portion of the pile that seemed to be in the most advanced stage of decomposition. Using a shovel, he filled the bucket with the dark, foul-smelling matter.

Returning to the town, Miguel knew that the next step was crucial. He would need to extract the potassium nitrate from the decomposed organic matter, and this required a process of washing and evaporation. In an open space near the mansion's courtyard, he prepared the site to begin the procedure.

First, he filled a large wooden barrel with water. He poured the bucket's contents into the barrel, stirring with a long stick to ensure the organic matter mixed thoroughly with the water. The goal was to allow the potassium nitrate salts to dissolve in the water, creating a nitrate-rich solution.

After mixing the organic matter with the water, Miguel let the solution sit for several hours. During this time, the potassium nitrate salts would dissolve in the water, separating from the solid organic material. While he waited, he inspected other aspects of the courtyard, thinking about the next steps and how each component would fit into his larger plan.

After a few hours, Miguel returned to the barrel. He used a sieve to filter the solution, removing the solid residues and leaving only the nitrate-rich water. He then transferred the filtered solution to a large iron pan. With Ricardo's help, they placed the pan over a fire, starting the evaporation process.

The water began to boil, and Miguel watched closely, occasionally stirring the solution with a long wooden spoon. The goal was to slowly evaporate the water, leaving the potassium nitrate crystals to form at the bottom of the pan. As the water evaporated, a thin white layer of crystals began to form on the surface and edges of the pan.

Miguel, with a satisfied smile, knew he was on the right track. He continued the evaporation process until all the water had been removed, leaving behind a significant amount of white potassium nitrate crystals. Carefully, he collected the crystals and transferred them to a clean container.

"We did it, Ricardo," said Miguel, showing the potassium nitrate to his side. "Now we have two of the three essential ingredients."

Ricardo was still confused about what Miguel was doing but decided to help anyway.

Meanwhile, Miguel knew that each step taken was a step forward in defending his new kingdom. He wiped his hands and looked at the sky, determined to continue, regardless of the challenges he would still face.

Vol2 Chapter 57

The next day, Miguel headed to the brick-making site. The morning was cold, and mist hovered over the work fields. He found Elnar supervising a small team of workers. Most of the men and women had been redirected to the construction of the catapults, leaving only a handful to continue with the brick production.

"Elnar," Miguel called out, trying to make himself heard over the noise of the tools, "where are you storing the volcanic ash we've collected?"

Elnar pointed his head towards a covered structure on the east side of the construction site. "We store the ash there, in sacks," he explained, starting to walk in that direction. "Also, for some reason, we've found small yellow rocks mixed with the ash. We keep them in separate buckets."

Miguel followed Elnar to the makeshift storage. Under the wooden cover, there were piles of sacks marked with volcanic ash. Next to them, some buckets contained the mentioned yellow rocks. Miguel approached the buckets, picking up one of the rocks. It was small, with an uneven surface and a bright yellow color.

Elnar, observing Miguel’s expression, asked, “What exactly is this? I kept these rocks out of curiosity, as we weren’t sure of their value.”

Miguel squeezed the rock in his hand, feeling its texture. He knew these yellow stones were actually sulfur—the last essential ingredient for gunpowder. “This,” he began, trying not to reveal too much, “is something important for what I’m working on.”

Elnar, ever loyal and curious, did not press for more answers. He trusted Miguel and knew that when the time was right, Miguel would share more details. “If you need more of these rocks or anything else, just let me know,” Elnar said, placing his hand on Miguel’s shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie.

Miguel nodded, still looking at the sulfur rock in his hand. He now had all the ingredients necessary to make gunpowder: charcoal, potassium nitrate, and sulfur. The next step would be to mix them in the correct proportions and test their effectiveness.

“Thank you, Elnar,” Miguel said, finally looking at his companion with a slight smile. “You did an excellent job storing this. Keep up the good work here. I’ll need every brick we can make.”

Elnar nodded, returning to his work with the remaining few workers. Miguel, holding the sulfur rock, felt a renewed wave of determination. With the gunpowder, he could create explosive projectiles for the catapults, giving his new kingdom a crucial defensive advantage against the approaching armies.

---

Miguel was in his office, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination. He had tested the new furnace and was satisfied with the results; it had passed the brick production tests efficiently. Now, the furnace would have an even more crucial role: preparing the sulfur for gunpowder production.

With the sulfur rock in hand, Miguel went to the new furnace, located in the production hall. The place was much quieter than usual, with many of the workers redirected to the catapult construction. However, a few remained, keeping essential operations running.

Miguel lit the furnace, watching as the fire came to life, fueled by a combination of wood and coal. He knew the temperature needed to be high enough to melt the sulfur, but not so high as to cause combustion. He carefully adjusted the air intake using the installed iron tubes, ensuring controlled ventilation to maintain the ideal temperature.

Taking a specially shaped iron container, he placed the sulfur rocks inside and set the container over the furnace’s opening. The heat began to act almost immediately, and he watched as the sulfur started to melt, turning into a viscous, golden liquid.

Using a long rod, Miguel stirred the melted sulfur, making sure it stayed in motion and did not stick to the container. After a few minutes, he transferred the liquid to an iron mold, where the sulfur would solidify again, but this time in a more purified and usable form.

As the sulfur cooled and solidified, Miguel prepared the next steps. He knew that for gunpowder, the sulfur needed to be ground into a fine powder, similar to the charcoal. He took a mortar and pestle, essential tools for this task.

When the sulfur was completely solid and cooled, Miguel removed the block from the mold. Carefully, he began to grind the block in the mortar, applying constant pressure and circular movements with the pestle. The process required patience and strength, but he was determined to obtain a fine and uniform powder.

After a considerable amount of time, he managed to turn the sulfur block into a bright yellow powder. Satisfied with the consistency, he stored the powder in a well-sealed wooden container, ensuring it was protected from moisture.

With the powdered charcoal, potassium nitrate, and now sulfur, Miguel had all the ingredients needed for gunpowder. Each step of the process brought him closer to his goal: creating explosive projectiles that could be used in the catapults to defend the new kingdom of Drakmoor.

As he stored the sulfur container, Miguel reflected on the next steps. Mixing the ingredients in the correct proportions and testing the mixture would be crucial challenges. But with the new furnace working perfectly and the ingredients ready, he was confident he could achieve success. The impending battle would require all his ingenuity and determination, and he was more than ready to face the challenge.

---

The next day, Miguel was determined to test his first gunpowder mixture. He had separated the ingredients and carefully measured the proportions. In total, he prepared a 50-gram mixture, with 50% powdered charcoal and the remainder equally divided between 25% sulfur and 25% potassium nitrate.

Miguel meticulously mixed the ingredients in a small wooden container, stirring with an iron rod until the mixture became homogeneous. He knew the balance between the components was crucial for the gunpowder’s success. After a few minutes, he felt confident that the mixture was ready to be tested.

He chose a vacant lot near the city walls but outside the limits for the test. The area was safe, away from any structures or people who could be affected. Miguel was accompanied by a few soldiers and the young servant João, who decided to watch the experiment with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

Upon arriving at the site, Miguel knelt on the ground and carefully placed the gunpowder mixture inside a folded piece of paper. He compacted the powder well, trying to ensure efficient combustion. He then left a small piece of cord sticking out of the paper, which would serve as the fuse to ignite the mixture.

Miguel lit the fuse with an improvised match and quickly moved to a safer position with the soldiers and João. They all crouched down, watching with anticipation as the fuse burned slowly toward the paper. The silence in the air was palpable, each person holding their breath in expectation.

The fuse finally reached the paper and extinguished with a faint sizzle. Nothing happened. Miguel stared intently at the spot where the gunpowder should have exploded, but all he got was a strong burnt smell in the air.

Miguel took a deep breath, feeling a mix of disappointment and determination. He knew that the process of making gunpowder wouldn’t be easy, and adjustments to the ingredient proportions would be necessary. He pulled out a small makeshift notebook from his pocket that he had created and began writing his observations. Determined not to give up, he knew he would need to test other proportions until he found the right formula.

“Let’s try again,” Miguel said, looking at the soldiers and João. “I need to adjust the ingredient proportions. I’m not far off, I just need to make a few more tests.”

The soldiers nodded in agreement, and João looked at Miguel with renewed admiration. The first attempt may have failed, but everyone knew Miguel was determined to succeed.

As they prepared to return to the city and adjust the formula, Miguel reflected on the next steps. He was more determined than ever to create effective gunpowder. He knew each failure was just a step toward success.

Back in his office, Miguel began thinking about the correct proportions to divide the ingredients. He knew that the correct ratio was essential for the success of the experiment.

While he was thinking, someone knocked on his door.

“May I come in?” It was his sister’s voice.

Miguel gave a faint, incredulous smile that his sister had come to see him again. “You’re here already, aren’t you, Amélia?” Miguel asked sarcastically. “Then come in…”

She entered with a sarcastic expression on her face.

“You’re a party pooper, you know?”

Miguel laughed. “Well, it seems like there are two of us now, doesn’t it?”

Miguel picked up a wine glass. “Would you like some?” he extended the glass to Amélia.

“I’ll have some. But there’s no poison in there, right?” she asked with a playful tone.

“You’ll only know when you drink it,” Miguel smiled as Amélia accepted the glass. Miguel then filled his own glass, and they both toasted, looking out the window with the sunlight shining on their faces.

Amélia caressed one of her fingers on the glass, contemplating how to approach the topic with Miguel.

Miguel noticed this and went straight to the point. “If you have something to say, now is the time, Amélia.”

She took a deep breath and then looked at Miguel. “I…” The words came out slowly from her mouth. “I’m sorry for all the harm that I and my brothers have done to you…” her eyes started to tear up.

Miguel took another sip of wine.

“Listen, Miguel, I never liked you... But that doesn’t justify what I did to you for some time. And I know that you might not forgive me, and that’s okay.”

Miguel felt a lump in his throat with Amélia’s words. He knew she was being sincere. But he didn’t need to hear this... Not him, but the real Miguel. He would certainly be crying now if he were here. But not Miguel. Miguel continued standing, listening to Amélia vent and eventually start crying in front of him.

He set the glass on the table and hugged Amélia, who was initially taken aback but accepted the embrace.

“Listen, Amélia... I don’t want you to die here. If something happens to me, flee to fight another day. I didn’t want to say this, but you’re the least worst and you should take over the management of the duchy.”

Amélia was silent for a few moments and then said, “I won’t let you die, Miguel.”

She stepped back, wiped her tears, and began heading toward the door. But not before saying one last thing.

“If you tell anyone about what happened here, I’ll deal with you myself.”

Miguel smiled and nodded.

Vol2 Chapter 58

The next day, Miguel was once again determined to find the correct composition for gunpowder. After the first failed attempt, he reviewed his notes and decided to try a new combination. This time, he adjusted the proportions to 60% powdered charcoal, 20% sulfur, and 20% potassium nitrate, hoping that this balance would produce a more effective reaction.

Miguel prepared the new mixture in his office, carefully measuring each ingredient. He mixed the components precisely, feeling a bit more confident after the previous experience. The new composition seemed promising, and he was eager to test it.

Once again, Miguel, accompanied by some soldiers and the young servant João, headed to the vacant lot outside the city walls. The location was deserted and safe, providing the ideal environment for the experiment.

Upon arrival, Miguel repeated the process from the previous day. He placed the new gunpowder mixture inside a folded piece of paper and compacted it well. He left a fuse sticking out of the paper and prepared to light it.

"Let's see if it works this time," said Miguel, lighting the fuse with an improvised match. He quickly ran to the safety position beside the soldiers and João, all watching attentively.

The fuse burned slowly, releasing sparks as it approached the gunpowder. When it finally reached the paper, there was a slight hiss followed by a small explosion of sparks and smoke, but without the desired force. The smell of burning was strong, and a small amount of smoke rose into the air.

Although the reaction was more intense than the first attempt, it was still far from what Miguel expected. He felt a mixture of frustration and determination. The gunpowder almost worked, but it still wasn't enough.

Miguel took a deep breath and pulled out his notebook again. "We're close," he said, writing down his observations. "The reaction was stronger this time, but we need to adjust the proportions further."

João, intrigued, asked, "Sir, what is the desired reaction we are looking for?"

Miguel looked at him and replied with a determined smile. "We want a controlled explosion, João. Something that can be used as a weapon and has the necessary power to cause an impact. We're almost there; we just need to adjust the proportions."

The soldiers watched in silence, understanding the gravity and importance of Miguel's experiments. They knew they were close to something significant and eagerly awaited the next test.

Determined to continue, Miguel knew he was on the right track and that, with patience and perseverance, he would find the correct formula. "Let's go back and prepare another mixture," he said, addressing the group. "The next attempt will be better."

As they returned to the city, Miguel reflected on the adjustments he would make. He was determined to create an effective gunpowder, knowing that each step brought him closer to the final goal.

---

The next day, Miguel was ready for another test. This time, he adjusted the mixture to 75% potassium nitrate, 15% powdered charcoal, and 10% sulfur. He felt that this proportion might finally produce the desired result. Carefully, he prepared the new mixture in his office, concentrating on every detail.

After completing the mixture, Miguel called the soldiers and João to accompany him once again to the testing field. Carrying the paper with the compacted gunpowder, he headed to the vacant lot outside the city walls, where he had previously conducted the tests.

In the field, Miguel repeated the usual procedure. He prepared the fuse, lit it, and ran to the safe position beside the soldiers and João. Everyone watched attentively, with a mixture of expectation and apprehension.

The fuse burned slowly, releasing sparks as it approached the gunpowder. When it finally reached the paper, there was a loud bang and an explosion of sparks and smoke that illuminated the field. The explosion was strong and controlled, exactly as Miguel had imagined.

Miguel jumped for joy. "It worked! It finally worked!" he shouted, unable to contain his excitement. The soldiers and João, initially frightened by the explosion, quickly realized that it was exactly what Miguel desired.

"Don't worry," said Miguel with a broad smile on his face. "That's what I wanted. We did it!"

One of the soldiers, still incredulous, asked, "Sir, did you learn fire magic?"

Miguel laughed and shook his head. "No, this is not fire magic. It's something much more powerful and scientific. I can't reveal everything now, but it's something that will revolutionize and perhaps save our kingdom."

The soldiers, still impressed, began to calm down, realizing the importance of what they had just witnessed. They knew Miguel was working on something big, something that could change the course of Drakmoor's history.

Still excited by the success of the test, Miguel thanked the soldiers and João for accompanying him. "Thank you for trusting me and being here. Let's go back and start working on the next steps. We're about to do something grand."

As they returned to the city, Miguel felt more determined than ever. He knew he had taken a big step toward the protection and future of the kingdom. Each test, each adjustment, brought him closer to his goal. And now, with the correct formula, he was ready to move on to the next phase of his plan.

With the gunpowder stabilized, Miguel knew he could create explosive projectiles for the catapults and other weapons that would give his kingdom a crucial strategic advantage. "We're on the right track," he thought as he looked at the horizon, determined to keep fighting for the freedom and security of Drakmoor.

---

Miguel spent an entire day guiding some workers on how to collect and prepare the necessary materials for gunpowder manufacturing. He ensured that each of them understood the importance of strictly following the instructions to guarantee the safety and effectiveness of the production. With patience, he explained the process of obtaining potassium nitrate from decomposed organic matter, grinding the charcoal into fine powder, and purifying the sulfur.

The workers, initially skeptical and surprised by the complexity of the task, began to understand the importance of what they were doing. Miguel meticulously demonstrated each step, from collection to mixing the ingredients in precise proportions. He repeated the procedures several times, ensuring all the men were confident in their abilities.

After ensuring the workers were well-instructed, Miguel returned to his office to work on a new project. Sitting at his desk, he unrolled a large piece of papyrus and began sketching a spherical projectile intended for use in catapults. He needed to create something that would not only explode on impact but also release deadly shrapnel to increase the effectiveness of the attack.

Miguel began the sketch with a diagram of the sphere, dividing it into sections. He drew an outer shell made of thin ceramic, strong enough to contain the gunpowder until the moment of impact but would fragment upon explosion. Inside the sphere, he outlined compartments for the gunpowder and small pieces of anything like bits of iron, ceramic, or sharp stones that would become the shrapnel.

To ensure the projectile exploded on impact, Miguel planned a simple but effective detonation system. He drew an impact pin at the base of the sphere, connected to a small needle that would, in turn, be linked to a stone with flammable material like sulfur. When the sphere hit the ground, the pin would be pushed in, triggering the needle to generate sparks and causing the explosion of the gunpowder stored inside.

Miguel carefully reviewed the sketch, adjusting details and ensuring the design was practical and feasible with the available resources. He made detailed notes about the materials needed for each part of the projectile and the assembly steps.

As he finished the sketch, Miguel felt optimistic. The idea of an explosive projectile loaded with shrapnel could change the course of the impending war. He knew that, if successful, this weapon could provide his new kingdom with a decisive advantage against the invading forces of his brothers.

Miguel rose from his chair, satisfied with his progress. He looked out the window, observing the city he strove so hard to protect and improve. He felt a mix of anxiety and determination. The future of Drakmoor depended on these innovations, and he was ready to face any challenge to ensure the safety of his people.

Leaving the office, Miguel called his most trusted assistants to review the sketch and plan the construction of the first prototypes. He knew time was against them, but he was determined to turn his vision into reality.

Vol2 Chapter 59

Miguel was determined to turn his vision into reality. For two intense days, he worked tirelessly on the prototype of the spherical projectile. The project required precision and attention to detail, as every component needed to function perfectly to ensure the explosion on impact.

He began by selecting the necessary materials. He chose ceramics for the outer casing of the projectile due to its resistance and ease of molding. Additionally, ceramics would fragment into dangerous shrapnel upon exploding. Miguel gathered small pieces of iron, broken ceramics, and stones to create the internal shrapnel.

Miguel went to the town's pottery workshop, where the potters were dedicated to creating the spherical ceramic casings. He explained that the spheres needed to have an internal cavity to store the gunpowder and shrapnel. With precision, the potters molded hollow spheres, each with a small opening to fill with the necessary components. After molding, the spheres were taken to the kiln to be hardened.

While the ceramic spheres were being prepared, Miguel turned his attention to the gunpowder. He carefully mixed the ingredients: 15% charcoal powder, 10% sulfur, and 75% potassium nitrate. He made several small mixtures, ensuring that the ratio was correct for an effective explosion.

With the ceramic spheres ready and cooled, Miguel began filling the interior. He placed a layer of shrapnel—sharp pieces of iron, ceramics, and small stones—inside each sphere. These shrapnel pieces would ensure that the explosion was lethal, scattering dangerous fragments in all directions.

Miguel then filled the remaining cavity of the spheres with the carefully prepared gunpowder. He made sure to compact the gunpowder properly, ensuring uniform density to maximize the explosion. The final step was the installation of the detonator. He inserted the impact pin, needle, and spark stone into the cavity, exactly as he had planned. He did this with precision, making sure each component was firmly in place. Then, he sealed the sphere's opening with a ceramic cap, secured with small screws.

After two days of intense work, Miguel finally had a prototype ready for testing. He was exhausted but determined. With the prototype in hand, he headed to the testing field outside the town, where soldiers and young João awaited.

At the field, Miguel explained the process to the soldiers, who watched with curiosity and a bit of apprehension. He placed the prototype on the ground, stepped back, and lit the fuse. Everyone retreated to a safe distance and waited. After a few seconds of tension, a deafening explosion echoed across the field. Fragments of ceramics, iron, and stones flew in all directions. Miguel, João, and the soldiers watched the result with surprise and admiration.

“This is what I wanted,” said Miguel, satisfied. “With these projectiles, we will be able to defend our town from any invader.” The soldiers were impressed, and one of them incredulously asked, “My lord, how did you manage this? Did you learn fire magic?”

Miguel smiled and replied, “No, this is not magic. It’s science and engineering. Something that can revolutionize and perhaps save our kingdom.”

With the success of the prototype, Miguel knew he was on the right track to protect Drakmoor. The next step would be the mass production of these projectiles, preparing for the imminent battle.

The next day, Miguel decided to check on the progress of the catapult construction. He headed to a large yard in the town, where the work was in full swing. Upon arrival, he was impressed by what he saw. Hundreds of workers were on site, commanded by Marcus and Arthur, each supervising part of the process.

Miguel was even more impressed to see three catapults already visibly ready in the yard. The robust and imposing structures showed the effort and skill of the workers. Marcus noticed Miguel’s approach and came over, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Impressive work, Marcus!” exclaimed Miguel, genuinely admiring. “How did you manage to produce these catapults so quickly?”

Marcus began to explain, detailing the process he had undertaken in recent weeks. “First, we used oak wood for the main structure due to its strength and durability. The catapult arms were made with a special type of flexible wood, allowing for a more powerful launch. We worked in shifts, without stopping, to cut, shape, and assemble all the pieces.”

He continued, “For the base, we used an adjustable counterweight system, which allows the catapult to launch projectiles up to a maximum distance of 500 meters. This was possible thanks to precise calculations of balance and force, something we discussed with the carpenters and blacksmiths. Every detail was meticulously planned and executed.”

Marcus pointed to the ready catapults. “We used the base of the carts you designed for our catapults. The reinforced iron structure and wooden wheels allow the catapults to be easily moved to the desired position. The wheels are sturdy, and the base is stable, which was crucial to ensure that the catapult functioned properly.”

Miguel listened attentively, absorbing every detail. He knew that these catapults could be the key to Drakmoor’s defense. “You did a magnificent job, Marcus,” said Miguel, recognizing his commander’s effort and skill. “These catapults will be vital to our defense.”

Marcus smiled modestly. “The fourth catapult is now in production. Initially, I thought we could only make two, even with everyone working together. But the workers’ dedication was surprising. We managed to speed up the process without compromising quality.”

Miguel nodded, satisfied. He knew that each catapult built increased their chances of defending the kingdom. He thanked Marcus and all the workers present again, making it clear that their effort was vital to Drakmoor’s survival. With the catapults in production and the explosive projectiles being developed, Miguel felt that he was preparing in the best possible way for the approaching battle.

Lysandra, the fox, was hidden among the bushes, observing the march of soldiers advancing towards Miguel’s new kingdom. The dense foliage and low branches provided perfect camouflage for her, allowing her to see without being seen. Her sharp eyes analyzed every detail, from the soldiers’ armor to the supplies they carried.

In front of her, a massive column of soldiers moved in an organized formation. Some were equipped with full metal armor, gleaming in the sun, while most wore only chain mail and a few iron plates. The chain mail swayed with movement, emitting a rhythmic sound of clashing metal. Iron helmets covered their faces, leaving only their eyes visible, giving them an impersonal and threatening appearance.

In the center of the column, she noticed the pack animals. They were large, furry bovines with huge tusks resembling those of an elephant. The creatures seemed robust and perfectly adapted to carrying the heavy supplies and weapons needed for the military campaign. The tusks curved dangerously forward, a natural weapon that, fortunately, was not being used against her.

Further ahead, Lysandra spotted a large group of mounted soldiers, all armed with large spears. The spears, long and sharp, were designed to pierce and destroy, and the horsemen, in their shiny armor, seemed ready for any battle that might arise. The horses, trained for war, marched with firm and determined steps, the sound of hooves resonating on the ground in an implacable cadence.

She quickly grabbed a piece of paper and noted all her observations. The information about the number of soldiers, their armor, the pack animals, and the horsemen. Every detail could be crucial for the defense of Miguel’s kingdom. She knew her time was short, so once she finished, she attached the message to a trained pigeon and sent it to Ruidahr, hoping the information would arrive in time.

Lysandra took one last look at the column of soldiers. Her gaze fixed on the horses and the soldiers with their spears, a sight that, in some ways, seemed unreal in its grandeur. She knew she wouldn’t have time to return and warn personally, so she decided to stay. Her presence here, hidden and observant, could provide more valuable information.

The soldiers marched incessantly, the sound of their heavy boots echoing through the trees. The wind blew lightly, carrying the smell of sweat and metal. Lysandra, feeling the urgency of the situation, remained at her post, her senses on high alert. She knew that the fate of Miguel’s new kingdom was now, in part, in her hands.

Vol2 Chapter 60

Miguel read the letter sent by Lysandra, and its content left him frustrated. He had only one day until his brother's troops arrived at the barony. Ruidahr was beside him, watching Miguel's reaction with a grave look.

"Only one day," Miguel murmured, as thoughts raced chaotically in his mind. "They have mages too."

In the room, besides Ruidahr, were Ricardo and John, the defense secretary. Miguel was restless, pacing back and forth, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"The projectiles for the catapults are still not enough," he said, frustration evident in his voice. "Only thirty have been produced in a few days. Even if we double the shifts, we might only get twice that."

Ricardo, always calm and pragmatic, suggested an indirect engagement. "We can try to ambush the troops before they reach the wall. Attack and retreat, using the terrain to our advantage."

John, with his military experience, pondered the situation. "They probably already know about the wall. But they might not have brought siege weapons, not at this point. We can use that to our advantage."

Miguel felt the weight of decisions on his shoulders. He knew the only way would be to fight and prevent them from breaching the wall. "Roman concrete should be as strong as it was in my world," he thought to himself. "This has to work."

He took a deep breath and, with a determined look, turned to his advisors. "John, mobilize all soldiers to the wall. The army will try to breach through the front section, I'm sure of it. Ricardo, organize the ambushes. We need to delay them as much as possible before they reach the gates."

John nodded. "We'll fortify the front section and prepare the catapults. The men will be ready."

Ricardo, with a confident smile, added, "We'll show them they underestimated our kingdom. We'll use the terrain to our advantage and cause as much damage as possible before they reach the wall."

Miguel knew he was about to face the toughest battle of his life. The fate of the new kingdom of Drakmoor was at stake, and he needed to use all his intelligence and resources to protect his people. With one last look at his advisors, he said, "Let's get ready. We cannot fail."

Everyone in the room felt the urgency and gravity of the situation. As John and Ricardo left to organize the defenses, Miguel turned to Ruidahr. "We need all the beast men who can fight. Every sword will be crucial."

Ruidahr nodded. "We will be ready, Miguel. We will fight by your side until the end. I will direct some of my best men in ambushes to assist Ricardo."

Miguel felt a mix of anxiety and determination. He looked out the window, observing the wall surrounding the city, and murmured to himself, "We will resist. We will protect our home."

---

The night was cold, and Miguel felt the chilly air cutting his face as he walked along the wall, accompanied by his soldiers. They were all in position, the fifteen automatic ballistae aligned at the main entrance, ready for the imminent battle. The catapults, positioned a bit further away, were loaded with ceramic spheres filled with flammable oil, a desperate but necessary measure given the scarcity of explosive projectiles.

Miguel took a deep breath, the cold air filling his lungs and coming out in small clouds of vapor. Winter was approaching, and he could feel its presence intensifying with each breath. Looking at the horizon, he tried to calculate how much time they had left before his brother's army arrived.

Below, in the city, the lights of the houses glowed softly, like small beacons of hope amid the darkness. The distant sounds of the city's activity, mixed with the sound of the wind, created a cacophony that filled the night.

While inspecting the wall, a young soldier approached timidly. He seemed to be just a teenager, barely old enough to fight, but already armed and dressed for battle. His eyes reflected both admiration and concern as he looked at Miguel.

"My lord," the young soldier began hesitantly, "why are you here? You are the king; you should be in a safe place."

Miguel smiled at the boy's innocence and concern. He crouched a bit, getting more on the soldier's level, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I am different from other kings," Miguel replied with a firm yet gentle tone. "I want to fight alongside my people. A true leader does not hide when his people are in danger."

The young soldier seemed to ponder Miguel's words, still with a look of uncertainty. Miguel continued, his smile widening. "What doesn't kill me makes me stronger," he said, determination shining in his eyes. "And I believe that, together, we can overcome any challenge."

The young soldier slowly nodded, understanding the depth of Miguel's words. There was something inspiring about the way he spoke, a conviction that seemed to infect everyone around him. Miguel gave the boy a light pat on the shoulder before standing up and turning his attention back to the wall.

The cold wind continued to blow, but Miguel did not let it faze him. He knew the battle would be tough, that he would face a formidable army with limited resources. But he also knew he was not alone. With his soldiers, his beast men allies, and the strength of his determination, he was prepared to protect his kingdom at any cost.

As he watched the horizon, he thought about the next steps. There was much to be done and little time to do it. He turned to his commanders, discussing the final strategies and ensuring everyone was ready for the upcoming fight. The night was cold and dark, but the spirit of resistance and courage that Miguel radiated warmed the hearts of his men.

---

Ricardo and a few dozen soldiers and beast men were hidden among the trees, in a meticulously planned ambush. The dense foliage offered effective cover as they anxiously awaited the enemy's advance. Among them, there was a palpable sense of tension and expectation. Ricardo's original plan was more straightforward, but Miguel suggested something he found innovative and potentially devastating.

Miguel had manufactured what he called explosives. They were large paper spheres filled with a mixture of gunpowder and shrapnel. These explosives were strategically positioned along the road where the enemy army would march. Each explosive had a long fuse that, when lit, would lead the spark to the bomb's core.

Ricardo hoped this plan would work. He knew the success of the ambush could delay the enemy by at least a few hours, crucial time for the city's defense preparations.

A rabbit man ran toward Ricardo, his large ears twitching with the urgency of the message. "They are coming," he said, panting. Ricardo could already hear the heavy sound of marching boots and the clanging of armor.

He began to watch the enemy soldiers march, just a few meters from his position. The sight of the disciplined and resolute ranks brought a moment of apprehension. Ricardo knew there was no room for mistakes.

"Light the fuses!" ordered Ricardo, his voice low but firm. The soldiers and beast men quickly obeyed, lighting the fuses. In a few moments, the wires began to glow, slowly leading the spark toward the buried explosives.

As soon as all the fuses were lit, Ricardo signaled for them to mount their horses and quickly distance themselves. They couldn't stay to see the immediate results, but Ricardo knew that patience and precision were essential.

As they rode away, Ricardo heard the sound of explosions starting in the distance. Even from a good distance away, the blasts echoed through the forest. A satisfied smile formed on his face.

The rabbit man beside Ricardo, his large ears picking up distant sounds, said, "I hear screams and disorder. It seems to have worked."

Back on the road, the enemy soldiers were in complete chaos. The front rows, caught off guard by the explosions, were thrown into the air. Fragments of metal, ceramic, and stone flew in all directions, tearing through armor and flesh. The sound of the explosions was deafening, followed by the screams of panic and pain.

"Fire magic!" someone shouted among the enemy soldiers, their voices filled with fear. "They have fire mages!"

The disciplined march had turned into disarray, the soldiers trying to reorganize while dealing with the shock and terror of the explosions. Some threw themselves to the ground, trying to shield themselves from the shrapnel, while others ran aimlessly, panic evident in their eyes.

As Ricardo and his group continued their ride back to the city, he knew they had gained precious time. The ambush had worked, creating temporary chaos in the enemy lines. The smile on his face remained, knowing that every delayed hour was an advantage for Miguel's new kingdom's defense.

Vol2 Chapter 61

Augusto walked slowly through the formation of soldiers that had been devastated by the mysterious explosions. The scene around him was desolate. Bodies were piled up in irregular rows, and those still breathing groaned in pain or murmured prayers to the gods. The smell of burnt flesh and fresh blood filled the air, mixed with the strong scent of overturned earth. The ground was pockmarked with craters where the explosives had detonated, creating a battlefield full of depressions and scattered fragments.

He stopped and watched as some soldiers still standing, their skin and clothes stained with blood, worked to drag the dead and wounded out of the way. Others, with vacant stares, simply gazed at the bodies of their comrades. One man, with half of his face blackened by fire, was vainly trying to bandage the arm of a friend who lay lifeless. In another part, a soldier muttered to himself, his eyes wide and his expression frozen in horror, while he tightly held the hands of a comrade whose legs had been blown off by the explosion.

Augusto approached an officer who was helping to organize the bodies. "What happened here?" he asked, his voice laden with authority and concern.

The officer, visibly shaken, looked at Augusto with wide eyes. "I don’t know, sir... We were marching, and suddenly... these explosions. There was no warning, nothing."

Frustrated, Augusto turned to one of the mages accompanying him. "What do you think this was? Magic?"

The mage, a middle-aged man with a grave expression, shook his head. "No, it wasn’t magic. There’s no trace of mana, no signs that a spell was cast."

Augusto, indignant, shouted, "Then what the hell was it?"

The mage, perplexed, shrugged. "I don’t know, my lord. I’ve never heard of explosions of this magnitude without magic being involved."

Augusto clenched his fists, feeling the anger rising within him. He needed answers, and fast. He advanced to where Erondir, the king’s envoy, was inspecting the bodies. Erondir, always perceptive, was crouched beside a dead soldier, closely examining the wounds.

"What do you think could have been used, Erondir?" Augusto asked, trying to stay calm.

Erondir, without looking up, pointed to the body before him. "Look here," he said, gently touching the dead soldier's neck. "This man didn’t die from the explosion’s fire. He was hit by shrapnel, something sharp and small, which pierced his chainmail and killed him instantly."

Augusto looked closer and saw what Erondir was describing. Small metal fragments were embedded in the soldier’s flesh, cutting him in multiple places. The chainmail, which should have offered protection, had been penetrated as if it were paper.

Augusto gritted his teeth in frustration and fury. "This can only be the work of Miguel and those monsters of the beast men!"

Erondir slowly stood up and looked directly at Augusto. "From now on, we need to be more cautious. These devices, whatever they are, are extremely dangerous."

Augusto, however, was blinded by rage. "It doesn’t matter anymore! We’re just over five hours from Drakmoor. We’re not stopping now!"

Erondir stepped back, his gaze full of warning. "This is not a game, Augusto. We lost 240 men at once, and there are more than 600 wounded, some seriously. Moving forward without caution could cost more lives."

Augusto remained silent for a moment, his mind boiling with thoughts of revenge. Finally, he spoke, his voice hard and determined. "These are my orders. We’re not stopping, not now, not when we’re so close to eliminating Miguel."

Erondir nodded, aware that despite his warnings, Augusto’s decision was made. The march would continue, but uncertainty and fear now marched alongside the soldiers, while the specter of the explosions loomed over them like a sinister shadow foretelling more disasters to come.

Miguel was on the wall, the first rays of the sun beginning to peek over the horizon, bringing a faint light that dispelled the darkness of the night. The atmosphere was tense. Beside him stood Arthur, Marcus, and John, all with serious expressions, aware of the impending battle.

Miguel, with his gaze fixed on the horizon, spoke in a firm voice, but one tinged with concern. "We must preserve the skilled workforce. We can’t afford to lose the little we’ve managed to train in battle. Arthur, I want you to instruct Benjamin. If the city is overrun, he must flee. He’s young, talented, but we can’t risk his life like this. We need to ensure he survives so we can rebuild if necessary."

Arthur, though understanding the necessity of the plan, sighed, knowing it would be difficult to convince Benjamin. "You’re right, Miguel. Benjamin is stubborn, but I’ll do my best to persuade him. He needs to understand that sometimes living to fight another day is the wiser choice."

Miguel nodded, grateful. "Marcus, the same goes for your apprentices. You must make them understand that if the worst happens, they must flee. Their survival is crucial for the future of this kingdom. I’ve already spoken to the beast men about this. They also know we must preserve all who can help rebuild."

Marcus, always pragmatic, agreed. "I’ll instruct them. But you know how young people are, full of pride and eager to prove their worth. Even so, I’ll make them understand the importance of survival."

John, who had been listening in silence, finally spoke up. "It’s a smart move, my lord. But it won’t be easy for them to accept. Everyone here wants to fight, to defend their homes. But, as you said, we can’t risk everything on a single battle."

Miguel, now more resolute, looked at each of them. "We’re not just fighting for this moment. We’re fighting for the future. And for that, we need to ensure there’s someone to rebuild what’s lost. You know what to do."

The morning light began to spread over the city, bringing with it a new day, full of uncertainties, but also determination. Everyone there knew that what was coming would require not just courage, but also the wisdom to protect what truly mattered.

---

Miguel remained on the wall, the cold morning wind beginning to intensify as the first rays of sunlight illuminated the horizon. The city, still shrouded in uneasy silence, was preparing for what was to come. In the distance, the sound of boots on stone and earth approached: Ricardo and the other soldiers and beast men were returning from their mission. Their faces showed fatigue, but there was a glint of victory in many of their eyes.

Ricardo was the first to approach Miguel. Still panting, he gave a slight smile before speaking. "Your plan, my lord... It worked perfectly! I never imagined we could one day use explosions like this, without relying on magic. It caught those bastards by surprise!" The satisfaction was evident in his voice, but soon curiosity took over. "But, tell me, where did you learn this? Explosions that aren’t powered by magic... This is something I’ve never seen or heard of."

Miguel opened his mouth to respond, but Ricardo, knowing his friend, interrupted him with a laugh. "Let me guess," he said with a raised eyebrow and a sarcastic smile, "it was in your books, wasn’t it?"

Miguel laughed along with him and nodded affirmatively. "Yes, in my books," he replied with a light tone in his voice. However, Ricardo, who knew Miguel well, sensed something more in his words. Perhaps it wasn’t just the books. Perhaps there was something deeper that Miguel wasn’t ready to reveal yet. Even so, he decided to set aside this suspicion, at least for now.

"How long until the enemy arrives?" Miguel asked, quickly changing the subject.

Ricardo looked at the horizon and after a brief pause, replied, "They should be here in a few hours, no more than three."

Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. The battle was approaching quickly, and the sense of apprehension began to intensify in his chest. He knew that the fate of everyone there depended on the decisions he would make in the coming hours.

Elnar and Ruidahr, who had been standing beside Miguel during the conversation, listened in silence. Miguel turned to Elnar, pulled some folded documents from inside his jacket, and handed them to the stag. Elnar, with a look of confusion, took them without understanding.

"What is this, my lord?" Elnar asked, his eyes scanning the pages, still not understanding the reason for this gesture.

Miguel, with a grave expression, replied, "These are the documents on how to make the gunpowder and explosives we used. If something happens to me, I trust you to continue my work. This new weapon could help the beast men in their fight for freedom. Elnar, I don’t want you to play the hero. If I fall in battle and this place is about to fall, you must ensure these documents don’t fall into the hands of my brothers. Get them out of here, and take as many civilians as you can with you."

Elnar, still speechless, held the papers as if they were a burden too heavy for his arms, understanding the weight of the responsibility that Miguel had just placed on his shoulders. Ruidahr, observing the moment with seriousness, finally broke the silence.

"Miguel, you are a great man," he said, with a sincerity he rarely showed. "I’ve never met a human like you before. I will do everything in my power to ensure you survive this battle. But if something goes wrong, I will carry out your orders. We will protect these documents and everyone we can."

Miguel nodded, grateful for the support of his friends. The air around him was getting colder, a sign of the approaching winter. He looked up at the brightening sky, knowing that in just a few hours, things could change drastically. The peace of dawn cruelly contrasted with the storm that was approaching. Everyone there was aware of what was to come and prepared to fight, but the uncertainty of what might happen still lingered in the air, leaving everyone in a heavy silence.

Miguel took a deep breath once more, feeling the cold in the air and the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. The battle was approaching, and he knew that the fate of many depended on him.

Vol2 Chapter 62

Miguel stood on the wall, lost in thought. The cold wind cut through the morning air, and he could feel each gust against his skin, despite the layers of clothing he wore. As he gazed at the horizon, his mind wandered to a distant place, a place that seemed increasingly unattainable. He wondered if all this was nothing more than a nightmare from which he would wake up in his room, on planet Earth, in his former life. The idea that at any moment, he would open his eyes and find himself back in his daily routine, where weapons and wars were distant things, now seemed almost comical.

He lowered his gaze to the sword at his side. The blade's reflection gleamed in the morning light, and Miguel wondered how he had ended up here, how a thirty-year-old engineer had become a warrior and now, a king. He had never imagined himself wielding such a weapon or any other. It was as if a part of him was still trapped in the world he had left behind, a world where battles were fought with words and calculations, not with steel and blood.

As he was absorbed in his thoughts, a soft and familiar voice pulled him out of his reverie. "Are you scared?" Miguel quickly turned his head, surprised. It was Amélia. How had she approached without him noticing? He watched her for a moment, trying to understand how this woman, who had always been a distant figure in his life, was now beside him on the brink of a battle.

"It's natural to be afraid," he replied, his voice calmer than his heart. "The chances of survival are low." He didn’t expect a direct response, but the laughter that came from Amélia surprised him. She was dressed in armor that shone in the dawn light, something between gray and silver, with reinforced plates covering her shoulders and chest. There was a symbol embroidered on a cloak that hung from her neck to her waist, the crest of her house. Behind all the hardness of the metal was a woman he barely knew.

"You're doing well so far for a rebel king," Amélia said with a mischievous smile, crossing her arms. "I've never seen a king join the soldiers on the front lines." There was a tone of approval in her voice, something Miguel never expected to hear from his sister. "The King of Ardia, many years ago, was once a great warrior, you know? It was a time when neither I nor any of our siblings were born. I remember Father telling stories of how he and the king fought side by side. But today... The king is just a fat old man who has lost much of the respect he once had."

Amélia paused, looking at the horizon as if she were reliving old memories. "If you want to be a king, Miguel, start with the small things," she continued, with the same firmness as before.

Miguel remained silent for a moment, taking in her words. "I never imagined you had feelings, Amélia," he said, trying to break the tension with a joke. The light tone of his voice contrasted with the seriousness of the moment. Amélia responded with a light punch on his shoulder, laughing. There was something genuine in that moment, something Miguel didn’t know existed between them.

However, the silence was abruptly broken by a loud and unmistakable sound. A trumpet blared, resounding across the field and echoing through the trees. It was the sound of the duchy's troops approaching. Both Miguel and Amélia recognized that sound. Their bodies reacted instinctively, with Amélia quickly turning to face the source of the noise.

"It's them," Miguel murmured, his voice now filled with tension. He felt adrenaline begin to course through his veins. Then, he shouted for the soldiers to prepare, ordering them to sound the alarm trumpets. The shrill sound filled the air, and Miguel felt his heart race faster.

He looked at Amélia, who stood with a firm expression, watching the horizon. "It seems it's about to start," he said, almost to himself.

Amélia kept her eyes fixed on the tree line, where the duchy's soldiers began to form, like a shadow slowly spreading across the field. She said nothing, but her gaze was enough to convey what was coming. The battle they had so feared was about to unfold, and Miguel knew that from that moment on, nothing would ever be the same.

---

Miguel stood firm atop the wall, the first rays of morning sun illuminating his face with a golden light that sharply contrasted with the growing tension in the air. His eyes were fixed on the approaching army, an imposing line of soldiers advancing in organized formation. They were about 400 meters away, marching in unison, like an unstoppable war machine. Behind the infantry line, Miguel could see the mages, enigmatic figures cloaked in robes, whose presence added a layer of menace to what was already a terrifying sight. In the middle of it all, mounted on a white horse that seemed to shine in the sunlight, was Augusto, Miguel's brother, leading the army with an authoritative posture.

The cold wind blew against the faces of the Drakmoor soldiers and the beastmen, bringing with it the smell of damp earth and the whisper of the surrounding trees' leaves. The silence among the defenders was heavy, interrupted only by the commands that Miguel shouted with a firm voice. "Prepare the ballistae for firing!" His voice echoed over the wall as soldiers rushed to adjust the massive automatic ballistae that were lined up and ready for combat. "Load the catapults with ceramic spheres!" The orders continued as the men worked frantically to load the catapults with projectiles filled with flammable vegetable oil, prepared to burst into flames over the enemy troops.

As Miguel gave the orders, his eyes caught movement ahead of the enemy formation. He saw a rider emerging from the line, slowly riding toward the wall. The man wore simple armor, without adornments suggesting great importance, but he carried a white flag, signaling his intent to parley. Miguel raised his hand, ordering his soldiers not to fire. The rider stopped a few meters from the main gate, raising his voice to be heard by all.

"Message from the provisional regency," he began, his voice clear but laden with an almost automatic authority, as if the words he spoke were not truly his own. "We demand the unconditional surrender of Miguel and Amélia. You will be judged and condemned for the crime of treason against the royal crown of Ardia."

Miguel remained silent for a moment, processing the rider's words. Beside him, Amélia let out a dry laugh, muttering to herself, "Those bastards tried to kill me, and now I'm the traitor?" There was a latent bitterness in her voice, something Miguel couldn't help but notice. Even amid the tension of the moment, there was an irony she seemed to savor.

The rider, undisturbed by Amélia's comment, continued, "Anyone who allies with the traitors will face the same punishment." His words resonated like a death sentence, each syllable impregnated with the threat of imminent violence.

Miguel, however, was not intimidated. He took a few steps forward, leaning over the parapet of the wall to face the rider directly. "Send a message to my brother, Augusto," he began, his voice filled with unshakable determination. "This place has been neglected for many years by the duchy and the kingdom. That's why the people voted and chose to be free from the oppressive grasp of the king and the duke. There are no traitors here, only common people wanting to live in peace. I do not accept your terms."

The rider, surprised by Miguel's evident courage, lowered his head in a gesture of respect before turning his horse and returning to the formation. As he rode back, Miguel watched the line of soldiers stretching out before him. The formation was impeccable, a wall of shields and spears that seemed to extend to the horizon. Behind the infantry, the mounted knights waited, their armor gleaming in the rising sun, ready to advance at any moment. The silence that followed Miguel's speech was oppressive, as if the very earth were holding its breath, awaiting the inevitable confrontation.

Miguel felt the tension in his chest increase, but his expression remained impassive. He knew that the next move would be crucial, that the fate of Drakmoor was about to be decided. Beside him, Amélia remained silent, her eyes fixed on the enemy formation, sharing in the same tension. The battle was about to begin, and there was no turning back.

Vol2 Chapter 63

Augusto watched the wall from a distance, a cold glint of hatred in his eyes. Miguel's response had been an affront, a sign of disobedience that he could not tolerate. He had believed his brother would be smart enough to surrender without a fight, to submit to the inevitable. But Miguel had chosen to resist, and that enraged Augusto. "If he wants to play, then let's play..." he muttered, his voice laced with disdain and barely contained anger.

Beside him, Erondir watched the wall with growing curiosity. Even from a significant distance, he couldn't clearly discern the materials used in the construction. Something about that structure seemed different, strange, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly was bothering him. That mystery unsettled him, as if there was something there he still didn't fully understand.

Wasting no time, Augusto ordered his archers to take position. Quickly, the soldiers moved, obeying the command. Dressed in light armor to facilitate mobility, the archers loaded their bows with precision and skill. Their armor was simple, made of hardened leather with metal reinforcements on the most vital parts of the body, such as the chest and shoulders. The line of archers formed quickly, a disciplined and well-trained row. They knelt, positioning themselves in a double row, the first line on their knees and the back row standing, each one pulling the strings of their bows with force, preparing to fire in unison. The sound of wood bending as the bows were drawn filled the air, followed by the snap of the strings as the arrows were released.

Erondir watched with a thoughtful expression. As the arrows flew toward the wall, he noticed something unusual. Some of the arrows were not penetrating the structure as he expected. Instead, some of them ricocheted, falling helplessly to the ground. "How did Miguel manage to raise this stone wall so quickly?" he silently asked himself, intrigued by the resistance of that construction. The appearance of the wall, so solid and imposing, began to bother him. Something was wrong, but he still didn't know what it was.

Augusto, noticing Erondir's hesitation, asked arrogantly, "Do you think they'll all surrender in fear?" His tone was full of disdain, as if the idea of resistance was ridiculous.

Erondir responded cautiously, "I'm not sure... The wall seems more resistant than we expected."

Augusto snorted, dissatisfied with the response. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. With an impatient gesture, he ordered the fire mages to prepare to attack. A group of twenty mages approached, their robes billowing with the movement. Each one held a staff adorned with runes, arcane symbols that glowed with a soft light. Augusto turned to one of the mages and asked, "Can you hit the wall from this distance?"

The mage, a middle-aged man with a stern expression, responded firmly, "We are still too far, sir. Even if we cast the spell, it will lose power before reaching the target."

Augusto, frustrated by the limitation, ordered the mages to move closer to the wall, trusting that the archers would provide enough cover for them to move without being targeted. The mages moved in unison, advancing to a position just over 200 meters from the wall. There, they formed a line, their staffs raised in preparation.

When they were finally in position, the mages pointed their staffs toward the wall, their mouths murmuring ancient and powerful words. In an instant, flames began to form at the tips of the staffs, growing and intensifying until they became incandescent spheres of pure fire. In a synchronized movement, the mages fired their flaming volleys, which cut through the air toward the wall of Drakmoor.

Miguel was crouched behind one of the parapets of the wall, protecting himself from the continuous bombardment of arrows. Every second, he felt the tension rise, the morning cold penetrating his bones. Suddenly, the sound of explosions tore through the air. The impact of the flames against the wall was so strong that for a moment he thought the structure would give way. The heat was intense, the flames licked the stones, while dense smoke began to rise. Miguel held his breath, expecting the worst to happen, but the wall held, the stones and Roman concrete holding firm.

Amélia, beside him, watched the flames intently. "This concrete you described to me is really strong..." she commented, her voice full of reluctant admiration. Whatever Miguel had used to build that wall was resisting the destructive power of the magic that, under other circumstances, would have easily destroyed common stone structures.

The fire mages, realizing that their attacks had not had the devastating effect they expected, hesitated. Augusto, on the other hand, did not seem willing to back down. His eyes were fixed on the wall, an expression of relentless hatred on his face. He was determined to bring down that obstacle, no matter how many men or how much time it took.

"Keep up the pressure!" he shouted, ordering the mages to continue firing. But the result was the same. The flames struck the wall and dissipated, unable to cause significant damage.

Miguel rose slightly, peeking over the parapet. His eyes focused on the enemy formation, on the confusion that was beginning to spread among the troops as they saw that their best weapons were not having the desired effect. He knew that there were still many difficulties ahead, but at least for now, the wall was holding.

"Prepare the catapults!" Miguel ordered, raising his voice to be heard above the tumult. "Prepare the ceramic spheres with flammable oil!" It was time to respond to the attack. As he shouted his orders, the soldiers ran to their positions, following the instructions of their leaders.

Amélia, beside Miguel, adjusted the strap of her armor, preparing for what was to come. "So, it seems like it's really about to start now," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the duchy's troops were preparing for the next move.

Miguel nodded, his mind already racing with the next steps. The battle was just beginning, and he knew he would have to use all his skills and strategies to protect the kingdom he had begun to build.

Miguel watched closely the movement of the enemy soldiers from the top of the wall. He knew this was a crucial battle and that any mistake could be fatal to his newly established kingdom. The night had been long, and now, with the light of dawn, the battlefield was clearer, revealing the enemy formation. The duchy's troops were well-organized, and the mages, positioned further ahead, were preparing to launch another wave of fire at the wall.

Miguel had designed the interior of the wall to facilitate the movement of soldiers between different sections, a true labyrinth of corridors and stairs. Additionally, he had left some ballistae strategically positioned within the wall, hidden from the enemy's view, with specific openings for firing. He knew that the enemy's rain of arrows was good cover for the mages, making it difficult for Drakmoor's archers to react. However, the ballistae inside the wall were out of reach of the attacks, ready to act.

Miguel called a soldier and gave him the order: "Authorize the ballistae to fire at the mages. They are vulnerable now." The soldier nodded and ran to relay the order to the ballista operators.

Inside the wall, the soldiers responsible for the ballistae began to prepare. The one-meter-long bolts were carefully positioned, each ballista adjusted to aim precisely at the mages who were about to launch their attack. The soldiers' hands were steady, their gazes focused. They knew they couldn't miss.

From the parapet, Miguel watched. He could see the mages gathering again, staffs raised, ready to unleash another barrage of fire against the walls. But before they could complete their spells, one of the mages was hit. The ballista bolt pierced him completely, lifting him off the ground for a brief moment before violently slamming him down. The impact was brutal and instantaneous.

Panic quickly spread among the mages. They were completely unprepared for this kind of attack. Another bolt was fired, followed by two more, and each one found its target with deadly precision. Mages fell to the ground, their elegant robes now stained with blood, their staffs rolling across the battlefield, inert. Chaos overtook the group, and the survivors began to retreat, their faces showing a mix of horror and disbelief.

Erondir, watching the scene from a distance, cursed, his expression hardened by frustration. He knew the mages were one of the main weapons they had to break Miguel's defense, and seeing them being taken down so easily was a harsh reality. He quickly ordered soldiers with shields to advance to rescue the few mages who were still alive. The soldiers obeyed, moving quickly to form a protective barrier as they helped the wounded retreat.

The ballista bolts continued to fly, embedding themselves in the soldiers' shields or finding the bodies of those who were unprotected. Miguel watched it all from the top of the wall, his heart racing, but his mind clear. He knew that, for now, he had managed to weaken one of the enemy's main forces, but the battle was far from over. Each small victory like this would be crucial to the survival of his kingdom.

With the mages in retreat and the battlefield momentarily calmer, Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the cold morning air fill his lungs. He turned to Amélia, who was beside him, and saw in her gaze a mix of surprise and respect. "This will buy us some time," he murmured to himself, before turning his attention to what would come next.

Vol2 Chapter 64

Augusto quickly ducked down, seeking cover among the trees as arrows flew over his head, slicing through the air with a menacing sound. Beside him, Erondir, calmer and more observant, followed the arrows' trajectories, trying to understand the enemy's strategy. They both knew they were facing something unusual. The arrows weren’t just regular archer shots. They were giant darts, fired with tremendous force and deadly precision, piercing through the formation of their archers.

"These darts... they can only be fired by giant ballistae," murmured Erondir, his eyes scanning the wall line ahead. He noticed that somehow, the arrows were coming from within the wall, making it difficult to return fire. "Miguel prepared for this. He anticipated it. And it seems he has a new weapon at his disposal."

Augusto huffed in anger, his face contorted with frustration. "Those damned ballistae," he muttered, watching as his archers, once in formation, were now dispersing, trying to shield themselves or retreating to the safety of the trees. The line of archers was broken, and with it, the pressure they should have been exerting on Drakmoor’s wall dissipated.

Miguel, noticing the enemy's situation, ordered his own archers to begin firing. Drakmoor’s arrows soared through the sky, forcing the duchy’s army to further protect themselves, raising their shields over their heads in a desperate attempt to avoid being hit. For many, the only option was to follow Augusto and Erondir’s lead and seek shelter among the trees, where the projectiles couldn’t easily reach them.

Erondir, always analytical, turned to Augusto and said, "This attack... Miguel must have been waiting for us. He's using these giant ballistae to dismantle our formation and keep us at a distance."

Augusto, red with rage, clenched his fists tightly. "We have to do something," he shouted, his voice laden with frustration and despair. "We can't just sit here while that bastard destroys us!"

Hearing this, Erondir, maintaining his usual calm, cautioned, "It’s risky to advance now without knowing the extent of the weapons Miguel has at his disposal. He’s clearly prepared for heavy defense."

"We have no choice," retorted Augusto, his eyes burning with determination. "If he had more weapons, he would have already used them." He stood up abruptly, turning toward the battlefield. "I’ll order an attack with a shield wall. We’ll advance straight to the gates and bring them down! Prepare the battering ram!" he shouted, his words echoing across the field.

At his command, soldiers began to move, abandoning their protective positions and quickly forming a tight shield wall. A large battering ram was brought to the front, a sturdy log reinforced with metal at its ends, being readied for the attack. The men lined up behind it, forming a solid and impenetrable wall, ready to advance under enemy fire. Each of them knew the risk they were taking, but Augusto’s order was clear: they would march, face the danger, and break Miguel’s defenses once and for all.

Erondir watched the formation preparing to advance, his eyes narrowing as he pondered Miguel’s next moves. Something inside him made him uneasy. He knew the frontal attack was necessary, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Miguel still had something in reserve. Something that could turn the tide of the battle in an unexpected way.

The shield wall moved in unison, advancing toward the wall, the battering ram at the front, the soldiers’ faces hardened by determination and fear. The sound of boots pounding the ground, shields creaking, and shouted orders filled the air as Augusto’s army prepared to launch its decisive offensive.

Miguel stood atop the wall, observing the enemy army’s movements below. The sky was heavy, laden with gray clouds that threatened to unleash at any moment, reflecting the tense atmosphere of the battlefield. The sounds of war trumpets still echoed in the air, as the duchy’s soldiers retreated slightly, reorganizing and seeking cover under their shields. Drakmoor’s archers’ arrows continued to fly, slicing through the air, some hitting their targets with lethal precision, while others embedded uselessly in the ground or were deflected by shields.

Miguel narrowed his eyes, watching the duchy’s soldiers regrouping, forming a dense shield wall that moved slowly and methodically toward the wall. “What are they doing?” he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. The shield wall seemed impenetrable, with the soldiers crowding into a cohesive formation, like a giant steel serpent advancing toward the main gate.

Ricardo, who had just returned after organizing Drakmoor’s troops, joined Miguel on the wall. He followed Miguel’s gaze and saw the enemy formation below, the lines of soldiers marching in unison. “They’re up to something,” Ricardo said, his voice tinged with concern.

Amélia, standing beside her brother, looked at the enemy formation with a sharp gaze. “They’re probably bringing a battering ram,” she said, her voice calm but full of certainty. “They’re going to try to breach the gate.”

Miguel observed the shield wall with renewed attention, analyzing the distance and density of the enemy formation. He quickly calculated the distance. “They’re exactly 200 meters away and advancing,” he said, feeling a wave of urgency. The formation, composed of at least 500 men, advanced like an unstoppable force, the sound of their boots echoing on the ground as they moved.

“Ricardo,” said Miguel, turning abruptly to him. “Order the four catapults to fire. The first two should launch the ceramic spheres filled with flammable oil. Immediately after, fire the spheres with gunpowder and shrapnel.” He spoke quickly, knowing that every second counted.

Ricardo nodded, grasping the gravity of the situation, and ran off to carry out Miguel’s orders. Within minutes, the catapults were ready. The tension in the air was palpable, and Drakmoor’s soldiers braced themselves to witness the power of the new weapons created by Miguel. The catapults, powerful and imposing, were adjusted with precision and launched their first volleys.

On the battlefield, Erondir stood beside Augusto, watching the shield wall advance with fierce determination. He noticed the movement of Miguel’s troops on the wall, but before he could react, he saw something strange. Ceramic spheres flew through the air, crashing down on the shields of the front-line soldiers. When the spheres shattered on impact, a viscous liquid spilled over the soldiers' shields and armor.

“Something’s wrong...” murmured Erondir, feeling a chill run down his spine. He barely had time to process what was happening when another wave of spheres was launched, but this time the effect was devastating. A violent explosion echoed across the field, so loud that it made the ground shake. The explosion was followed by a series of others, in quick succession. The flammable oil spread by the first wave of spheres intensified the subsequent explosions, turning the shield wall into a chaotic inferno of fire and shrapnel.

Soldiers screamed in panic, their formations destroyed in a matter of seconds. Shields flew through the air, bodies were tossed like rag dolls, and the smell of burning flesh and gunpowder filled the air. The sudden attack shattered the shield wall with relentless brutality, and what remained of the formation was now in complete disarray, soldiers running in all directions, desperate to escape the hell that had formed around them.

Erondir watched in shock, his mind struggling to comprehend what had just happened. He had never seen anything like it in all his years of battle. “What the hell was that?” he muttered to himself as he saw the soldiers retreating in disarray, some of them still on fire, others falling to the ground, mortally wounded.

Augusto, who was hiding behind the trees, was stunned to see the destruction caused in such a short time. His eyes filled with hatred. “Miguel... damned bastard...” He whispered through gritted teeth, feeling his anger grow as he saw the damage Miguel’s weapons had inflicted on his troops.

Erondir, still in awe, knew that this was not magic, but something much more terrifying, something that could turn the tide of war. And for the first time, he began to fear that perhaps, just perhaps, Miguel had a power they still could not fully comprehend.

Vol2 Chapter 65

Erondir looked intently at the distant wall, his mind working rapidly as he observed the projectiles continuing to be launched against the troops in the open field. He barely had time to register the chaos around him before another series of explosions tore through the air, the deafening sound filling his ears. The projectiles launched by Miguel's catapults fell among the duke's soldiers like hammers of fate, shattering the ground and the men with equal brutality.

"Catapults..." Erondir murmured to himself, his low voice almost lost in the tumult around him. He watched in horror as another sphere flew through the air, hitting the ground with a bone-shaking impact. Soldiers closest to the point of impact fell instantly, torn apart by lethal shrapnel. Even those several meters away fell, screaming in pain as fragments of iron, ceramic, and stone pierced their armor and bodies. The battlefield had become a scene of despair and death, the lines of soldiers now broken and panicked.

"Shrapnel," Erondir said, the understanding finally taking shape in his mind. "These projectiles are scattering shrapnel everywhere..." The magnitude of the situation was becoming increasingly clear. He knew that Miguel's catapults were more dangerous than anything he had ever faced.

"What are these things?" shouted Augusto, his voice laden with frustration and barely concealed fear. Miguel's brother was clearly out of his mind, watching the carnage before him in disbelief.

One of the mages nearby shook his head, also in a state of shock. "This... this is definitely not magic," he replied, his voice trembling. "I... I've never seen anything like this before..."

"Shut up, both of you!" Erondir snarled, his patience exhausted. "It doesn't matter what they are, if we stay here, we'll be easy targets. We're losing men too fast. At this rate, we'll never penetrate those walls." He could see that the troops were crumbling, fear and panic overtaking the ranks. The explosions, the screams, the rain of arrows—all contributed to the growing disorder.

As he spoke, a massive bolt, launched from one of the hidden ballistae, sliced through the air with a sharp whistle, striking one of the mages directly. The bolt pierced the man's body as if it were made of butter, his armor offering little to no resistance. The mage fell, dead before he hit the ground.

"Shit!" Erondir cursed, his voice filled with frustration. He quickly grabbed Augusto, pulling him back and away from the bloody scene. His priority at that moment was to protect Miguel's brother, even though he knew the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control.

Augusto, however, was seething with rage. His eyes burned with intense hatred as he watched the slaughter of his troops. "That bastard..." he muttered, his teeth clenched in fury. "Where did he get these things?"

Erondir shook his head, trying to stay calm in the face of the growing despair. "That doesn't matter now," he replied firmly. "We need to regroup and think of a new approach."

"Damn it!" shouted Augusto, his voice filled with despair and anger. "I'm ordering a full assault. Bring another battering ram!" His command was given with a ferocity that allowed no contest, even if his plan was suicidal. He looked at Erondir with fiery eyes. "If he thinks he can stop us, we'll use our numbers to our advantage and break through that damned gate."

Erondir remained silent, knowing that arguing with Augusto would be useless in this state. He knew that Miguel's brother was blinded by rage and that his judgment was compromised because of it. As Augusto barked orders, Erondir watched the men bringing the battering ram, preparing for one last desperate assault.

But deep down, Erondir knew they were dealing with something they didn't fully understand. He quickly calculated the losses: nearly 2,000 soldiers were out of action, either dead or wounded. The mere thought of sending more men against those walls, with those devastating weapons waiting, was suicide. But Augusto was determined, and Erondir knew there was no turning back.

As the battering ram was prepared, Erondir wondered how much longer they could continue this battle before the entire army was destroyed.

Erondir watched with a mix of frustration and caution as the duke's knights waited, reins taut, horses restless. He had ordered them not to advance with the infantry, knowing they would be easy targets for Miguel's devastating weapons. It was a prudent move, but at the same time, he felt the impotence of not being able to unleash the full strength of his army against the wall. In the distance, he saw the disordered advance of his soldiers, a sea of bodies moving towards Drakmoor fortress, like waves trying to break against an impenetrable rock.

On the wall, Miguel watched the scene with a grim expression, his eyes alert to every enemy movement. He knew that each step the duke's soldiers took brought them closer to the city, but at the same time brought them closer to death. The arrows continued to fall upon them, an unrelenting rain that shattered shields and armor. And then, there were the bombs. Miguel watched the panic spread among the soldiers as the explosions began to tear apart their ranks, spreading death and disorder.

"How many projectiles are left?" Miguel asked, his voice tense as he turned to Ricardo, who had just returned to his side.

"Only 45," Ricardo replied, his tone grave, reflecting the seriousness of the situation. Miguel felt the growing frustration within him. He knew it wasn't enough to stop that tide of men.

Amelia, who was by his side, looked at the battlefield with a somber expression. "Your wall is strong, Miguel, but the gates... they won't withstand the pressure these soldiers will apply." She had participated in battles before and knew what happened when a force like that concentrated on a weak point.

Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking at Ricardo. "Go to Ruidahr and John. Get ready for battle. Once they break in, it will be a street-by-street fight in this city. They won't take it easily." His voice was firm, but he couldn't help but feel the weight of his words. He added sternly, "And don't let them get close to the civilians who are evacuating."

Ricardo hesitated, the concern evident in his eyes. He had known Miguel long enough to know that he was putting on a brave face, but the reality of the situation was dire. "I'll be back soon to stand by your side," Ricardo said, almost like a promise.

Miguel forced a smile and replied, trying to reassure him. "I'll be fine, Ricardo. Don't worry."

As Ricardo walked away, Amelia watched her brother with a curious expression. "Ricardo seems like a father," she commented, her tone slightly teasing.

Miguel smiled back, but there was sincerity in his words. "To me, Ricardo is a father." The bond between them was stronger than any blood tie, something that had been forged over years of survival and mutual support.

Amelia adjusted the sword at her waist and looked to the horizon, where the enemy ranks continued to approach. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice laden with an unusual seriousness.

Miguel looked at her, his eyes revealing a raw honesty. "No, but I'm responsible for these people. I have to give them hope."

As the first lights of dawn began to tinge the sky, the great wave of soldiers drew closer and closer to the wall. They came in masses, protecting themselves as best they could from the arrows that fell upon them, but the explosions that tore the ground among their ranks were relentless. Every projectile launched by Miguel's catapults caused unimaginable devastation, breaking the formation and spreading chaos among the men struggling to advance.

But despite the terrible losses, the human tide did not stop. The soldiers who managed to get close to the wall faced a new barrage of arrows, fired incessantly by the archers of the kingdom of Drakmoor. They protected themselves as best they could, but many fell before they even reached the gate. The sound of screams, explosions, and the clash of metal against metal echoed across the field, creating a cacophony of war that mingled with the growing cold of the morning.

Amelia and Miguel watched in silence, knowing that, as strong as the wall was, the real battle was about to begin. And it would be a brutal fight, hand-to-hand, where the courage and skill of every man and woman would be tested to the limit.

Vol2 Chapter 66

Erondir observed the scene from afar, sitting on his horse with a rigid and calculating posture. The armor he wore reflected the faint glow of the morning light as his eyes scanned the battlefield. He knew that soon the gate would be breached, and at that moment, he would be ready to lead the charge. Despite their numerical advantage, the forces of the duchy were facing unexpected difficulties, and Erondir couldn't afford to underestimate his opponent.

As he watched, he noticed that groups of soldiers were starting to organize for a new tactic. Several ladders were brought to the front line, raised with effort as men ran under the relentless rain of arrows and bolts fired by the enemy crossbows. The sharp sound of the bolts cutting through the air and the cries of pain from those hit echoed, creating a sinister symphony of war.

At the top of the wall, Miguel also observed the enemy's movement, his face marked by determination and exhaustion. He saw the ladders being positioned along the fortress walls, and a sense of urgency began to pulse in his chest. "Damn," he murmured to himself, realizing how critical the situation was becoming.

Miguel quickly turned to his soldiers on the wall, his eyes shining with the intensity of the moment. "Prepare for battle! We can't let them take the ladders!" he shouted, his voice filled with authority. The soldiers around him nodded, with resolute expressions, knowing that every inch of that wall could be decisive.

The crossbows continued firing with an impressive cadence, their massive bolts piercing the flesh and armor of the soldiers who dared to approach. But despite the casualties, the enemies were many, and some began to reach the edges of the wall, their hands firmly gripping the rungs of the ladders as they tried to climb up. Arrows flew from all sides, and the sound of swords being unsheathed echoed across the wall.

Miguel tightened his grip on his sword, the familiar weight of the blade in his hand, but the context was anything but ordinary. He had never imagined being in such a position, defending a newly formed kingdom against his own brothers. Amelia, at his side, also prepared her sword. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, they exchanged a look of mutual understanding. No words were spoken, but the understanding was clear: they would fight side by side, regardless of past differences.

The first enemy soldiers began to climb the ladders, their expressions a mixture of determination and fear. Some of Miguel's archers managed to take them down with precise shots, but others kept climbing, persistent. "No enemy must reach the inner ladders!" Miguel shouted, feeling the morning's chill tighten even more around his chest. Amelia, with her agile and deadly stance, positioned herself next to her brother, ready to intercept anyone who managed to get past the archers.

The sounds of battle intensified as the enemy soldiers came closer. The clash of weapons, the sound of bodies falling from the ladders, and the war cries of the combatants created a tense atmosphere. Miguel watched everything around him, his heart pounding, as he prepared for the inevitable hand-to-hand combat. He knew he couldn't falter, for the morale of his men depended on his courage.

Amelia, with her sword in hand, looked at Miguel one last time before rushing forward. "They don't know who they're dealing with," she murmured to herself, a slight smile of defiance on her lips. Miguel, with his sword raised, positioned himself beside her, ready to face whatever came. The battle was about to begin, and both knew that every move would be crucial.

As more enemy soldiers approached, the first ones finally reached the top of the wall, their faces filled with fury and determination. Miguel advanced, sword in hand, feeling the weight of his role as leader and defender of the kingdom he was trying to build. He knew that the moment of truth had arrived.

---

Miguel fixed his eyes on the enemy soldier who had just reached the top of the wall. The man was tall and muscular, wearing heavy armor and wielding a broad sword, whose blade seemed almost twice the size of Miguel's. The soldier advanced with firm steps, his face marked by an expression of fierce determination, as if he knew he was facing an opponent he couldn't underestimate.

Miguel gripped his sword tightly, feeling the tension in the air increase. He knew that in this confrontation, his opponent's brute strength was superior, but he trusted in his agility and intelligence. When the soldier delivered the first blow, Miguel managed to dodge quickly, the metallic sound of the enemy's blade cutting the air right next to his head.

The soldier stepped back a pace, then advanced again, delivering a series of quick and powerful strikes. Miguel blocked the first one with his sword, feeling the impact reverberate through his arms, almost causing him to lose balance. He ducked under the second blow, dodging to the side, but was caught off guard by the soldier's kick, which struck him hard in the abdomen. Miguel staggered back, feeling the air escape from his lungs. But he couldn't afford to falter now.

Breathing heavily, Miguel countered with a quick thrust, but the soldier blocked the attack with his sword, pushing him back with a grunt of effort. Miguel realized he needed to change his strategy. He decided to use his enemy's strength against him. When the soldier attacked again, Miguel dodged to the side, quickly spinning around his opponent and striking with his blade on the side of the armor where the protection was weaker.

The soldier roared in pain, but his rage only grew. He turned with a violent horizontal slash, which Miguel narrowly avoided, feeling the blade pass dangerously close to his chest. Taking advantage of the soldier's awkward movement, Miguel advanced, delivering a direct strike to the enemy's leg, at the joint of the armor. The soldier cried out in pain and fell to his knees.

With the advantage on his side, Miguel raised his sword and delivered the final blow, driving the blade into the enemy's chest between the metal plates of the armor. The soldier fell backward, his eyes wide open, fixed on Miguel, until life completely drained from his body.

Panting, Miguel pulled the sword from the soldier's body and, without wasting time, pushed the ladder from which the enemy had come. With a strong push, the ladder wobbled and then fell backward, toppling the enemy soldiers who were still climbing and preventing more men from coming up.

He looked around, seeing his soldiers fighting fiercely. The wall was filled with hand-to-hand combat, swords clashing, and cries of pain and effort echoing across the battlefield. The sight of his men, fighting with all they had, renewed Miguel's determination. He knew that this battle was far from over, but every moment they managed to hold back the enemy was a victory. And he would fight to the end to protect what he had built.

---

Amelia faced her opponent with a skill that made her experience and prowess in combat clear. The man before her was an imposing figure, standing at least 6'3" tall, with broad shoulders and arms that seemed made of steel. His sword was heavy and wide, suitable for someone with his brute strength. He advanced on Amelia with firm steps, delivering a powerful overhead strike.

With agility, Amelia dodged to the side, causing the enemy's blade to hit the stone floor of the wall with a crash. Taking advantage of the opening, she spun around and delivered an arcing strike with her sword, aiming at the man's unprotected flank. But he was quick for his size; he raised his sword and blocked the strike with ease, quickly retreating to deliver another attack.

Amelia felt the impact's vibration spread through her arms, but she didn't give in. She countered with a quick sequence of thrusts and slashes, forcing the giant to retreat a few steps. Her movements were precise, each strike planned to exploit a gap in the opponent's defense. She moved with grace, her sword cutting through the air like an extension of her body. With each parried or blocked blow, Amelia felt the blood boil in her veins. She was in control, or so she thought.

The man, however, was not willing to be dominated so easily. He roared with a force that seemed to come from the very ground, advancing with renewed fury. His strikes became more intense, each one carrying the weight of a hammer. Amelia maintained her composure, dodging and blocking as best as she could, but the force of the impacts began to take its toll. Her sword seemed heavier, and her arms started to ache. Still, she fought, determined not to give her opponent the victory.

With a calculated move, Amelia executed a feint, pretending a frontal attack. The man, confident in his strength, fell into the trap and tried to block the blow that never came. Instead, Amelia slid to the side and delivered a precise cut to the man's Achilles tendon. He roared in pain, staggering, but before she could deliver the final blow, he recovered with surprising speed.

With a sudden movement, the man spun around and struck Amelia with the hilt of his sword, catching her completely by surprise. The force of the impact caused her to lose balance, and her sword slipped from her hands, falling to the ground with a metallic sound. Before she could react, he pushed her violently, making her fall on her back onto the cold stones of the wall.

The giant was upon her in an instant, his sword raised above his head, ready to strike with deadly force. Amelia, still dazed, realized she was out of options. She looked at the shining blade poised to end her life, and for a moment, felt a strange calm. Her heart beat slower as her thoughts turned to Miguel.

"I'm sorry, Miguel," she murmured, closing her eyes and accepting the fate that seemed inevitable.

The blade began to descend towards her chest, the air around them charged with tension and silence, as if time itself had slowed down in anticipation of the final blow.

Vol2 Chapter 67

Amélia was lying on the ground, the weight of her imminent fate pressing down on her with an overwhelming intensity. The sounds of the battlefield around her seemed distant, muffled by her own thoughts. She felt the cold of the stone beneath her back, and the shadow of the enormous enemy soldier eclipsed her view. His blade descended slowly, as if time had stretched in the final moments of her life. Her eyes, closed, awaited the final blow.

Suddenly, a dry, wet sound echoed above her. Amélia opened her eyes, surprised to see the soldier writhing. A spear had pierced his neck, and blood gushed in a dark, pulsing flow. The soldier’s eyes met Amélia’s for a brief instant, reflecting disbelief and pain, before he fell heavily beside her, his life slipping away.

Behind the fallen, panting and sweating, was Miguel. He held the spear he had just driven into the soldier’s neck, his eyes shining with the intensity of battle. He pulled the spear back and took a deep breath, recovering after the precise strike.

Amélia, still stunned, looked at her brother. His expression was serious, but there was also a hint of relief in his eyes. Without saying a word, Miguel extended his hand to her. Amélia took his hand, feeling the strength and firmness of his grip as he pulled her back to her feet.

Once standing, she found herself face to face with Miguel, who merely nodded, as if to say that everything was okay. Amélia, recovering from the shock, murmured a sincere “thank you,” still processing the fact that she had narrowly escaped death.

Miguel, without responding, simply bent down and picked up the sword that had fallen from Amélia’s hands during the fight. He handed it back to her, his gaze determined and silent, ready to continue the battle. Amélia gripped the sword firmly and exchanged one last look with Miguel, grateful that he had arrived in time.

---

Augusto watched from a safe distance, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he saw the main gate of the Drakmoor wall sway under the impact of the ram. The large wooden log, reinforced with metal at the ends, was lifted by dozens of muscular soldiers, their faces contorted in effort as they struck the gate repeatedly.

Each time the ram was swung against the gate, the sound was deafening. A deep, dull thud echoed across the surrounding fields, followed by the creaking and splintering of the reinforced wood. The soldiers, in formation, took turns to maintain the momentum, pushing with concentrated force and precision. Their boots sank into the earth as they leaned forward, using all their body weight to drive the destructive power of the siege weapon.

The gate, built to withstand attacks, began to show signs of wear. The wood, once solid and imposing, now creaked under the relentless pressure. Splinters flew with each impact, and small cracks appeared on the surface, growing with each blow. The sound of the wood giving way was almost as gratifying as the impact itself, like a victory melody unfolding for Augusto.

“One more time!” shouted the commander at the front of the soldiers, his voice hoarse with effort. And with one last coordinated effort, the soldiers pulled the ram back and launched it against the gate with all their remaining strength.

The final impact was devastating. The gate, no longer able to withstand the pressure, finally gave way with a loud, high-pitched crack. The metal bars reinforcing it were torn from their fittings, and the wood splintered into large chunks, opening a passage in the center. The gate swung open abruptly, its halves cracking and hanging from their hinges.

The duchy’s soldiers shouted in triumph, ready to invade the city, while Augusto, with a wild gleam in his eyes, watched the breach they had finally created. The path to Drakmoor was open.

The duchy’s soldiers surged through the broken gate, rushing with desperate urgency, as if they believed the city was about to fall into their hands. The first to cross the entrance barely had time to register what was happening before a rain of arrows fell upon them. In an instant, the front-line soldiers were taken down, their bodies falling heavily to the ground, pierced by arrows shot with deadly accuracy.

Ricardo, strategically positioned a few meters from the gate, observed with a determined gaze. Beside him, Ruidahr, the imposing lion, held his massive axe firmly, ready for the approaching clash. His feline eyes gleamed with the anticipation of battle. John, the defense secretary, was right behind, giving orders with a cool calm that contrasted with the storm of emotions about to explode on the battlefield.

“Archers, fall back!” Ricardo commanded, his voice firm and unwavering. The archers, lined up a few meters from where the duchy’s soldiers were falling, obeyed immediately. With swift, calculated steps, they retreated to the rear, repositioning to shoot again without becoming easy targets. The transition was made with impressive discipline, the result of weeks of intensive training.

The duchy’s soldiers, undeterred, continued advancing, forming a human tide that seemed poised to engulf everything in its path. Clad in shining chain mail, with helmets protecting their heads and reinforced wooden shields with metal, they wielded swords and spears with determination. Their war cries resonated through the air, a mixture of rage and bloodlust echoing in the ears of all present.

At the front, the duchy’s soldiers raised their shields, forming an almost impenetrable wall as they advanced. Their boots pounded heavily against the ground, each step taken in perfect synchronization, a testament to their rigorous training and combat experience. The swords gleamed in the morning light, while the spears were held firmly ahead, ready to pierce the flesh of their enemies.

“Prepare yourselves!” John shouted, adjusting his stance and holding his sword more firmly. The Drakmoor soldiers formed a line, shields raised and swords drawn, ready to meet the impact. Ricardo and Ruidahr, positioned in the center of the line, were imposing figures, instilling courage in the men around them.

And then, like two giant waves crashing together, the armies clashed violently. The sound of metal against metal filled the air, mixed with cries of pain and fury. Duchy and Drakmoor soldiers fought with animalistic ferocity, each determined to prevail over the other. Swords cut through the air, spears pierced armor, and the ground soon began to stain red with the blood of the combatants.

Ruidahr, with a deafening roar, swung his axe with force, taking down two enemy soldiers at once. Beside him, Ricardo fought with the skill of a seasoned warrior, his sword finding its mark with deadly precision. John, although more reserved, was also engaged in the fight, each of his blows meticulously calculated.

The battlefield in front of the Drakmoor gate was total chaos, a true carnage where the line between life and death was thin and unstable. And amid all this, the fate of the Drakmoor kingdom was being decided.

---

Miguel and Amélia fought intensely at the top of the wall, their swords slicing through the air and taking down the enemies daring to climb. Miguel, focused on the enemies in front of him, noticed an unusual pause in the flow of enemy soldiers trying to scale the wall. His hands still tightly gripping the sword, he looked down, his heart racing.

The main gate was open.

His stomach churned as he saw the enemy troops invading the city below them. The sound of iron clashing against iron and the screams of pain from the men reverberated in his ears. The gate was completely compromised, allowing the tide of duchy soldiers to penetrate the city's defenses. A sense of despair began to spread through his body, but Miguel quickly suppressed it.

Amélia, beside him, noticed the same thing. “Miguel, we need to get out of here now!” she shouted, her voice filled with urgency. “If we stay, we’ll be surrounded!”

Miguel wanted to fight to the end on the wall, to defend it as the city’s first line of defense. However, he knew Amélia was right. With the gate open, holding the wall was nearly impossible. The top of the wall was now becoming a disadvantage, with enemy soldiers beginning to climb up the wall’s stairs.

He looked around and saw the panic on the faces of his soldiers as the enemies continued to climb. There was no time to waste. “Everyone, fall back!” Miguel ordered with a firm voice, cutting through the chaos of battle. “Run to the west gate and use the stairs there to descend!”

The soldiers, promptly obeying, began to run toward the west gate, leaving behind the wall they had so bravely defended. Miguel and Amélia led the retreat, running with their men. The sound of feet pounding against the stone echoed as they ran along the wall, trying to distance themselves from the relentless advance of the enemy.

Miguel looked over his shoulder, seeing dozens of enemy soldiers climbing the wall’s stairs. He knew they couldn’t allow the enemies to catch them at the top, or they would all be slaughtered. Amélia, with a serious expression, followed beside Miguel, her sword still in hand as they ran toward the relative safety of the west gate.

Miguel felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, knowing that every decision he made could determine the fate of his men and the city. And, at that moment, the only sensible choice was to retreat, regroup, and fight from a more defensible position. But the fight was far from over, and the fate of the Drakmoor kingdom was still at stake.

Vol2 Chapter 68

The city of Drakmoor had turned into a chaotic battlefield. The streets, once quiet and deserted during the early morning hours, now pulsed with the sound of clashing swords, war cries, and the deafening clang of armor. The battle raged through every alley and avenue of the city as the duke's soldiers advanced relentlessly, trying to subdue the defenders who fought fiercely to protect their homes and families.

The soldiers of Drakmoor, though outnumbered, fought with the determination of men defending their home. The enemy troops, led by commanders eager for a quick victory, attacked with full force but met resistance at every corner. In some areas, Drakmoor's soldiers used improvised barricades to halt the enemy's advance, turning each street into a deadly maze.

As the battle intensified, the city echoed with shouted orders, the clang of swords, and the anguished cries of the wounded. The dirt and brick streets were stained with blood, and the bodies of the fallen on both sides began to pile up. Some soldiers fought with swords and spears, while others used shields to deflect deadly blows, and archers fired arrows from the rooftops. The smoke from the flammable oil used in the catapults still lingered in the air, mingled with the metallic scent of spilled blood.

Miguel, panting and with adrenaline coursing through his veins, finally found Ruidahr amid the chaos. The great lion, with his imposing axe in hand, was covered in blood, but none of it was his own. His gaze was wild, determined not to give up an inch of ground. Miguel ran to him, dodging an enemy soldier who tried to attack him and knocking him down with a quick strike of his sword.

"Ruidahr!" Miguel shouted, trying to make himself heard above the tumult. "Where are the beast men on horseback?"

Ruidahr, without taking his eyes off the battle, responded with a low growl. "They are at the south gate, protecting the civilians who are being evacuated. I left them there to ensure the innocent have a chance to escape."

Miguel nodded, relieved to know that at least the civilians were safe. But he needed to know more. "And Elnar? Where is he?"

Ruidahr, with a puzzled look, replied, "He’s at the mansion. He said he had something in mind that could help in the battle, but I don’t know what he plans to do in such a short time."

Miguel frowned, confused. What could Elnar be planning? But before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, a spear emerged from the midst of the battle, flying toward him. In an instant, Ruidahr, with his superhuman reflexes, caught the spear in mid-air, preventing it from striking Miguel.

Miguel looked at his friend, grateful, with a renewed determination in his eyes. "Let’s finish them!" he shouted, raising his sword as more of the duke's soldiers rushed forward. Standing beside Ruidahr, Miguel prepared to face the new wave of enemies, knowing the battle was far from over.

Elnar was in Miguel’s office, alone, as the tension of the battle spread through the air like a thick mist. In the early hours before the fighting began, he had made a decision: he needed something more to confront the duke’s army. Something beyond the traditional weapons already in use. With this idea in mind, he remembered an ancient grimoire he carried with him, a mysterious object given to him by a man whose identity he never discovered.

The grimoire had been stored in his bag for years, always with him, but rarely consulted. Now, as the shadows of war closed in on Miguel’s kingdom, Elnar decided to revisit its pages, searching for a solution. Carefully, he took out the book and flipped through the worn pages until he found what he was looking for. His eyes gleamed as he found the sketches of a peculiar weapon, a contraption he had barely understood when he first saw it.

The arrows described in the grimoire were unlike any others Elnar knew. Their tips were hollow, designed to contain gunpowder, and they featured a simple yet ingenious mechanism that detonated upon impact. This mechanism, also described in the book, used an internal needle that, when colliding with the target, pierced a small chamber of gunpowder at the arrow's tip, causing a devastating explosion.

The body of the device, according to the drawings, would be made of bamboo—materials Elnar knew where to find. The bamboo would serve as launch tubes, tilted over a simple wooden structure. When ignited, the gunpowder in the arrow tips would not only propel the projectiles skyward like rockets but also ensure they exploded on impact, scattering shrapnel everywhere.

Elnar studied the details with growing attention, understanding the ingenuity of the design. He had no idea who had created that grimoire, but now he knew that the book’s contents could save many lives. If he could build these weapons in time, they could turn the tide of the battle.

Determined to act quickly, Elnar left the office with the grimoire in hand. He knew he would need to coordinate the carpenters, blacksmiths, and any available workers to build the bamboo structures. Time was short, but he couldn’t let this chance slip away. With the explosives Miguel had already prepared and the materials available, Elnar felt he had a real opportunity to make a difference.

As he rushed to organize the construction, Elnar reflected on how mysterious and precious that grimoire truly was. He had never known who had given it to him, but now he saw its potential. Perhaps it was fate, or pure coincidence, but the ancient weapon described in the pages of that book could be the key to Drakmoor’s survival.

With renewed determination, Elnar set about building the contraption described in the grimoire. If he succeeded, he knew the “rain of arrows” could be the decisive blow to halt the duke’s army’s advance. And at that moment, he was willing to bet everything on it.

---

Miguel was in the heat of battle, his senses on high alert as he struck with his sword against the enemy soldier before him. The soldier was skilled, his movements quick and precise, but Miguel, despite his exhaustion, was focused. He dodged a thrust that would have pierced his abdomen, feeling the steel pass mere inches from his skin. With a quick spin, he used the side of his sword to deflect the next blow, then counterattacked.

The sound of metal clashing echoed around him, a sharp noise amidst the chaos. Miguel knew he couldn’t underestimate his opponent, as the soldier seemed as determined as he was. The man was physically stronger, his power evident in each strike, but Miguel trusted in his agility and swordsmanship. After blocking a brutal attack that made his blade tremble, Miguel saw his chance.

He feigned a move to the left, drawing the enemy’s sword in that direction, but quickly spun to the right, bringing his sword in a precise arc that cut deeply into the soldier’s unprotected side. The man cried out in pain and anger, stepping back a few paces, but Miguel didn’t give him time to recover. He advanced, his sword piercing the soldier’s chest with a decisive thrust.

The soldier fell to his knees, the look of despair and surprise fading slowly as blood poured down his armor. Miguel was breathing heavily, his heart racing with the adrenaline of the fight. He pulled his sword from the enemy’s body and stepped back, watching the soldier fall to the ground with a dull thud.

Before he could catch his breath, Miguel heard a shout echoing across the battlefield. His name was called with a mix of fury and challenge. He quickly turned toward the voice, his eyes widening as he recognized the figure approaching. It was Augusto, his brother, mounted on a horse, with his face contorted in rage.

Miguel felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine, knowing the real confrontation was about to begin.

---

Augusto charged at Miguel with all the fury he possessed, the horse’s hooves pounding heavily against the ground as he approached. Miguel saw the attack at the last second, his instincts taking over as he threw himself to the side, rolling on the cold, rain-soaked earth. The horse thundered past him, the blade of Augusto’s sword cutting through the air where Miguel had been just a moment before.

Still on the ground, Miguel tried to recover, but before he could catch his breath, he heard the sound of the horse turning in a tight arc, preparing for another charge. He didn’t have time to stand, so his eyes frantically scanned the ground for something, anything he could use. His fingers closed around a fallen spear. Without thinking, he lifted it and aimed it at the charging horse.

Augusto forced the horse to charge again, his sword raised to finish Miguel off, but Miguel, with a desperate move, thrust the spear into the horse's chest. The animal let out a loud whinny of pain, its eyes wide with agony as its hooves faltered. The impact caused the horse to stumble, its front legs giving way, and Augusto was violently thrown from the saddle.

Augusto's body spun in the air before crashing to the ground with force, his sword slipping from his hand and falling a few meters away. Miguel, still panting, struggled to get up. His body ached from the fall, and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, but he knew he couldn't stop.

With difficulty, Augusto also got to his feet, his movements slower and more rigid, but the look in his eyes was deadly. He wiped the blood from a cut on his forehead, and the two brothers stared at each other in silence, each feeling the pulsating tension in the air. Miguel breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly as blood coursed quickly through his veins. He knew the next move could decide everything.

Vol2 Chapter 69

Miguel and Augusto stared at each other for a brief moment, the tension between them pulsing like a rope on the verge of snapping. The battlefield around them was a chaos of steel and flesh—soldiers screaming, swords clashing, and the acrid smell of blood and sweat permeating the cold air of a day that was already turning into evening. The sound of catapults launching their explosive projectiles and the whistling arrows were nearly drowned out by the war cries and the thunderous booms of giant ballistae.

Miguel moved first, his sword swinging in an arc meant to cleave Augusto in half, but his brother was ready. With a precise movement, Augusto blocked the strike with his own sword, the impact making Miguel’s arms tremble. Augusto immediately counterattacked, forcing Miguel to retreat, desperately defending himself against a series of powerful strikes. With each blow Augusto delivered, his sword seemed to gain more strength, and Miguel found himself increasingly pressed.

“You should never have survived, bastard!” Augusto spat the words with contempt as his sword sliced through the air, forcing Miguel to retreat once more. “You were supposed to die like the trash you are, buried in that forgotten hole!”

Miguel didn’t respond, focused solely on blocking the attacks coming from all angles. He knew Augusto was trying to destabilize him, but he couldn’t afford to lose concentration. His movements were slower than he’d like, exhaustion beginning to weigh on his muscles, and Augusto’s heavy armor made it difficult to find an opening for his strikes. Miguel felt frustration build inside him but forced himself to stay calm.

The environment around them was a chaotic mix of allies and enemies fighting for every inch of ground. Men fell screaming while others struggled to hold their positions. Out of the corner of his eye, Miguel saw Ricardo battling two soldiers at once, his sword glinting in the rising sun as he blocked a strike and counterattacked with deadly precision. Ruidahr, the imposing lion, was a bit farther away, surrounded by three enemies but moving with the dexterity and ferocity of a beast in its habitat, felling one soldier after another with powerful blows from his axe.

Miguel tried to use the jiu-jitsu techniques he had learned, but Augusto’s armor and the crowded environment made it impossible to take him down or disarm him. Each time he tried to get close, Augusto simply pushed him back with powerful blows, keeping Miguel at a distance where he couldn’t use his skills. Miguel’s sword constantly clashed with Augusto’s, but it was clear his brother had the advantage. Each blow Miguel blocked made his hands tremble more, and his arms burned with the effort.

With a grunt of effort, Augusto delivered a brutal strike that caught Miguel off guard. Augusto’s blade slid down Miguel’s sword, forcing him to lose his balance and fall hard on the ground. The impact knocked the wind out of Miguel, who let out an involuntary groan as he tried to catch his breath.

Augusto smiled cruelly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and madness. “Finally, Miguel... Finally, you’ll die like you should have long ago. Your head will decorate a stake in the capital, and the whole world will know the fate of those who defy the duke and the king!”

Miguel looked at his brother, his eyes fixed on the blade that gleamed menacingly above him. He knew there was no time to respond, no words that could change the swiftly approaching fate. His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to stay calm, even as Augusto raised the sword for the final blow.

The world around seemed to fall silent for a moment, the sound of battle fading as Miguel watched his brother lift the sword above his head, ready to end it all. Miguel felt the cold ground beneath his back and the weight of destiny about to fall upon him, but his thoughts were strangely clear as he observed the blade descending toward him.

As Augusto raised the sword to deliver the deathblow to Miguel, a distant sound echoed across the battlefield, halting the movement of his blade. A trumpet sounded with a clarity that made the hairs on the back of Miguel’s neck stand up. He recognized that sound well—it was the trumpet of the heavy cavalry of the beast-men. The trumpet sounded again, this time closer, and Augusto diverted his gaze from Miguel, trying to locate the source of the sound.

Miguel saw the opportunity and, with a burst of energy, kicked Augusto’s legs with all the strength he had left. The blow took Augusto by surprise, causing him to lose his balance and fall heavily to the ground, his sword slipping from his hand and embedding itself in the earth beside him. Wasting no time, Miguel sprang to his feet with an agile movement and ran through the confusion of the battle. The sound of metal clashing against metal and the cries of wounded soldiers filled the air, but he remained focused, running toward Ruidahr.

When he reached Ruidahr, the expression on the lion’s face was one of pure confusion. “I didn’t order my men to come here,” Ruidahr said, his voice rough and laden with surprise. “My orders were for them to protect the civilians!”

Miguel, still panting from the fight and the escape, quickly understood what this meant. If the cavalry of the beast-men was there, the situation was about to become even more chaotic. He needed to reorganize the forces he still had. “Order your men to fall back!” Miguel shouted to Ruidahr as he looked around, assessing the situation.

Without hesitation, Ruidahr nodded and began calling his men back. Miguel turned and shouted orders for his soldiers to stop fighting and run toward the horses, where the cavalry of the beast-men was positioning for an attack. Chaos reigned, but gradually the soldiers began to pull away from the combat and follow Miguel’s orders, retreating to join the cavalry.

As Miguel, Ruidahr, and the rest of their men reached the safety provided by the presence of the cavalry, the beast-men charged with a deafening roar. The massive horses, robust and clad in armor, galloped toward the enemy lines, and the cavalrymen, armed with lances and axes, struck the duchy’s soldiers with relentless fury.

Augusto, seeing the imminent danger, barely had time to throw himself into a narrow alley, where he shielded himself from the devastating onslaught. The cavalry of the beast-men hit the duchy’s soldiers with the force of a storm, crushing men under the hooves of their horses and splitting the enemy ranks in two. The desperate resistance of the soldiers was no match for the brute strength and skill of the cavalrymen, who managed to reach the gate, pushing many of the soldiers out.

The battle within the wall, which had seemed lost before, now gained new momentum. Many of the duchy’s soldiers were still inside the city, but they were now partially isolated. The cavalry had managed to prevent more soldiers from entering through the breach in the gate, giving Miguel an opportunity to turn the tide.

Seeing the chance that had arisen, Miguel made a quick decision. “Now is our chance!” he shouted to his men, his voice cutting through the sound of battle. “Advance! Don’t let them escape!”

With Ruidahr at his side, Miguel led a fierce charge against the enemy soldiers still inside the walls. They attacked with everything they had, fighting to regain control of the city and expel the invaders once and for all. Miguel’s soldiers, energized by the unexpected support of the cavalry, fought with renewed vigor, advancing like an unstoppable wave over the disorganized enemies.

Swords gleamed in the rain as Miguel and Ruidahr led their men with skill and courage. Each step brought them closer to victory, but the battle was far from over. The fate of Drakmoor still hung in the balance, but at that moment, Miguel knew he had a chance—a chance to save his kingdom, protect his people, and prove that even as a bastard, he could fight like a king.

---

Erondir watched the chaos of the battlefield with a growing expression of irritation. The fine rain that had been falling since dawn soaked his dark cloak, making it heavy and uncomfortable. The sky was covered with heavy gray clouds, making the atmosphere even more somber. The catapults, which had been launching projectiles incessantly against the walls of Drakmoor, were now silent, their operators struggling to keep the machines running under the rain that made it difficult to ignite the fuses.

Something was wrong. The soldiers who should have been continuously flowing into the city through the broken gate had stopped advancing. Erondir frowned, trying to understand the reason for the sudden halt. His eyes scanned the field, but the fine mist and the distance made it difficult to clearly see what was happening.

A panting soldier approached, his face pale and his eyes wide with panic. “Lord Erondir,” he began, his voice trembling, “the cavalry... a cavalry mounted on massive red horses appeared. They’ve cut off the connection with our troops inside the city and are blocking the reinforcements. Our men are trapped in there!”

Erondir felt a wave of frustration rise up his spine. Cavalry? Where the hell had Miguel gotten cavalry? He quickly thought about the information he had on Miguel’s allies and remembered the beast-men. “Damn lions,” he muttered to himself. His mind quickly assessed the situation. If the enemy cavalry was blocking the gate, the two thousand soldiers who had already entered the city would be isolated, vulnerable to being surrounded and annihilated. And among them was Augusto, who, despite his recklessness and arrogance, was still an important piece in the duchy’s political game.

“If this continues, our troops will be massacred in there,” Erondir pondered, running a hand over his chin as raindrops dripped down his face. “And that idiot Augusto along with them.”

Turning to his subordinates, he raised his voice to be heard above the constant drumming of the rain. “Gather the remaining mages and prepare the cavalry. We’re going to break through to the gate and restore our connection with the troops inside the city.”

As the men rushed to carry out his orders, Erondir turned his eyes back to the battlefield. The thick mud made movement difficult, soldiers slipping and falling, and the horses neighing restlessly under the weight of the water soaking their manes and tack. The duchy’s banners, once proudly raised, now hung heavy and wet, almost indistinguishable in the rain.

Erondir quickly calculated. From what he could estimate, around two thousand of his soldiers were trapped inside Drakmoor, likely fighting in desperate conditions. Outside, he still had under his command between two thousand five hundred and three thousand men, ready to fight, though already tired and soaked to the bone. The casualties already numbered around two thousand, dead or wounded, scattered across the field as grim reminders of the futility of war.

His eyes turned once more to the catapults. He noticed that the pace of projectiles had slowed significantly. The operators were struggling to keep the machines working in the rain, and the ammunition was clearly running low. A small satisfaction rose within him. “So, Miguel, your resources are depleting as well,” he thought, a slight smile curving his lips.

But there was no time for complacency. If he wanted to save his troops inside the city and avoid a humiliating defeat, he needed to act now. The mages gathered around him, their heavy cloaks even darker under the rain. The cavalry lined up, the horses restless, stomping their hooves in the mud, sending clouds of steam from their nostrils.

Erondir mounted his horse, feeling the animal tremble beneath him. He turned to his men, raising his voice once more. “Men of the duchy! Our brothers are trapped within the walls, bravely fighting against the enemy. We cannot abandon them! We will break through the enemy defenses, restore our connection, and secure the victory that is rightfully ours!”

A roar of approval rose from the ranks, even though it was muffled by the relentless rain. Erondir raised his hand, signaling the advance. The charge was about to begin, and the fate of many would depend on the outcome of this move. With renewed determination, he led his force toward the gate, ready to face any obstacle that Miguel and his allies might place in his path.

Vol2 Chapter 70

The battlefield was shrouded in absolute chaos. The ground, once hard-packed earth, was now a viscous mixture of mud and blood, making every step a treacherous challenge. Corpses from both sides were strewn across the terrain, creating a macabre scene of mutilated bodies, broken weapons, and torn flags. The fight raged on in every corner of the city, with soldiers from Drakmoor and the duchy locked in mortal combat. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the acrid odor of gunpowder, creating a suffocating and desperate atmosphere.

Miguel fought with all his might, his movements swift and precise as his sword sliced through the air and pierced the flesh of enemies who still dared to resist. He felt the weight of the battle in every muscle, fatigue building up, but he couldn't afford to let it slow him down. His eyes were constantly in motion, assessing the situation around him, trying to keep his companions close and his defense organized.

In the midst of the confusion, Amelia, with her armor stained with enemy blood, quickly moved to Miguel's side. She blocked a sword strike aimed at him, her blade responding with impressive speed. Panting, she looked at Miguel with an urgent expression, her eyes shining with adrenaline.

“Have you seen Augusto?” Amelia asked, her voice loud enough to be heard above the clangor of weapons and the cries of the wounded.

Miguel delivered a quick blow to an enemy soldier, forcing him to retreat before responding. “I don’t know where he is,” he said, his eyes scanning the battlefield for any sign of his brother. “He just disappeared…”

Amelia snorted with disdain, dodging a strike as she replied, “I hope he died in a ditch.” There was venom in her words, a bitterness that Miguel knew well but couldn’t afford to feel at that moment.

Miguel simply nodded, more focused on maintaining the rhythm of the battle than on any personal desire for revenge. He had no time for hatred, only for survival. Even as he fought, he couldn’t help but wonder if they had really managed to push the enemies back, or if this was just a pause before the next wave of violence.

The battle continued around them, a desperate struggle to maintain control of the city and protect the lives of those who couldn’t fight. The mud beneath Miguel's feet was soaked with blood, making the terrain treacherous, but he didn’t hesitate. This was his home now, and he would fight to the end to defend it, no matter the cost.

The battle around Miguel continued to rage, but for a moment, something different caught his attention. Amid the sound of clashing swords and the screams of combatants, a familiar yet strange noise for that world began to echo through the city. It was a sharp, rising sound that made Miguel turn his head quickly, his eyes searching for the source of the unusual noise.

He recognized the sound immediately. It was something he never expected to hear again: the sound of fireworks ascending into the sky. But in that war-torn context, there was no celebration, only the harbinger of destruction. His eyes fixed on the bright trails cutting through the dark sky. They were long and dense, resembling shooting stars being launched from a distant point. The sound of propulsion sliced through the air like the roar of a wild animal.

As he focused his vision, he realized the magnitude of the arrows flying through the sky. They were not ordinary; they were about 1.5 meters long, large and sturdy, designed to wreak havoc when they hit their targets. Miguel looked in the direction from where these “rocket-arrows” were being fired and saw that they were coming from the southern section of the wall, the opposite side of the main gate where most of the fighting was concentrated.

Amelia, who was beside him, stopped fighting for a brief moment, her eyes also capturing the spectacle. With a tone of surprise that Miguel had rarely heard from her, she asked, “What is that, Miguel?”

A slow, confident smile formed on Miguel's face as he continued to watch the projectiles rising into the cloudy sky. “That, my sister,” he said, without taking his eyes off the spectacle, “is saturation artillery.”

Amelia tried to repeat the strange term Miguel used but quickly gave up, an expression of confusion and admiration crossing her face. She had never heard of anything like it before, and the idea that her brother, the bastard who had always been underestimated, was now implementing such technology in a medieval world was almost unbelievable.

The fired arrows continued to ascend in a perfect arc before beginning their deadly descent toward the outside of the main gate. With each passing second, the sound of the “rockets” grew louder, and the tension among the combatants increased. Inside the city, both Drakmoor's soldiers and the duchy's paused for a moment, looking up at the sky with expressions ranging from surprise to pure terror. The enemy, outside the walls, began to realize what was happening as the first projectiles started to descend upon them.

The arrows struck the ground with deadly precision, their hollow tips exploding on impact. The sound was deafening, the explosions lighting up the night and sending shrapnel in all directions. The enemy formations, previously rigid and disciplined, began to crumble under the force of the explosions that tore through their ranks. Men screamed, trying to find cover, but there was nowhere to run. Panic quickly set in among the duchy's soldiers, who found themselves trapped between Drakmoor's crossfire and the devastating explosions of the arrows.

Miguel watched, satisfied, as the explosions wreaked havoc among the enemy ranks. This was exactly what he needed to buy some time and reorganize his forces. He knew that this “saturation artillery” was not something common in that world and that surprise was on his side. More importantly, he knew this could be the decisive factor in turning the tide of the battle in his favor.

The arrows continued to rain down on the duchy's army, turning the hope of a quick victory into absolute despair. Miguel knew that the war was far from over, but for now, he and his people had a chance to fight and survive.

Erondir led his knights at a gallop, his heart pounding as they approached the wall gate of Drakmoor. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, determined to break through that barrier and end Miguel’s resistance once and for all. The sound of horses' hooves on the damp ground echoed in his ears, and he felt the cold night air on his face. But suddenly, something strange began to happen.

He noticed an unusual glow in the sky, small sparks of light that didn’t belong to that darkness. For a brief moment, he wondered if the enemy was using some kind of magic. But this seemed different; it didn’t have the characteristic aura of the magic he knew. Erondir looked up, and his expression hardened as he realized what was happening.

From above, long, bright objects were descending in an arc, like shooting stars, but with a much more precise trajectory. They were coming directly toward his ranks. He frowned, trying to understand what those things were. They weren’t ordinary arrows; they were much larger and faster.

The scene unfolded quickly. Before he could shout orders to his knights, the first of these projectiles hit the ground. Erondir saw the devastating explosion engulf the soldiers at the front, bodies being flung into the air like ragdolls. The shockwave hit him, and he felt the brutal impact before hearing the sound of the explosion. Knights and horses were thrown to the ground, chaos ensuing in seconds.

Erondir’s horse neighed in panic, its front legs rearing as he tried to keep a firm grip on the reins. But there was no escape. Another projectile fell nearby, and he felt the intense heat and the shattering of bones and armor around him. The horse lost its balance, and Erondir felt gravity pulling him to the side.

The world spun violently as he fell from the horse, the darkness of the night mixing with the flashes of the explosions. His body hit the ground hard, and he felt sharp pain in his side as he collided with a rock. For a moment, he tried to get up, but the shockwave hit him again, pushing him back to the ground.

Erondir's vision began to darken. The lights from the explosions became distant blurs as he struggled to stay conscious. The sound of the battle around him grew more muffled, turning into a distant hum. The last thing he saw before completely losing consciousness was the sky, lit by those deadly stars that continued to fall upon his troops.

And then, everything went dark.

Vol2 Chapter 71

A week had passed since the violent battle that shook the walls of Drakmoor. The smell of blood and smoke still lingered in the air, but now the city was in a frantic effort of reconstruction. The streets, once the scene of brutal clashes, were filled with workers raising new structures and repairing the damage caused by the combat. The front wall, which had firmly withstood the attack, still bore the marks of the battle but stood tall as a symbol of resistance.

The tide of the battle had shifted dramatically when Elnar's improvised artillery, with its explosive rockets, hit the ranks of the duchy's army. The devastating explosions had sown chaos among the enemy soldiers, who, already weakened by previous casualties and the prolonged siege, failed to maintain formation. Fear and confusion quickly spread among the duchy's troops, with many believing they were facing some form of magic or divine weapon. The casualties were immense, and morale plummeted.

With the brutal advance of the beast-men cavalry, Miguel saw the perfect opportunity to lead a final charge. Soldiers and beast-men, motivated by the possibility of victory, pushed the enemy out of the city and into the fields beyond the walls. The heavy cavalry of the beast-men finished the rest, trampling and scattering the remaining troops. The few who tried to resist were quickly subdued.

By the end of the battle, Drakmoor had triumphed. But the victory did not come without a cost: corpses were scattered everywhere, from both sides, and many of Miguel's own soldiers had also fallen. Even so, the enemy had suffered much greater losses, and the victory was undeniable. Among the captured were about 600 soldiers of the duchy, including Erondir, the royal envoy, who was found unconscious on the battlefield, severely injured after being thrown from his horse during the bombardment.

Augusto, on the other hand, had been missing since the battle. Miguel had sent men to search for him, but no body was found, nor any signs of his escape. Some believed he had died in the chaos of combat, while others thought he had fled to regroup. Miguel, however, knew that Augusto's absence was a sign that he was likely still alive, and that made him uneasy.

An improvised prison was erected for the prisoners of war. Using bricks and wood, the workers of Drakmoor quickly built a structure that could house the 600 prisoners. Erondir was placed under special surveillance, as everyone knew he was a key figure in future negotiations or retaliation. Miguel, aware of the importance of these prisoners, ordered that they be treated with dignity, despite the circumstances. He knew that any act of cruelty could turn against him in the future.

The following days were filled with tense silence, as Miguel and his allies consolidated their victory and prepared for the next steps. The city's streets, though calmer, were full of scars left by the conflict. And while the sounds of hammers and saws filled the air, Miguel knew that the real fight was not yet over.

---

A month had passed since the victory at the walls of Drakmoor, and life in Miguel's kingdom was slowly returning to normal. The sounds of battle had been replaced by the relentless work of reconstruction. What was once a city devastated by war was now being rebuilt with renewed vigor, and Miguel’s plans, both military and economic, were finally getting back on track. However, a shadow loomed over these accomplishments.

Amélia had found Augusto’s body, dead several miles from the city, almost outside the borders of Miguel’s kingdom. She brought the news to Miguel while he was in his office reviewing construction documents, and the surprise was clear on her brother’s face. Augusto had not been seen since the battle, and Miguel had assumed he had fled or was hiding for a future retaliation. Finding his body so far from Drakmoor brought more questions than answers.

The soldiers who had likely fled with Augusto were also found dead. The arrow marks and cuts on their bodies were clear evidence they had been ambushed, but not by Miguel’s men. At first, Miguel thought perhaps a group of bandits had taken advantage of the confusion, but Amélia, ever cynical, suggested a more disturbing theory: Aurelio, ever cunning and calculating, might have hired mercenaries to ensure Augusto was eliminated, already anticipating his brother's failure. It was a typical precaution of Aurelio, she explained. Miguel was shocked to hear this.

— "But... Why? Augusto was his brother..." — Miguel murmured, still trying to process what his sister had suggested.

— "Brother or not, Aurelio only sees threats to his position. He’s paranoid, Miguel. If he thought Augusto would fail here and pose any risk to his influence, he wouldn’t think twice about getting rid of him." — Amélia said, with a resigned tone.

Miguel remained silent for a long moment, looking out the window of his office. The death of Augusto, someone he had so many conflicts with, should have brought some relief, but instead, it raised new concerns. He knew he hadn’t ordered the attack, and if Amélia was right, his other brother Aurelio now posed an even greater danger. There was no way to predict what Aurelio planned next, and that kept Miguel uneasy.

Despite the shadow of this mystery, life in the kingdom continued. The works and projects that had been interrupted by the war were now in full swing. With the help of the beast-men and trusted carpenters, another catapult was being built on the outskirts of the city, further strengthening Drakmoor's defenses. Miguel knew that despite the recent victory, more battles were coming, and preparation was essential. He trusted Marcus and the local blacksmiths to ensure that the new siege weapons were ready before any new threats arose.

Additionally, Miguel had focused on the development of his agricultural infrastructure. The new carts, designed and built based on Miguel's sketches, were already in full use. They were more efficient, faster, and could transport more goods than the old carts that had been damaged or destroyed during the war. This made a significant difference in transporting food and construction materials, especially with the revival of brick roads, one of Miguel's most prized projects.

Three new plows had also been distributed to some local farmers, further optimizing the kingdom’s agricultural production. Miguel was confident that, with these advancements, Drakmoor would not only survive but thrive.

Another major project underway was the construction of a windmill. Miguel was particularly excited about this idea, knowing how revolutionary a windmill would be for the region, capable of grinding grain efficiently and saving labor. The location for the mill had already been chosen, and preliminary foundation work was about to begin. He knew that, over time, this innovation would bring enormous benefits to the kingdom, increasing food production and making Drakmoor more self-sufficient.

But perhaps the most ambitious project of all was nearing completion: the brick factory. Elnar, with his tireless determination, had accelerated the construction of the factory after the battle. He was aware of the importance of this project for the kingdom's future, and with the same seriousness with which he had helped defend the city, he now dedicated himself to ensuring the factory was completed as quickly as possible.

The brick factory, an impressive structure near the south gate, was almost finished. The large one-story building, made primarily of wood and brick, was the centerpiece of Miguel’s plans to modernize the kingdom. Once completed, the factory would be able to produce thousands of bricks per day, allowing Miguel to expand his vision of connecting the entire kingdom with brick roads, in the style of the ancient Romans.

Miguel frequently visited the site, watching with admiration as the internal and external walls of the factory took shape. The site was already equipped with furnaces to dry the bricks, and workers, both human and beast-men, were busy assembling the final details before putting the place into operation. Elnar, always diligent, oversaw every step of the process, ensuring everything was going as planned.

Miguel was eager to continue the brick road project. The few roads already paved had greatly facilitated the transportation of goods within the city, but he knew this was just the beginning. He dreamed of a future where the entire kingdom was connected by a network of well-paved roads, allowing for quick trade and communication between towns and cities.

As Miguel reflected on the future, he knew the challenges weren’t over. The presence of prisoners of war, including Erondir, within the city was a constant reminder that the conflict with the duchy and the kingdom of Ardia was far from over. Miguel occasionally visited the improvised prison, checking on the prisoners’ conditions and ensuring they were treated with minimal dignity, even though he knew many of them likely wouldn’t do the same if the roles were reversed.

The prison, hastily built with bricks and wood, was simple but functional. It was a sign that Miguel was handling the war as best as he could, without losing sight of the principles of humanity and respect. Even with the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, Miguel strove to maintain a vision of the future, one in which Drakmoor could be an independent, prosperous, and just kingdom.

As the ashes of battle still cooled, Miguel knew he was only at the beginning of his journey. The road ahead was uncertain, and the threats from Aurelio and the kingdom of Ardia still loomed over his head. But with every catapult built, every road paved, and every advancement in the kingdom, he felt more prepared for what lay ahead.

Vol2 Chapter 72

Miguel was sitting at his desk in the center of the grand meeting hall of the mansion, with the returned miners in front of him. Ricardo, ever-present, was by his side, watching closely as the men explained their findings. The head of the miners, a sturdy-looking man with graying hair, was speaking excitedly about the state of the abandoned mine.

“Sir,” he began, “we conducted a thorough inspection, and I can assure you there is a huge amount of iron ore still there. It’s far from depleted, and with the right men and the equipment you’ve provided, we can start extracting immediately.”

Miguel, listening intently, nodded. This was good news, better than he expected. Iron was a vital resource for Drakmoor’s growth, especially with the military and industrial expansion he had initiated. The kingdom needed more weapons, more tools, and iron was essential for both.

“Great,” said Miguel, looking at the eager faces of the miners before him. “I want you to prepare immediately. We’ll begin mining as soon as possible.”

He glanced at Ricardo, who grabbed a rolled-up scroll from the table and opened it to display a map of the region. “I’ll allocate seven of the new carts for transporting the ore. They’ll be used to take the raw iron directly to the new depot we’re finishing nearby.”

Ricardo pointed to a marked location on the map, where a large brick warehouse was being built, intended to store all the extracted iron.

“As soon as the depot is nearly empty, you can return to the mine to extract more,” Miguel continued, turning back to the miners. “For now, our focus will be on ensuring the work is continuous and efficient. I want as much ore as possible to sustain our production.”

The miners agreed, exchanging excited glances among themselves, eager to return to the mine with the new resources and the chance to finally see the mining operation flow again.

Miguel stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “You may go. Organize the men and prepare everything. As soon as the carts are ready, the mining begins.”

The miners left, while Miguel and Ricardo stayed in the hall, quickly discussing the next steps. The iron ore would be crucial for the kingdom’s future.

---

Miguel was sitting in his office, papers scattered across the desk. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls. He couldn’t stop thinking about Elnar’s invention, which had turned the tide of battle with its rain of explosive arrows. Though efficient, Miguel knew he could improve that idea even further. A thought crossed his mind: a rudimentary rocket, made with materials available in the feudal world, but capable of causing massive and widespread destruction, similar to the saturation systems used by ancient armies on Earth.

He grabbed a blank sheet of paper and began sketching his idea, as his mind buzzed with possibilities. A bamboo rocket, he thought, moving the pen across the paper, would be simple and functional.

He drew a long, narrow tube, marking the main body of the rocket as a 1.5-meter-long section of bamboo. “Bamboo is hollow, lightweight, and yet strong, perfect for the body of a rocket,” he whispered to himself. He would make a cut at the end of the bamboo, leaving a natural node on one end to serve as the base.

He moved on to draw the next step: the combustion chamber. At the open end of the bamboo, he would fill about 2/3 of the tube with black powder, lightly compressed to ensure it stayed firm but without blocking ignition. Miguel knew that black powder would be the ideal propellant for the rocket. He detailed how the top of the bamboo would be sealed with clay, leaving a small hole in the center for the fuse.

As he wrote, Miguel reflected on the black powder mixture. He quickly jotted down the familiar formula: 75% saltpeter, 15% charcoal, and 10% sulfur. Finely ground and carefully mixed, this formula would be the soul of the rocket.

With the body and propulsion ready, the next step was stabilization. He sketched stabilizer fins made of thick paper or cloth. “These fins will keep the rocket in the air during flight... I hope,” he murmured, as he drew how they would be attached to the rear base of the bamboo with ropes or resin.

Now, the ignition system. The fuse, a simple cord soaked in saltpeter, would ensure enough time for the rocket to be launched without endangering the operator. He drew the fuse’s entry point into the clay cap and made notes on the necessary length to ensure safety.

Miguel then turned his attention to the launcher. He knew he would need a robust yet simple structure. “A wooden inclined platform, at a 30 to 45-degree angle,” he noted, designing a platform that would allow multiple rockets to be launched in sequence. The idea was to saturate the enemy area with a rain of projectiles, causing widespread destruction.

Next, he considered increasing the damage caused by the rockets. He sketched a compartment at the top of the rocket, where he would insert shrapnel, such as nails, metal fragments, or sharp stones. These fragments would be released upon impact, scattering across the battlefield and causing even more chaos among enemy ranks.

He leaned back, taking a moment to reflect. The rocket would be rudimentary but effective. By combining the explosive power of black powder with the simplicity of available materials, he was on the verge of creating a weapon that could change the course of the war.

With the plan drawn, Miguel knew that tests would be essential. He wrote down safety precautions, reminding himself of the inherent dangers of handling gunpowder. Every step needed to be followed with extreme care, from creation to final tests. But Miguel felt he was on the right track. He would soon possess a weapon that could tip the battlefield in Drakmoor’s favor, for this was certainly not the only weapon Miguel had in mind...

---

A week had passed since Miguel had begun working on his first rocket prototype. He was now in an open field, a small clearing an hour’s ride from the city, ready to test the invention. The sky was clear, the sun shone, and a light breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees. All eyes were on what Miguel called the “rocket,” a bamboo structure with improvised stabilizer fins.

Around him were João, the young servant who always accompanied him, Lila, the young mage, and John, the defense secretary, who watched cautiously. Ricardo, ever at Miguel’s side, maintained a look of curiosity, while Ruidahr, the imposing lion, observed with his axe in hand. The deer Elnar, who had helped invent some weapons, stood beside Miguel, eager to see the result.

“Let’s do this,” Miguel said with a tone of confidence that concealed his internal tension. He lit the fuse and quickly stepped back, everyone retreating a few steps, watching closely. The rocket began to emit a hissing sound, slowly rising into the air. For a moment, it seemed everything was going as planned. The stabilizer fins kept the rocket on a straight path. However, suddenly, something went wrong. The rocket began to lose height and, before reaching its target, fell in the middle of the field, inert.

Silence dominated the scene. “Damn it,” Miguel muttered, frustrated. João, ever curious, hesitantly asked, “What happened, sir?”

“Problem with the fins,” Miguel replied. “They’re not stabilizing the rocket enough.”

Ruidahr, observing the scene, grunted, “Interesting...”

Elnar nodded, murmuring to himself, already thinking of possible solutions.

A few days passed, and Miguel, tireless, began making adjustments to the prototype. He worked on the fins, reinforcing the structure with new materials he had gathered nearby. The second test was ready. Everyone gathered again in the same field, waiting for the new result. This time, Miguel seemed more cautious. He lit the fuse, and once again everyone stepped back.

This time, the rocket shot up forcefully, cutting through the air more effectively. The fins worked better, and it seemed that Miguel had finally gotten it right. But when the rocket hit the ground, it simply didn’t explode. It lay there, motionless, as if all the effort had been in vain.

Lila, who had approached curiously, asked, “It was supposed to explode, right?”

“Yes,” Miguel replied, squinting at the object. “The detonator didn’t activate. Something didn’t work as it should have.”

Ricardo let out a light laugh but quickly realized Miguel was frustrated. “You’re almost there,” Ricardo said, trying to encourage the king. “That’s what these tests are for.”

Miguel simply nodded. He knew he was close, but the error bothered him. Elnar approached and placed a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. “Don’t give up, young king.”

A few more days of adjustments passed, and Miguel was finally ready for the third test. This time, he had more confidence in the rocket, after reviewing every detail countless times. The test field was once again filled with spectators. João was especially eager, and Lila couldn’t hide her curiosity, while John maintained his sharp and worried gaze.

Miguel lit the fuse and quickly stepped back. Everyone watched the rocket intently. This time, the hiss was strong, and the rocket shot up with speed, higher and faster than the previous ones. It cut through the air, flying in a straight line, its stabilizer fins working perfectly. When the rocket hit the ground, a sudden explosion lit up the field. The ground trembled beneath everyone’s feet, and shards of shrapnel flew through the air.

Vol2 Chapter 73

Lila walked along the wall, the cold wind tousling her dark hair. Beside her was João, the young servant always full of curiosity. He looked at her with a mix of respect and fascination. Ever since he had learned about her powers, João always seemed to have a question on the tip of his tongue, eager to know more about the magical world Lila seemed to master so easily.

“What does it feel like to use magic?” João suddenly asked, his eyes wide with wonder. There was admiration in his voice, but also innocent curiosity.

Lila paused for a moment, reflecting on the question. “I... don’t know exactly how to explain,” she replied, gazing at the horizon. “It’s like breathing. Something natural. It just happens.”

She extended her palm forward and, with a gentle gesture, conjured a small spark of light that danced in her hand like a tiny living flame. João took a step back, surprised, watching the magic with eyes shining in awe.

“Wow...” he whispered. “That’s amazing.”

Lila gave a slight smile, feeling the calm that magic always brought. But then, something interrupted the moment. Small snowflakes began to fall slowly around them. Both looked up at the sky, where dark clouds were already starting to cover the weak sun.

“Winter is coming…” João murmured, reaching out to catch a snowflake. Lila mimicked the gesture, letting a small flake rest on her palm. She watched it melt into water almost immediately, the cold touch sending a shiver through her.

Before they could speak further, one of the wall guards appeared, a stern expression on his face. “How many times have I told you two this place is dangerous? Get out of here!”

João gave a shy smile, pulling Lila by the arm. “Alright, we’re leaving.”

Lila cast one last glance at the sky, the snowflakes now falling more intensely. Both descended from the wall in silence, as the icy wind announced the start of a long winter.

---

In the grand hall, the flames of the torches cast dancing shadows on the stone walls as the meeting of leaders continued. The king of Ardia, a burly man seated on an ornate throne of gold and furs, listened impatiently. His scowl revealed the irritation of being there, knowing that internal problems pressed him more than ever. Beside him, the pope of the sacred kingdom, dressed in solemn robes and a golden crown adorned with sacred jewels, watched everyone’s reactions intently.

One of the leaders, a noble from a neighboring kingdom, leaned forward with a curious and disdainful expression, speaking in a low but audible voice: “King of Ardia, have you resolved that... rebellion in your barony yet?”

The king of Ardia snorted in anger, his round face turning red. “It’s all under control,” he replied in a biting tone, almost spitting the words. “That bastard who rebelled will be made an example of. I’ve already sent my troops; it’s only a matter of time.”

Some of the other leaders chuckled quietly, but the matter was soon set aside. The pope rose from his chair, raising a hand to call for everyone’s attention. His presence, almost divine to many in the room, brought instant silence.

“Gentlemen,” the pope began, his voice grave and powerful. “The reason we are gathered here today is not the rebellion in Ardia. There is a much greater threat than a mere human traitor. We have received information that these... beasts, the beast-men, are preparing to invade our territories.”

A murmur of indignation rippled through the hall. Some of the leaders frowned, murmuring among themselves with expressions of anger and scorn, while others laughed openly at the idea, finding the audacity of the beast-men ridiculous.

“Do these monsters really think we wouldn’t notice their movements?” The pope continued, his gaze firm as it swept across each leader present. “They are underestimating our vigilance, our faith, and the will of the gods.”

The king of Ardia, still simmering over his internal issues, abruptly stood, making the chair creak. “What do you propose then, Your Holiness?” he asked, trying to divert attention from his weakness and display false confidence. “What shall we do about these monsters?”

The pope looked at him for a moment before smiling coldly. “We will do what we should have done all along, Your Majesty. We will launch a crusade. Not only to stop this supposed invasion but to liberate and conquer the lands these filthy creatures still possess. It is the duty of the faithful; it is the will of the gods.”

One of the other leaders, a general from a northern kingdom, slammed his hand on the table in agreement. “We should have done this a long time ago! Their lands are an affront to our faith, a stain on the continent. It’s the last territory still governed by these creatures, and if we don’t crush them now, they will continue to be a threat.”

More murmurs of approval filled the hall, and all eyes turned to the pope, who nodded solemnly. “The crusade will be launched. We will conquer their lands, cleanse their impure souls, and the continent will finally be at peace.”

One by one, the leaders nodded in agreement, some already discussing strategies and how they could contribute with troops and supplies. The meeting ended with an agreement: preparations for the invasion would begin immediately, and the last kingdom of the beast-men would be crushed once and for all.

The king of Ardia, still brooding over his unresolved battle, only watched, reflecting on the imminent fate awaiting the beast-men while trying to ignore the fact that his own house was crumbling.

---

Miguel was in his office, focused on the sketches before him. He studied the compositions of the bricks being used in the road construction and the city’s expansion, but recently, an idea had intrigued him. He was considering adding sea salt to the concrete mixture, believing it could increase the materials' strength and durability. As he sketched new formulas and theories, a soft knock pulled him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with exhaustion.

A soldier entered, bowing respectfully and announcing, “Ruidahr, the lion, and Elnar, the stag, request an audience with you.”

Miguel nodded. “Let them in.”

The door opened, revealing the imposing figure of Ruidahr, tall and robust, with his ever-serious expression. Beside him was the agile Elnar, whose discreet posture never concealed his sharp intelligence. Both approached and greeted Miguel with respect.

Miguel smiled, gesturing to the chairs in front of him. “Make yourselves comfortable, my friends. Elnar, Ruidahr, what brings you here today?”

Before they could answer, Miguel turned to the stag and added, “First of all, Elnar, I want to thank you for your help with the brick factory construction. Your support was essential to moving forward so quickly.”

Ruidahr, with his usual directness, got straight to the point, not wasting time once Miguel finished speaking. “King Miguel, I bring grim news. The humans of the sacred kingdom have launched an offensive against our northern borders. Three cities have already fallen, and our kin are being massacred or taken as slaves. Thousands of refugees are fleeing to other cities in the kingdom.”

Miguel remained still for a moment, the weight of Ruidahr’s words sinking in. “I thought the beast-men would strike first... but the sacred kingdom moved faster.”

Ruidahr shook his head. “We don’t know the exact size of the force they’re mobilizing, but the losses are already great. I’ve come to tell you that I will depart with my men to try to contain the human advance.”

Elnar, always eager to contribute, intervened. “I’ll go with him. I’ll take the catapult designs, the saturation artillery, and everything we’ve developed with you.”

Miguel nodded, shaking both of their hands. “You have my full support. I’ll do whatever I can to assist your efforts, just as you helped me when I needed it.”

Ruidahr and Elnar bid their farewells, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of the decisions he would have to make in the coming days. He ran a hand over his face, his eyes weary from the pressure. Deep down, he longed for nothing but peace, but it seemed fate was continuously pushing him toward the battlefield.

He stood and walked to a nearby table, grabbed a bottle of wine, and filled a glass. Walking to the window, he watched the snow falling slowly, covering the city of Drakmoor in a white blanket. The cold was beginning to intensify, and winter was fast approaching.

As he contemplated the scene, he heard the door open behind him. When he turned, he saw Amelia entering quietly, with her usual air of confidence.

“You startled me,” Miguel said, turning to pour another glass of wine. He offered it to his sister, who accepted it with a slight smile.

“Is everything alright?” she asked casually, though she knew the answer was obvious.

“Another war, more bloodshed,” Miguel replied, taking a long sip. “It never seems to end.”

Amelia shrugged and took a sip of her wine. “Nothing in this world ends without a fight, Miguel. And you’re at the center of it all now.”

Miguel sighed and sat on the edge of the table, watching her with interest. “What are you planning, Amelia?”

She smiled, but her eyes were serious. “I’m leaving, Miguel. I’m going to seek allies. There are many people in the kingdom of Ardia who are dissatisfied with the current government.

“They would join us, just as I did.”

Miguel nodded, though concerned. “Be careful. I know you’re capable, but I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She laughed, a brief sound almost devoid of humor. “I’ll be fine, little brother. You don’t need to worry so much. After all, who would be able to kill Amelia so easily?”

Miguel smiled back, but his heart was still heavy. When Amelia left, he was alone once more, the silence filled only by the sound of snow falling outside. He took another sip of wine, fixing his gaze on the white landscape. War was everywhere, and he knew the road ahead would be long and arduous.

Vol2 Chapter 74

Miguel stood at the door of a modest house in the heart of the city. The winter cold was relentless, biting, and even with the long coats he and his guards wore, the freezing wind managed to penetrate their clothes, making their bones shiver. Snow was falling softly, covering the streets in a silent, white blanket. Beside him, Ricardo stood as well, also wrapped in a thick coat, his expression serious.

One of the guards opened the door to the house, hesitant. "Your Majesty, Ricardo, we thought it best for you to see this for yourselves."

Miguel entered, followed by Ricardo and a few guards. The interior of the house was simple, with old and worn furniture. The fireplace, which should have been warming the place, was out, cold like the rest of the space. Everything there seemed frozen in time. The wooden floor creaked beneath their feet as they slowly walked through the room. The smell of death was faint but unmistakable.

When they reached a small bedroom, the scene before them weighed heavily on Miguel’s heart. On a bed lay a couple, their faces pale and lifeless, embraced as if trying to keep each other warm. Between them, a small child, barely covered with a thin blanket, also dead, lying on her side as if asleep. The silence in the room was oppressive.

Miguel stood still, unable to say anything for a moment. The cold he felt now seemed to come from within, something deeper than the mere winter chill. He took a deep breath and approached the bed, looking at the child’s frozen hands.

"It shouldn’t be like this," Miguel murmured, still gazing at the scene in sadness.

Ricardo, beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder. "We can’t let this continue, Your Majesty. We’ve already faced too many losses."

Miguel nodded, still staring at the lifeless family in front of him. He turned, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "We must do something to prevent more families from dying like this." He wiped his face, trying to push away the growing despair inside him.

One of the soldiers, standing at the door, stepped closer and spoke in a low tone, almost as if confessing. "Unfortunately, Your Majesty, this happens every winter. In the villages and here in the city... we always lose some people to the cold. There aren’t enough blankets, food, or warmth."

Ricardo crossed his arms, his expression hardening. "This can no longer be accepted. There’s something we can do, Your Majesty. More shelters, more supplies... perhaps workshops to produce more blankets and cold-weather clothes. We need to better prepare our city for winter."

Miguel agreed with a nod. "We need to act quickly, Ricardo. We can’t keep going like this. No child should die like this, without hope, in the midst of a relentless winter."

He gave one last glance at the family on the bed, his expression somber. "Let’s go. We need to fix this."

As they left the house, Miguel felt the weight of responsibility increase. The solutions to the problems that arose in Drakmoor seemed to grow by the day, and with winter tightening its grip, he knew he would have to act swiftly to save as many lives as possible.

Miguel walked back to the mansion in silence, the muffled sound of footsteps on the snow the only noise around. The cold wind cut his face, but he barely felt the frost. His mind was occupied, wrapped in a fog of guilt he couldn’t shake. The image of that dead family, especially the small child, wouldn’t leave his mind. He could hardly believe that something like that had happened under his leadership.

How did I not foresee this? he asked himself, the weight of his own failure beginning to crush him. The winter was severe, that much was obvious, but he should have prepared better. He should have ensured that everyone had what they needed to survive. More shelters, more blankets, more food... He should have thought of all this much earlier. Now, lives had been lost, and it would be marked on him like a scar that would never fade.

As he walked, Miguel looked around, seeing the snow-covered houses. How many other families might be facing the same fate? How many children like that one were still in danger, cold and hungry, struggling to survive each freezing night? He clenched his fists, feeling the frustration and guilt boil inside him.

I should have done more. I failed them.

He knew that the work of protecting his people wasn’t just about fighting armies and building walls. There were much more silent enemies, like the cold and hunger, that also needed to be fought. And he, as a leader, should have foreseen that.

As he returned to the mansion, Miguel made a silent promise to himself: he wouldn’t let more families die like that. He would do whatever it took to ensure the people of Drakmoor had what they needed to face the winter. Even if it meant working day and night, without rest. He couldn’t change what had already happened, but he could prevent it from happening again.

---

Miguel was in him office, pacing back and forth while holding a glass of wine. The dark liquid swirled gently inside the glass with each step, but he didn’t seem interested in drinking. His mind was elsewhere, searching for a solution to the problem that tormented him. The silence of the room, broken only by the crackling of the embers in the fireplace, seemed to echo the tension in his thoughts.

He paused for a moment in front of the fireplace, staring at the flames that burned brightly, warming the room against the intense cold outside. His eyes fixed on the embers, almost hypnotized by the orange glow emanating from them. And then, a simple question crossed his mind: why don’t the villagers’ houses have fireplaces like this?

The humble homes of the people of Drakmoor were cold and often lacked proper heating systems. This now seemed obvious to him, something he should have noticed before. The fire from the mansion’s fireplace provided a comfort that was missing in the wooden and stone houses of the villagers. If only they could have fireplaces or some other type of efficient system to keep their homes warm…

He took a long sip of the wine, feeling the warm liquid flow down his throat, but the temporary relief didn’t dissipate the guilt. He continued to pace around the room, the sound of his boots on the stone floor echoing through the space. It was a problem he needed to solve, and quickly, before more families suffered.

“Damn winters,” he muttered to himself, frustrated. The cold was relentless, but he needed to be even more relentless. Perhaps if he could organize a distribution of portable braziers or create some kind of project to build fireplaces in the villagers’ homes, it would help. Or maybe he should see if there were other, simpler heating methods, something that could be implemented quickly.

Miguel stopped pacing for a moment and looked at the door. He was expecting John, the defense secretary, to arrive at any moment. He needed answers, information about how the people’s homes were built. Maybe John could help identify possible solutions. John always had a practical view of things and could bring some insight that Miguel hadn’t yet considered.

The crackling of the wood in the fireplace brought him back to the present. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the restlessness he felt. Everything seemed like a race against time, and he knew that every decision he made now could save lives.

Miguel looked out the window, lost in thought, admiring the snow-covered landscape. The white hue that dominated the scene seemed to offer a momentary peace, but not enough to ease the weight of his worries. The cold was unforgiving, and the memory of the family that had perished wouldn’t leave his mind. He knew he had to do something.

A light knock interrupted his thoughts. He turned and, with a quick gesture, indicated that whoever was on the other side of the door could come in. It was John, his defense secretary. The man entered the room, bowing respectfully before greeting Miguel.

“Your Majesty,” John said formally, inclining his head. Miguel returned the greeting with a nod, appreciating the man’s punctuality and seriousness, but feeling uncomfortable with the constant reverence.

“John, please, have a seat,” Miguel said, pointing to a chair near the fireplace. The warmth of the flame seemed welcome to both of them, still wrapped in the cold that dominated the outside.

After a brief moment of silence, Miguel got straight to the point, anxious about the idea that plagued him. “John, I’ve been thinking about the villagers’ homes and why only this mansion has such an efficient chimney system. Do you know why the rest of the city doesn’t have something similar?”

John, still warming his hands near the fire, thought for a moment before replying. “Your Majesty, I don’t know much about it. What I do know is that the old baron, as soon as he began to govern, requested the installation of this chimney system in the mansion. It was something he did right at the start. The person responsible for the work… if I recall correctly, he lives in the capital. I think there was never an effort to expand this type of system to the people’s homes.”

Miguel nodded, reflecting on John’s words. It was a detail he hadn’t considered, but now it made perfect sense. The old baron had his priorities, but they weren’t the same as Miguel’s. While the people continued living in rudimentary conditions, the baron had invested in his own comfort. It was typical of the old nobility.

“I see, John. That’s all I needed to know. Thank you.” Miguel dismissed him with a nod, his eyes returning to the window as the secretary stood and exited.

The door closed with a soft click, and Miguel remained where he was, standing with his back to the fireplace and his eyes fixed on the outside. The wind blew outside, scattering small snowflakes through the air, while he pondered solutions.

Now, more than ever, he knew he had to act.

Vol2 Chapter 75

Miguel was sitting in his office, watching the soft glow of the flames in the fireplace. The comforting warmth seemed in total contrast to the brutal cold outside. He took one last sip of wine, the warm liquid sliding down his throat, before setting the glass aside and staring at the sheet of paper in front of him. He had to do something to protect the people of Drakmoor from the relentless cold, especially after seeing that family who had died from the ice.

He picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and began to scribble the first lines of what would be an emergency project for the city: a chimney made of bricks and clay, simple, cheap, and efficient, which could be quickly installed in homes.

The base of the chimney would be made of bricks, the same ones being mass-produced for road construction and other projects. This would speed up construction since the material was readily available. He sketched the foundation, forming a compact square that would serve as the main structure. Miguel wanted the project to be modular—something that could be adapted for different house sizes without losing efficiency.

The inner walls of the chimney would be lined with clay. He knew that clay had excellent heat retention and distribution properties, which would help keep houses warm for longer. It would also withstand the high temperatures that burning wood could generate, preventing cracks and ensuring the system's durability. At the top, a simple iron grate system would be installed to prevent sparks or embers from escaping and causing fires.

Miguel made a detailed sketch of the most important part: the ventilation duct. This duct would allow smoke to exhaust but also be designed to permit some heat circulation throughout the house. He recalled some rudimentary solutions he had seen on Earth, where chimneys were built to heat not only the room they were in but also the hallways and other rooms. He drew the duct with a clever incline, ensuring that heat would spread through as many areas as possible before being expelled by the chimney.

On the outside, the top of the chimney would have a small stone or metal canopy to prevent snow and rain from entering and extinguishing the fire. The canopy would be simple but efficient, something that could be quickly made by the city's blacksmiths.

Additionally, Miguel wanted to ensure the chimney would be easy to maintain. He designed a cleaning opening at the base, allowing ashes to be removed without dismantling the structure.

Satisfied with the progress of the project, Miguel added one final detail: a modular installation system. Each house would have a reinforced brick base allowing for the quick installation of the chimney. This would ensure that the city's workers could install several chimneys in a single day without making significant changes to the homes.

Miguel looked at the finished drawing. It was simple, practical, and most importantly, it could save lives. The chimney would be a temporary solution; he knew that. In his mind, he was already planning a complete overhaul of the houses with better, more advanced heating systems. But for now, this would be enough to prevent further tragedies.

With a satisfied sigh, Miguel set the quill aside and looked at the sketch in front of him. A faint sense of pride washed over him, and he allowed himself a smile. Grabbing the wine bottle, he refilled his glass and took a sip, getting up to walk toward the window.

Outside, the snow still fell in silence, covering the city with a white blanket. The cold remained intense, but Miguel knew he was doing everything he could to protect his people. He looked at the sleeping city, feeling that, little by little, he was building something bigger—something that could truly change the fate of Drakmoor.

---

Miguel was stunned. The news of another person's death due to the cold hit him like a blow. An elderly man, alone in his home, unable to withstand the freezing temperatures, had passed away the night before. Miguel felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He knew something needed to be done, and fast.

Rising from his chair in the office, he looked at Ricardo and asked him to come along. "It's time to put the chimney project into action," Miguel said, determination in his voice. He couldn’t allow more lives to be lost to the harsh winter.

A week passed, and the first chimney prototype was finally ready. Miguel was eager to see the result. He, Ricardo, and a few soldiers loaded the chimney onto a cart and took it to the home of a soldier who had volunteered to test the installation. The soldier lived with his wife and young daughter, and Miguel knew this test could make a difference for many other families in Drakmoor.

Upon arriving at the house, the team began working immediately. First, they unloaded the chimney components made of bricks and clay. Miguel, watching every detail closely, saw how the structure was carefully brought inside the house. Then, the team began preparing the spot where the chimney would be installed. They marked the spot on the ceiling where an opening needed to be made for the chimney pipe to pass through. The soldiers worked together to open the roof, being meticulous to avoid causing structural damage to the house.

After the opening was made, the clay pipe was carefully inserted and adjusted. The bricks were stacked to form the base and walls of the chimney, and the clay was used to seal the joints, ensuring that the heat wouldn’t escape and that the structure was firm. Miguel observed every step with attention, seeing how the project he had designed was coming to life. The soldiers continued working, placing the canopy on top of the chimney to protect against snow and rain, as Miguel had planned.

After several hours of meticulous work, the installation was complete. Now it was time to test the chimney. With the wood ready, one of the soldiers lit the fire in the house’s fireplace. Slowly, the smoke began to rise through the pipe, exiting through the chimney top, while the heat spread throughout the house. Miguel and Ricardo exchanged looks of satisfaction.

The soldier’s young daughter, curious, ran to her father, who stood near the fire. With a smile on her face, she hugged him, feeling the comforting warmth that now filled the house. The soldier’s wife also approached, embracing him and thanking Miguel with her eyes. The soldier, emotional, looked at Miguel and, with a voice full of gratitude, said, “Thank you, my king... you saved my family.”

Miguel, touched by the scene, humbly replied, “I did nothing but my duty as king. That is my responsibility.”

Ricardo, standing nearby, watched the scene with admiration. Miguel, still moved, turned to him and said, “We’re ready to begin production for the other houses in the city. We can’t waste any more time.” He knew this was just the first of many chimneys that would need to be installed to protect the people from the cold. And as he watched the smoke rise from the chimney, he was already thinking about how to distribute these structures to the distant villages in the kingdom.

The fight against the winter had only begun, but with each chimney, Miguel felt he was one step closer to protecting his people.

The week that followed was intense and full of challenges for Miguel and his team. After the success of the first chimney prototype, he quickly organized large-scale production. He knew time was a cruel enemy. The temperatures continued to drop, and the number of deaths from the cold was becoming alarming.

Miguel gathered nearly all the resources at his disposal. The production of chimneys became an absolute priority. Bricks, clay, and iron, which had been used for other projects, were redirected to the manufacturing of the structures. The scarcity of materials was noticeable, but Miguel knew that saving lives was more urgent than anything else. He allocated dozens of men to work exclusively on chimney production, from blacksmiths to carpenters to bricklayers, all collaborating to ensure as many homes as possible were equipped before more tragedies occurred.

The sound of hammers striking bricks, the heat from the furnaces where the clay was molded, and the collective effort of the workers filled the air with an atmosphere of urgency. Miguel frequently passed through the makeshift workshops, overseeing progress and ensuring everything was running efficiently. He barely rested. If he wasn’t checking production, he was coordinating the soldiers, who were now actively involved in chimney installations across the city.

The soldiers, who had once been in combat, now found themselves on a new mission: saving lives in another way. They carried the chimneys to the homes, installing them with the same determination with which they would fight in a war. Each chimney installed was a victory. One less home vulnerable to the relentless cold. Miguel felt a small sense of satisfaction seeing the progress, but that feeling was quickly crushed by new grim news.

At the end of the week, Miguel received another blow. One of the soldiers, with a serious face and a heavy voice, came to him with a new report of victims. "Another couple, sir. Young, no children yet… And an elderly couple also couldn’t withstand the cold." Miguel felt his heart tighten. He knew that each death was a failure, a life he couldn’t save in time. Every time these reports arrived, he blamed himself, feeling he could have acted faster, organized resources better, anticipated this tragedy more thoroughly.

He isolated himself for a few moments after the news, pacing in circles in his office, his mind racing for a solution to accelerate production even further. But materials were limited, and the city was at risk.

With a deep breath, Miguel returned to reality. He knew that, as painful as it was, he couldn’t allow himself to be defeated. There were more homes to equip, more lives to save. He ordered the soldiers to redouble their efforts, to work day and night if necessary, so that no one else would perish from the cold.

The winter was giving no respite, but Miguel was determined not to leave his people at the mercy of the deadly temperatures. More chimneys were built, more homes protected. But the battle against the cold was far from over.

Vol3 chapter 76

Miguel was sitting in his office, surrounded by a pile of old documents he had retrieved from the former baron's archives. The fireplace crackled softly, casting dancing shadows on the walls as he skimmed through the yellowed pages. A glass of wine rested in his right hand, almost empty, and he occasionally raised it to take small sips, trying to ease the tension pressing on his chest.

The documents he was reading discussed the climate and seasons in Drakmoor and throughout the duchy. It was something he hadn’t paid much attention to until now. He had always been more focused on survival and managing the realm, but now, with the relentless cold taking lives, he felt compelled to understand the environment he was in better.

Suddenly, something caught his attention. He stopped reading and widened his eyes. “Two years?” he murmured to himself, almost incredulous. The document indicated that, on average, winter in this region lasted up to two full years. Two long seasons of intense cold, constant snow, and short days, where sunlight was almost nonexistent.

Miguel leaned back in his chair, still absorbing the information. He knew winter was harsh, but two years? He hadn’t imagined that the climate in this world could be so extreme. He raised the glass of wine to his lips and took a large gulp, feeling the bitter liquid slide down his throat as he tried to process this new revelation.

He then got up and walked to the window. Outside, the wind was whistling softly, carrying with it small flakes of snow that fell incessantly. The city was covered in a white blanket, the streets nearly deserted as people sought refuge from the cold inside their homes. Miguel looked up at the sky, and there it was: this world’s moon, with its peculiar ring surrounding it, glowing softly in the dark firmament. Every time he looked at this moon, he felt even further away from Earth, from his old life. Everything here was strange and different, and now he understood that even the climate followed its own rules.

The ring around the moon intrigued him. He didn’t know much about the geology or astronomy of this world, but he had always suspected that this ring of rocks or ice had something to do with the extreme weather cycles. Perhaps what caused these prolonged winters was beyond common understanding. But at the same time, he knew it was something he had to deal with. Two years of winter meant two years of constant struggle against the cold, hunger, and death.

Miguel ran a hand over his face, trying to organize his thoughts. He felt the need to understand more about this world, about what surrounded him and how he could predict what was to come. Maybe there was some clue in the old documents, something about how the previous barons faced such long winters. But for now, all he knew was that the challenge ahead was greater than he had imagined.

With a heavy sigh, Miguel returned to the table, refilled the wine glass, and looked at the papers before him. Time was running out. He needed to find a way to keep his people safe during this endless winter. As the fire burned in the background, he prepared himself for the difficult battle that lay ahead, not against men or armies, but against the very nature of this cold and unforgiving world.

---

A year had passed since Miguel began facing the harsh winter that seemed endless. He was sitting in his office, looking at the plans for the new houses he had been carefully designing. Dark circles marked his face deeply, and his grown, unkempt beard was a reflection of how exhausting that year had been. The city of Drakmoor, now partially covered in snow, was transforming. Even amidst the pain and losses, progress was visible on every corner.

Unfortunately, not all the hard work was enough to prevent tragedies. The relentless cold had claimed the lives of 80 people over the year. Miguel couldn’t shake off the weight of responsibility he felt. Although hunger was no longer an immediate threat, the issue of the cold seemed more complicated than any battle he had faced before. The chimneys he had designed were installed in almost every house, but for many, it wasn’t enough. Even with doubled efforts, the extreme temperatures had defeated some families.

Still, there were advances. The brick roads Miguel had dreamed of were 60% complete, connecting much of the city and providing a safe and stable route, even under the snow. Each meter of road was a victory against the hostile terrain and the challenges the winter presented. But these roads weren’t just transport routes; they were also symbols of hope, that the future could be better for everyone living in Drakmoor.

Miguel had devoted himself intensely to the new house designs. He knew the chimneys were a temporary solution and that he needed something more permanent. Inspired by the old Roman style, he designed homes that could withstand the prolonged winter and retain heat longer. These houses used the **hypocaust** method, an underground heating system that channeled hot air through small chambers under the floor and into the walls. The fire would be lit in a special room, and the heat would spread throughout the house, providing a comfortable environment, even on the coldest nights.

The walls were made of special bricks, crafted with the improved concrete Miguel had developed. They were thicker, designed to retain heat longer. Additionally, he decided to use small amounts of glass to create windows, allowing natural light to enter during the day, something essential in a winter that seemed eternal. Every detail had been thought out precisely. The height of the ceilings, the location of the fireplaces, even the orientation of the houses in relation to the sun had been calculated to maximize heat retention.

Miguel sighed as he looked at the final sketch of these houses. He knew he wouldn’t be able to build them all immediately, but he had already started constructing the first ones for the most needy families. As resources became available, he planned to expand the project to the entire city and eventually to the surrounding villages. Even so, the cold was a formidable enemy, and the losses still echoed in his mind.

Moreover, the kingdom's politics had changed significantly in recent months. His sister Amelia had returned with unexpected news: two neighboring baronies, also neglected by the kingdom of Ardia and the duchy, had decided to join the kingdom of Drakmoor. The leaders of these baronies, tired of oppression and abandonment, saw in Miguel and his actions an example of governance. They believed that, under his rule, they had a chance to prosper.

Miguel was surprised by this turn of events. Although he knew other baronies were dissatisfied with the duchy and the kingdom, he hadn’t imagined that anyone would risk joining him so soon. The meeting with the leaders was scheduled for a few days, and he knew he would need all his political cunning to ensure that this alliance was solid and beneficial for all. Amelia's achievements showed that she, like him, had matured greatly. The pain, betrayal, and bloodshed of the past years had transformed them into leaders, shaped by adversity.

As he thought about what was to come, Miguel felt the weight of the past months accumulate on his shoulders. He was tired. Much more tired than he had ever been. His body ached, and his mind felt exhausted. He looked at the glass of wine on his desk, which had accompanied him every night. This year had changed him. He was no longer the inexperienced young man who had been thrown into this world. Now, he was a king, with battle scars and the weight of responsibility etched into every line of his face. Despite this, he knew he had to continue, for the sake of his people.

Besides the political issues and construction projects, another new development had emerged recently: Lysandra, the stealthy fox, had begun training the young mage Lila. It had only been two weeks since the training started, but it was already clear that Lysandra possessed vast knowledge, not only in magic but also in the art of stealth and espionage. She was teaching Lila not only to control her magical abilities but also to be agile, silent, and to observe and analyze her surroundings. Miguel was intrigued by Lila's progress, which showed surprising determination for such a young girl.

The relationship between the two was deepening. Lysandra saw in Lila an untapped potential, something that could be used not only to protect Drakmoor but to change the course of future battles. And Miguel, though wary of Lysandra's somewhat reserved nature, knew he could trust her, just as he had during previous battles.

As winter advanced, Drakmoor endured. The deaths from the cold still haunted Miguel, but he knew he was doing everything he could to protect those under his care. The houses, the roads, the political alliances — everything was being shaped so that Drakmoor could emerge as a strong and independent kingdom.

Miguel looked at his reflection in the window. His thick beard and tired eyes showed how much he had changed. The man now staring back at him was not the same who arrived in this world. He knew the journey was far from over, but at least now, he had something to fight for.

Vol3 Chapter 77

Miguel advanced along the snow-covered road, his heavy coat billowing in the cold wind as he approached the prison that had been constructed over the past year. The structure, built with bricks and wood, was located in a secluded area of the city, far from the constant traffic and the sound of hammers and saws shaping the new kingdom of Drakmoor. The prison, though simple, was sturdy, designed to house those captured during the second battle that sealed Drakmoor's independence.

The wind whistled around him, carrying with it the distant sounds of the city. Miguel's mind was heavy as he walked, reflecting on all that had happened. Over the past year, many of the prisoners who had fought against him were put to work on the city's construction. It was a decision he made not just out of necessity but also because he believed everyone deserved a second chance. Some of the prisoners, showing remorse and good behavior, had already been released, reintegrating into the civil life of Drakmoor.

As he neared the iron gates of the prison, Miguel could see the guards on duty lining up in respectful positions. He nodded briefly at them, maintaining a steady pace until he reached the inner courtyard. There, the cold seemed even sharper, but Miguel was accustomed to it. The responsibility weighed on his shoulders, but he had never shied away from what needed to be done.

As he passed by the cells, he saw familiar faces, men he had faced in battle, but who now looked at him with a mixture of respect and apprehension. Miguel stopped in front of a more isolated cell, where Erondir, the warrior who had proven to be one of the most formidable enemies, was imprisoned. Erondir, even after months of confinement, remained in a firm posture. His beard had grown dense, as had his hair, but his body remained strong, a testament to the fact that time had not weakened his resolve.

Upon seeing Miguel approach, Erondir slowly rose from where he had been sitting. He crossed the small cell in a few steps, stopping in front of the iron bars that separated them. His eyes, though tired, still shone with the intensity of a man who had never lost the spirit of battle. They stared at each other for a long moment, the sound of the wind outside being the only noise to break the heavy silence between them.

Miguel kept his gaze fixed on Erondir, perceiving the strength and pride that still emanated from him. There was something respectable about this man, something that made him deserving of consideration. He had fought with honor, and even as a prisoner, he had never lost his dignity. The king of Drakmoor knew that the time had come to decide Erondir's fate, and this decision weighed as much as the others he had to make to keep his kingdom standing.

Erondir, for his part, looked at Miguel with a veiled curiosity. He had not expected a visit from the king, especially not after so much time. Words were not necessary at that moment, but the tension between the two men, a king and a prisoner, was palpable. Both knew that the conversation that would follow could once again change the course of their lives.

Erondir, with a relaxed yet still imposing posture, looked at Miguel and said, "You seem well, Miguel. More mature, more... with an air of a king." His voice, still laden with the firmness of a warrior, carried an unexpected tone of admiration.

Miguel smiled slightly, his lips curving in an almost imperceptible but genuine gesture. Beside him, Ricardo and Amelia observed the exchange of words between the two men, each with their own thoughts about this scene that, months before, would have been impossible to imagine.

"I've enjoyed our conversations over the past year," Erondir continued, crossing his arms, without taking his eyes off Miguel. "At first, it was difficult. I confess I didn't expect... well, this." He made a sweeping gesture, referring not just to the prison but to the relationship that had developed between them. The mutual respect had gradually emerged, born from the exchanged words and the shared understanding between two soldiers who, despite their differences, fought for what they believed in.

Miguel nodded, acknowledging the truth in Erondir's words. "Many of your men have already been released," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Some returned to their families in Ardia, others chose to live here, to start anew in Drakmoor." Miguel paused, reflecting on how those prisoners, who had once been his enemies, now contributed to the construction of his kingdom. "Only a few dozen remain, including you."

Erondir, with an expression that mixed gratitude and surprise, lowered his head slightly in a sign of respect. "I appreciate the treatment you gave my men. I must admit, if it were the other way around... I wouldn't have done the same. I never had to consider such things."

Amelia, who had been observing in silence, intervened with a disdainful smile. "I'm learning many things from my brother, Erondir. But if it were up to me, you and your men would have been hanged long ago." Her voice carried a mix of sincerity and provocation, not hiding the resentment she still felt.

Miguel placed a hand on Amelia's shoulder, a gesture of calm and control. "Relax a bit, sister," he said softly, like someone advising a friend to calm down after an argument. He knew that Amelia was still struggling with her own shadows, but he also recognized that her presence and support were crucial for the new kingdom they were building together.

Erondir let out a short laugh, appreciating Amelia's frankness. "I understand, Amelia. Some time ago, I would have thought exactly like you." He turned to Ricardo, who stood a few steps behind Miguel, but close enough to observe and intervene if necessary.

Ricardo, always observant, made an observation that surprised Erondir. "You are a great swordsman, Erondir. You could serve the forces of the new kingdom of Drakmoor." His voice was firm but carried a genuine invitation, something Erondir did not expect to hear.

The surprise was evident in Erondir's eyes. He frowned, confused. "So, this means... that I will be freed?" He looked directly at Miguel, waiting for confirmation or explanation, still trying to understand the intentions behind that offer.

Miguel remained silent for a moment, looking into Erondir's eyes, letting the doubt hang in the air, while the cold wind outside brought with it the sense that something big was about to change.

---

Erondir sighed deeply upon hearing Miguel’s response, as if an immense weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Miguel, with the serenity of someone who understood the value of freedom, declared that Erondir and the men still under his custody were free to go.

“I thank you,” Erondir said, running his hand through his disheveled, long hair, which had grown considerably during his time in prison.

Miguel nodded to two guards, who immediately opened Erondir’s cell. One of the guards handed him clean clothes, something simple, but that represented a return to the dignity lost during his imprisonment.

Miguel, always attentive to the details that shaped a man’s character, calmly asked, “And now, Erondir? What do you plan to do?”

Erondir sighed again, this time with a mix of relief and sadness. “I’d love to stay… but I have someone waiting for me at home. And some matters to settle in the kingdom… or I did.” His voice carried the weight of someone who had left part of his life in limbo.

Miguel had never questioned Erondir about his personal life during the long conversations they had over the past year. But upon hearing this, a hint of surprise and, in a way, emotion, arose in his heart. “You have a wife, Erondir?”

Erondir nodded with a tired smile. “Yes, and when I was summoned by the king, she was in the last month of pregnancy.”

Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the gravity of the situation. “I see… Your family needs you.” He paused for a moment, weighing the words he was about to say. “You are free to go, Erondir. Take care of your family.”

However, before concluding the conversation, Miguel added, looking directly into Erondir’s eyes, “But know that you are welcome to return, whenever you wish. Your family will be received with open arms here.” With these words, Miguel extended his hand to Erondir.

Erondir looked at Miguel, somewhat surprised by the generosity of the gesture, but without hesitation, he accepted the handshake. It was a sign of mutual respect, something that transcended battles and the differences that had separated them.

After that, the guards left, allowing Erondir to change in privacy. Other prisoners were released shortly after, following in Erondir’s footsteps, their faces expressing a mix of gratitude and relief.

Miguel, accompanied by Ricardo and Amélia, walked back to the mansion through the white mantle of snow covering Drakmoor. The cold was biting, but Miguel hardly felt it, lost in his thoughts.

“Do you think it’s right to let them go?” Ricardo asked, the concern in his voice revealing the sense of responsibility that always accompanied him.

Amélia, always direct, added, “They wouldn’t do the same for us, Miguel. Letting these men go could be a mistake.”

Miguel smiled, a smile full of understanding, but also conviction. “I don’t care,” he replied, his voice calm but firm. “I don’t have the right to take away these men’s freedom. Many of them were just following orders… They have families, just like Erondir. And when this war is over, everything here will be shared. There’s nothing to hide.”

With these words, Miguel ended the conversation, making it clear that, to him, humanity and dignity were non-negotiable values, even in times of war.

Later, Miguel was in his office, the warmth of the fireplace bringing a comfort he knew many still didn’t have. With a glass of wine in hand, he sat at the table, his eyes resting on a letter from Elnar, the deer. He took a final sip before opening the letter, preparing himself to read the words of someone who, even from afar, was still a crucial part of his plans for the future of Drakmoor.

Vol3 Chapter 78

Miguel was sitting at his desk, his fingers resting on the edge of the letter he had just opened. The paper was rough to the touch, as if it had been handled many times before finally reaching his hands. He took one last sip of wine, the red liquid slowly trickling down his throat, warming him from within as the snow continued to fall outside, painting the world in a white, silent mantle. He took a deep breath and began to read.

Elnar's words leaped off the page with remarkable clarity. The handwriting was firm and precise, reflecting the meticulous mind of its author. Elnar began the letter with an update on the technological advances he and the beastmen had achieved over the past year, using Miguel's inventions as a foundation.

“I have been working tirelessly, adapting and improving many of the inventions you taught us,” Elnar wrote. “The catapult with explosives, for example, has become a formidable weapon, capable of turning the tide of a battle when used correctly. The crossbows you designed have also proven to be of great value. We've developed a more compact version, a hand crossbow that can be reloaded and fired again in just five seconds. This advancement has given our archers a significant advantage in combat.”

Miguel couldn't help but smile, feeling a twinge of pride. He remembered the hard work he had put into developing those weapons, and now, seeing his creations not only used but improved upon, was a reward in itself. He continued reading.

“We've also improved the iron casting process, using the technique you taught us, adding coal during the process. This resulted in stronger, more durable iron, ideal for making weapons and armor. Furthermore, the launching system for the bamboo ‘rockets’ has been optimized. Now, we can unleash a barrage of projectiles more efficiently, causing even more damage to the enemy.”

Miguel paused for a moment, imagining the battlefields covered by a storm of makeshift rockets, tearing through the night sky and illuminating the darkness with devastating explosions. He could almost hear the sound of screams and the thundering impacts, a deadly symphony played by the invisible hand of war.

Elnar continued to describe the situation on the front lines. “During this year, the combined human kingdoms managed to expand their control over 20% of the beastmen's territory. The first four months were the hardest, with human forces advancing rapidly and causing great devastation. This created a wave of refugees, forcing many to abandon their homes in search of safety. However, after this initial advance, the war turned into a battle of attrition. Thanks to your inventions and the improvements we've made, we've been able to halt the enemy's advance and, in some cases, even reclaim some of the lost territory.”

Miguel felt a weight on his chest as he read those words. Even with all the progress, the reality of war was always grim. He knew that, although the numbers were in their favor, every inch of reclaimed land came at the cost of lives, both beastmen and humans. Elnar proceeded with an optimistic yet cautious note.

“The beastmen are fighting well, and with the determination we've seen, I don't believe it will be long before all our territories are reclaimed. We are using all our forces, and currently, more than 70,000 fighters are in the field. We believe the humans number twice that, but we don't have an exact estimate.”

Miguel frowned. Seventy thousand was an impressive number, but against double that? Victory was far from guaranteed. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting for a moment as he tried to imagine what those battles could mean for the future of Drakmoor.

Elnar ended the letter with a tone of uncertainty. “The war continues, and we all hope that soon we can turn the tide definitively. But we are aware that if we fail, the humans will not stop. They will continue to advance, and Drakmoor will be the next target. We must be prepared for the worst, even if victory seems within our reach.”

Miguel finished reading the letter, folding it carefully before placing it back on the table. His eyes turned to the window. The snow continued to fall silently, covering everything with its cold, indifferent layer. He took another sip of wine, tasting the bitterness mixed with a hint of fear.

If the human kingdoms defeated the beastmen, he knew that Drakmoor would be in grave danger. And what was even more unsettling: the fact that, throughout this year, the kingdom of Ardia had not launched an attack against him. This deeply worried him. He wondered what his brother might be planning and why he had waited so long.

The silence of the snow outside seemed to intensify his thoughts, making him feel that the peace he so desired was still distant. Once again, Miguel realized that in this cruel and unpredictable world, he would have to fight for every bit of hope.

---

Miguel was in a spacious room inside the mansion, a space he had set aside exclusively for his training. The winter outside was relentless, but inside that room, the air was pleasant, warmed by the system he had designed himself. The heat enveloped the environment, creating a comfortable atmosphere, far from the snow and biting cold outside.

Shirtless, Miguel was completely focused, his defined muscles glistening with sweat as he trained with a sword against a wooden dummy. Each movement was precise, every strike delivered with strength and determination. The sound of the steel blade cutting through the air and striking the dummy reverberated through the room, creating an almost hypnotic rhythm.

He moved with agility, his legs firm, his body leaning forward in an offensive stance. The blows varied between diagonal cuts and quick thrusts, followed by defensive maneuvers where he spun the sword in his hands, blocking imaginary attacks. Sometimes, he would pause for a moment, just to catch his breath, his eyes fixed on the dummy in front of him as if it were a real opponent.

John, the young servant, and Lila, the little mage, were sitting in a corner of the room, watching the training with admiration. John was especially enthralled. He had never seen anyone as dedicated and skilled with a sword as Miguel. Every time Miguel paused to catch his breath, John noticed the determination in his eyes, a flame that did not extinguish even in the face of the adversities they were facing.

After a long training session, Miguel delivered a final blow to the wooden dummy, a precise thrust that embedded the sword deeply. He stood still for a moment, his muscles tense, his eyes fixed on the dummy, before finally stepping back, taking a deep breath. Sweat was dripping down his chest and back, and he felt his entire body pulsing from the exertion.

John, who was holding a water jug, quickly approached. Miguel took the jug and brought it to his lips, taking long sips, feeling the cold water slide down his throat and refresh his exhausted body. He handed the jug back to John and gave him a tired smile.

“You're incredible, sir,” John remarked, admiringly, looking at Miguel with bright eyes.

Miguel laughed, a soft and friendly laugh, and ran his hand through his sweat-drenched hair. “Thank you, John,” he replied, still catching his breath. “But with enough training, you can become strong too. Maybe one day I'll train you.”

John smiled at the prospect, imagining himself one day wielding a sword with the same skill that Miguel demonstrated. He was filled with determination, resolved to follow in his master's footsteps.

Lila, who had remained silent during the training, watched Miguel with curious eyes. She was not a warrior, but she could sense the willpower emanating from him, something she also aspired to have in her own magical abilities.

Miguel looked at the two young people and felt a wave of responsibility. It wasn't just for himself that he fought, but for all those who depended on him, who saw in him a hope for the future. He knew that every drop of sweat, every strike, was part of a greater effort to protect what he had built and those under his protection.

After a brief moment of silence, Miguel stood up, picked up the sword, and placed it back on the stand. He turned to John and Lila, giving them a nod. “Let's go, we have a lot of work to do,” he said, the determination clear in his voice.

The three of them left the room, leaving behind the wooden dummy marked by the strikes, a testament to Miguel's commitment to becoming stronger and stronger to face whatever the future might bring.

Vol3 Chapter 79

The sky was covered with heavy, dark clouds, as if even nature mourned the death of the duke. A cold wind blew across the mansion grounds, gently swaying the leafless trees. Silence prevailed, broken only by the sound of the few attendees' footsteps as they made their way to the family cemetery. The atmosphere was somber, heavy, laden with the grief that weighed on the hearts of those who knew the late duke.

Aurelio, the only son present, stood beside his father's coffin, which now rested in a stone sarcophagus adorned with the symbols of his house. His face was serious, almost expressionless, as he observed the ceremony, not letting any emotion show. He wore immaculate black attire, contrasting with his pale skin.

The church's mage priest, a tall and slender man with a severe expression and piercing eyes, approached the coffin. He raised his hands, drawing the attention of the few nobles and officers present. His voice rang out strong and clear, laden with the gravity of the occasion.

"Today, we gather to pay our final respects to the great Duke Belmont Vonmain, a man whose bravery and wisdom were essential to the glory of this kingdom," the priest began, his voice resonating in the cold air. "He was a fearless warrior, who fought countless battles for the crown and the protection of his people. A brilliant strategist, who guided our forces in times of war and, in times of peace, brought prosperity and order to his lands."

The attendees listened in silence, some with vacant stares, others with pain etched on their faces. Aurelio remained still, his gaze fixed on the coffin, as if he were still trying to process the reality of his father's death.

"Duke Alistair was more than a leader; he was a symbol of strength and determination. His devotion to the kingdom of Ardia will not be forgotten, and his legacy will live on in each of us, who must follow his example," the priest continued, his voice echoing like a sacred chant. "May the gods receive him in their arms and may his soul find eternal rest."

With these words, the mage priest lowered his hands, and silence once again reigned. Some nobles approached Aurelio, offering their condolences in respectful murmurs before discreetly withdrawing. The king of Ardia, an elderly, corpulent man with a severe expression, approached next, his steps slow and heavy. He wore a royal mantle embroidered with gold, exuding an aura of unshakable authority.

"Aurelio," said the king in a grave voice, placing a firm hand on Aurelio's shoulder. "Your father was an excellent warrior and an invaluable ally to this kingdom. Without him, Ardia would not be what it is today. His loss is a great sadness for all of us."

Aurelio nodded but remained silent, his thoughts a mix of grief and anger. After a pause, the king gestured for them to begin walking through the mansion's gardens, while Alistair Belmont's body was lowered into the family cemetery, surrounded by ancient trees and moss-covered stones.

As they walked side by side, the soft sound of dry leaves underfoot broke the silence that enveloped them. The cold wind still whistled through the trees, bringing a chill to the air.

Aurelio finally broke the silence, his voice low and controlled. "Your Majesty," he began, "how is the joint military campaign against the last beast-men kingdom on the continent going?"

The king responded with a heavy sigh, as if the weight of recent defeats was crushing his shoulders. "As you must know, the beginning of the campaign was promising. We easily conquered some of the border cities, but then... those beasts seem to have unknown weapons, things we've never seen before. We've managed to capture a few, but understanding how they work has been an immense challenge."

Aurelio, with a tense expression, nodded and added, "I understand that feeling well. A year ago, we sent our troops to the barony of Drakmoor to quell that rebellion... But they had new weapons to defend themselves, surrounding and defeating us."

The king, turning his attention to Aurelio, narrowed his eyes, his voice becoming cold and incisive. "We can't wait any longer, Aurelio. Every day, week, month, and year that your bastard brother continues to proclaim himself king, my authority is drained... Do you think I don't know that two more southern baronies have joined him?"

Aurelio took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the accusation. "I... was waiting for the right moment to tell..."

The king interrupted him with a nervous, almost disdainful tone. "And when would that right moment be, Aurelio? When more than half the kingdom decides to rebel too? When all our efforts to maintain order and power slip away?"

Aurelio lowered his head, acknowledging the scorn in the king's voice. "I apologize, Your Majesty. I... just need more time. It's only a matter of time before we put an end to Miguel's rebellion."

The king shook his head, his eyes full of frustration. "Stop giving me empty promises, Aurelio. You are the new duke now, and for the memory of your father, the former duke, and for the survival of this kingdom, this rebellion must be destroyed. I'm not asking anymore... I'm demanding. You have until the end of winter to resolve this."

Without waiting for a response, the king turned on his heel, his two royal guards following closely, leaving Aurelio standing alone in the mansion's gardens. Boiling with rage, not for the king's words, but for Miguel, who somehow, even from a distance, managed to humiliate him and threaten everything he had inherited.

Aurelio remained there, his fists clenched and his gaze fixed on the horizon, already scheming what he would do to fulfill the king's command... and to take revenge on his brother.

---

Miguel was sitting in a sturdy chair, carved from dark wood, as he observed Arthur, the most experienced blacksmith in Drakmoor, who stood before him. The office, warmed by the heating system Miguel had designed, provided a pleasant refuge against the cold outside. Outside, winter showed its strength, covering the city with a thick layer of white snow. The smoke from the chimneys rose lazily, contrasting with the gray sky.

Miguel had spent the last year planning and assisting in the construction of an imposing building, located near the mines and the wall, with the aim of transforming Drakmoor into a center of metal and weapon production. The building was large and solid, made of sturdy stones and topped with a clay tile roof, capable of bearing the weight of the snow. Inside, there was enough space for up to 30 blacksmiths to work simultaneously. The forges, lined up along the walls, were fueled by large quantities of coal. Sturdy workbenches, forged from iron and wood, were scattered throughout the main hall, ready to receive the red-hot blades and the hammers that would shape the future of the kingdom.

Arthur, who had been the only blacksmith in the city for many years, was now accompanied by his son and four apprentices. But even so, the number was insufficient to fully utilize the potential of that building. Miguel knew this, and his expression was one of concern.

"Arthur," Miguel began, his grave voice echoing through the room. "I designed this place to be the heart of our production, but we are still far from reaching our potential. The city needs more blacksmiths. I'm thinking of trying to convince the other baronies that joined us to encourage their blacksmiths to come work here in Drakmoor."

Arthur nodded, understanding the urgency. "I agree, my Majesty. We have enough iron ore stockpiled to keep the smithy running for two years, even if mining is halted due to winter. But with more blacksmiths, we could produce much more, much faster."

Miguel smiled slightly, satisfied with the response. "You've done an excellent job, Arthur. And I have many ideas for new tools and weapons. We need to be ready for any eventuality."

Arthur bowed, thanking his king for the kind words. "I will do my best to ensure everything continues to run smoothly, Majesty."

Miguel nodded, and Arthur left the room, leaving Miguel alone once again. He picked up his wine goblet, the scarlet liquid reflecting the soft light of the fireplace. As he drank slowly, his mind wandered. He thought of the numerous administrative tasks that needed to be resolved, how Drakmoor was rapidly growing, and the urgent need to delegate responsibilities.

He knew he could not continue taking on so many tasks alone. He needed to appoint more people to trusted positions, people who could help him bear the burden of managing a rising kingdom, especially in such challenging times.

Miguel looked out the window, watching the snow fall silently, covering the landscape in a white mantle. He sighed, aware that winter would still bring many challenges, but determined to overcome them. With each passing day, he felt more prepared to face the future that awaited him, but he knew that to do so, he would need strong and loyal allies.

Vol3 Chapter 80

Winter remained relentless, covering Drakmoor with a thick layer of snow that seemed to reflect the harshness of the times. In the meeting room of Miguel's mansion, a fireplace crackled, attempting to fend off the biting cold that persisted even within the stone walls. The room was spacious, with a large iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting yellowish lights over the U-shaped table dominating the center of the space.

Miguel sat in the main chair, situated at the center of the U, with a posture that denoted the responsibility he now bore. To his left, the defense secretary, John, remained attentive, his eyes fixed on the documents before him. To the right, his sister Amélia observed the guests with an appraising look, while Ricardo, loyal as ever, stood beside her, emanating the aura of a veteran prepared for any situation.

Seated around the table were two men who, until recently, had not been part of Miguel's inner circle. The first was Baron Alaric of Ravenshade, a middle-aged man with gray hair and a stern expression, representing the barony located in a mountainous region to the south. The second, younger and with piercing eyes, was Baron Cedric of Ironwood, whose barony, known for its dense forests and rich timber, had also joined the kingdom of Drakmoor.

Baron Alaric was the first to speak, leaning slightly forward in a gesture of respect before saying, "Your Majesty, I would like to express my deep gratitude for providing the technology to heat the homes of my people. This winter has been particularly harsh, and without your intervention, I fear many lives would have been lost."

Miguel, with a humble smile, responded, "I only did what was my duty, Baron Alaric. Now that you have joined Drakmoor, your people are my people, and it is my duty to ensure they are protected, especially against the cruelties of winter."

Baron Cedric, who had been observing the interaction, took the opportunity to praise Miguel. "Your Majesty, I must say I am impressed with the work being done in Drakmoor. I never imagined that such an isolated and poor region could take such significant strides toward development. Transforming Drakmoor into a kingdom that challenges Ardia is no small feat."

He paused, his eyes gleaming with admiration, before continuing, "The roads you are building... I have never seen anything like it, except on the streets near the royal palace in Ardia. It is remarkable."

Miguel thanked him with a nod, his words measured. "I appreciate your compliments, Baron Cedric. We are working hard to transform Drakmoor into a place worthy of its inhabitants. We still have much to do, but it is reassuring to see that our efforts are being recognized."

He paused, his eyes sweeping over everyone present in the room, before declaring, "It is very good to have you here. Now, with everyone present, we can begin the meeting."

The barons nodded, ready to discuss the next steps that Drakmoor and its allies would take. The atmosphere in the room was one of anticipation, each person aware that the days ahead would bring challenges, but also opportunities.

The meeting room was enveloped in attentive silence as Miguel took the lead to explain how the new governance dynamics in Drakmoor would unfold. The soft flame of the fireplace reflected off the stone walls, providing a warm light that contrasted with the winter chill that persisted outside.

Miguel, with a firm and assured posture, began the meeting by looking directly at the barons, conveying the importance of what he was about to say. "Gentlemen, I want to make it clear that, although the baronies will maintain their autonomy in managing their territories, there are guidelines that must be strictly followed to ensure the cohesion of our kingdom."

The barons, Alaric of Ravenshade and Cedric of Ironwood, nodded silently, paying close attention to every word. Miguel continued, a slight smile on his face. "First of all, I want to congratulate you on the fact that neither of your baronies has beast-men slaves. I would like to know the reason for this."

Baron Cedric was the first to respond, leaning slightly forward. "Your Majesty, the truth is that we live very isolated from the duchy's capital. The logistics of maintaining beast-men slaves is extremely expensive in our region, so there has never been an economic incentive for it."

Miguel maintained his smile, but his eyes conveyed the seriousness of the matter. "I understand that the reasons may be economic, but from today on, within the borders of Drakmoor, it is strictly prohibited to have slavery of any race. This is not just a policy; it is a fundamental principle of our kingdom."

The barons exchanged quick glances and agreed in unison, respecting Miguel's firm stance. Baron Alaric, with a raised eyebrow, asked, "Your Majesty, if I may ask, why do you maintain such a friendly relationship with the beast-men?"

Miguel, without hesitation, answered with conviction. "They helped us in a time of need, even without obligation. That is something I deeply value. Moreover, I believe that everyone in our kingdom, regardless of race, should have the same opportunities and dignity."

With this answer, Miguel turned his attention to the next point of the meeting. "As for the military forces of the baronies, all will be unified into a single army, which will be under the command of John, Ricardo, and, of course, myself. The barons will maintain authority over their local troops, but this authority can never supersede that of the king."

Again, the barons agreed, understanding the need for a clear chain of command in times of conflict.

Miguel then addressed Baron Cedric, his gaze expressing practical interest. "Baron Cedric, I have heard that in your barony, there is a large number of carpenters. Is that true?"

Cedric nodded. "Yes, Your Majesty. We have many skilled carpenters, especially because wood is one of the main resources of our region."

Miguel smiled, satisfied. "Excellent. I would like those carpenters to train men from Drakmoor who are willing to learn. We will need many professionals in this area to continue with our projects."

Miguel then turned to Baron Alaric. "And in your barony, Baron Alaric, I have heard that there is a good number of blacksmiths. I need them here, and I guarantee they will be well compensated, both the blacksmiths and your barony."

Alaric, with a thoughtful expression, considered the proposal. "I can accept that offer, Your Majesty. I would like to see this large forge building you mentioned."

Miguel laughed with camaraderie. "It will be a pleasure to show you tomorrow."

The king then continued to outline his vision for the future. "In the long term, I intend to launch an educational project to teach literacy to at least the children and anyone who has time for it."

Baron Cedric's eyes widened in surprise. "Your Majesty, why do you want to teach the commoners to read?"

Miguel, without hesitation, answered with a clarity that revealed his strategic vision. "It's simple, Baron Cedric. The more educated a people is, the more wealth and knowledge they can produce. A strong kingdom is built not only with armies but with capable minds."

Miguel's words resonated in the minds of the barons, who were visibly impressed by the depth of his vision for Drakmoor. The meeting had taken on a serious and hopeful tone, as everyone present began to glimpse the grand future that Miguel planned for the kingdom.

With everyone in agreement and ready for the next steps, Miguel concluded the initial discussion, knowing that this was just the beginning of a new era for Drakmoor.
---
Miguel was in his office, the fire in the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the stone walls, providing a welcome warmth that contrasted with the relentless cold outside. He turned to the table where a bottle of wine rested next to two crystal glasses. With a smooth motion, he filled a glass and handed it to his sister, Amelia, who was sitting in a nearby armchair. She took the glass and swirled the wine, observing the legs of the drink running down the sides of the glass before taking a sip.

“You did very well in the meeting, Miguel,” Amelia said with a slight smile. “You’re really starting to look like a king.”

Miguel smiled back, but there was a hint of irony in his expression. “I appreciate that, but I never planned on being a king or anything like that.”

Amelia gave a soft laugh. “I never imagined a coward could become a king,” she said in a teasing tone, but quickly added, “Don’t take it the wrong way.”

Miguel laughed as well, shaking his head. “It’s okay, I get what you mean.”

She watched him for a moment, her gaze becoming more serious. “So, what are you going to do next, brother?”

Miguel looked thoughtfully at the wine in his glass. “I need to further reinforce Drakmoor’s defenses, especially now that the borders have expanded. Also, there’s just one street left before the entire city is covered with brick roads. The next step is to extend these roads into the interior of the kingdom, to the new baronies, and eventually to the coast… I want to connect everything.” He paused, looking at the fireplace. “Especially the coast… because I plan to build a port there.”

Amelia raised her eyebrows, surprised. “You’re thinking big, Miguel. Really big. But I like it.” She took a sip of her wine and added, “I’ll help you with that.”

Miguel looked at her with gratitude. “Thank you, Amelia.” He placed the wine glass on the table and straightened up, taking on a more serious posture. “I want to appoint you as Secretary of Internal and International Relations of the kingdom.”

Amelia was visibly surprised by the proposal. “Miguel… you really trust me a lot,” she said with a sarcastic tone.

He laughed, returning the teasing. “I trust people too easily, it’s a flaw of mine.”

She watched him for a moment, pondering. “That’s a huge responsibility… but I love challenges, so I accept.”

Miguel nodded, satisfied. “I knew you would. We need to strengthen our alliances, keep our new borders secure, and at the same time prepare the kingdom for the future. And I can’t think of anyone better for that than you.”

The two siblings stood in silence for a moment, savoring the wine. The weight of winter outside contrasted with the warmth and camaraderie that filled the room. They approached the window, where the snow was gently falling, covering Drakmoor with a pure white layer.

Miguel and Amelia stood side by side, gazing at the landscape. The city lights shone faintly in the cold night, while the white blanket of snow covered the rooftops and the nearly completed streets. They both knew they were just at the beginning of a much larger journey, full of challenges and achievements. But for now, they were content to be together, drinking wine and looking toward Drakmoor’s future with a quiet determination.

Vol3 Chapter 81

A week had passed since the meeting with the barons, and Drakmoor was beginning to feel the effects of the new alliances. The cold still plagued the kingdom, but the city remained alive, with the new brick roads nearly completed and the constant sound of hammers echoing from the large forge that Miguel had designed. About 15 blacksmiths had arrived, responding to the king's call. Arthur, the chief blacksmith, personally welcomed them, showing them the furnaces, the equipment, and explaining how everything worked. The large building, capable of supporting up to 30 blacksmiths working simultaneously, was a testament to Miguel's dedication to transforming Drakmoor into a strong and self-sufficient kingdom.

Marcus, the chief carpenter, was also busy. Five experienced carpenters had arrived, ready to help with construction and train new workers. Each was immediately integrated into the effort to build new houses and fortifications.

While the work continued at a rapid pace, Miguel remained in his office, sitting at the table with a glass of wine in hand. The fire in the fireplace cast soft shadows on the walls, but the warmth it provided did little to soothe the unease Miguel felt. He was thinking, as always, of ways to protect his kingdom.

John, the defense secretary, had given a report the day before, confirming Miguel's suspicions: Drakmoor was still vulnerable. Even with the addition of the two baronies, its military strength was still insufficient. Only 15,000 soldiers were available to defend the kingdom, and that number could rise to 25,000 if they conscripted civilians with no military experience. A number that, in a war against larger forces, could easily be crushed.

Miguel knew he needed to think of something quickly. He looked at the wine in his glass, recalling the times his kingdom had been on the brink of destruction, saved only by his ingenuity and the support of the beastmen. But this time, it would be different. He couldn't rely solely on the inventions he had already created. He needed something more, something that could turn Drakmoor's small army into an unbeatable force, even against armies three to ten times larger.

He rose from his chair and walked to the window. Outside, the snow continued to fall gently, covering the kingdom in a white blanket. Miguel reflected on the military history of the great empires of his former world. Weapons, he thought. Not just any weapons, but firearms.

The idea began to take shape in his mind. If he could develop these weapons, he would turn his army into a lethal force. No one would expect a small kingdom like Drakmoor to possess such technology, and that would give him a decisive advantage. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but there was no choice. His kingdom, his new home, depended on it.

Miguel returned to the table, set the glass of wine aside, and picked up a blank piece of paper. He needed to start working immediately. Time was against him, but more than ever, he felt he was on the right path. Drakmoor would become a fortress, and he would be the king who would lead it to survival.

---

Miguel sat at his desk, where the embers in the fireplace crackled softly, offering comforting warmth against the relentless winter cold. His mind was in full gear, revolving around an idea that could transform Drakmoor's fate. With the tip of the pen already dipped in ink, he began to draw, focused on creating something that had never before existed in that world: a cannon.

He started with the basic structure. The cannon's body would be forged from solid iron, with a length of approximately 2.5 meters. The cannon's mouth, wide and sturdy, would have an internal diameter of about 10 centimeters, large enough to fire a projectile that could devastate enemy ranks. The metal needed to be strong enough to withstand the explosive pressure of black powder, which led him to consider using the casting technique he and Arthur had developed, incorporating charcoal during the process to increase the iron's hardness.

Miguel detailed the combustion chamber, which would be precisely molded to contain the charge of black powder. He thought about the thickness of the cannon's walls, which had to be robust to withstand the internal explosion without breaking, but not so thick as to make the weapon impossible to move. Miguel planned to mount the cannon on a reinforced wooden base, equipped with wheels made from the same sturdy oak that had already been used in their wagons. This would allow the cannon to be positioned and repositioned on the battlefield with relative ease.

The minute details were essential. He sketched the components of the ignition system, where a fuse made of saltpeter-soaked cord would connect to the combustion chamber. The idea was simple: light the fuse, step back, and let the black powder do the rest. The cannon's mouth would be equipped with a fitting for the projectiles, which could be solid metal spheres or explosive projectiles, like those Miguel had already experimented with using catapults.

He also considered the weapon's safety. He knew that repeated use could cause wear, so he designed an additional support structure to reinforce the cannon, especially around the combustion chamber. Miguel added notes alongside the sketch, listing all the necessary materials: iron, oak wood, black powder, saltpeter fuses, and specific tools for forging and assembly.

Miguel paused for a moment and leaned back in his chair, admiring the cannon sketch he had just drawn. He knew that building this weapon would be arduous, but the idea of having a cannon on the battlefield, a weapon that could change the course of a war, filled him with pride. If he could bring this vision to reality, Drakmoor would become an almost impregnable fortress.

Satisfied with the progress, Miguel turned his attention to the next project: the rifle. Grabbing a new sheet of paper, he began to draw the weapon that, in his hands, could be even more revolutionary than the cannon.

---

Miguel, satisfied with the cannon sketch, knew that the next crucial step would be to create a robust and precise mold for casting the weapon. He began sketching the mold, imagining the process in his mind. The mold would be divided into two halves that, when joined, would form the cavity where the molten iron would be poured. Each half of the mold would be made from a specific type of sand bonded with clay, a material capable of withstanding the extreme heat of the casting process without disintegrating or deforming.

Miguel detailed the internal parts of the mold. The internal walls would be slightly tapered to facilitate the removal of the cannon once cooled. He also added ventilation channels to allow gases to escape during casting, preventing bubbles or imperfections in the metal. At the top of the mold, he drew a wide opening where the molten iron would be poured. This opening would connect to the mold's main chamber through a narrow channel, designed to ensure the metal filled all the internal details evenly. The mold would need to be mounted on a reinforced wooden structure to ensure stability during the casting process. Miguel also considered the possibility of creating a removable core for the combustion chamber, which would be made of clay coated in wax, allowing for a smoother, more precise finish inside the cannon.

With the cannon mold well outlined, Miguel turned his attention to creating portable weapons. He took a new sheet of paper and began sketching a rifle. Inspired by his memory of old trapdoor rifles, he started outlining a simple and effective firing system. The rifle would be single-shot, meaning that after each shot, the shooter would need to manually reload the weapon.

Miguel sketched the rifle with a long barrel, approximately 1.2 meters in length, made from reinforced steel. At the top of the barrel, he drew the opening system, where the shooter could lift a small hinged door – the "trapdoor" – to insert the ammunition. After placing the cartridge, the shooter would close the trapdoor, securing the ammunition in the chamber and preparing the weapon to fire. Miguel also added an external hammer that, when pulled back and released, would strike the firing pin, detonating the powder in the cartridge and firing the projectile. He sketched the rifle's body in oak wood, designing it ergonomically for better handling and accuracy.

The next weapon on his list was the pistol. Miguel decided to follow a similar concept to the rifle, creating a smaller and more portable version. The pistol would have a 25-centimeter barrel and also use the trapdoor system for loading ammunition. Like the rifle, the pistol would be single-shot, requiring manual reloading after each shot. The pistol's body would be made of wood, but Miguel would reinforce the areas around the barrel and the firing system with steel, ensuring durability. He designed the pistol's grip to fit comfortably in the shooter's hand, with a protective trigger guard to prevent accidental discharges.

Miguel made notes alongside each sketch, describing the necessary materials and manufacturing details. He knew that both projects, the rifle and the pistol, would require precision in construction and rigorous testing to ensure their effectiveness on the battlefield.

Satisfied with the progress, Miguel set the drawings aside and prepared for the next step: designing the ammunition for these weapons, as well as for the cannon. He knew that the success of these projects depended as much on the quality of the weapon as on the efficiency of the ammunition. Pouring another glass of wine, Miguel took a deep breath, feeling the weight of responsibility but also the excitement of being on the brink of an innovation that could change Drakmoor's destiny.

Vol3 chapter 82

Before delving into the ammunition sketches, Miguel decided it was crucial to draw the details of the rifle and pistol bodies. He knew that the structure of these weapons would need to be robust, durable, and comfortable for the soldiers to handle, and that wood would be the ideal material for these components.

Miguel began sketching the rifle body. He envisioned an elegant and sturdy piece of wood that would serve as the base of the weapon. The wood would need to be of high quality, capable of withstanding the impact of the shot and providing a comfortable feel for the shooter. He opted for an ergonomic design, with a slightly curved stock so that the rifle would fit perfectly against the user's shoulder, providing stability and accuracy during firing. The trigger guard would be made of steel, but the rest of the body, including the stock and grip, would be entirely wooden.

As he drew, Miguel thought of the barony of Cedric, specializing in carpentry, which had recently joined the kingdom of Drakmoor. The barony of Ironwood was known for its vast forests and the skill of its carpenters in transforming wood into truly functional works of art. Miguel knew that the carpenters of Ironwood would be the perfect partners to produce the wooden parts of his new rifles and pistols.

Miguel then began to sketch the body of the pistol. The design would be more compact but equally robust. The pistol's grip would have an ergonomic shape, allowing it to fit comfortably in the shooter's hand, while the wooden base would be reinforced with steel at critical points to ensure durability. Miguel sketched the grip with a slight indentation for better hold, and the wooden surface would have a smooth finish, providing a feeling of solidity and reliability.

While drawing, Miguel made detailed notes beside the sketches. He specified that the wood used should be oak, known for its strength and durability, ideal for withstanding constant use on the battlefield. He also indicated the exact dimensions of the parts and the assembly details that would ensure the metal would fit perfectly into the wood, creating a weapon that would not only function well but also be aesthetically pleasing and easy to handle.

Satisfied with the sketches, Miguel knew the next step would be to send these designs to the barony of Ironwood, where the kingdom's best carpenters could bring his creations to life. He prepared to detail the specifications and send the instructions, aware that these new weapons could be the difference Drakmoor needed to defend its borders.

Now, with the weapon bodies sketched out and the details noted, Miguel felt ready to move on to the next stage of his plan: the development of the ammunition, which would be the key to turning these sketches into deadly and effective weapons.

---

Miguel, sitting at his desk in the office, picked up the charcoal and began carefully sketching the mold for the cartridges of both the rifle and the pistol. He knew that every detail had to be meticulously planned to ensure that these weapons would be effective and functional in a world still far from understanding firearm technology. He began by drawing a simple metal cylinder, which would be the base of the cartridge.

He opted for an 11x59mm caliber for the rifle and a smaller 9mm caliber for the pistol. These calibers would be ideal for the type of gunpowder he had available and for the manual manufacturing he would have to implement. Each cartridge would need to contain a precise amount of gunpowder, as well as a primer at the rear to detonate the powder when the rifle or pistol's firing pin was struck. Miguel sketched the cylindrical shape of the cartridge, with the base slightly widened to fit perfectly in the barrel chamber.

After drawing the basic shape of the cartridge, he began to think about how to mass-produce these cartridges in a medieval world. Each cartridge would need to be molded in metal, possibly brass or another similar material that could withstand the pressure of the gunpowder explosion, but that would also be malleable enough to be molded in a forge workshop.

The next step was to design the projectile itself, which would be inserted into the front part of the cartridge. Miguel opted for a conical shape for the projectile, with a rounded tip to facilitate penetration and minimize air resistance. He planned for the projectile to be made of lead, a dense and heavy metal capable of causing significant impact upon hitting the target.

As he drew, Miguel began to think about how he could manufacture these cartridges and projectiles on a large scale. He knew he would need to create a dedicated production line, something that had never been done before in this world. The idea was ambitious, but he was determined to find a way to make it happen. He considered the possibility of dividing the process into several stages, with different craftsmen responsible for each part of the production. For example, one team could specialize in molding the cartridges, another in creating the projectiles, and a third in the final assembly.

Miguel also thought about the material issue. Brass could be a good candidate for the cartridges, but he would need to find a way to produce enough metal. It might be necessary to expand the iron mines or even find new deposits of other metals that could be used in the cartridge's metal alloy.

While all these ideas crossed his mind, Miguel realized that he was still far from having a complete solution. He knew he would need more time and resources to turn this vision into reality, but he was willing to keep working on it until he found a viable solution. For now, he focused on finalizing the sketches of the cartridge and projectile bodies, preparing for the next challenge: finding a way to mass-produce these weapons.

Miguel stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the horizon. He knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but he also knew that these weapons could be the key to ensuring his kingdom's survival in an increasingly hostile world.

---

The next morning, Miguel met in his office with Arthur, the blacksmith, and Marcus, the carpenter. He was eager to present the new ideas he had sketched out but decided to start subtly, revealing only the pistol sketch. With a careful gesture, he placed the drawing on the table, allowing both of them to examine the weapon.

Arthur, with a serious and attentive look, frowned as he analyzed the sketch. Marcus, on the other hand, watched with a mix of curiosity and surprise, without saying a word. Finally, Arthur broke the silence. "What exactly is this, Your Majesty?" he asked, his voice revealing both interest and doubt.

Miguel smiled, anticipating their reaction. "This is a new kind of weapon," he began to explain, his eyes shining with enthusiasm. "More destructive than an arrow, deadlier than a sword, and as powerful as a fire spell. This is a pistol, a device that fires metal projectiles using the explosive force of gunpowder."

Arthur and Marcus exchanged impressed looks. "We've never seen anything like this before," Marcus confessed, amazed. "It's... really impressive, Your Majesty. But how does it work?"

Miguel then went into detail, explaining the basic mechanism of the pistol. He talked about the firing pin, the primer, and the compressed gunpowder cylinder inside the cartridge that, when fired, would launch the projectile with lethal force. He also mentioned the materials needed to manufacture the ammunition, including brass for the cartridges and lead for the projectiles.

Arthur listened carefully but soon expressed a concern. "I've never heard of these materials, Your Majesty. We don't have brass or lead here. To make this ammunition, we'll need a reliable source of these resources."

Miguel nodded, having expected this response. "I will lead an expedition soon to find these materials and establish a method of production. As for the weapon itself, do you have everything you need to get started?"

Arthur slowly nodded. "Yes, for the weapon itself, we have what we need. But it will be a complicated... and fascinating job." Marcus, with his usual good humor, jokingly commented, "Sometimes, Your Majesty, it seems like you have the knowledge of the gods themselves."

Miguel laughed, appreciating the levity Marcus brought to the situation. "Nothing so grand, Marcus. Just... ideas." Then, with a more dramatic gesture, he picked up another sketch from the table and handed it to Arthur. It was the sketch of the cannon, a larger-scale weapon designed for the battlefield.

Arthur took the drawing, his eyes narrowing as he analyzed every detail. "And this?" he asked, already feeling the weight of responsibility this project implied.

Miguel explained the concept of the cannon, how it would work similarly to the pistol but on a much larger scale. He described the destructive power the cannon would have, capable of breaking through walls, devastating enemy formations, and changing the course of a battle. "This will be our trump card on the battlefields," Miguel concluded, his voice full of conviction.

Arthur pondered for a moment, reflecting on the challenge ahead. "Something of this magnitude will require almost all the available blacksmiths," he said firmly. "But it's possible. With time and resources, we can create this."

Miguel smiled, satisfied with the response. "That's good. The day after tomorrow, I'll go to the forge to guide you on how to produce these weapons. It's going to be hard work, but if we succeed, we'll be one step ahead of any enemy."

Arthur and Marcus stood up, respectfully greeting Miguel before leaving. Miguel, now alone in his room, sat back down by the fireplace, watching the flames while holding a glass of wine. He felt the warmth of the fire in contrast to the cold dominating the winter outside. Each step he took brought him closer to his goal of strengthening Drakmoor, but he knew the path would still be long and arduous. With one last sip of wine, he looked at the sketches in front of him, allowing himself a moment of pride before turning his mind back to the challenges still to come.

Vol3 Chapter 83

The following morning, Miguel left his mansion, wearing a heavy coat to brace against the biting winter cold. The icy wind blew fiercely, causing the fabric of his clothing to flutter as he walked towards the blacksmith. Snowflakes gently fell from the sky, covering the ground with a white, silent layer. Upon reaching the blacksmith, the sound of hammers and anvils echoed in the air, a clear sign that the work never stopped, even under the harshest conditions.

Miguel entered the blacksmith's shop, where the heat from the furnaces and the glow of molten metal contrasted with the cold outside. Arthur, the master blacksmith, was already in place, wearing his worn leather apron and sweating from the effort. Beside him, some of the new blacksmiths who had arrived in the kingdom were working on their own tasks, but all stopped for a moment to pay attention to the king when he entered.

Arthur approached, wiping his hands on a cloth before bowing respectfully. “Your Majesty,” he said, “we've been expecting you.”

Miguel smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Arthur. We have much to discuss today.” He then pulled out a large roll of parchment from under his arm and unrolled it onto a nearby work table, revealing the detailed sketch of the cannon mold.

The blacksmiths gathered around the table, curious and attentive. Miguel began explaining each part of the drawing. “This mold will be divided into two main parts,” he said, pointing to the diagram. “The first part will be made of hardened clay and must have a uniform thickness to withstand the molten metal. The second part will be the outer shell, made of raw iron, which will keep the mold in place during the casting.”

Arthur observed every detail, his eyes scanning the precise lines of the drawing. “I understand,” he said slowly. “We’ll need to be very careful to ensure that the metal flows correctly and fills the entire mold without creating bubbles or imperfections.”

“Exactly,” Miguel agreed. “The metal alloy needs to be strong but also flexible enough to withstand the impacts of the explosive charges. The cannon barrel must be smooth inside to allow the projectile to exit with maximum force.”

Miguel ran his hand over the sketch, emphasizing the importance of alignment and precision. “The cooling process will also be crucial,” he continued. “We need to ensure that the metal cools evenly to avoid cracks or deformations. We will cool it slowly, perhaps with a bath of fine sand or ashes.”

The blacksmiths nodded, understanding the complexity of the project. “It will be a great challenge,” said Arthur, “but we are ready for it.”

Miguel then explained how he intended to proceed with the tests, starting with a scaled-down mold before moving on to full-scale production. “We will need to conduct some experiments with the casting before we start producing the full cannons,” he added. “This will give us a better idea of how the metal reacts and allow us to make adjustments if necessary.”

Arthur smiled, clearly excited by the challenge. “My men and I will start immediately, Your Majesty.”

Miguel nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Let’s turn these ideas into reality.”

With the explanation concluded, Miguel rolled up the parchment again and looked around, seeing the blacksmiths return to their work with renewed vigor. He felt a sense of accomplishment but also knew that there was still much to be done. The success of these projects depended on materials he did not yet have, and time was against him. The harsh winter made expeditions difficult, but there was no other choice.

Before leaving the blacksmith’s shop, Miguel looked at Arthur and said, “I’ll organize an expedition to seek the necessary resources. We need brass, lead, and other materials we don’t have yet. We can’t let the winter delay us.”

Arthur nodded. “We’ll keep the forges hot and ready, awaiting your return, Your Majesty.”

Miguel smiled briefly, but his mind was already focused on the next challenge. He knew that to ensure the defense of Drakmoor and the success of his projects, he would have to face the winter and the dangers it brought. Without wasting any more time, he mentally prepared to lead the expedition, determined to find the resources Drakmoor so desperately needed.

---

Miguel was sitting at his desk in the office, his eyes fixed on a pile of maps, supply lists, and reports that occupied the entire space in front of him. The light from the fireplace danced on the walls, warming the room as the winter cold persisted outside. Ricardo was by his side, examining the documents with an expression of concern he didn’t bother to hide. John, the defense secretary, was leaning against the wall, silently observing the discussion between the two.

Miguel took a sip of wine, letting the liquid warm his throat before speaking. “We need to make sure we have everything we need before we leave. The expedition will be long, and the winter won’t be easy, but these resources are crucial for our projects.”

Ricardo frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t like this idea, Miguel. The cold is relentless, and the dangers on the road are real. Bandits, assassins... This is not a simple journey.”

Miguel looked at his friend, understanding his concerns but standing firm in his decision. “I know, Ricardo. But we have to do this. These materials won’t magically appear at our doorstep. We need to go out and find them.”

“You’re the king now,” Ricardo insisted, his voice firm. “Your life is more valuable than any expedition. If something happens to you, Drakmoor will be vulnerable. And I’m not just talking about the weather. We know our enemies are out there, waiting for any sign of weakness.”

Miguel gave a slight smile, trying to calm his friend’s worries. “That’s why you’re coming with me. Together, we can face anything. I know the odds are risky, but we’re prepared. I have confidence in our ability to handle whatever comes our way.”

Ricardo was not convinced but knew Miguel well enough to understand that once he made a decision, it was hard to change his mind. He sighed deeply, resigned. “Alright, I’ll go with you. But I still think we should reconsider.”

Miguel nodded, pleased to have Ricardo’s support despite his reservations. He then turned his attention to John, who remained silent, watching the exchange between the two. “John,” Miguel said, “while I’m away, you’ll be in charge as acting administrator. Amelia will be by your side to help with whatever is necessary.”

John straightened up, clearly surprised by the responsibility Miguel was placing on his shoulders. “Your Majesty, it’s a great responsibility. But I’ll do my best to ensure everything runs smoothly in your absence.”

Miguel had noticed something between John and his sister over the past week. There was something going on between the two, but Miguel decided not to touch on that subject now. He had more urgent matters on his mind. “I trust you, John,” said Miguel firmly. “I know you’re capable of keeping everything under control.”

John nodded, showing determination in his expression. “Don’t worry, Miguel. Drakmoor will be in good hands.”

Miguel took one last sip of wine and stood up from his chair, signaling that the discussion was over. “The expedition starts tomorrow. Prepare everything that’s needed. We’re leaving at dawn.”

Ricardo and John exchanged glances before they, too, stood up. “We’ll make sure everything is ready,” said Ricardo, still with a worried air.

John approached Miguel, extending his hand. “Good luck, Your Majesty. And... be careful.”

Miguel shook John’s hand, nodding in acknowledgment. “I’ll do my best to return safely.”

With that, the three men left the office, each mentally preparing for the challenges ahead. Miguel knew that the expedition would be difficult, but he was determined to secure Drakmoor’s future, no matter the cost. As he closed the door behind him, he cast one last look at the fireplace, the flames flickering as a reminder of the warmth he would leave behind. The cold outside was not just a physical adversity but also a metaphor for the challenges he would face. And Miguel was ready to face them head-on.

Vol3 Chapter 84

Miguel was mounted on his horse, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders as he prepared to leave Drakmoor. Beside him, Ricardo adjusted the reins of his horse, a serious expression on his face, ready for what was to come. Behind them, five loyal soldiers, all handpicked for the expedition, waited in silence, immersed in the anticipation of what they might face. The morning was cold, and the horses' breath created small white clouds in the chilly air.

John was there, standing beside Amelia, waiting to bid farewell to Miguel before the departure. He approached the king with a mix of respect and determination. “Your Majesty,” John began, his voice firm, “I want to thank you for the trust you place in me. I promise I will do a great job while you’re away. Drakmoor will be safe in our hands.”

Miguel nodded, appreciating John’s loyalty and commitment. “I know it will be, John. I trust you completely. I know you’ll handle whatever comes your way.”

Amelia, standing beside John, didn’t miss the opportunity to make a remark with her usual irony. “I hope the city is still standing when you return, little brother. But honestly, I should be the one wishing you good luck, not the other way around.”

Miguel laughed, well aware of his sister’s teasing nature. “We’ll be fine, Amelia. But take care of yourself too, alright?”

She rolled her eyes with a smile, but there was a glimmer of concern in her gaze. “Believe me, I know how to take care of myself.”

Ricardo, observing the interaction between the siblings, gave a slight smile, but his mind was focused on what awaited them outside the gates. He knew the journey would be tough, but he was determined to protect Miguel at all costs.

“Let’s move on,” said Miguel, breaking the farewell moment with a nod to the guards at the city gate.

John and Amelia stepped back, standing side by side as they watched Miguel and his small company begin to move toward the gates. The sound of the horses' hooves echoed through the silent city, and Miguel took one last look back, waving briefly before passing through the gates.

Amelia crossed her arms, watching until the group disappeared into the distance. “He’s changed,” she commented, almost to herself, but John heard.

“Yes,” John replied with a tone of approval. “He’s becoming the leader Drakmoor needs.”

They stood there, watching until Miguel and his men were completely out of sight. The snow was beginning to fall again, covering the ground with a white blanket, as if the whole world was on hold. Amelia sighed, pulling her cloak tighter around her to ward off the cold. “I hope he returns safely.”

“He will,” John said confidently. “And until then, we’ll keep things in order.”

With those words, the two turned and began walking back into the city, ready to take on the burden Miguel had left behind. The cold wind blew gently, but there was a sense of determination in the air, a silent commitment to do whatever it took to protect Drakmoor and the dream Miguel was building.

---

In the Drakmoor workshop, the forge burned intensely, spreading a welcoming heat that contrasted with the severe winter cold outside. The rhythmic sound of the hammer against metal echoed throughout the space, mingling with the hissing of the embers and the occasional hum of the manual machines, all powered by the strength and ingenuity of the blacksmiths. Arthur, the master blacksmith, watched the work closely, his trained eyes analyzing every detail, every movement of the men under his supervision.

Miguel had left precise instructions, a detailed sketch of what could become one of the most revolutionary weapons in history. But before moving on to large-scale production, Arthur decided to follow Miguel’s advice and start with a smaller prototype, a scaled-down version of the cannon to test the concepts before committing to a bigger effort.

The prototype, though smaller, demanded extreme care. The cannon was a cylindrical piece with a slightly conical internal diameter to allow better compression of gases when the gunpowder was ignited. Arthur knew that any mistake, no matter how small, could compromise the entire project, turning the cannon into a useless weapon or, worse yet, a threat to those who attempted to operate it.

The first step was to create the mold. Arthur opted to use a green sand mold, a mixture of sand, clay, and water, compacted around a model of the cannon that he and his son had carved out of wood. Green sand was ideal for capturing the model's details while withstanding the extreme heat of the molten metal. They split the mold into two halves, forming a "coquille" that allowed the removal of the wooden model before pouring the metal.

With the mold ready and reinforced by a wooden frame to ensure its stability, the next step was to prepare the metal. Arthur chose an iron-carbon alloy, a primitive form of steel that would be strong enough to withstand the internal pressures generated by the gunpowder explosion, but still manageable for the blacksmiths of Drakmoor to work with. He knew the key to the cannon’s success lay in the quality of this metal.

Beside Arthur, the other blacksmiths worked in sync, adjusting the furnace and heating the iron ingots until they turned into a glowing liquid mass. The air was thick with the smell of hot metal and the sound of the bellows, which were operated constantly to maintain the ideal temperature.

When Arthur judged that the metal was ready, he signaled the other blacksmiths. With extreme care, they began to pour the molten metal into the sand mold. The operation required steady hands and precision; any spill could cause problems, and any contamination in the metal could weaken the cannon's structure.

The metal flowed into the mold, filling it completely, as Arthur and his son watched closely. The vivid, incandescent color of the metal filled the room with an orange glow, and the bubbling sound indicated that the iron was settling properly. After filling the mold, the blacksmiths covered the top opening with sand to prevent air bubbles from forming and to ensure the metal cooled evenly.

With the mold filled, the metal began to cool and solidify. This process required patience; there were no shortcuts. The iron had to be left to cool naturally to avoid cracks or warping that would compromise the cannon’s structure. During this time, Arthur inspected other parts of the project. He and his apprentices worked on the pieces that made up the cannon’s base, which needed to be robust enough to absorb the impact of the shots.

After several hours, the metal was finally cool enough for the mold to be dismantled. The blacksmiths carefully removed the wooden frames and began to separate the two halves of the green sand mold. With a dry crack, the halves opened, revealing the small cannon prototype.

The piece was still rough, covered by a thin layer of sand residue and marks from the casting process. Arthur picked up the cannon with both hands, feeling the weight and texture of the alloy. He could tell that the first step had been successful, but there was still work to be done. He turned to the blacksmiths, who were already preparing the tools for the next stage: finishing.

Using a combination of files, hammers, and other precision tools, the blacksmiths began to remove the imperfections from the cannon’s surface. They smoothed the sides, ensuring that the barrel was completely smooth, with no remnants that could interfere with the shot. Arthur, vigilant, supervised every detail, ensuring the final result was flawless.

At the end of an exhausting day, the cannon prototype was complete. Arthur stepped back a bit, observing the outcome. It was a masterpiece of engineering, something he never imagined he would one day forge. He ran his hand along the cannon's barrel, feeling the coolness of the now perfectly polished metal. The prototype was ready for testing, and everyone in the workshop knew that what they had created was just the beginning of something much greater.

As the prototype rested, awaiting the moment of testing, Arthur wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and looked at the blacksmiths, exhausted but proud of their work. The small cannon they had created could be the precursor to a new era in Drakmoor, an era where knowledge and innovation would combine to protect the kingdom and ensure its future.

Vol3 Chapter 85

Arthur was in a field far from the city, covered by a thick blanket of snow. The winter cold was intense, but the excitement for what was about to happen made everyone present forget a little about the freezing temperature. Around him were John, Amelia, Marcus, some of the blacksmiths who helped create the prototype, and some other members of Miguel's team. They were all wrapped in thick cloaks, with their breaths creating small clouds of vapor in the cold air.

The prototype cannon that Arthur had brought was small, just over a meter in length, with an internal diameter large enough to accommodate a small metal ball. The piece of artillery, though rudimentary in appearance, was the culmination of weeks of work and ingenuity. The cannon's body, made of an iron-carbon alloy, was solidly supported on an improvised but sturdy wooden stand. Arthur knew this cannon was just a test, a miniaturized version of what was to come, but he still felt a bit nervous about how the test would unfold.

Days earlier, Arthur had forged the ammunition for this cannon, metal balls that fit perfectly into the barrel. To produce them, he melted iron until it was in a liquid state, then poured it into spherical molds made of green sand, very similar to those used for the cannon itself. After cooling, the balls were cleaned and smoothed, removing any imperfections that could interfere with the trajectory of the shot. The metallic spheres gleamed in the faint sunlight, reflecting Arthur's determination in every perfect curve.

In addition to the cannonballs, Arthur had prepared small quantities of gunpowder in linen bags, each containing the exact amount needed for a single shot. He thought this approach would be more practical and safe, ensuring that the charge was always precise and reducing the risk of accidents.

Arthur gave one last look at the cannon before preparing for the shot. He knew everyone was anxious, especially John and Amelia, who were watching the scene with keen eyes. He positioned the cannon with precision, adjusting the aim so that the shot would hit a group of trees in the distance, which would serve as the target for the test.

"All set," Arthur said, his voice cutting through the silence of the snowy field.

With a careful motion, he lit a torch, the fire crackling softly. He brought the flame close to the fuse protruding from the back of the cannon. The fuse began to burn quickly, crackling as the flame raced toward the interior of the barrel. There was a moment of anticipation when everyone held their breath, and then, with a dry boom, the cannon fired.

The explosion echoed a powerful sound across the field. The metal ball was launched at surprising speed, cutting through the cold air in an instant and hitting the group of trees with a resounding impact. The sound of metal meeting wood was followed by cracks and the sound of falling branches, as one of the trees, which had taken the direct hit, began to tilt dangerously before crashing to the ground with a thud muffled by the snow.

John was the first to break the ensuing silence. "Miguel is amazing for having thought of this," he said, impressed by the effectiveness of the small cannon. His eyes were wide as if he couldn't believe what he had just seen.

Amelia, beside John, watched the scene with a cautious gaze. "It's a bit frightening," she commented, her voice carrying a tone of respect and apprehension. She knew that this small weapon was just the beginning and that its power was a glimpse of what could be used in battle.

Arthur wiped the sweat that had formed on his forehead despite the cold. He was proud of what they had achieved, but he knew this was only an initial test. "This is just a small prototype to test the concept," he said, turning to the others. "The real cannon is much larger and will have much more firepower."

Everyone remained silent for a few moments, absorbing Arthur's words and what they meant for the future of Drakmoor. The snow continued to fall softly, contrasting with the scene of partial destruction the cannon had caused among the trees. Arthur and the others knew they were on the brink of a new era of warfare, where knowledge and innovation could change the course of battles.

With the test concluded, Arthur gave the order for the small cannon to be taken back to the workshop for further adjustments. He knew this was just the beginning of something much larger and that, with time, they could create weapons that would forever change the way wars were fought. With renewed determination, the group began to disperse, leaving behind only the marks in the snow and the fallen trees as witnesses to the power they had just unleashed.

---

In the snow-covered training field, the young mage Lila stood in position, her breath forming small clouds of vapor as she concentrated. In front of her, several wooden targets were lined up, ready to be destroyed. The snow was gently falling around, creating a sharp contrast with the heat of the flames Lila was about to conjure. Beside her, Lysandra, the fox who had become her mentor, watched with keen eyes, her fluffy tail slowly moving from side to side.

"Focus, Lila," Lysandra said, her voice firm but encouraging. "Remember, the trick is to conserve mana. Don't waste energy. Focus on releasing the minimum amount necessary to cast the spell."

Lila nodded, swallowing hard. She extended her hand, feeling the mana flowing within her, a powerful current that, if not controlled, could quickly be depleted. Lila focused, visualizing the energy inside her as a river that needed to be carefully measured. Taking a deep breath, she began to form a fireball, feeling the familiar warmth in her hand. However, when she tried to reduce the amount of mana, the flame flickered and nearly went out.

"More control, Lila," Lysandra instructed. "You're holding back too much. Find the balance."

Lila closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm herself. She knew the key was in finding that balance. Slowly, she took a deep breath again and extended her hand once more. The fireball formed, smaller than usual but more stable. Lila cast it toward one of the wooden targets, but the spell dissipated before reaching it.

Lysandra stepped forward, her ears slightly tilted. "You're making progress, but you're still wasting energy trying to maintain the spell. Relax. Trust yourself and your magic."

Lila took a deep breath and tried again. This time, she focused on keeping the fireball compact and powerful. When she felt ready, she cast the spell. The flame cut through the cold air, hitting the target with a satisfying impact. The wood crackled and began to burn.

"Better," said Lysandra, with a faint smile. "You're getting the hang of it."

At the edge of the training field, João, the deer and Lila's friend, watched with wide eyes. He was standing next to some soldiers who had also stopped to watch the training. They were impressed with Lila's progress, who, despite the initial mistakes, was showing increasing mastery over the technique.

Lila continued to practice, her confidence growing with each attempt. Although she still made some mistakes, her fireballs were becoming more precise and efficient. Mana conservation was a difficult technique to master, but with each new attempt, Lila was getting closer to her goal. Lysandra encouraged her, correcting her posture or pointing out small adjustments in the way she manipulated her energy.

"You're starting to understand," Lysandra said, with an approving tone. "Remember that constant practice is what will solidify this technique. Don't rush; perfection will come with time."

Lila nodded, feeling a wave of satisfaction for finally making progress. She extended her hand once more, now with more confidence, and launched another fireball that flew straight to the target, hitting it with precision.

Seeing this, João gave a small smile and murmured to himself, "Lila, you're really getting good at this."

João also thought that Lila was truly special… He had always heard that mages needed to use mana catalysts like staffs with special gems… But Lila, she simply created the magic… She was her own catalyst and could still use all kinds of magic, it seemed.

Lila didn’t hear João’s words, but she felt his support and that of the soldiers around her. With Lysandra by her side, she knew she was on the right path to becoming a powerful and efficient mage, capable of mastering her magic with skill.

Lysandra, in turn, watched with pride, knowing that the young mage had great potential. With more training and dedication, Lila could become a formidable ally for the kingdom of Drakmoor, especially in such uncertain and challenging times.

Vol 3 Chapter 86

In the workshop warmed by the furnace in the back, Benjamin, the young and talented son of Arthur, was focused on the sketches scattered across the rustic wooden table. The flames danced gently in the forge, casting shadows that moved with him as he studied the intricate drawings made by Miguel. The silence was filled only by the sound of the crackling fire and the occasional clinking of tools echoing through the workshop.

Benjamin scanned Miguel's sketches, impressed by the complexity and precision of the ideas. The drawings detailed a revolutionary concept: a metallic capsule that housed a projectile, something never before seen in that medieval world. He couldn't help but wonder how Miguel, a seemingly ordinary man, had come up with something so advanced and innovative.

He picked up the sketch of the pistol that Miguel had drawn and held it up to eye level, studying every line and annotation. The concept was simple yet brilliant: a weapon that could fire a single shot before being reloaded. The projectile was housed in a capsule, something Miguel had described as essential to the weapon's functionality. Benjamin knew this was what made the project so different and powerful.

"Brass and lead..." he murmured to himself, recalling the materials Miguel had mentioned. The problem was that these materials were rare and not available in the workshop at that moment. Benjamin frowned, thoughtful. He could try another approach. Instead of using brass and lead, he could attempt to fabricate the capsules using the metal alloy that Miguel had helped develop—a mixture of iron ore and coal that, although not ideal, might work as a temporary substitute.

He wasn't naive enough to believe it would be easy, but he was determined to at least try. Benjamin knew that if he could create a functional capsule, he would be taking a significant step toward the future of weaponry in Drakmoor. It was a challenge he was willing to accept, both to prove himself and to contribute to the kingdom that he and his father were helping to build.

With determination, Benjamin began organizing the workbench, carefully separating the tools and materials needed for the task. He knew that before attempting to mold any metal capsule, he needed to create specific molds for both the cartridge and the projectile. It was a delicate process, but fundamental to ensuring everything fit together precisely.

First, he took a piece of dense clay and began sculpting the cartridge mold. With a small spatula, he smoothed the surface and carved the cavities where the molten metal would be poured. He worked meticulously, checking the measurements several times, ensuring that the mold reflected exactly the proportions indicated in Miguel's sketches. The walls of the mold needed to be thick enough to withstand the pressure of the molten metal, but thin enough to allow the formation of a lightweight capsule.

After finishing the cartridge mold, Benjamin moved on to the projectile mold. This was simpler in terms of shape, but required even greater precision. Using a precision tool, he carved out the cylindrical shape of the projectile, leaving space for the projectile's nose and the hollow base where the gunpowder propellant would be housed. Every detail was sculpted with care, ensuring the projectile would be aerodynamic and lethal.

Upon completing the molds, Benjamin felt a wave of satisfaction. The molds were ready, and now the next step would be to heat the furnace, melt the metal, and see if everything would work as expected. But for now, he paused for a moment, observing his work with pride.

With the molds prepared and the challenge of melting the metal ahead, Benjamin knew that the real test would come soon. He wiped his hands, brushing away the remaining clay, and stored the molds in a safe place. Tomorrow, he would face the challenge of creating the first projectile capsules. For today, he was satisfied with the meticulous work he had done.

---

Benjamin was standing in his workshop, Miguel's sketches carefully laid out on the workbench. He glanced over the intricate notes and drawings of the project once more, absorbing every detail. The projectile capsule, something he had never seen before, was an engineering marvel. The idea of converting mechanical energy into an explosive shot seemed almost magical, and he couldn't help but wonder how Miguel had conceived of something so advanced.

The capsule was small, with a 9 mm caliber, something that made Benjamin frown in confusion. "Nine millimeters?" He murmured to himself, trying to understand what this measurement meant in the context of the project. But Miguel's notes were clear: this was the exact diameter of the projectile. The projectile itself was short and compact, designed to be deadly efficient.

Benjamin focused his attention on the internal structure of the capsule. The bottom of the capsule, as the sketches showed, contained a small circle of gravel. This circle, when struck by the hammer of the firing mechanism, would move forward, creating a spark. This spark, although tiny, would be enough to ignite the compacted gunpowder inside the capsule, firing the projectile with great force.

Benjamin was impressed. The level of detail and precision required to make something like this work was astounding. He had never worked with something so delicate and, at the same time, so potentially dangerous. However, he felt a wave of excitement at the thought of being the first to manufacture something so innovative.

Determined, Benjamin lit the furnace and began heating the steel. The metal started to melt, turning into a shiny liquid mass. He took the molds he had made and carefully positioned them, checking once more that everything was perfect. With steady hands, he poured the molten steel into the molds, watching as the metal filled each cavity with precision.

The process was slow and meticulous. He knew that any mistake could compromise the entire project, so he double-checked everything, ensuring that the metal was flowing into every corner of the molds. Then, he let the metal cool and solidify, and began the demolding process, revealing the steel capsules.

Over the next three days, Benjamin repeated the process, adjusting small imperfections and refining his technique. Each capsule he produced was a work of patience and precision. By the end of those days, he held in his hands ten complete capsules, the result of his hard work.

He turned one of the capsules in his hand, observing the smooth and perfect surface. It was a small miracle of engineering, and he could hardly believe he had managed to create it. Each capsule was a promise of something new, a weapon that could change the course of the battles to come.

Benjamin felt deep satisfaction as he contemplated his work. He knew that these capsules represented only the beginning of something much bigger. Looking at the stack of capsules in his hand, he wondered what Miguel would think of his work when he saw the final result. With a proud smile, he stored the capsules in a safe place, eager to show Miguel what he had created.

---

Benjamin was anxious as he approached his father in the forge. Arthur, as usual, was deeply focused, adjusting one of the components of the cannon he had been working on tirelessly. The large block of metal rested on a reinforced workbench, and the room was filled with the intense heat of the furnaces and the sound of hammers shaping steel.

“Father,” Benjamin called, his voice carrying a mix of enthusiasm and nervousness. Arthur lifted his eyes from his work, his face sweaty and marked by exhaustion, but with an expression of curiosity.

“Yes, Benjamin?” Arthur replied, wiping his hands on a dirty rag and turning to his son.

Benjamin extended his hand, revealing one of the capsules he had spent the last few days fabricating. The small metallic projectile gleamed under the light of the forge, its smooth curves and impeccably smooth surface reflecting Benjamin's meticulous work.

Arthur took the capsule carefully, examining it with experienced eyes. He turned the object in his hands, observing every detail, from the base to the tip. His expression changed from curiosity to surprise, and then to silent admiration.

“You made this... on your own?” Arthur asked, finally breaking the silence. His voice carried a mixture of incredulity and pride. He knew his son was talented, but what he had in his hands was a sophisticated creation, something that required a level of skill and understanding far beyond what was expected.

Benjamin nodded, a smile of satisfaction forming on his lips. "Yes, I followed Miguel's sketches. It was challenging, but I managed to make it exactly as he drew."

Arthur returned the capsule to Benjamin, still impressed. "This is extraordinary, son," he said, sincerity in his voice. "Miguel really has an innovative vision, but you brought that vision to life with your own hands. You should be very proud."

Benjamin felt the warmth of his father's praise, a rare moment of recognition amid the hard work that permeated their lives. He pocketed the capsule, feeling more confident than ever.

Arthur placed a hand on Benjamin's shoulder, the pride visible in his eyes. "Keep up the good work, but be careful. This is new territory for all of us. But I know you can do great things."

Benjamin nodded, grateful for his father's support. Arthur then turned his attention back to the cannon he was working on, but not before casting a final proud glance at his son. Revitalized by his father's acknowledgment, Benjamin walked away, determined to continue his work with even more determination.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Official Patreon launch
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Important announcement 😎
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Vol 2 Chapter 42/ From engineer to King
Vol 2 Chapter 43
Vol 2 Chapter 44
Vol 2 Chapter 45
Vol 2 Chapter 46
Vol 2 Chapter 47
Vol2 Chapter 48
Vol2 Chapter 49
Vol 2 Chapter 50
Vol 2 Chapter 51
Vol 2 Chapter 52
Vol 2 Chapter 53
Vol2 Chapter 54
Vol2 Chapter 55
Vol2 Chapter 56
Vol2 Chapter 57
Vol2 Chapter 58
Vol2 Chapter 59
Vol2 Chapter 60
Vol2 Chapter 61
Vol2 Chapter 62
Vol2 Chapter 63
Vol2 Chapter 64
Vol2 Chapter 65
Vol2 Chapter 66
Vol2 Chapter 67
Vol2 Chapter 68
Vol2 Chapter 69
Vol2 Chapter 70
Vol2 Chapter 71
Vol2 Chapter 72
Vol2 Chapter 73
Vol2 Chapter 74
Vol2 Chapter 75
Vol3 chapter 76
Vol3 Chapter 77
Vol3 Chapter 78
Vol3 Chapter 79
Vol3 Chapter 80
Vol3 Chapter 81
Vol3 chapter 82
Vol3 Chapter 83
Vol3 Chapter 84
Vol3 Chapter 85
Vol 3 Chapter 86