Sword of Dawnbreaker-Chapter 55 - Laying Foundations

Chapter 55: Laying Foundations

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

Amber’s words had always ignited feelings between wanting to punch her and really wanting to punch her in other people. If this was any other day, Gawain would already have drawn his Sword of Pioneers and pinned her against the wall. This time however, he did not squabble with her.

Because he was in high spirits right now.

He was even in the mood to discuss a slightly more serious question with Amber. “Do you know how invaluable this magic circle is?”

“How invaluable it is?” Amber blinked. To be fair, this half-elf miss was quite confident of her magical accomplishments—she was so convinced of her ignorance on this subject that she was not ashamed to admit it. “I can’t even read the magic runes that have been used, so how would I know what their value is…”

Gawain was not expecting her to be so frank and almost choked to death right in front of her. Luckily, he had lived in the Internet age in his past life, and had encountered even more ignorant people than her. Thus, he adjusted his state of mind quickly and said, “Let me ask you in a different way then. What if everyone was able to use magic, or ‘borrow’ it? How valuable do you think this ability will be?”

Amber was momentarily stunned. In disbelief, she only spoke after half a minute. “So you mean… the magic circles can change or transform everyone into a magician? Have you gone mad from looking at the sun for too long in the last couple of days?”

Gawain ignored the latter part of her response even though she deserved to be punched for it. Instead, he shook his head good-humoredly and responded, “They won’t be able to turn everyone into a magic user, of course, but they’d allow everyone to access an extraordinary power. I’m afraid that Herti hasn’t realized the true significance of the magic circles. They aren’t as simple as ‘something a bad caster creates out of basic runes’. Their significance lies in the three words, ‘universality, commonality, and accessibility’. In order for his daughter, who has no magical talent, to receive magic, the rogue mage drew up a magic circle that could provide a constant and adjustable output of magic. And before this… no distinguished mage in the world had thought of a concept like this, because these mages had always completed this process with their own hands.”

Amber was unable to understand Gawain’s train of thought. “Isn’t it more powerful to be able to control magic with your own, rather than borrow power from a huge magic circle like that rogue mage?”

Gawain looked into Amber’s eyes. “A giant mountain ape is able to crush a brown bear’s head with a slap, but a human can only do the same thing with the aid of a warhammer. Who do you think is more powerful?”

Amber uttered, “… Huh?”

Gawain did not reply to Amber, who was in a state of shock and thought. Instead, he stood up and went towards the opening of the tent.

The treasure left behind by the rogue mage not only included the magic circle, but also extensive research notes in his notebook. As an “underachiever” who was extremely limited in his spellcasting ability, he had to make up his shortcomings with calculations and progressive ideas, which were detailed in his notebook. Gawain had been deeply surprised when he had first read it. He was in disbelief that they had been recorded by a person who had lived in the Middle Ages of ignorance and repression.

Automatic operation, compatible transmission interface, a control interface designed for “dummies”, and even rune arrangements based on geometry, simplified rune formulae…

If it had not been for the open-mindedness he learned from his other world, these “uncivilized struggles” would have probably been swept into the trash as he adopted the views of the majority here. This was because any caster who reached a mid-level casting ability would actually be able to skip the stops recorded in the rogue mage’s notebook directly as a result of various metamagic skills. These spellcasters would never have entertained the fantastic thought of “allowing untalented magic users or the ungifted to gain the ability to control magic”.

Those formidable mages who could single-handedly wave around big fires or lightning were perhaps deserving of fear, but to Gawain, it was only until an untalented rogue mage separated magic from being a “gift” to a tool and liberated it from his own hands, that this mysterious and powerful skill became sublime, for it transformed from a fist into a weapon.

It was a breakthrough akin to the first time humans tied a stone to a stick and killed beasts a few times larger than themselves.

What was unfortunate was that the humans of this world were still making warhammers after hundreds of thousands of years.

Gawain felt like it was time he equipped a rocket booster onto this warhammer…

Aside from having to study how to construct the treasured magic circle with Rebecca Cecil, the process of clearing what would be the Cecil’s land began when most of their manpower arrived on the third day.

Food, clothing, shelter and transportation. No matter how many noble plans Gawain had that involved steam powered engines and rocket-propelled hammers, he had to first ensure that the stomachs of his people were filled.

They had procured sufficient supplies of food in Tanzan Town, and the King had even promised to supply the territory with food and cloth for their first year. However, these were only for transitional usage, and long-term survival required self-sufficiency. Although it was not impossible to use resources from the mines to purchase grain from neighboring lords, Gawain, as a pioneer from China, had the same compulsion that most Chinese people had—

An obsessive compulsion with regards to avoiding food shortages.

Till the land! Sow the crops! How dare he sleep before ten acres of land were tilled? How could he have the shame to declare that he had claimed a territory without planting two vegetable gardens in the backyard? Since ancient times, there was only one standard to ensure expansion and permanency in a territory—that is, to create agricultural land!

Of course, this thought was natural. However, in a world of extraordinary power, Gawain was well aware that he still had a lot to learn.

There was a piece of simple logic to it— after learning that it was possible for the human race in this world to make iron by burning straw with only the power of runes, who could guarantee that a pile of manure could surpass local primitive technology?

What was more, in a situation where he was uncertain about the physics of this world, Gawain could not be certain that the memories and knowledge he gained from his time on Earth was also useful here. What if even the behavior of the microorganisms of this world was not even in accordance with his understanding of the basic laws…

But whatever the intricacies, the basic idea of farming as an indication to settle was always a good one.

Gawain walked over to where the land was being reclaimed. Everything here was still at their initial stages—Rebecca had taken some time to visit the day before and had shot fireballs amongst the weeds and shrubs in this wasteland, creating a perfectly charred piece of land. Today, the farmer serfs were digging deep into the soil, turning the rich ash into the ground as they removed the stones that were buried inside as well.

Gawain was delighted to see the performance of his orders here. A wooden plaque was inserted into the ground of the vast wasteland every hundred paces, dividing the whole reclaimed area into many homogeneous plots. The laborers worked within the boundaries of their plots, while several other groups of people traversed across the plots in preparation to excavate ditches. On the edge of the reclaimed land, a temporary wooden shed had been set up, and this was where Herti and a few others stayed to keep track of work progress and also record the withdrawal and return of tools by the various groups of workers.

Also, a large pot on a stove was in the wooden shed, and the reclaimants ate their lunch nearby.

The laborers were no longer surprised by Gawain’s appearances—this “eccentric aristocratic Lord” was always hanging out in the noisy and rambling construction sites and even making it a point to talk to the mud-covered men. At first, this made many feel uneasy, but now…

Even though they were still anxious, their unease had faded tremendously especially after Gawain had instituted the two promises that “all hardworking laborers will be fed” and “exceptionally hard workers will have meat in their meals” that went into immediate effect. Since then, the commoners and serfs on the land had put their trust in their trustworthy and famed Lord and became quite familiar with him.

Gawain made his way through the busy fields to the wooden shed at the edge of the field. There, Herti was standing with a dark-skinned farmer and the two of them were discussing something seriously while Knight Philip was standing guard beside them.

Gawain, who was almost two meters tall, had plenty of presence. As he approached, Herti looked up and stood. The farmer, whose back was to him, turned around as well. Upon seeing that it was his Lord, he bowed hurriedly. “Your Lordship…”

“Don’t be nervous.” Gawain waved a hand. “I’m only here to see what’s going on.”

He then turned curiously to the man who looked like a farmer, but had been discussing something with Herti. “Are you a farming expert?”

In the language of the Loren Continent, “expert” and “scholar” were the same word. Upon hearing that Gawain had addressed him as such, he shook his hands nervously and fearfully, saying, “I cannot be compared to great learned persons… I am only a farmer…”

“His name is Norris.” Sensing the situation, Herti made the introductions. “He’s a farmer and is skilled in his work. I was looking for someone to answer questions with regards to clearing and farming the land, and found him.”

Gawain looked Norris over. He looked like a typical medieval farmer with his tanned skin, skinny frame, large hands and heavy feet, and a humble expression on his face. He seemed like he was about forty or fifty, or maybe even older, but Gawain was unsure of his real age—every person who labored hard and suffered from malnutrition aged prematurely in spite of the fact that the humans in this world lived longer than Earthlings because they had better health. The aristocrats had an average lifespan of a hundred to a hundred and fifty years old (this was before magic was even used to prolong life), but in reality, more than 90 percent of the population in this world was unhealthy and many laborers looked aged despite only being in their twenties.

The commoners in the Cecil Clan had been at least able to feed and clothe themselves and live a longer life than those of other clans, but premature aging brought on by laboring was still something that was unavoidable.

Norris the farmer rolled his neck nervously under Gawain’s gaze and smiled humbly.

However, it was this humble smile that startled Gawain a little.

How long had it been since had seen such a smile on the faces of the poor in this world?