***Core***

Some time after the Ironclads seemingly took defensive positions, my logging group returned with a fantastic haul of lumber ready to process intro usable material.

With that, the beginning of the scaffolding began to be prepped by the laborers, though they apparently were as nervous as I was about the adventurers because they insisted on working down in the storage room slash eventual warehouse.

With Kohaku back, I could also continue my writing lessons in the fox-kin script, which seemed to slowly become more legible thanks to the [Universal Language] and [Literacy] passives I’d bought.

I’ve made some decent progress, now being able to hold a conversation through writing alone, but even better is I’ve been able to write names. It may not sound like much, but the foxes really seem to appreciate the gesture, even if they still insist on calling me master.

In other news, Poji the [Canteen Aide] has really taken to the job of chef, her skills seemingly letting her handle much larger quantities of food prep than even some of the famous chefs back on earth. It’s like watching a dance, almost, where she’ll reach a pot that’s just about to boil over and settle it down, turn around and chop up vegetables, pull out a roast hellhound that was on the verge of catching fire, toss the vegetables into the boiling pot, and somehow still manage to stop a rogue crate from tipping off a high shelf.

Her (assumedly) sister, Juji, makes regular deliveries of hunted rabbit and gathered roots as well as occasionally help move any particularly hefty cauldrons. The reason I assume they’re sisters is partly because of the similar names, but mostly because they have a much more fluid dynamic between them compared to the other fox-kin in my service.

When they do take breaks, they’re almost always together, sharing what little gossip there might be over a few cups of wine form the storage room. When they cook, they seem to always know just what the other is about to do and always seem a step ahead of one another, having water boiling right as the other finishes opening a stray box of noodles, or having a cutting board right as one grabs the vegetables and knife.

Back to the present, it appears that its nearly time for lunch, and it looks like the laborers are eager to taste to stew they’ve been smelling for the last few hours.

Speaking of hours, time feels weird here, like the days are slightly too long, or the sun not matching my internal timekeeping, something I can’t quite place my non-finger on. Perhaps this world is larger? It certainly feels that way when I look up at the sky. It’s a similar feeling to when I’d gone on a road trip.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

A seemingly endless blue, marred only by one or two clouds that rivaled mountains in size, drifting like whales in the ocean, the only feelings are awe and that of the gentle shaking of the car.

Shaking… wait, what?

I look around as I shift views to high in the sky, and I see pair of massive forms striding through the forest towards the adventurer camp.

Sigh.

Two behemoths this wave, but at least it’s not my problem. For now.

It can be ignored for now, even though I’m partly why it’s here. Shifting once again, my view lands on Tushu the scribe, who apparently has been inspecting my handywork on the not-yet-golems that are lined up outside.

“Greetings Tushu”

“Ah!” he jumps a solid 3 feet, before regaining composure. “M-Master, I didn’t sense your presence!”

“I am all around you, Tushu, you are always sensing me.”

“Of C-Course, Master, forgive my ignorance!”

“None of that, my loyal scribe, I simply was wondering if you had more advice for my golems?”

He pauses for a moment to stare at the nearby statues, before looking towards a random point in the air. “O-Only to continue your practice, Master.” And so, he bows in the same random direction, before scampering off to the barracks.

I really don’t like them calling me that…

But I suppose there’s little I can do to change their disposition, what with the dune elves likely conditioning generations of fox-kin…

I should stop talking, it’s making me depressed.

And so, I went about my typical duties of sculpting, learning, and casting spells, only interrupted by the occasional hellhound corpse getting flung into my sphere of influence, as the adventurers slaughtered the fifth or sixth wave of the Tide.

By the time I had another two dozen half-decent sculptures ready for golemification, the Ironclads seemed to have finally taken out the hellhounds and had moved onto the behemoths.

At the same time, my fox-kin had finished up creating the necessary scaffolding and even a pair of unstrung bows, which was about the time I realized I won’t have enough arrows for even six fully kitted archer golems. On top of that, I had a limited number of weapons and lacked any long-term method to acquire more.

Frankly, I don’t have any clue how to fix any of those issues at all. At most I can try my luck for a blacksmith the next time I summon a fox-kin, because otherwise I have nothing. Mining for resources won’t be an issue of course, since I’ve got a labor force whether I like it or not, and I can easily dig down further. That also brings up the issue of a forge though, since I don’t have a way to process ore into metal, and for a forge I’d need a mason to make the correct assembly.

That issue then trails into quarrying, which I’d probably need to do anyways with how wide the valley is. That then circles around to dedicated carpenters for all the necessities since I doubt my ability make a bunch of small consistent furniture. Carpentry then comes around to architects to verify the structural integrity of both the wall, towers, and surrounding town that seems to be required, and said town would suggest merchants, inns, a governing body, and so much more.

Gods above, if it wasn’t for the system, I’d probably lose hope by now. Who knew building a wall could involve so much effort?