Awkwardly untying the hovlings, Mark sent them on their way. Luckily, the meek little creatures didn’t seem interested in a fight.

He couldn’t help but be curious over who wore down the stones, if not the hovlings. However, he wasn’t too interested in pressing Alzuz for a history lesson, and he figured that the creature would have known if other threats had existed down in the mine, so he decided to leave it.

After filling several bags with ore samples and staying several hours for Venjimin’s pupils to map some of the caves, they prepared to leave.

Elowen had wanted to study cave art and map what she believed to be the characters of the missing primitive civilization’s language, but it wasn’t hard to convince her to leave. After all, she knew how much work waited for her back at the fort.

In the end, Mark promised to have Venjimin send somebody who could finish the job of mapping the language for her when they sent a party to set up a settlement, which was a priority Mark planned to resolve immediately upon returning to Fort Winterclaw.

***

Touching down back at Fort Winterclaw, Mark immediately called Henric and Venjimin to a meeting in his cabin.

“Imperator,” Henric said. “I’m not sure if you noticed on your way in, but we’ve had an influx of Imperials join us from Frostwind Trader’s Post. We now have a man for just about every trade… and a growing night industry,” he grimaced.

“Night industry?”

“Ahem,” Henric cleared his throat. “We considered shutting the girls down, but they’re having a noticeably positive effect on the morale of the mercenaries and tradesmen that came from the trading post. Not to mention, it’s fueling the economy. We’re draining our coffers by directly paying so many people to expand the fort, and the girls have them spending said money, which they then spend on essentials for themselves, much of which we command a monopoly on, funneling a good portion of what we spend building the fort back into our own coffers."

“Ah, I think I understand,” Mark grimaced. He wasn’t sure he wanted his budding nation to rely on less reputable income sources, but with the threat of the wargs, he wasn’t about to sabotage what was working. “That’s fine. We’re not in a position to be picky. If the girls are helping the economy, then let them. In fact, we should ensure their safety. Tell me, these girls are the same Imperials currently living in the Low District, right?”

“Yes, that is correct. We haven’t space to invite all the new Imperials into the Imperial District yet. But cabins are constantly going up.”

“Right, have a few mercenaries patrol where they work. I’d rather Trumus not have total control of security, especially not when Imperials are concerned,” Mark said. He didn’t care so much for the Imperial’s sense of superiority but was worried about the guard master’s influence growing too powerful.

“Will do,” Henric nodded.

“We also need to organize a settlement party for the mine as soon as possible. We’ll need guards, miners, support staff, and a chief. Can you organize that, Henric?”

“I can. But it’ll thin our numbers of mercenary guards in the fort if we rely on them to settle the mine as well. And as for a chief, do you have someone in mind?”

“Send some ferals with them; that is fine. But none of Trumus’ men. Let’s restrain his influence on Fort Winterclaw. As for the leader of the mine...” Mark hummed. "Check with Payon. Hopefully, the master smith has a good idea of who would be the right pick. I would send someone I know to be loyal, but everyone has important jobs and don't dare place an acolyte in command of grown men."

" Good idea," Henric said. "I will see it done.”

“Also, tell me what would have happened to the trading post if all their skilled labor had come here?”

“Well,” Henric cleared his throat. “We gave them all the furs and food we had stocked on the wagon in return for the manpower. We’re currently preparing another wagon to send, but to be honest, I’m not sure what goods of value they’ll have to offer us.”

“And you believe they’ll have interest in trading our furs now that the invasion has severed the supply lines to the Imperium?”

“No, of course not. We prepared a wagon full of food and other vital goods. They have no subsistent food production and are relying entirely on trapping and hunting. However, considering how dangerous the wilderness is becoming, their ability to extend themselves beyond their defenses is no doubt strained. I personally can’t see any way they can continue to feed themselves properly. Especially once their stockpiles are drained.”

“Perfect. But scrap the wagon and fill my throne ship with the food instead.”

“Pardon?” Henric exclaimed.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

“I’ll take it myself. But I won’t just be handing them free food. From the sounds of it, we have already taken what we need from them. If they expect us to continue to feed them, they’re going to have to work for me.”

“I see,” Henric scratched at his chin. “With how desperate they have become, they might just agree to that.”

“And it’s exactly what we need,” Mark continued. “With the trading post under my command, we’ll have successfully extended the influence of Fort Winterclaw. I want you to prepare a wagon to be filled with commoners but wait for my return before sending them to the trading post. The next part will be integrating them into our lifestyle.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Imperator? We won’t be able to support them from so far away if the Imperials decide to do something to them. Even here, the Imperials and ferals, they argue endlessly, and I’ve only just managed to prevent bloodshed on multiple occasions.”

“Valid concern. But it’s a necessary risk. If we leave them on their own, their integration won’t be complete, and they’ll become my followers in name only. In return, I’ll also demand that they send some of their skilled warriors back to Fort Winterclaw, which should help to even out the populations a little more between Imperial and feral.”

"Not a bad idea, but I can't help but feel it is too risky."

“Imperator,” Venjimin raised a hand. “I have another request. Would you do me the honor to hear my plea?”

“Go on, Tribune. Speak your mind.”

“Do you remember the temple I told you of? The one that I was dismissed from as the warlord in the south brought new clans into his command?”

“I do, yes.”

“Our scouts have informed me that it has been abandoned now. The federation recalled all of its guards in preparation for the battle against the Warg army. When the guards left, so did the imposter priests who were left to mind the temple. Now, all the knowledge of my people lies unguarded. Not only would its retrieval be of great aid to us, but it would be devastating if the wargs were to get their hands on it—either because they might destroy it or take advantage of it for themselves. I beg you to secure this for Fort Winterclaw, Imperator.”

“Hmm, not the best timing, but we can’t leave valuable information to our enemy. It will go on my to-do list, but securing the mine and visiting the trading post must come first. As important as that information is, it won’t win a battle in the same way that iron and manpower will.”

"I understand," Venjimin bowed. "Thank you, Imperator."

“I’ll have the men prepare everything immediately. Once your ship is stocked with the food for the trading post, I'll send a runner,” Henric saluted.

“Perfect. Then you're both dismissed. We’re on the cusp of turning this whole mess around; remember that. We have no time to slack. If we pull this off, we might just survive all this.”

***

In his cabin, Mark eyed a map drawn up by Venjimin. It labeled the outposts they were building and patrol routes of their scouts. Once Frostwind Trader’s Post is added to it, they will have created a squarish sphere of influence in the central region of the Frontier.

He might not have the ability to defend it all just yet, but that would come once they laid down the foundation.

However, there was one more thing he needed to be built as a priority—a proper training ground and military.

Having some targets placed up against the palisade was fine for a start. But it wouldn't do going forward. He wanted to progress into a disciplined and structured military, and that needed a suitable base of operations.

Mark eyed a blueprint provided by the mason for the keep he had started building. The stone foundation for the keep within the Imperial District had been coming along nicely, but it was progressing too slowly.

Scribbling on the blueprint, he made alterations to the keep currently being built to extend the current stone wall foundation to outside the wooden palisade that currently encompassed the Imperial District. The plan was to make room for a walled training courtyard.

He then made wrote up proclamations. He would increase the salary for any masons who worked on the keep and invite the trolls to assist with the manual labor.

The trolls were so much more than just warriors. Their strength was unparalleled, and with their help, stones could be moved into place much faster.

Once he had completed the keep, he could move on to the plan's second phase. Forming an elite order of soldiers—no—knights. They would have a headquarters that most throughout the Frontier would envy, and with it, he would provide a guaranteed income. The hope was not just to provide a training ground and accommodation for this new order but also to entice the fittest, best, and brightest to the orders' ranks. To do that, he needed to offer something formidable.

With his plans written up, Mark folded the notes and called for an acolyte runner to send them out.

Now, he just needed to get a good meal before heading out again.

**Trumus**

“Bossman,” a greasy-haired feral bowed before the short-statured Trumus, who sat in his throne-like chair.

“Spit it out,” Trmus groaned with a flail of his wrist.

“Tis the Imperator, he’s back.”

“I’m aware, idiot.”

“The big fella has made new proclamations; he has,” the feral nodded enthusiastically as Trumus’s scowl bent curiously. “He says he founds a mine. He be recruiting fellas to go settle it, he is.”

“Is he?”

The man nodded.

“Who are we sending? Make sure it’s someone competent. That last fool almost got us into a world of trouble during the siege. Had his stupid plan worked, we’d likely be dead by now.”

“Well—the thing is,” the man pulled on his dirty, cloth collar.”

“What thing?” Trumus narrowed his gaze on the man. "Speak."

“It’s well—”

“Speak, damn it!”

“The big man, he don’t pick none of your fellas, boss,” the man said, flinching and raising his hands above his head as he cowered backward.

“None of my men? How? We are the guards. How is he going to defend that damned mine without the guards?”

“He be using them Imperials and a couple of nobodies from the Lows.”

“Nobodies?” Trumus growled, realizing that there was no mistake. The Imperator was intentionally dampening the reach of his influence.

“Something needs to be done about this,” he muttered to himself. “Be gone!” he waved, dismissing the man who scurried off.

“What do we do, bossman?” A large, thick-browed man said at his side.

“We need to approach this carefully. I have been reckless and made the Imperator suspicious. There's no more room for mistakes.”

Trumus was happy to remain in the shadows and had no interest in opposing the wargs himself. Having the Imperator in command of the fort was a benefit, if anything. But he had been determined to grow his influence in the background. This, however, threw a wrench into his plans. Not just because he would miss out on growing his influence over an extremely valuable asset but because he realized he was exposed.

He would have to lay low for now. Work on regaining the Imperator’s trust. Then, once relations were repaired, he could continue to grow his shadow empire.