“Fuck.”
Ivan strides through the halls of his tower purposefully before descending multiple stairs, and continuing along his bridge. As he walks he enters the small encampment where anyone who isn't affiliated with the Oats guild, or just cant pay for an apartment, stays.
He quickly strides down the stairs a group of mages carved into the hillside, which leads down into the depths of the valley where a large lake lays.
He quickly spots Milos home. Milo, the only person who was here before, owns a small stone hut. He also owns a moderate sized farm, along the edge of the lake, that is fed by the river that runs adjacent to the stairway.
As well as a dark brown barn cut from the rich brown spruce that fills these mountains. The barn has cows, as well as a small off shooting chicken coop.
He farms small quantities of grain, potatoes, and carrots. The grain goes straight to his farm animals, who give him milk, and eggs. Lately though he has been selling small quantities of his grain to merchants entering the valley.
Ivan strides through the cobbled path leading through his small farm, and knocks politely on Milo's door.
After a second of waiting, Milo cracks open his door, sweating profusely. His forehead dripping sweat into his eyes, a fire blazing in his hearth in the background turning his hut into a blazing inferno of warmth.
“Yeah. Sorry Ivan, I was cultivating, just broke into F-9. What can I do for ya?”
He opens the door wider inviting Ivan into his house. He has a small table with barely enough space for two people. On his stove sits a pot of bubbling stock, heated by the fire of a separate stove.
Milo uses a wooden hand carved ladle, and spoons the broth into a bowl, before serving it to Ivan, and getting himself a bowl. His house is darkly lit, only by his twin fires burning and a couple candles. The daylight long gone, fallen behind the mountains.
Ivan greedily accepts the soup. “Milo. We need to discuss something.”
Milo frowns. “Whats wrong friend?” He asks questioningly.
Ivan grimaces. “We’re starving… The B ranks, and higher are mostly fine, because we can get away with eating every couple weeks to months. But everyone else is starving.”
Milo frowns. “What about all the merchants, and people who have been bringing food?”
Ivan scratches his face. “Well. Since you own all this land, and nobody knows who to talk to about buying or renting land, nobody can farm. Since nobody can farm, the only logical thing to do is to import food. But importing food is fucking expensive. This damn mountain range is right on the edge of the Orcan hordes, so about 50% of the caravans that come through with food get ambushed. Now the Orcs usually let just people through, but they aren't going to let our money or food through.”
Ivan shrugs, and puts his hands up. “Not only is this starving people, but it's also decreasing the growth of your little province, slash city.”
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Milo grimaces. “Does the portal not interest people?”
Ivan shakes his head. “No, for sure, the portal is bringing in hundreds if not thousands of new people, but if everyone is just starving, it is still a problem.”
Milo sighs. “Well, I guess I can start expanding my farm. I'll start paying farmhands to work the land.”
Ivan nods. “You should also set up a real official office for your secretary, and for people to go to to rent, or buy land from you.”
Milo quickly agrees. “I'll get to it in the morning.”
Ivan nods, finishes his soup, and leaves.
The next morning Milo wakes, and finds his secretary. A callous, and unpleasant old lady, named Gertrude. “Gertrude! Hi! How much do you think I should pay a worker hourly to make an office for you to work out of?”
Getrude raises her eyes.
“I was thinking a silver?”
Gertrude scowls. “Are you stupid you little brat? Just hire a foreman, and his crew will come with him. You just need to pay the foreman for the final result, and then he pays the men the salary. Pay em 5 silver not a copper more. Start at 1 silver, theyll work it up, if you go over 5 you’re being scammed.”
Milo beams. “Why thank you Gertrude!” He smiles. “That's why I pay you good money!”
He quickly turns to leave, the tent flap whipping open. Milo smiles, at the world. And spins on his heel, before reentering the tent.
“I don't know where to find a Foreman!”
Gertrude scowls and rubs the bridge of her nose. She takes a pen and scribbles something out on a piece of paper. “Go find them, they are over there.” She hands Milo the napkin, and points off in some random direction.”
Eli
Eli woke this morning to Alistair standing over his bed.
“What the hell are you doing!?”
“Waiting for you to wake up!” Alistair smiles innocently.
“My God bro.”
Alistair chuckles. “I need to travel to Brinde. That's where most of my supplies are.”
Eli smiles. “I don't know where Brindle is, but ok, I'll come.”
Alistair grins, and ranks Eli free from his bed. “Spectacular! Follow!”
Elistair grabs Eli, and drags him along behind him.
Eli begins to bluster. “Well, I didn't mean… Not right now!”
Alistair chuckles. “Of course not! We need supplies first.”
The next several hours were filled with blisteringly boring shopping. Jerky, fruit, grains, and a million other things. Before eventually Alistair had a cart full of supplies. This cart was incredibly heavy, and pulled by a team of undead monstrosities that vaguely resemble Oxen. Standing nearly ten feet tall, on all 6 feet, and nearly twice as long, two of them pull the cart. Their undead bodies ripple with muscles that should have decayed long ago, preserved by a cocktail of chemicals bound together with a spoonful of mana.
Eli cringe as he works his way around them, as the stench of the chemicals used to preserve them fills his nostrils he quickly climbs inside of the wagon, covered with some sort of cloth, it looks like something straight out of Oregon Trail.
Halfway to Brindle. Eli, and Alistair came upon a raiding group of Orcs ransacking a small caravan headed to the encampment being built by the dungeon.
Without a second thought Alistair unhitches his two giant Oxen, who charge forward ramming through the Orcs. most of the Orcs were big enough, or out of the way enough to not be thrown but A few of the smaller Orcs were thrown across the battlefield. The Battle didnt last long, as as soon as one of the Orcs died, Alistair began to resurrect them, and reinforce them, quickly finishing off the whole party of Orcs.