Northreach Village Square (Below the Castle). Morning – The First Job Fair.
The sun had just risen, but the village square—usually quiet with only chickens passing by and old n drying wheat—had turned into a sea of people.
News of House Sudrath’s victory in Mist Valley had spread like wildfire. But the hotter news was: "Duke Lucian pays soldiers 2 Gold Coins and feeds them at three tis a day."
For commoners used to eating watery gruel and getting paid with a "thank you," this was paradise.
Over five hundred people jostled for space. The sll of sweat, mud, and livestock blended into one.
"Queue up! Step back, all of you!"
Sir Riven’s shout bood, amplified by a simple tin gaphone (Rianor’s invention). Riven stood on a wooden stage, hands on his hips. Beside him, Captain Thorne and Garrick served as security.
Riven looked at the sea of people with a headache.
Crazy, Riven thought. In Jakarta, finding a job is hard. Here, finding employees is a headache.
"Listen to the rules!" Riven shouted (Public Mode: Firm but People-Friendly). "House Sudrath needs no slackers! We don’t care whose son you are, we care about what you can do!"
Riven pointed to three prepared stations.
"Station One: Physical Test. Lift a 30 kg stone, run around the field 5 tis. If you faint, go ho!"
"Station Two: Skill Test. Blacksmiths, carpenters, cooks, go here!"
"Station Three: Literacy Test. Those who can read and write, report imdiately to Sir Roland!"
Chaos ensued.
Station One Tent (Physical).
Riven massaged his temples as he watched a scrawny man try to lift a stone, only to fart from the exertion. Pffft.
"Fail! Go ho, eat more first!" Garrick dismissed him sadistically.
Riven turned to Thorne.
"Thorne, natural selection takes too long. We need a faster way."
Riven picked up a wooden spear.
"Whoever dares to step forward and attack right now, gets hired instantly!" Riven challenged.
Silence. Everyone was afraid of the "Sudrath Giant" who killed General Kael with his bare hands.
Suddenly, a shabby village girl with short-cropped hair stepped forward. She held a mop handle. Her eyes were wild.
"I need money to buy dicine for my mother," she said, trembling but standing her ground.
Riven smiled faintly.
"Attack."
The girl scread, charging forward. Of course, Riven deflected her with one finger. She fell and rolled on the ground.
But she got up again and tried to bite Riven’s leg.
"Enough!" Riven laughed. "Truly brave. Hired! Join the Logistics Division!"
Industrial Zone (Forr Grain Warehouse).
Afternoon.
While Riven dealt with the sll of sweat, Sir Rianor and Lady Rumina dealt with the sll of chemicals.
The large warehouse had been transford into a Manufacturing Plant.
There were three main divisions:
Paper Division: Wood pulp was being mass-produced. Target: 1,000 sheets per day.
Glass Division: Production of clear tumblers and pocket mirrors (premium products for noblewon).
New Division: SOAP.
"Kak, the batter has thickened!" Rumina exclaid, stirring a large vat containing animal fat (tallow) and ash water (lye).
"Add the fragrance, Rum!" Rianor ordered.
Rumina poured in jasmine and lavender extract squeezed from the castle gardens.
A fragrant scent imdiately filled the room, overpowering the sll of fat.
"Scented Bar Soap," Rianor murmured, looking at the neatly lined wooden molds. "In this world, people bathe with just water or harsh soap that makes skin itch. If we sell scented soap that makes skin soft..."
"...Noble mothers will buy it in bulk," Rumina finished with a grin. "You capitalist, Bro."
"Hey, this is for the good of humanity," Rianor deflected. "So people here don’t sll bad. I can’t stand their body odor during etings."
Suddenly, the warehouse door opened. Sir Roland entered, fanning himself with a reject sheet of paper.
"Nor, Rumi," Roland called. "I found an interesting candidate from the Literacy Test."
Roland brought in a hunched old man with thick, cracked glasses. His clothes were tattered, but his fingers were stained with ink.
"His na is Silas," Roland introduced. "He’s a forr scribe at the Capital Library who was fired for... ahem... correcting the King’s spelling in an official letter."
Rianor’s eyes lit up. A discarded intellectual. An asset.
"Mr. Silas," Rianor greeted politely. "I need soone to manage this machine."
Rianor pointed to the corner of the room. A wooden press with reversed letter blocks carved roughly.
Printing Press Prototype 1.
Silas’s old eyes widened. He approached, touching the letters.
"This... this is a tool for writing without hands?" his voice trembled. "One press... can produce a full page? No need to copy manually for hours?"
"Correct," Rianor said. "I want you to be the Editor-in-Chief of our newspaper. Salary: 10 Gold a month. And you are free to correct anyone’s spelling, including mine."
Silas fell to his knees, weeping with emotion. For a book lover, this machine was a divine miracle.
"I will serve, Young Master! I will print knowledge for the whole world!"
Rianor looked at Roland and Rumina. The signature "Sudrajat Siblings" cunning smile appeared.
Mass propaganda was ready to begin.
Castle Dining Room (Family Mode: ON).
Night.
Dinner tonight was lively. There was Grilled Chicken with Sweet Soy Sauce (Martha finally succeeded in making Kecap from local soybeans after being taught by Aurelia).
"How was recruitnt today, Bang?" Rianor asked, chewing on a chicken drumstick.
Riven rested his head on the table. Frustrated face.
"Disaster, Nor. Out of 500 people, only 120 passed. The rest are physically weak, malnourished. I have to start a Fattening Program before I can even teach them to hold a spear."
"It’s okay, Bang," Aurelia comforted (Mom Mode). "Investing in humans takes ti. The important thing is loyalty."
"But sothing funny happened," Riven lifted his head. "There was this one guy, small body, scruffy. When I tested his combat, his movents were agile like a pickpocket. His na is Flick. I put him in the Intelligence Division to help Rhea."
"Good," Lucian nodded. "We need eyes and ears."
"And how’s the factory?" Riven asked back.
Rumina held up a bar of light purple soap. "Lavender Soap, first edition! I tested it on Veena, and now Veena slls like a baby."
Raveena (Rafidha) grinned. "The soap is so good, lots of foam! Not like the scrub soap that stings."
"Tomorrow, Roland takes samples to the traveling rchants," Rianor instructed. "Don’t sell them at a high price yet. Give Free Samples. Let them get addicted first. The drug dealing strategy... uh, I an FMCG (Fast Moving Consur Goods) strategy."
"Roger, Boss," Roland saluted.
Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the dining room door.
Grimm entered, his face serious. He carried a small black box sealed with dark red wax.
"Forgive the interruption of the family dinner, My Lord," Grimm said. "But this package just arrived. Placed right in front of the gate with no one seeing the sender."
The atmosphere instantly turned tense. Relaxed mode gone.
Lucian stood up. "Riven, take the kids away."
Aurelia imdiately ushered Raveena and Raphael back.
Rianor approached. "Careful, Grimm. Could be poison or magic."
Rianor examined the seal.
No noble family crest. Only an image of a Single Eye Dripping Blood.
"The symbol of the Assassin Guild ’The Silent Step’," whispered Rhea, who suddenly appeared from the shadows (she just returned from patrol). "They are the most expensive hitn on this continent."
Grimm opened the box carefully with a knife.
It wasn’t a human head. And not a bomb.
The content was a broken dagger and a slip of paper.
Rianor picked up the paper.
The ssage was brief, written in dried blood:
"You have attracted the Great Master’s attention. Hand over ’That Thing’ in 7 days, or we will take it from your cold corpses."
"’That Thing’?" Roland asked, confused. "The glass cup?"
"No," Lucian shook his head, his eyes staring sharply at the floor, as if penetrating the earth beneath the castle.
"They know about the Mithril," Lucian said heavily. "Morvath is impatient. He hired professionals."
Rianor crumpled the paper.
"Just breathed a sigh of relief for one day, and there’s already a new threat. Can’t we just live peacefully?"
"Welco to the Isekai World, Brother," Riven patted Rianor’s shoulder, then picked up his chicken drumstick again. "Eat first. We need energy to kill Assassins tomorrow."
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