Chapter 16: Chapter 16: A giuld or two part-2
That evening, Hadrian gathered the Public Works volunteers near the aqueduct. The air was cool, and the flickering light of torches cast long shadows over the muddy ground.
"This is just the beginning," Hadrian said, his voice steady but carrying an edge of urgency. "Today, you proved that we can do more than survive. We can build something stronger, something better. you should all be proud of yourselves."
The group listened in silence, their faces tired but resolute. Caris nodded once, a rare show of approval.
As they dispersed, Leon lingered at Hadrian's side, his expression unreadable. "So what's next then Mr great architect?"
Hadrian glanced at him. "Your just gonna have to wait and see, but its gonna be good?"
Leon didn't reply, but the flicker of doubt he usually had wasn't there he smirked as he turned and walked away.
Hadrian stayed behind, staring at the steady flow of water through the aqueduct. His mind was already racing with the next steps—new homes, fortified defences, finding my sister
The village had grown quiet as the day gave way to evening, the sounds of hammers and saws replaced by the low murmur of conversation and the occasional bark of a dog. Hadrian walked along the edge of the aqueduct, its steady trickle of water a rare symbol of progress. The day's work had been grueling, but the sight of water flowing into the village brought a small, fleeting sense of accomplishment.
He paused near the outskirts, where the fields stretched toward the horizon, bathed in the orange glow of sunset. His fingers brushed the rough bark of a tree, and he stared into the distance, lost in thought. Then, with a faint flicker, the system interface appeared in the corner of his vision.
System Notification
Mission Alert: Initiate Long-Term Infrastructure Improvements
Sub-Mission: Begin construction of a windmill to support agricultural efficiency.
Reward: Access to a recipe for modern concrete.
Hadrian's breath caught for a moment. modern concrete. The words felt heavy with meaning, hinting at knowledge far beyond anything this village could dream of. His mind raced with possibilities—a windmill could transform their agriculture, freeing up labour and ensuring food security for the winter. But it wasn't just the windmill. having access to concreate could boost the production of new works and projects tremendously.
His eyes flicked back toward the aqueduct. The villagers were already stretched thin repairing what they had; asking them to undertake a project of this scale might push them past their breaking point.
Why now? The thought echoed in his mind, sharp and suspicious. The system had always nudged him toward survival and strategy, but this felt... ambitious. It was as though it was preparing him for something greater. But what?
Hadrian clenched his jaw, dismissing the interface with a sharp blink. He couldn't afford to let his thoughts linger. The system had never steered him wrong, but its motivations were a mystery he wasn't ready to unravel. Not yet.
Hadrian stayed by the aqueduct for a while, watching the water flow steadily toward the village. His hand instinctively brushed the wrappings on his arm, the phantom memory of pain stirring briefly. No one had questioned why he kept it hidden, but he knew the truth would raise too many questions—questions he couldn't answer.
The wind picked up, rustling the tall grass at the edge of the fields. Somewhere in the distance, a faint sound reached his ears—the rhythmic drumming of goblin warbands preparing for a hunt. It was far enough to be a warning, not an immediate threat, but it was a reminder nonetheless. Time was slipping away.
By the time Hadrian returned to the village, the last light of day had faded. He stopped near the forge, where Caris and Georgios were packing up their tools for the night. The embers from the forge glowed faintly, casting long shadows across the ground.
"We'll need another meeting tomorrow," Hadrian said, his voice low but firm.
Caris looked up from his work, his brow furrowing. "More meetings? We've barely finished the first project."
"This is bigger," Hadrian said, keeping his tone measured. "Something that could change everything. I'll explain in the morning."
Caris exchanged a glance with Georgios, who shrugged. "You're the one calling the shots, boy. Just don't ask for miracles."
Hadrian nodded, though his mind was already elsewhere. The system's prompt burned in his thoughts like an unanswered question. modern concrete. If Hadrian kept unlocking these things it could change everything for the human race, it carried weight and promise, but also an unspoken cost. Hadrian knew that every decision the system nudged him toward probably came with consequences, nothing is comes free.
He turned away, the night swallowing his figure as he walked back to the command tent. Whatever the system's purpose, he had made his decision. The windmill would be built—not because the system demanded it, but because it was what the village needed to survive.
The next morning broke with a dull gray sky, the kind that promised rain but held it just out of reach. The air felt heavy, and the tension in the village mirrored the weather. Tradespeople moved through the square, their expressions a mix of fatigue and wariness. The steady hum of activity from the forge had already begun, and the smell of smoke lingered in the air.
Hadrian stood in the middle of the square, addressing a small group of villagers—mostly farmers and laborers, along with Caris and a handful of other artisans. He had called the meeting to lay the groundwork for the next project, but the mood was far from cooperative.
"We'll need more hands for the windmill," Hadrian explained, his tone calm but firm. "It's not just about building. We need workers to prepare the site, gather materials, and transport them. If we start today, we can have the foundation laid by next week."
The murmurs that followed weren't ones of agreement. A wiry farmer stepped forward, his face lined with exhaustion and frustration. "More hands? Are you joking? Half of us are already working ourselves to the bone repairing fences and tending the fields."
Another voice chimed in from the back of the group. "Why are we building a windmill when the goblins could attack any day now? Shouldn't we be focusing on defenses?"
Hadrian raised a hand, silencing the growing unrest. His gaze swept over the group, sharp and unyielding. "I understand your concerns," he said, his voice steady. "But this isn't just about the next attack—it's about surviving the winter. A windmill will free up labor, which means more people can focus on building defenses, crafting weapons, and preparing for the fight."
Caris, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. "That's all well and good, but the people have a point. If the goblins hit us before it's done, what then? We can't defend a half-finished windmill."
Hadrian met his gaze, unflinching. "We won't stop working on defenses. The War Guild will continue producing weapons and fortifications while the Public Works Guild focuses on the windmill. Both are essential. But if we only prepare for the next raid, we'll never break free of this cycle. We'll always be reacting instead of building something stronger."
A few villagers nodded hesitantly, but the wiry farmer wasn't convinced. "Easy for you to say. You've got people to do your work for you. Some of us don't have that luxury."
The remark drew murmurs of agreement, and for a moment, Hadrian felt the weight of their frustration pressing down on him. He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the noise. "You think I'm asking you to do something I wouldn't do myself?"
He pulled back the sleeve of his unbandaged arm, revealing fresh scrapes and bruises from the previous day's work. "I've been carrying beams and hammering nails alongside the rest of you. Every hour you've spent building, I've been there too. Don't mistake my leadership for a lack of effort."
The wiry farmer opened his mouth to retort but faltered, his gaze dropping to the ground. Hadrian pressed on, his tone softening slightly. "I know you're tired. I know you're scared. But we don't survive this by hesitating. We survive by moving forward—together."
The group fell silent, their earlier defiance replaced by a hesitant resolve. Caris nodded slowly, his expression grudgingly respectful. "Alright, boy. You've made your point. We'll see it through."
Hadrian inclined his head. "Good. Let's get to work."
As the group dispersed, Hadrian turned to find Skyles and Leon standing nearby. Skyles smirked, arms crossed. "Nice speech, Princess. Almost brought a tear to my eye."
"Save the theatrics," Hadrian muttered, though his tone carried a hint of amusement. "What's the latest on the goblins?"
Skyles sobered slightly, his grin fading. "Kazimir's scout was right. A warband's gathering supplies in the woods a few miles north. If they're coming, it won't be long."
Hadrian nodded, his mind racing. "We'll double the militia's training. I want them drilling in shifts—half training, half guarding the perimeter. And I'll need you to keep an eye on the guilds. If the goblins attack, we'll need every hand we can spare."
"Got it," Skyles said, tipping an imaginary hat before heading off.
Leon lingered, his expression troubled. "Do you think we'll be ready?"
Hadrian glanced at him, his gaze steady but unreadable. "We don't have a choice."
That night, Hadrian stood near the outskirts of the village, staring into the darkness of the forest. The distant sound of drums echoed faintly, a reminder of the threat looming ever closer. The system's interface flickered into view, displaying a new notification.
System Notification
Urgent Mission: Defend Eretis Against Goblin Incursion
Objective: Protect the village and its resources from goblin attack.
Reward: +3 Levels, Unique Skill (Pending Approval).
Hadrian dismissed the interface with a sharp blink, his jaw tightening. The goblins were closer than expected, and the village was far from ready. But they would be. They had to be.
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