Published: January 31st 2025, 10:51:49 pm
AN: I will write a few chapters about the development of Whiteleaf Manor as bonus content. I felt it would mess with the narrative flow of the main story, but I still found it interesting enough to want to write it. I hope you enjoy it!
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The Marquis’ revenge was complete.
There were a few inevitable things in the universe: gravity, the passage of time, and taxes. When I first crossed the portal, I thought I would be free from the latter, but destiny proved me wrong.
A year after my appointment as a thane, I would have to pay the Marquis a bag full of silver. The following year, it would be two sacks, and the year after, three—one for the iron mine, one for the coal mine, and one for the quarry. When I first received the land, I thought my taxes would be minimal if I didn’t produce anything. I was wrong. To promote the exploitation of natural resources, I had to pay a flat rate whether I extracted them or not.
The Marquis had set me up good.
Developing Whiteleaf Manor was more work than I initially thought, and I could do nothing to dodge it if I wanted to remain a free man. I could try to sell Whiteleaf Manor, but no one in their sane mind would buy such a money sink. Opening a road between the old roots of the Forest Warden towards the mines would cost hundreds of man-hours. Expensive man-hours, considering only mid-level combatants could make a dent in the root system.
The fatal blow was that no sane non-combatant would like to live or work inside the Farlands, no matter how good the pay was. Even if I cleared the Warden’s roots and bramble, I would have nobody to mine the iron and cut the stone.
What the Marquis didn’t count on was my extensive network of allies. Some of them didn’t have gripes with living in monster-plagued areas.
My initial plan was to enable the iron mine in the first year, the coal mine in the second year, and the quarry in the third year. I would have a few orcs manning the workstations, and after the tax, they could use the yield for tools, armor, and weapons. It would be a win-win situation for me and the Teal Moon tribe.
Lyra Jorn wanted everything operational in nine months.
We presented the project to Wolf, and even after cutting down the first root, he departed into the Farlands to announce the scheme to the tribe. Lyra wanted fifty orcs to kickstart a settlement. Knowing about the Umolo fiasco, we were not confident about meeting the quota. Permanent settlements and orcs didn’t get along. Regardless, Wolf promised to bring a hundred orcs.
After defeating the Lich, Wolf’s popularity was a tad shy of messianic.
Shoulder to shoulder, Risha and I cleared the Warden’s roots from the surroundings of the manor. We cleared the old path down the hill and unearthed the old bridge. Behind us, Lyra followed the map she had copied from Abei’s library. We cleared a patch of land around the old well that was the old hamlet’s center. The area wasn’t the most affected by the Warden’s roots, but it took us a whole day to clear a square of forty meters of side, even while unleashing all our skills over the blockade.
When the sun was about to set, a mana sparrow landed on my shoulder, and half an hour later, Wolf and Ilya appeared with a retinue of a hundred orcs. Our forty-by-forty patch was going to be too small.
Lyra hijacked the camp installation while I chatted with the kids; however, my workday was far from finished. As the sun touched the peaks of the western mountain, I was sent to clear an extra plot of land to house the surplus of guests. An hour later, when the camp was set, and the bonfires gleamed against the darkness, I finally finished my work.
I examined the settlement. It wasn’t much different from the orc outpost where I met Dassyra for the first time. I grinned. The seed was planted. The orcs had prepared a tent for us, so I washed my face and hands and headed to the nearest campfire for a food bowl. As soon as I sat down, an old orc woman handed me a bowl full of barley soup. Orcs worked like a single-cell organism; they knew what to do and did their work without complaining.
The aroma of spices was soothing, and I made sure to ask for seconds.
We had grand plans for Whiteleaf Manor, but the first step was to secure a water and food supply. The river ran nearby, but Lyra said a well would be more efficient for house consumption. We would have to be mighty efficient to have everything ready in nine months.
After finishing the meal, I returned to the tent and fell asleep as soon as my head touched the bedroll.
****
I slept for six hours straight, which, with [Invigoration] in between, counted for twelve. I might have slept for one or two more hours, but Lyra shook me until I opened my eyes. There was no use in trying to ignore her.
“We are behind schedule,” she greeted me.
“Of course we are,” I grunted as I exited my bedroll like a half-baked caterpillar.
Wolf and Ilya lightly snored in the corner of the tent. They had done enough work already, traveling for days into the Farlands to summon the orcs. We let them rest. However, we weren’t so merciful with Risha and Izabeka.
“I haven’t been so sore since that time we hit a wyvern nest,” Risha grunted as we exited the tent.
There were already some orcs on foot, removing weeds from the corners of the hamlet. Staying idle wasn’t part of orc culture. If there were a single task that would increase the tribe’s survival, they would do it without a complaint. At least they understood that rest was as important as work.
“I wish I had orcish discipline,” I said, chewing on a piece of dry meat.
“You have something better,” Izabeka replied. “Lyra.”
I didn’t know when Lyra departed from the group, but she was at the other side of the living area, instructing the early orcs.
“They are going to put her in a bag and send her downstream,” Izabeka said.
“I hope not,” I replied. “She’s like seventy percent of the brain of this operation.”
Izabeka and the old orphans were well-instructed people for Farcrest standards, so developing the state with our wits alone wasn’t farfetched. However, Lyra was our cheat code. The girl finished lecturing the orcs and approached us.
“Like we planned?” I asked.
“Like we planned,” Lyra grinned.
The first step was to secure water and food supply. We separated into two groups. Lyra, Risha, and Izabeka would survey the river's surroundings to determine the best place for the farmlands and the irrigation system. Meanwhile, I had the task of repairing the old well. We wished each other good luck, and I turned towards the well. The orcs had already constructed a wooden frame to attach a rope. Eventually, I would have to go down, but first, I needed to assess its condition.
The cover was long gone. I leaned over the edge. The water was stagnant, and the walls were covered in algae and lichen. Due to the river's proximity, the water level was high, so draining it would take us days, even with Ginz’s manual pump.
The orcs brought tall buckets, and I rolled up my shirt sleeves.
I used [Minor Hydrokinesis] and felt the water at the bottom of the well like a candle in darkness. Underneath my feet were more bright spots, but they became dull as they went deeper into the earth. Somehow, I knew where to dig to find water. Even after so many years, the reserves tapped by the well were the most abundant.
I swirled the water upwards into a bucket. The orcs were initially surprised but quickly ran to the bramble line and dropped the stagnant water far from the tents. To my misfortune, the waterline was very high, and the well was deep. It took us hours of constant work to drain it. My [Minor Hydrokinesis] could only move so much water, and I couldn’t create a constant flow out of the camp.
“Why couldn't you give me [Greater Hydrokinesis] or something,” I grunted.
As the water level diminished, the stone lining was revealed. It was covered in algae. I looked around for a suitable volunteer to get inside the hole, but even the slimmest orc was too wide for the well. I sighed.
“I’m going in,” I said.
My [Minor Geokinesis] didn’t reach the bottom of the well, so raising a stone pillar to get me was out of the picture. The well was ten meters deep, and I could only control rocks in a two-meter radius. At least [Minor Hydrokinesis] had a greater range. Otherwise, it would be depressing to bring the water out from inside the well.
The nearest orc dragged the wooden frame and the rope, but I dismissed him.
I jumped into the well and used [Minor Aerokinesis] to dampen the fall.
I stepped on a frog.
The smell was foul. I put my shirt over my nose, but it barely masked the stench. I had no heart to kill the frogs—Pyrrah wouldn’t have forgiven me if I did—so I flung them out of the well with a sprinkle of aerokinesis. Then, I dug in the mud until I found sand. I had an idea.
I channeled a mana barrier around my body and used aerokinesis to create a small hurricane inside the well. The specks of sand flew around me at ludicrous speeds, scratching the lining and tearing the algae from the stone. The orcs outside the well coughed and stepped back. Seeing the rock shine under the layer of muck was as satisfying as those sand-blasting videos on the Internet.
After a few minutes, the walls were clean, although the stench was even worse.
[Minor Geokinesis] wasn’t working on the mixture of sand, algae, and putrid remains, but at least [Mana Mastery] had never let me down.
“Get me a bucket,” I yelled up the hole.
Suddenly, a hand emerged from the mud and grasped my ankle with the strength of a hydraulic press. My flesh complained. Instinctively, I created a barrier around my body just as the creature jumped up.
Sunken Wraith Lv.12
Orcs would say afterward that I let out a not-so-masculine screech. They were lying, of course.
The Sunken Wraith looked like a mummy with long algae hair and serrated black teeth. Its dark purple skin covered its bones like a layer of plastic. Its arms were thin like twigs but powerful like coiled steel. It tried to bring me down and drown me in the mud. The screech deafened me.
I held back the desire to summon a mana blade and finish the creature. I couldn’t damage the well. Instead, I channeled my [Pyrokinesis] and unleashed a ring of fire. The creature fell back and tried to dig its way into the damp earth. Only then did I summon my mana blade and stabbed the Wraith’s back.
With a last screech, the Sunken Wraith died.
I sat down in the smelly mud. My heart was about to burst. When I looked up, I saw a dozen orcs with cleavers ready to jump inside. I gave them the thumbs up and started shoveling.
“I hate you, Tauron of Farcrest,” I muttered between my teeth.
An hour later, I cleared the well’s bottom and used a bit of [Pyrokinesis] for good measure. Not enough to make the wet stones explode, but enough to burn any speck of organic material left behind. The water started to sprout from the depths, so I lined the bottom with a fresh layer of gravel and sand and had the orcs pull me up with the rope.
The well would take a while to refill, but the work was done.
I expected a breath of fresh air, but I was covered in sludge.
[Foresight] had done nothing to minimize the smell.
“Watch out, ladies, a slimy Scholar is prowling around,” Izabeka said as I sat against the well. The orcs looked away. “What happened? Did someone fall and break their neck?”
A few orcs laughed discreetly.
“A Sunken Wraith. In the well,” I said, taking my shirt off. Underneath, there was even more sludge stuck to my skin.
Izabeka nodded.
“Auntie Kiln would comfort you, but you stink,” she said, covering her nose. “Why don’t you go soak in the river before we all lose the appetite for the rest of the week.”
I went towards the river before Lyra could send me to cut more roots. In my wake, the orcs moved away. I sighed. Considering how much there was to do, Tauron’s revenge was going to be a slow one.