Reincarnate as Prince: Change Magical World with Industry

46 New Faces

The night was cold and the breeze was chilly. Janus took off his coat -- the one given to him by Jundra, leader of the Merrimen. It was warm and comfortable, with fluffy white fur which was fitted and tailored to perfection. He had to take it off now that he was writing beside the fire, as warmth had started creeping up to him.

He put it on the back of the chair and marveled at it for a few seconds. For anyone outside this settlement, this might look like some run-of-the-mill coat owned by a nobleman. Nothing really fancy -- it wouldn't stand out too much within the castle walls of Galedon. But to him it was special, it symbolized the current progress of Wayward Home. The home that he had helped build, and was currently building.

The coat was made from a large white elk that they captured and killed on the northern border. The creature was rampaging and seemed to be going berserk. They couldn't afford to have that, as this place was the home designated for the goblin snake wranglers. so they called the Merrimen to take care of it. They shared the meat with Yashiek, the goblin chieftess as a welcome gift. The skin was presented to Mistress Issha who sent it to their small tanning operation for drying and processing. It was then embroidered and tailored according to Janus' measurements (Which Yvaine and the maidens took when Janus was sleeping, much to his dismay). Adduk oversaw the fabrication of its buckles and buttons, with the iron ore and gold provided by Ramstead. The goblin genius took care to only use a little gold -- merely for embellishments and decorations -- knowing as Janus would recoil at the thought of wearing too much luxury.

They presented it to him earlier, just after dinner at their base in lakeside. Janus wore it the whole night, he was happy to notice that the fabric smelled of fresh flowers and fruits. Mistress Issha's maidens have been working on various perfumes and soaps based on the books that he had provided. The no-showering habit of Galedon was something that wouldn't be practiced in this new home, not if he was in charge.

The simple white coat wasn't just a coat to him. It was a symbol of everyone's craft and dedication. Dozens of hands worked to make it from scratch and Janus was happy to have the honor of wearing it. Yvaine thought he would reject the gift and give it to someone else, due to his twisted sense of honor. Janus didn't even think of it.

"Of course I won't reject it. Do you know how cold it is in Lakeside during the night? And my sense of honor isn't twisted. It's appropriate."

Yvaine rolled her eyes at that last comment, but she patted him on the back before leaving for the night, telling him that he earned it. He didn't reveal how precious the coat really was to him. It was better than anything he had ever received in this world (aside from his Library books of course). This was something that he treated as a treasure, and he would wear it like a King.

While he was staring at the coat dangling on the back of an empty chair, his candlelight flickered. Suddenly his mind went back to his table and realized the amount of work that he still had to do.

Stacks and stacks of papers and books were laid out in front of him yet again. It felt like ages ago when he first started doing this. He remembered that first night, when he was surrounded by a group of caravans huddled together, strewn haphazardly with ropes and blankets for roofing. Where people and goblins alike were sleeping in bedrolls and hammocks scattered all over the ground.

This time he was surrounded by brick walls with reliable roofing. In a Library where he can store his books safely and not be afraid of any coming storm. The crates and barrels that he had once used were now replaced by a huge oak table carefully crafted from the largest tree that they could find. His papers that were previously falling to the ground now had appropriate space for three rolls or more. This time he had a kettle of strong tea to keep him awake and alert, and a trusty companion who was currently napping at his feet. Someone he can give belly rubs or head pats to when he's feeling lonely.

There was no time to feel lonely though, as a mass of immigrants had flooded into their village in the past few weeks. Each with their own unique story and situation. Suddenly his lists needed revising and re-tooling. He thought he would escape this task once the place was established. But no, it was shaping up to be a constant thing that he had to do every night.

The first group came in two weeks before. They came from the top of the mountains and was found by the goblins on an ore prospecting trip. It was composed of a group of humans and dwarves from the north. They were a mix of a refugee tribe from the Empire of Mydir along with dwarven slaves from the Orc war camps.

They came from a long and arduous journey. They hiked in the same path as the Ramstead dwarves had gone through a hundred years ago, scaling the mountain ranges of Brimstone to find this place. Elder Nanafell came out to the surface yet again to welcome this group. Their histories were intertwined. She was eager to hear their story.

Quairo Quaileen was the leader of the men who called themselves the Mairobi. He was old and frail and looked too thin from the journey, but he had withstood the harshest conditions that the mountain threw at them. They had darker skin than the Galedonians. The men had large beards while the women never cut their hair, tying them up into heavy turbans and clothes.

 Theirs was a minority group that was absorbed by the Mydir Empire for hundreds of years but were never given the opportunity to rise up the ranks into positions of power. They weren't even allowed to own land without paying the majority of their earnings in tax.

Under Mydirian rule, they were always relegated as laborers without the ability to go rise above their station. Unlike regular citizens, they had to adhere to the strict bureaucratic rule of the Empire. Perhaps for fear of an uprising. Yvaine confirmed to him later that she had seen a few Mairobians once, as the Emperor had concubines stowed in secret.

One day their temples were ravaged by an Orcish invasion. Mydir didn't provide them any troops to defend their territory, as the nobles who were ruling them were too busy in their own affairs. Quairo saw this as a deliberate attempt to erase their culture and has since led a secret coalition group to escape the clutches of tyranny. They called themselves the Sons of Mairo.

One of the coalition spies were in close contact with the dwarven slaves from the Orcish armies. The dwarves also had a secret society plotting for an escape from their masters. They called themselves the Blunthammers (Janus wanted to comment on how all hammers were blunt, but Yvaine gave him a stern look). The dwarves were led by a small man whose name was Frugarth Oshtengash. These dwarves looked darker than the Ramstead folk, they were mainly weapon and armor smiths who worked tirelessly on the forge. Surface dwellers by birth and upbringing.

The Sons of Mairo and the Blunthammers were two groups on the opposing sides with a similar goal. So they coordinated and planned across several years with a network of codes and signals that they developed. Until such an opportune moment came.

"Rumors of Ramguar Nanafell's Exodus from the clutches of the orcs had been circulating amongst the dwarven slaves. Some claimed that they survived the siege that had befallen their masters, as no dwarven corpses were ever found in the aftermath of battle. " Said Frugarth the Mountain Chief. "I ignored these rumors as a mere legend until one of the my grandfather's friend's cousins found a monolith with inscriptions in an archaic dwarven script. The script was so old that we had to decipher it from old tomes. "

The chief teared up slightly as he spoke.

"The stone structure said: 'If you want to be free, follow the Ram across the mountains. We will mark a path for you to follow. Come, the time for slavery is over.' It had a sigil inscribed underneath it."

Elder Nanafell showed her rings as well as the inscriptions on her cane.

"Does it look something like this?"

"Aye that it is." The dwarven chief presented her with a rock chipped from the mountains bearing the same symbol. It was a rock with a symbol of a spiral and a goat's snout. The Ramstead Sigil.

"It was a risky endeavor, scaling the mountains and looking for the place that your ancestor and his refugees had dug through. But we stuck with our hammers and we made it. Each sigil was carefully inscribed by your ancestors bearing entrances to dwarven-dug tunnels. We merely had to move the boulders that were covering them and sealed it as we passed through. After a few months of the journey, we made it to this oasis at last."

"How did you escape the clutches of your masters?" Janus asked.