The Limits of the Times

"Take a look at these crystals."

The moment Heti arrived, Gawain tossed a pale purple standard-issue crystal directly into her hands.

The Lady curiously examined the object in her hand, and a look of surprise immediately appeared on her face.

"This is what you told me about before, from that treasury in the mountains..."

"That's right, it came from there." Gawain nodded. Although he had not brought Heti along this time, he had already told her about the treasury in the Dark Mountains back in Tanzan Town. "These crystals use technology from the Gondor Empire period. See if you can make sense of their rune structure."

Any mage whose brain had not been squeezed by a door would recognize the value of these crystals at a glance. Heti's attention was immediately drawn to the beautiful pale purple crystals, but after handling one fondly for a while, she could only shake her head in embarrassment. "Ancestor... I'm sorry. I'm ashamed... I'm only a third-level mage. I'm afraid I can't make something this advanced..."

Gawain looked into Heti's eyes. "I'm not asking you to make one. Just analyze its rune structure—if possible, draw out the rune structure. As for making them, I'm afraid no one in this era can produce anything similar. These were directly infused with mana from the Azure Well."

"The Azure Well..." Hearing that famous name, Heti could not help repeating it. Then she gazed eagerly at the crystal in her hand. "If all you need is to read and arrange the rune structure inside, that won't be difficult. A set of Crystal Resonators can project whatever has been inscribed within it. But is there any point in merely reading the rune structure? Without the corresponding charging technology and activation method, a rune structure is nothing more than a collection of geometric shapes..."

"We'll worry about that later," Gawain said with a nod. "These crystals can no longer be produced. At least before they are used up, I want to preserve as much information as possible."

Heti gave an acknowledging sound and put away the crystal. The fatigue on her face remained, but learning the exact news about the Mountain Treasury had lifted her spirits enough to make her complexion look much better. Taking the opportunity, Gawain asked about the camp's construction.

"Before sunset, we can have all the tents erected and a ring of fencing put up. I'm planning to set some magical traps and warning runes around the perimeter. That should be more than enough to keep out wild beasts. The lumber workers found a great deal of high-quality timber in the woods to the west. The rough logs they have cut are temporarily stacked upstream along the White Water River. Once we cut more tomorrow, we can simply let the logs float downstream. Also, based on the information you provided, I sent two people eastward, and they did find iron ore. However, we currently lack smelting capabilities, so we can only take it step by step. The most pressing issue now is the shortage of manpower. The Vanguard Team is primarily here to survey the area and establish an outpost. Resource gathering will have to wait for the following forces."

"The main force will arrive in three days. By then, the manpower shortage will be eased—and tools and supplies will arrive as well." As Gawain spoke, he turned to look at the camp that was gradually taking shape.

He had many plans, many solutions. The broad perspective of a transmigrator and the extensive knowledge inherited from Gawain Cecil filled him with confidence. Looking at this camp in its earliest form, he could not help feeling a surge of ambition.

Tents stood in neat rows according to the plan, and drainage ditches had been dug around the camp. Once water from the White Water River was diverted into those ditches tomorrow, they would help prevent the fires most dangerous to a newly established camp. Craftsmen were working timber and nailing it together into crude, primitive fences—those fences would offer little protection against real monsters, but they would at least be somewhat useful against wild beasts. The lumber workers who had gone into the western forest earlier had returned and were now resting...

Everything looked quite good.

Yet after entering the camp and taking several careful laps around it, Gawain could not help frowning.

He saw the numbness and timidity on the craftsmen's and civilian laborers' faces, along with all sorts of tricks that could hardly be called clever attempts at slacking off. And on the seemingly orderly, regulation-compliant tents and fences, signs of corner-cutting and perfunctory work could be seen everywhere—missing a few nails was the most common problem, and some tents had not even been secured properly at all.

Under Heti's supervision, the craftsmen could still complete their tasks properly, but the civilian laborers assisting them were simply muddling through. Gawain had considered beforehand that most commoners of this era had no education whatsoever, could neither read nor count, so he had explained in detail to every person how the tents should be erected and how the camp should be planned. But now it seemed that aside from placing the tents and fences within the boundaries he had strictly marked out, nearly every individual standard in the camp was failing!

Didn't they know these tents and fences were their only shelter in the wilderness, their guarantee of survival for the coming days?

Gawain thought angrily, then suddenly came to his senses.

Yes, they did not know.

Because these things belonged to the lord, not to them. Even if they would be living in these tents for the time being, they did not believe they could remain there forever. Sooner or later, once the wasteland had been measured out, they would be driven onto it, while the tents would be dismantled and turned into the lord's castle and stables.

That was simply how things worked in this era. Everyone believed it.

Despite the disaster in the Old Cecil Territory, despite fleeing here with the group, despite beginning the construction of a new home, these commoners and serfs who had survived in this rigid, decaying age had long since grown accustomed to suffering and to remaining numb throughout it. Thus, they had no belief that great misfortune would surely be followed by great fortune, nor did they possess the energy and drive to build a new homeland.

Gawain realized he had taken some things for granted. He also realized that some of the plans he had spent so long devising would probably not be easy to carry out.

He immediately summoned Heti and Rebecca.

Before a tent that appeared to meet the requirements at first glance but, upon closer inspection, was missing several supports and leaning crookedly to one side, he pointed at the shoddy workmanship. "What do you think of this?"

Heti did not understand what Gawain meant at first. Thinking he intended to blame her, she immediately lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Ancestor. My supervision..."

"No, this isn't a problem with supervision—you can't watch them drive every single nail," Gawain interrupted. "This is a problem with the workers' attitude."

"Ancestor, you cannot expect too much from those commoners and serfs," Rebecca said after thinking for a moment. "Most of them have little knowledge. Other than the work their ancestors were accustomed to doing in fields and mines, they simply cannot master anything else, anything more complicated. Most of these people have never put up a tent before—especially when you have specifically laid down requirements for the tents' specifications and functions, as well as the planning of the entire camp. That is too complicated for them."

Gawain shook his head. "Is it really that complicated?"

Heti nodded slightly. "Only military camps are set up with such strict standards. These commoners and serfs cannot manage it."

"No, it isn't complicated at all. I have broken every step of their tasks down to the most basic level. Each person only needs to do one thing—hammer nails, tie ropes properly, or saw wood apart. They do not need to understand the planning of the entire camp. What they are required to do is not much more complicated than manual labor," Gawain said, looking at Rebecca and Heti. "Do you think commoners and serfs are so stupid that they cannot even learn this?"

Heti and Rebecca exchanged glances. They could see that Gawain was deeply dissatisfied, but they still had not realized what the real issue was. As for Gawain's question—to the two of them, especially Heti, the answer seemed obvious.

Commoners and serfs were naturally stupid.

They had been born in this era and raised in this era. Neither of them was some widely traveled, exceptionally gifted pioneer of enlightenment, so it was impossible for them to possess understanding and insight far beyond their times.

In fact, Heti and Rebecca were already extremely progressive outliers among the nobles of their day—Heti never allowed the family's knights or soldiers to arbitrarily plunder the property of commoners and serfs, and she sought ways to ensure everyone in the territory had enough to eat. Rebecca had even broken the iron rule of lifelong serfdom, creating a path for them to become free citizens. She also allowed commoners and serfs to move freely within her territory and permitted commoners to conduct business freely...

Every one of these scattered policies could be called a challenge to convention, yet the shackles on their overall thinking still prevented them from completely breaking free of one ingrained assumption: commoners and serfs were inferior.

Perhaps they did not consciously believe that themselves, but subconscious beliefs could not be denied merely by denying them aloud.

Gawain understood that, of course. That was why he had summoned his two many-times-great-granddaughters—not to reprimand them or give them some ideological enlightenment. Nor was he naïve enough to think that a few words from him could turn all the commoners and serfs in this camp into clear-minded, proactive, highly motivated citizens.

That would be a long process. For now, all he needed was for these people to complete the work he assigned as quickly as possible.

"Gather everyone—commoners, serfs, soldiers, all of them," Gawain ordered. "While it is still bright."

Those who were working and those who were resting were quickly gathered together. Even Amber, who had been bragging to Betty about her adventure in the Mountain Treasury, hurried over curiously—with a bewildered Betty following beside her.

No one knew what this old ancestor from seven hundred years ago intended to do. Even Heti and Rebecca were completely at a loss.

As for the commoners and serfs, they merely gathered obediently and numbly at the command. The commoners formed one group, the serfs another, while soldiers responsible for maintaining order stood beside them.

Many assumed their "new lord" had another order to give, perhaps one even more complicated than those elaborate "tent-building rules." Some began to look miserable, thinking they would finally be able to sleep after finishing their work.

Gawain stood atop a large rock, looking down at the hundred or so people below. He had already spotted Amber hiding furtively among the crowd. He had intended to drag out that troublemaker, who could cause chaos at any moment, but after thinking about it, he said nothing.

Then he cleared his throat and spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. "People of Cecil, I have something to say—about your future, and the new laws of the Cecil Territory!"