Chapter 67: Distribution Workforce
’Why did I not think about this...?’
Rituals were an integral part of this world. Everything from taking in a small Shard to doing something big required a ritual.
Many things began to resurface in Edgar’s mind and he could finally make out a structure from it.
’The Nightmare who controls the Tide wanted sacrifices. It also wants Hera to be the bride for some reason.’
Perhaps it had something to do with her healing powers or maybe because her mother was blessed by the Ocean God.
But the more answers he got, the more questions were born as well.
’What type of ritual is it? Why does the Nightmare want to perform a ritual?’
His gaze once again shifted toward the veteran knight as he asked, "Have you heard about something like this before?"
Gordon’s brows gradually furrowed as he searched through decades of memories.
"There are old stories that I heard when I was young while traveling with an old storyteller," he finally said. "He was a man who recorded ancient history."
Edgar looked at him and asked quietly, "What did he tell you?"
"That Nightmares don’t grow like humans," he said. "They grow by performing different varieties of rituals."
"What type of rituals?"
"I don’t know, my lord." Gordon shook his head regretfully. "There were too many of them for me to remember."
"..."
Edgar nodded without saying anything.
He leaned his head against the wall, thinking about all the things that could happen.
"I still don’t understand, though..." Gordon spoke again. "Why leave such a message behind?"
"...Perhaps it was part of the ritual?" Edgar wondered. "Like a declaration to the world that she belongs to it?"
The words that left his mouth put a bad taste in it. Edgar felt weird talking about it.
"...Like an owner already believing she belonged to him," Gordon mumbled, shifting his gaze toward the house where Hera was.
"I still don’t understand one thing," Edgar said, standing up. "What made the Nightmare think she wouldn’t die or kill herself after what he did to her?"
Gordon remained silent for a long second before answering.
"Confidence?"
Edgar looked at him with eyes asking for more.
The veteran knight folded his arms. "If a lion marks a deer, it doesn’t wonder whether the deer can escape. It simply assumes it cannot."
Edgar thought for a moment before dismissing the train of thought.
"...Or he has someone close by to stop her from dying," Edgar said, looking at him.
They both fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts.
---
The murky grey-black fog returned once again, leaving behind the Eternal Night.
Edgar looked at the hundreds of dead bodies lying in the open just outside the Fortress.
’Well, this will help us for quite some time.’
In a refreshed mood, he walked down the patrol path and called for Oswald.
The old butler quickly walked toward him with a polite smile. "Yes, Young Master?"
"Have you done what I asked?" Edgar said, looking at him.
"Yes." The old man began leading Edgar toward a different area. "I have gathered all the able-bodied men who can work and even brought a few seeds."
Edgar gave a small nod and followed behind him.
As they walked across the Fortress, more and more people had already begun their morning.
People were running around doing different chores. Edgar had already told them about the toilets and how to use them.
The reaction he got from them was overwhelming joy.
The people from Soragon Bazaar were also astonished by the hand pump, and Edgar could still see some children playing around it.
After a short walk, Edgar arrived at an empty clearing where around thirty men were already waiting.
They did not include the members whom Edgar had already decided to place in the patrol team under Gordon’s command.
The first thing Edgar did was commit every face to memory.
"Good."
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"From today onward, this Fortress will no longer function like a refugee camp. It will function as a Fortress."
His calm voice spread across the clearing.
"You will all have jobs, and no one eats for free."
Several people instinctively straightened their backs.
"The first group..." He looked toward a broad-shouldered man. "Those with farming experience, step forward."
Nine people slowly walked to the side, consisting of both old and young.
Edgar nodded. "You guys will be responsible for the Agricultural House. I will explain its function later."
"Agricultural... House?"
Confused looks appeared on their faces, reflecting their ignorance.
Edgar ignored them for now and continued. "Artisans and those who know craftsmanship."
Only three people stepped out this time, two old men and one young man.
Edgar nodded and asked them to stand aside.
"Blacksmith!"
Only Sir Steven walked forward with his usual old demeanor.
Edgar looked at him. "I will work on a Smithing House soon."
"I can wait," the old man responded. "Please don’t worry too much."
’No, I want to make it quickly so I can overwork you into creating gear and rings for me.’
Edgar only smiled sweetly, which for some reason made the old man shiver uncomfortably.
"Alright!" He clapped his hands. "The rest of you will do miscellaneous jobs until needed."
The blonde boy then looked at Andrew, who was standing not so far away.
"Andrew! Teach them how to bring all those corpses inside!"
"Yes, Young Master!"
Andrew puffed out his chest and proudly stepped forward.
"Everyone, follow me!"
The remaining men exchanged glances before trailing after the young boy.
Edgar looked at those who were left behind and smiled.
"Let’s start by getting to know the Agricultural House."
They nodded and followed the blonde boy toward the three-story building.
From the outside, it looked no different from an ordinary stone building, only much larger.
"What exactly is this place?" one of the older farmers finally asked.
"An Agricultural House!" Edgar said. "Let’s go in."
He led them up the ramp and eventually to the first floor, which was filled with cream-colored soil.
"Agricultural Land?" one of the farmers recognized it. "Inside a building."
"It will be much easier to show you what it does," Edgar said as he took the seeds from Oswald.
Without any preparation, Edgar simply threw the seeds onto the soil and waited.
The farmers exchanged puzzled glances.
"...Young Master?"
One of them scratched his head. "Shouldn’t we till the soil first?"
"And water it," another added.
"Aye, and bury the seeds properly," an elderly farmer agreed.
Edgar simply raised a hand. "Just watch."
The nine farmers fell silent.
A few moments passed, and the soil trembled.
"...!"
Tiny green shoots burst through the earth.
The farmers’ eyes widened.
The sprouts continued growing before their very eyes.
Within a few breaths, what had been nothing but seeds had become healthy young plants.
"W-Witchcraft!!"
One of the farmers shouted in horror and ran away.
Edgar immediately raised his hand and rubbed his face.
’...Not this again.’