“You want the children to work in this weather!? Are ya mad, lad!!?” A middle-aged woman indignantly raged while tightly clutching onto her fourteen-year-old son. “The children should be staying indoors! I will not stand for this!”

“We need all available hands to work if we are to overcome this calamity. That includes you, me, and even the children,” Atlas coldly replied, his face a stone-cold mask of dispassion. “All children over the age of ten WILL work. That’s an order.”

Not giving the mother a chance to respond, Atlas turned to face Butler Rohm and said, “Send them out.” The butler complied and ushered the pair out of the prince’s ‘temporary’ office.

It was called his temporary office because Atlas was currently outside the Baron’s manor. He had currently taken over one of the better-built tents in the western part of the town, bordering the flooded area.

After waiting for the tent’s flaps to close, Atlas immediately grabbed his head and began his furious massage. The accrued headache had returned once again. It was still morning.

“Argh, I hate this day already,” Atlas moaned. Sure, he appreciated all the challenges that the world threw at him. However, a period of peace every now and then would be greatly encouraged.

Shaking away the pounding pain in his forehead, Atlas once again read the sheets of parchment scattered on the table before him.

Day 8

Population: 93 (8 sick)

Men: 4

Women: 44

Children: 45

‘Fu*k me.’ The report detailed the town’s current populace. It was beyond severe. ‘We’re facing a flood that threatens to submerge the entire town by midnight, and I have barely any workers to throw at the problem.’ He had a severe manpower shortage issue on his hands.

Suppose he were to only employ only healthy adults, the number of workers that he would have available at his disposal would be forty-eight (48). If the sick ones were included, this number would increase to fifty-six (56).

Fifty-six people banding together to construct a dam that would alter the path of the river, whilst also simultaneously digging up dykes and gullies in and around the town to drain the water in a deadline of a single day… yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. The grandness and size of the task coupled with the extremely limited time limit made it an impossible problem to solve.

But who was Atlas, if not the solver of impossible problems? And thus, he came up with a solution; Child Labor.

‘What? It’s immoral and cruel? Oh, please!~ We’ll be homeless within a day and dead within a week if we don’t address this flood. And I’d rather be immoral and cruel, than dead!’ Desperate times called for desperate measures.

The flap to the tent opened up and entered Butler Rohm. Upon entry, he simply stood before the prince’s table and stared at him.

Unable to bear his piercing eyes, Atlas raised his annoyed face and asked, “What?” Here was another source of his headache.

“An order forcing the children to work? Even if they are peasant-born, it’s still wrong. My master wouldn’t stand for it,” Butler Rohm impassionately said. Though he was an elitist, he seemed to have some clear moral boundaries in his heart.

“If your master had returned with all the other workers in tow, this decision wouldn’t have come to pass,” Atlas nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. Honestly, if he had the choice, he wouldn’t have the children put to work either. They were slow, inefficient, and all-round inferior to their adult counterparts.

‘You think I’d get the same amount of work done by a snot-nosed brat as compared to his parents? Besides their small bodies and tiny fingers, children are utterly useless as workers.’ He mentally grumbled.

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“That still doesn’t make this right,” Butler Rohm pressed.

“Do you have a better solution? No? Then shut up,” Atlas shut down the man and returned to his duty. “Go out there and join the others in shoveling the filth or moving the lumber or something. Stop bothering me.” He waved the man out.

“Oh, and tell Douglas to report here. I’ve got something to ask him.” Atlas then quietened and proceeded with his work.

Butler Rohm stared at the boy for a few minutes before heaving a sigh and exiting the tent. His face and emotions were inscrutable as always.

Sensing the man quietly leave, Atlas released a sigh and released the handful of dirt that he kept clenched and hidden inside his left fist, underneath the table. He felt glad that nothing violent happened.

‘I really need to get on with testing that language. All this lack of safeguards and protections is really driving me insane with paranoia.’

–--

Ten or so minutes later, the flap to the tent opened up once more and entered the giant, elderly blacksmith. His aged face was colored with dullness, as he stood before the little prince soaked in rain and sweat.

“Milord…”

“How’s the progress?” Atlas interrupted the man with a question.

“It’s comin’ along quite well, milord. The blasted weather finally gave way to clear skies.”

“The rain finally stopped, huh? That’s a good omen. Are we keeping to schedule?” According to his internal count, it should currently be around noon.

“No problems there, milord. The, uh, children… they’re working hard,” Douglas hesitantly added the second sentence.

“That’s good. Just make sure to double-check their work,” Atlas incuriously replied. “You may go now. I just wanted to hear the latest report.”

“Ah? Ah, yes, milord,” the elderly man quickly bowed and scuttled out of the tent. Just as he was about to fully exit, Atlas suddenly spoke up.

“We will make it out of this, Douggie. I will make sure that we all make it out of this.”

“Yes, yes,” Douglas noncommittally replied before quickly leaving.

Left alone, Atlas released another sigh before burying his face into his hands. “Aaa~aaargh…” He vocalized tiredly. ‘Looks like my popularity and reputation took a serious blow from that decision. Even this simple-minded idiot doesn’t dare to look me in the eyes.’

Atlas’ reason to invite Douglas to hear his report was simply bullsh*t. His true reason had been to read the man and get a sense of what his current standing and image were. And just like he had guessed, it was pretty low.

‘There is a definite sense of respect, but so is a large amount of discontent. The previous sense of idolisation has disappeared. Though, there is no overt hatred. This should be the relative mood of the people outside.’ Forcing the children to work seemed to have a harsher backlash than what he expected. It seemed that the people here were more sensitive than the similarly-era people from his previous world.

To tell the truth, Atlas did not personally care for others’ opinions of him. They could dislike him, hate him, or even demonize him. He did not care. There was only one person in this entire world whose opinions that he cared for and that person was himself. Compared to himself, every other person was utterly worthless.

That being said, given his current situation, Atlas couldn’t afford to ignore the public’s sentiments. He had no real power of his now –neither personal nor military– and only possessed an illusory authority that came from his birth. Was he to antagonize the public, or if the public’s perception of him were to reach the level of hatred, Atlas would land himself in a situation infinitely more troublesome than mere floods.

His forced order was a decision that he had taken after carefully weighing his current status, his image in the public eye, the general mood of the people, and… the absence of the traitor.

Had it not been for his confirmation of the traitor’s absence, Atlas would’ve never taken the risky decision to pass the controversial order, no matter how urgently the situation required him to react.

‘If I had forced out this controversial order while a traitor was still present, it would’ve taken him/her but a moment to sink me. At that point, I would have a rebellion in my hands.” It was only after vetting out all these factors did Atlas take this calculated risk.

And the risk had played out more or less how he had expected it to play out. Sure, the outcome was less ideal than his predictions, but all in all, it was still within his safety margin.

‘Politics is a dangerous game. Hidden dangers and invisible daggers surround you at all times. It is not for everyone and especially NOT for the inexperienced.’ He remarked while distantly staring at the ceiling.

A smirk suddenly appeared on his face as he continued. ‘But Gods, am I a genius at it!~’

He then proceeded to pat himself on his back.