Claus finally managed to calm himself as he subconsciously walked down the corridors towards the veranda, which used to have his breakfast. He and his entourage had already arrived in about a month, giving the employees time to clean up the entire castle he now occupied. So the corridors were clean and sparsely furnished, something unusual in any nobleman's residence, since they always liked to boast riches.
The wear and tear of the stone slabs that made up both the walls and the floor showed decades of neglect with their maintenance. After all, even though it was a small castle, it had no value to the kingdom to the extent that it was given to a young baron as a home.
Tracking the cracks in the wall with his fingers as he walked, Claus tried to remember the city's history. Both from the perspective of this world and the previous one, after all his memories were still confused as a puzzle of 12000 pieces.
Graystone Vale, now a city full of ruins from the rich and ostentatious former homes, has no more than 800 residents and less than 200 usable houses. It had once been one of the largest and most prosperous cities in the kingdom.
A hundred and fifth years ago the city of Ironheart was founded here. There was a small golem dungeon nearby that fed the city with ore and magic cores. With the abundant amount of mana through the magic cores, the city brain did magnificent things.
The most fertile soils, no one went hungry.
Transparent, fish-filled rivers crossed the city.
Wizards and alchemists came from all over the country to do their research, magic metal and exotic herbs grown in the best soil.
In the first two generations everything was fine, father and son both had struggled together to found the city. Acquire a noble title, conquer a dangerous dungeon so that the golems can sustain the city. After all, when the dungeon heart was transformed into the city's brain, it lost its connection with the earth's mana veins and could only receive mana from the magic cores.
His grandchildren were born and raised as nobles, but as a common father and grandparents they did not know how to educate their descendants as true nobles. And after their death the current conductor became complacent, he wanted wealth and more wealth.
He stopped sending troops to constantly clean the upper floors of the dungeon, started charging absurd fees to adventurers when they returned. The line was that the dungeon belonged to him and he could do that since they were exploring something that was his. A pretentious idiot, that's what he was.
Every day more golems were created in the dungeon, but you didn't want to hear anyone, your son was even worse. The fourth generation began to tax magicians, alchemists, merchants. The kingdom, knowing this, became tired and worried that the dungeon would overflow, since it was years of poor cleaning.
Unfortunately when the troops arrived, the city of Ironheart was on fire. In the early hours of the previous night, the dungeon burst had occurred, releasing thousands of golems on the surface. Caught off guard and poorly trained, the city's troops were devastated, most of the adventurers and wizards had already left. Now those who stayed did not fight for the city, struggled to make way for caravans to leave.
The kingdom's army had no choice but to destroy the heart of the golem dungeon. A heart that caused one I am would cause another and then another all with shorter periods between them. Until the burst is permanent.
The nobleman was condemned to public execution in the town square for his crimes against his people. In his last attempt at madness he tried to blow up the entire city along with the city's brains, but one of the horsemen who led the army noticed in time and beheaded him. Unfortunately the damage was done to brain cracked and small amounts of mana started to leak.
The city of Ironheart was said to be doomed and its name was changed to Graystone Vale. Its foundation was destroyed along with the golems dungeon, and I am crippled with the crack in the city's brain.
For forty-five years, the descendants of the poorest residents withered away from the city in which they were born. Seeing the noble ruler of the city being changed every two years until finally being given the city to Claus. Claus was not a trader who could be changed, he owned the city, his rise or fall would be directly that of the city.
"Damn old duke, how did you do that to your own son. "
Claus cursed the writers once again in his mind for remembering this information, they had to write something so tragic. He was praying to his own that they had been migrated like him so that he could bite them to death if they met.
Taking his hand off the wall, Claus faced himself in one of the few mirrors scattered across the hall. The image he saw was the same as he had seen while creating the game, a tall, strong Caucasian teenager with a sharp-edged face, with short light brown hair, and moss-green eyes. His tanned skin from training in the sun before his birthday gave him a sense of wild beauty.
'Tsc tsc at least I'm as handsome this time as the previous one'
As he was used to training his clothes it was just a wool shirt with leather pants and shoes. If anyone saw him that way he would think he was more of a hunter than a nobleman.
When opening the door Claus instinctively locked his eyebrows, the breakfast table, although sumptuous, was quite small. Jacob was by the table, a thin, thin elderly man of medium height, all of his hair had fallen out. Fool was the one who underestimated him for his age, his blue eyes were vibrant as a youth and intelligent as a fox. He was his mother's hereditary butler, he has looked after his mother since she was born and he has looked after Claus since her death.
Jacob's impeccable black suit, along with his white gloves, looked noble, much stronger than his young master dressed as a peasant. Jacob was pouring a cup of tea for Claus as if he knew he would be arriving at that moment.
"Young master, I hope you enjoy this simple breakfast, we have reduced supplies so I apologize if it is not to your liking."
Jacob apologized as he placed the cup of tea on the table in front of the chair that Claus used to sit on.
Claus's body seemed to be unhappy with the "simplicity" of this coffee, but the mind used to living and surviving on instant noodles was more than happy to devour this "simple" breakfast.
Sitting in the chair while he swallowed, Claus felt that there was still much to be synchronized with his body.
"Jacob tell me in detail the condition of the city while I have my breakfast. "