Chapter 8: The Furnace of Order
Early morning.
Warm sunlight pushed back the lingering chill of early spring.
Martha tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she stirred a thin porridge made from crushed rye. She couldn't help but sigh.
Life had grown increasingly difficult since her husband had been gored to death by a wild boar the previous winter.
Now the new lord had collected taxes. After handing over their share, the household had less than fifty pounds of rye left. Every meal meant watching the supply shrink.
She had even considered boiling the remaining seed grain for food.
But two days ago, the lord had confiscated all seeds for unified planting and forbidden private cultivation.
The messenger claimed the lord would not let anyone starve.
But remembering Rhodes's cold eyes, Martha found that hard to believe.
She looked toward her two daughters in the yard. Lia was eighteen. Sunny was fifteen. Both struggled to haul water from the well.
If things worsened, she might have to send them away to marry into other households.
But—
Her gaze fell on the one-year-old boy lying on the bed.
Who would willingly take in a widow with a child?
"Up! Everyone up!"
A loud voice echoed through the street.
Martha stiffened. She recognized it immediately—Otto.
She hurried inside, pulled the child close, shut the door, and peered through the window.
What are they taking this time?
"Listen carefully!" Otto shouted. "By order of Lord Rhodes, all manure around your homes must be collected and transported outside the town. From now on, no waste is to be left in the streets!"
"The lord will inspect at noon. Anyone who fails to comply will be whipped!"
A guard stood beside Otto, hand resting on his blade. No one doubted the order's authenticity.
But confusion spread quickly.
"Why does the lord want excrement?" someone muttered.
Martha wondered the same.
Feeding animals? But how many animals could consume an entire town's waste?
A neighbor shouted openly, "First he takes our seeds, now he interferes with where we relieve ourselves?"
Crack!
The sound of a whip slicing through the air was sharp and vicious.
Martha flinched.
The neighbor lowered her head instantly, hands covering her face.
"The lord is the law," the guard said coldly. "Speak again and I will cut out your tongue."
Silence followed.
Martha sighed. She turned to her daughters.
"Lia. Sunny. Eat first. After that, gather the manure behind the house. I'll carry it out."
At least they had not disposed of last night's bucket yet.
Suddenly—
Bang!
The wooden door burst open.
Otto strode in carrying a sack of rye and dropped it onto the table.
"Martha! Fortune has found you!"
He grinned broadly. "The lord has taken a liking to your daughters!"
…
…
In Rhodes's courtyard.
Martha stole a glance at the young lord before quickly lowering her head.
"Your Excellency," she stammered, "please allow me to instruct my daughters first, so they may serve you properly in bed—"
"In bed?" Rhodes interrupted sharply.
He turned and kicked Otto hard in the shin.
"I brought them here as maids. Not concubines."
Otto yelped and backed away.
Rhodes faced Martha again, voice steady.
"They will rise before I do, prepare hot water, assist with washing, bring breakfast, tidy the house, and handle laundry."
He paused.
"If you are willing, you may also cook. You and your daughters will eat and live here. I will provide thirty pounds of rye each month."
Thirty pounds.
If Martha worked here, that entire amount could be saved.
For a moment she stood frozen. Sunny tugged at her sleeve.
Martha dropped to her knees.
"Thank you, my lord! Thank you!"
Her daughters knelt as well.
"Enough," Rhodes said. "Can you begin today?"
"Yes! I will leave the child with a neighbor and return immediately!"
Rhodes nodded and summoned Lawrence, who was supervising construction nearby.
"This is my steward, Lawrence. Speak to him if you need anything."
Martha bowed deeply. Lawrence returned the greeting.
"I will ensure everything is arranged," Lawrence said confidently.
Rhodes smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.
The previous night, they had spoken at length.
From the mineral wealth hidden in the northern mountains to the grain potential of the surrounding plains.
From the natural defense of the Icefield Mountains to future trade through eastern ports.
Rhodes had described a future where coffers overflowed.
He had even promised Lawrence stewardship over vaults filled with gold.
Lawrence had been dazzled.
More importantly, he understood a harsh truth: wealth without protection was meaningless. Bandits could take everything in a single raid.
Serving under a strong lord offered both security and opportunity.
And survival.
With Lawrence managing the estate, Durant was freed to focus on military matters.
Rhodes led Durant and Gunnar to the town's blacksmith shop.
It was little more than a collapsing shack.
No proper bellows. No stable furnace.
"It seems new armor will have to wait," Rhodes muttered.
Durant and Gunnar were his strongest fighters. Equipping them properly was a priority.
"Harlan," Rhodes called to the blacksmith, who sat slumped in defeat. "Can you build bellows?"
Harlan shook his head helplessly.
"Durant. Fetch the carpenter."
Rhodes retrieved parchment and began sketching.
He had never built bellows in his life—but the system's knowledge provided clear structural guidance.
After hours of drafting and adjustments, he handed the design to the carpenter.
While construction began, Rhodes reinforced the forge pillars and repaired the roof himself.
By evening, the newly assembled bellows pumped air into the furnace.
The fire roared brighter than it ever had before.
Then—
[Blacksmith Workshop Constructed.]
[Entry Unlocked: Precision Forging Furnace.]
Rhodes watched the flames dance within the forge.
First the land.
Now the fire.
Order was spreading.
(End of Chapter)