The workers in the camp quickly recognized that their ancestor from seven hundred years ago, Lord Gawain, was quite an unusual person.
Regarding the sudden shift in the lordship of Cecil from Miss Rebecca to Lord Gawain, the common folk and serfs had little to say. In this era, the lower class was primarily concerned with their daily sustenance; as long as they could eat sufficiently, they felt grateful for the generosity and wisdom of their lord. The identity of the lord was largely inconsequential. The only aspect worth discussing was the strange regulations implemented by this ancient figure right from the start.
Most people had a limited belief in the idea that serfs could be promoted to freemen and that these freemen would be compensated for their labor. They viewed this as a display of generosity from their new lord. Following their typical reasoning, they suspected that such promises would eventually be fulfilled in a harsh or cunning manner: while a few serfs might become freemen, likely only one or two would; likewise, while there might be some pay for work, it would probably be reduced by various excuses, leaving only a fortunate few to receive a token amount of copper coins as evidence that the lord had indeed fulfilled his promises.
However, neither the common folk nor the serfs voiced complaints; after all, a lord willing to display generosity was far better than one who would immediately resort to whipping slaves to assert authority.
Moreover, there would surely be some benefits trickling down, right?
Compared to those generous promises, the various so-called "regulations" set forth by Lord Gawain were genuinely perplexing.
Dividing people into work groups, instituting competition among groups, requiring documentation of work quantity and evaluations—these were all unprecedented methods.
Some whispered among themselves, speculating about which aspect of the new regulations might eventually become a source of taxation, even though no one in the impoverished Cecil territory could afford to pay taxes at the moment. Others pondered whether Lord Gawain's elaborate rules for simple labor were merely the eccentricities of an ancient noble.
Regardless, the parts related to their immediate interests were clear: the group that excelled in daily work evaluations would receive meat, while the second and third would enjoy bread dipped in meat stew.
Those with mediocre performance would be limited to bland vegetable soup and black bread. While both options could fill their stomachs, for those who had not tasted meat during the first day's "tent-building evaluation," the experience of drinking vegetable soup while watching others enjoy stew was one they did not want to repeat.
Whether the fantastical notions of promotion and wages were genuine, the fact that the lord provided meat had already been established.
Thus, on the second day in the camp, Heidi observed a labor scene she had never witnessed before. Whether commoners or serfs, everyone seemed to be working with newfound vigor. They completed their tasks rapidly, even without supervisors present, and because they were working in groups rather than individually, they began to cooperate unconsciously, further increasing their work efficiency.
Most of those chosen as group leaders quickly realized that if they wanted to enjoy meat, their only option was to improve the efficiency of their entire group, ensuring that everyone could partake. Those few who had been appointed leaders through force or cunning would likely be replaced soon if they did not adapt.
They were driven not by whips but by competition and rewards—this was indeed remarkable.
The tents were already up, and Rebecca led some people to survey the nearby wasteland. The lumberjack team set off early in the morning toward the logging site upstream along the Whitewater River. By noon, a batch of timber would flow downstream to the open, calm stretches of the river. To prevent the wood from being swept away, Heidi had assigned patrol duties to Sir Byron before the agreed time, and she herself went to the riverbank to await their arrival.
At the appointed hour, the first batch of timber appeared, lashed together into rafts with thick ropes. Larger logs formed the base while smaller ones were stacked on top, haphazardly arranged. From a distance, they resembled a large, unsightly bundle of twigs drifting on the river. Two anxious serfs stood on the raft, using long poles to guide its trajectory. The current was slow in this stretch of the Whitewater River, and with no wind or waves today, they still felt tense; the makeshift raft was inherently difficult to control, and a small mistake could lead to disaster.
Soon, however, the serfs noticed the raft was beginning to approach the shallow bank smoothly. They saw a translucent, gigantic hand appearing on one side of the raft, gently yet powerfully guiding it toward the shore. One serf instinctively gasped, but the other quickly smacked him on the head with the pole and pointed at Lady Heidi, who stood on the riverbank.
They hurriedly coordinated with their lady to push the raft toward the shore, allowing it to bump against the gravel and come to a steady stop.
Then, the people waiting on the bank rushed forward, untied the ropes, and began hauling the timber to prepare for the construction of cabins in the camp.
Initially, the timber would require drying and pest control before becoming suitable and durable planks. However, since many of the facilities being built in the camp were temporary and there was urgency in the construction, they could not afford to be overly particular.
Highborne stood behind Heidi, lost in thought. "Magic is indeed quite convenient…"
Heidi had just caught her breath when a voice from behind startled her, nearly causing her to fall off the stone—thankfully, Highborne caught her just in time.
"Sorry, I didn't expect you to be standing there…" she apologized, flustered.
"I startled you," Highborne waved it off. "By the way, that move you just did was impressive."
Heidi's cheeks turned slightly red. "The Telekinetic Hand is a basic spell. I practiced its advanced techniques, so it can last longer, allowing me to continuously guide even heavy logs to the shore. But if the current were any faster, I wouldn't be able to manage…"
Although Highborne was a knight, he had been forced to become somewhat knowledgeable about various fields in the pioneering era. He understood a bit about magic theory, and while Heidi made it sound simple, he knew that enhancing a basic Telekinetic Hand to this degree and specifically practicing its advanced techniques was no easy feat—and also quite rare.
"I… I'm not very talented in magic," Heidi confessed, her embarrassment deepening. "Though I awakened my affinity for magic at a young age, my mental energy accumulates slowly, preventing me from constructing complex spell models. So, until now, I've only reached the third tier and will probably remain at this level for life, relying on reinforcing basic spells over and over."
"Rebecca's magic talent seems to be lacking as well…" Highborne furrowed his brow, recalling his iron-headed great-great-great-granddaughter who could only conjure a few fireballs.
"She has a large amount of magical energy and strong mental capacity, but she faces similar challenges when constructing spell models, perhaps even worse," Heidi said, her head bowed. "She can only master one fireball spell or a similarly structured large fireball spell. In fact, she is a hardworking child; she knows she lacks talent in various areas—she is neither a good lord nor a good mage. Although she appears carefree, she understands and has been secretly working hard. But there's nothing she can do; the limits of her talent are simply barriers that are difficult to overcome."
As she spoke, she reflected quietly. "So when I saw that wild mage's notes, I felt a strong resonance… he is not an exception. This situation is actually common among destitute mages, where their ability to construct spell models does not keep up with their theoretical knowledge, relegating them to a lifetime of low-tier spellcasting. For a practical-minded mage, if they cannot transform the theoretical calculations in their minds into usable spells, then everything becomes meaningless…"
"Not true," Highborne suddenly interrupted her.
Heidi did not immediately understand. "What do you mean?"
"If merely conjuring a fireball or ice arrow counts as 'practical,' then there's not much difference between a mage wielding a staff and a monkey swinging a stick," Highborne shook his head. "The formula is not zero; it is a series of zeros with a decimal point that you just haven't found the right position for yet…"
Heidi frowned. "I… don't quite understand. If I can't use spell models to realize the formulas in my mind, then what good is all the theoretical knowledge? Can it even compete?"
"One day you will understand that 'being able to compete' is not the complete evaluation standard for a mage, nor should it be the primary standard," Highborne chuckled. "I've already dispatched someone to ride to Tanzan Town to inform Sir Philip to procure additional supplies. When the main forces arrive, your magic laboratory will be set up."
"A magic laboratory?" Heidi blinked in surprise, then frowned. "Those are quite expensive, at least initially…"
"I took several pieces of mithril ingots from the mountain vault. They aren't coins and don't need to be recast, and they can be used directly as currency when purchasing magical tools. It will be enough to set up a basic laboratory for you. I know your original laboratory in the castle was completely destroyed, but we need a new one as soon as possible."
Heidi recalled the tasks Highborne had previously assigned to her.
"Understood. Once the crystal resonator arrives, I'll create the rune structure diagrams you requested!" Heidi couldn't help but smile. Although she felt regret about the loss of the mithril ingots, as a mage, the prospect of
reclaiming her own laboratory filled her with joy.
Highborne returned to his tent to examine the peculiar crystals he had retrieved from the mountain vault.