LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 105.2
Our first destination upon arriving in Cardia was its mines.
“The recently introduced mining trains have brought remarkable industrial progress to mining operations.”
To produce armor and weapons, a significant amount of iron was needed. This was especially true for crafting northern iron weapons rivaling Imperial Steel.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Rumble… BOOM!
Choo-choo-choo-choo!
All around, the sounds of pickaxes, explosions, and steam engines echoed without pause.
This was just the area outside the coal mines where “regular” miners worked. Deeper within the mines, the tunnels teemed with prisoners.
The Renslets were a people whose practicality and efficiency permeated their very bones.
To them, letting prisoners rot in jail and waste resources was inconceivable. Those energetic enough to commit crimes were put to work rather than being idly fed.
Thus, prisoners had long been tasked with hard, dangerous labor.
‘What was that guy’s name again? The one who got dragged off after that knife fight on my first day here? I wonder if he’s still alive.’
The memory of my first day in this world resurfaced—someone from that brawl at Jack’s inn. I vaguely remembered hearing he’d been sentenced to hard labor in the mines.
I was curious for a moment but quickly dismissed the thought. I couldn’t even recall his name; how would I find him?
“The minerals produced here are transported directly to the adjacent steelworks,” explained the head of Arad Energy, bowing as he guided us.
I followed the executives’ lead as we moved to the steelworks under construction in Cardia.
‘It’s fascinating that two core technologies from the Golden Age—steelmaking and construction—persist in this barbaric edge of the world.’
The Renslets’ ancestors were said to be druidic barbarians, yet their skill in metallurgy and construction was exceptional.
The High Tower and the Great Northern Barrier were prime examples of steel-reinforced concrete combined with witches’ elemental magic.
For a culture that revered nature as deeply as the druids, their mastery of steel and construction seemed contradictory.
The lore suggested these technologies had been passed down since the Golden Age. Even during their druidic era, they couldn’t eradicate these practices and used them sparingly.
Eventually, infighting among the druids led to the emergence of the civilized northerners we knew today.
While watching iron production at the steelworks, I asked, “Has there been any pushback?”
“Pushback, sir? What do you mean?”
“This level of mechanized, standardized production—it must irritate traditional Renslet craftsmen.”
Even in the Empire, the artisans who forged Imperial Steel had long resisted industrialization.
With northern iron rivaling Imperial Steel, resistance here should have been significant too.
“Ah, you needn’t worry about that,” the executives reassured me.
‘What? Did they resolve it with force or something?’
“Haha, nothing of the sort! Would you like to visit one of Cardia’s renowned workshops?”
Seeing my expression, an executive laughed and shook his head. Apparently, my thoughts had been written all over my face.
“If we go, keep it quiet and take a small group. Change into inconspicuous clothes,” I replied, nodding at his suggestion.
Soon after, I discreetly visited a workshop run by a northern iron master in Cardia. The moment I stepped inside, I understood why the executives had been so dismissive of my concerns.
“There’s so much work! TOO much work!”
“Why does northern iron require such painstaking labor?!”
“ARGH! We need to equip more Renslet sons with armor and weapons made from northern iron!”
‘Are they… acting?’
It felt a little performative, but the overall sentiment was clear:
‘At least the craftsmen’s livelihoods won’t be significantly disrupted.’
The North and the Empire were fundamentally different in scale.
The Empire’s artisans were numerous and organized into powerful guilds. In contrast, Renslet had a scarcity of skilled tradespeople, much like their shortage of highly specialized professionals.
“…Mass-produced weapons can come from the factories, while custom masterpieces or ceremonial pieces are left to the craftsmen,” I muttered, glancing at the workshop.
With this understanding, I could greenlight the military factory’s full operation without hesitation.
After signing off on the factory expansion, I found myself lingering, gazing back toward the workshop.
‘Is it because I haven’t made something by hand in so long? My hands are itching to create.’
While my soul might be that of a businessman, Arad’s body was inherently a craftsman’s. Not having created anything with my hands lately seemed to have awakened an urge.
‘Mary… she was skilled with a sword, wasn’t she?’
Naturally, my thoughts drifted to Mary, who had been occupying much of my mind lately.
‘Maybe I should forge a sword for her? Come to think of it, I don’t even know her birthday. I’ll ask her as soon as I return to the High Tower.’
***
Upon returning to the High Tower, I immediately asked Mary, “When’s your birthday?”
“My birthday? It’s the 25th of Saeia—Ah!”
Caught off guard by my sudden question, Mary accidentally revealed her real birthday.
“?? You share a birthday with Her Highness, the Grand Duchess?”
“What? Oh… yes!”
“I should’ve asked earlier. It would’ve been nice to make something for you alongside the gift I’m preparing for Her Highness.”
“I-It’s fine, really.”
Every year for Arina’s birthday, I crafted something personally for her.
These were usually practical, enchanted items like a desk, sofa, or bed for her office—items far more useful and convenient than anything else she’d ever owned.
“Hmm… I’ve been neglecting employee birthdays until now. Even though birthdays aren’t a big deal in northern culture, it still feels heartless. I’ll add birthday recognition to our welfare program.”
Muttering about employee benefits, I turned back to Mary.
“What do you want? Name it.”
“I really don’t need anything. Truly.”
“Then I’ll decide and make something for you myself.”
Despite her protests, I was stubborn about such things.
Thus, the highly anticipated birthday arrived—the day marking five years since my arrival in this world.