Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Hoofbeats on the frozen mud road echoed with a crisp CRUNCH, CRUNCH, like the sound of thin ice being crushed underfoot.

The convoy crossed from Sea Province into the lands of Sword Tooth Province. The towering Sword Tooth Mountain Range stood like a barrier, blocking the biting sea wind on its far side, and the chill in the air lessened slightly.

The scenery along the way was the typical desolation of winter.

Bare fields were covered in a layer of white frost, villages were sparse, and few chimneys showed any sign of cooking smoke.

This scene began to change in an unusual way as they approached Shiyan Town.

Newly built villages appeared on both sides of the road.

Though the houses were simple wooden structures, they were neatly arranged. Every household’s stone chimney billowed a straight column of grayish-white smoke, lending a trace of life to the gloomy winter sky.

Tristan wrapped his cloak tighter, observing in silence.

There were none of the ragged refugees he had expected to see, waiting to die by the roadside.

Several children in thick, coarse cotton clothes chased one another by a frozen mud puddle at the village entrance, their cheeks flushed red from the cold, puffing out great clouds of white breath.

"Newly Town provided them with short-term winter work," Velin’s voice sounded beside him, his tone as steady as if he were reading from a ledger. "With the extra income from work points, they can buy grain and charcoal to last the winter."

The convoy unloaded a shipment of goods from the Royal Capital in Newly Town and stayed for the night.

Tristan had long heard tales of this legendary town, but seeing it with his own eyes was a completely different experience.

Not a speck of trash or filth could be seen on the smooth, white-brick streets. The townspeople walked about with none of the numbness and misery Tristan was accustomed to seeing in the lower districts of the Royal Capital. Instead, the atmosphere was one of bustling, down-to-earth diligence.

He didn’t ask many questions, merely committing it all to memory.

The convoy set out again, continuing south. The salty, briny scent in the air grew stronger.

When they rounded a mountain pass and the full panorama of Sharp Teeth Gorge burst into view, Tristan’s fingers subconsciously tightened on the reins.

That wasn’t a city.

It was a massive construction site.

With a stone city hall already taking shape at its center, countless streams of people moved back and forth along wide, planned-out dirt roads, shuttling across a massive, terraced foundation that had been dug two levels deep. It looked like a bisected anthill.

They dismounted, led their mounts, and walked toward the edge of the massive construction site—a makeshift materials dispatch station.

Before they even got close, they heard a fierce argument break out.

"On what grounds are you docking our team’s work points! It was your cart’s wheel that broke first and blocked the road, making us late!"

"Bullshit! Our wheels were maintained just yesterday! It was your guys who broke it, forcing their way past to cut ahead! You’ll be the ones paying for these repairs!"

Two burly, foreman-like men were arguing until they were red in the face before a young man in a clerk’s attire. A circle of workers had gathered around to watch the commotion.

The young man paid their argument no mind, simply opening a thick, leather-bound logbook in his hands in an unhurried manner.

His finger slid across rows of fine script and numbers.

"Found it." He tapped a spot in the book with his charcoal pencil. "According to the record from Sentry Post Three, yesterday afternoon, while passing through the narrow pass, Stone Hauling Team Three’s flatbed cart, in its haste to overtake Lumber Hauling Team Seven ahead of it, caused its right rear wheel to come off the axle, blocking the road for a quarter of an hour."

He looked up at one of the foremen.

"In accordance with the Minas Tirith Construction Site Management Regulations, Chapter Three, Article Seventeen: for willfully cutting ahead and causing a blockage on a public road, Hauling Team Three is fined ten work points. Five of those points will be used to compensate Team Seven for the work time lost due to the blockage."

"As for the wheel’s repair..." He flipped to another page. "The maintenance station’s records show that the axle grease your team requisitioned last week was only half the standard amount. Therefore, your team will bear the cost of the repairs yourselves."

The guilty foreman’s face instantly turned a shade of deep purple, but he was unable to utter a single word in rebuttal.

The young man closed his book and said to the two of them, "That is the decision. Go and carry it out. Don’t hold up the people behind you waiting to register their materials."

The crowd dispersed, as if this were just another trivial, everyday occurrence.

Tristan’s gaze, however, was fixed firmly on that logbook.

’Not through bureaucratic experience or violence, but through records, data, and rules.’

’Could a construction site with over ten thousand people truly be managed with such meticulous detail?’

The city hall was five stories tall, wide and imposing, but it was devoid of any superfluous carvings or decorations. Only rows of rectangular windows broke the facade, making it appear austere and sturdy.

Barrett, Old Walker, and Valerius were already in the meeting room.

"Everyone," Velin said, gesturing to the man beside him. "This is Tristan Lorenzo. Starting today, he will serve as the mayor of Minas Tirith, responsible for coordinating all daily affairs."

The three men nodded in greeting to the new mayor. They had already heard about what had transpired in the Royal Capital.

"Mr. Mayor," Barrett began, opening his notebook. The script inside was large and forceful. "As of yesterday, the total registered population of Mi Port has reached eleven thousand, three hundred and forty-two. Last week saw six hundred and seventeen new immigrants, and Centurion Laine has already settled them all in without any trouble."

"Additionally, the centurion of Residential Area Four reports that thirty-odd immigrants from the south are not used to the local food and are experiencing digestive discomfort. As per your instructions, the logistics department has already added grilled wheat cakes and fish soup to their meals."

Tristan listened quietly.

’A massive construction site with over ten thousand people, with such a high rate of population turnover, and yet the administration is aware of the digestive issues of a few dozen individuals.’

He was secretly dumbfounded by this level of administrative efficiency.

Next was Old Walker.

"My Lord, the weather is too cold, so construction has shifted primarily to indoor tasks. The carpentry workshop is rushing to produce the doors, windows, and bedframes for the third batch of residences; they can be delivered in half a month. Also, the textile workshop has received fifty new skilled female workers. They say that as long as there’s enough wool, making blankets for the winter will be no problem."

Velin nodded and looked toward Valerius.

"Master, how is the newcomer, Elvin, doing?"

The moment his area of expertise was mentioned, the Alchemist immediately straightened his back, his face flushing with an excited glow.

"My Lord! You truly have a discerning eye for talent!" he exclaimed, unfurling a piece of parchment as if presenting a treasure. On it were two sketches of plants, annotated with dense rows of data.

"That lad, Elvin, he’s a true genius! His understanding of plants and the land belongs to a completely different school of thought!"

He placed two stalks of winter wheat side-by-side on the table. One was obviously taller and sturdier than the other, with a more developed root system.

"Following his suggestion, I took the ’Compound Fertilizer Number One’ formula you gave me and added a powder from a type of ’Echo Moss’ unique to Mist Spring Valley. Elvin said this moss can resonate with the aether in the soil, better releasing the fertilizer’s potency."

He pointed to the thriving stalk of wheat, his voice trembling with excitement.

"This is the control group, which used ordinary compost. And this is the experimental group, which used Elvin’s improved ’Fertile One’ formula! We ran a test in the Magic Greenhouse, and under identical conditions of light and irrigation, the average plant height increased by forty percent! I’ve estimated that by the spring harvest next year, the grain yield will increase by at least forty percent!"

Tristan looked at Valerius’s face, glowing with fanatical passion, and then glanced back at Velin.

A fire ignited in his heart. ’How could this possibly be the level of administration in a mere barony?’

’Velin’s Grey Marsh Territory definitely won’t stop at being a barony.’

He made up his mind. He would throw all his heart and energy into this job as mayor and secure a good position for himself on this newly launched ship.

Just then, the sound of footsteps came from outside the door, and a garrison soldier hurried in to report.

"My Lord, the convoy from Stone Oath City has arrived! Also, a steward from the Golden Sail Commerce Association is here. He says he has urgent business and requests an audience."

The group went outside the city hall.

A caravan of heavy wagons was parked at the edge of the square, their contents covered by thick tarps.

The Dwarf captain at the head of the caravan saw Velin and immediately jumped down from his wagon, placing a fist over his heart in salute.

"Baron Klein, as agreed, the first shipment of supplies has been delivered. Fifty heavy military crossbows and two hundred sets of standard-issue iron armor. The proprietor said he looks forward to our continued partnership."

Meanwhile, the steward from the Golden Sail Commerce Association sidled up, his face wreathed in smiles.

"Congratulations, Lord Baron! News of your heroic deeds at the Royal Capital Council has already spread throughout the entire Duchy! Many capable craftsmen and scholars have entrusted us with letters, saying they don’t even ask for a salary, only for a position in your territory!"

He handed over a thick register.

Velin didn’t take it.

He tilted his head and looked at Tristan beside him.

"Mr. Mayor, sorting through talent and putting each person to their best use—that is your first job."

Tristan took the heavy register.

It recorded name after name, along with their skills: shipwrights, astronomers, herbalists, and even a playwright.

Tristan held the register and looked up at the roaring construction site before him, where countless people were pouring their sweat and labor toward a common goal.

He felt that what he held in his hand was not a stack of paper.

It was a sprouting seed.