The Current State of Mages

Those working in the camp quickly came to feel that this "ancestor" from seven hundred years ago was truly a strange person.

As for Cecil's lord suddenly changing from Miss Rebecca to Lord Gawain, the commoners and serfs had no particular thoughts on the matter. The lower classes of this era would be grateful for a lord's generosity and wisdom as long as they could eat to seventy or eighty percent fullness every day. As for who exactly that lord was, they simply did not care. To them, the only thing worth discussing after the lord had become Lord Gawain was the strange rules this "ancient person" had established right from the start.

Most people chose to believe only partially in matters such as serfs being able to rise to become free citizens, or free citizens being paid for their labor, viewing them as a way for the new lord to demonstrate his generosity. By common logic, they believed these promises would ultimately be fulfilled in some extremely harsh or cunning way. There might be serfs who became free citizens, but probably only one or two. There might be payment for labor as well, but it would likely be withheld for all kinds of reasons, until only two or three lucky people received a few symbolic copper coins, proving that the lord had indeed done what he said.

But neither the commoners nor the serfs would complain about this. After all, a lord willing to display his generosity was far better than one who began by whipping slaves to establish his authority.

Besides, there would always be some small benefits handed out, wouldn't there?

Compared to those generous rules, the various so-called "regulations and codes" established by Lord Gawain were what truly confused people.

Dividing people into work groups, making the groups compete, registering workloads, and conducting "assessments"... these were methods they had never even heard of.

Some people discussed things in secret, guessing which part of these new rules would someday become a means of collecting taxes—though not a single person in the utterly destitute Cecil Territory could afford to pay taxes now. Others discussed whether Lord Gawain had turned simple corvée labor into so many elaborate procedures because of some ancient eccentricity of the great nobles of old...

But regardless, they could still understand certain parts that concerned their immediate interests—the first-ranked group in the daily work evaluations got meat, while the second- and third-ranked groups could eat their fill of bread dipped in meat broth.

Those whose work performance was merely average received only bland vegetable soup and black bread. Though they could eat their fill of those as well, those who had failed to eat meat during the first day's "tent-pitching competition" truly did not want to experience drinking vegetable soup while watching others eat stewed meat ever again.

Whether those seemingly fantastical promotion and wage systems were real or not, at least the lord giving out meat had already been proven true.

So on the second day in the camp, Heti saw a scene of labor she had never witnessed before—whether commoners or serfs, everyone worked as if they had gone mad. They did not even need overseers standing beside them to finish their work at top speed. And because the work had been divided into groups instead of everyone fighting on their own, they began unconsciously coordinating with one another while they worked, further increasing efficiency.

Most of those chosen as group leaders quickly realized that if they wanted to eat meat themselves, the only way was to improve the entire group's efficiency and ensure everyone in the group could eat meat. As for the small number who had become leaders only through their fists or cunning, they would likely be replaced soon enough.

Instead of driving them to work with whips, he used competition and rewards. It was truly unbelievable.

The tents had all been set up. Rebecca had led some people off to survey the nearby wasteland, while the logging group had departed early in the morning for a cutting site upstream along the White Water River to the west. Before noon, a batch of timber would float downstream along the White Water River to a broad, gentle stretch. To prevent the wood from being swept away by the current, Heti handed patrol duties to Knight Byron before the appointed time and went to wait by the riverbank herself.

At the appointed time, the first batch of timber appeared. Thick ropes had bound it into rafts, with large logs beneath and smaller ones piled crisscrossed above them and reinforced in place. From afar, it looked like a huge, ugly mass of dead branches floating on the river. Two tense-faced serfs stood on the raft, using long poles to control its course. The White Water River flowed very slowly along this stretch, and there was neither wind nor waves today, but the hastily assembled raft was difficult to control in itself. A moment's carelessness could make the whole thing fall apart, so they could hardly help being nervous.

But soon, the two serfs discovered that the raft was steadily moving toward a nearby shoal. A gigantic translucent hand appeared beside it—the hand formed of air was gently but powerfully pushing the raft toward the shore. One serf cried out instinctively, but the other quickly smacked the fool on the head with his pole and pointed toward Lady Heti standing on the riverbank.

They hurriedly cooperated with their mistress, poling the raft toward shore and letting it scrape against the gravel before bringing it to a steady stop.

Then the people who had been waiting on the shore rushed forward, untied the ropes, and dragged away the timber, preparing to turn it into the plank structures needed for the camp's next stage of construction.

Normally, the timber would need to be air-dried, treated against insects, and undergo a series of other processes before it could become qualified, durable boards. But many of the facilities the camp would build next were temporary, and they were needed urgently, so there was no time to be so particular.

Gawain stood behind Heti, deep in thought. "Magic really is convenient..."

Heti had just caught her breath when the sudden voice behind her gave her such a fright that she nearly fell off the rock—fortunately, Gawain caught her.

"Sorry... I'm sorry..." Lady Heti apologized in a fluster. "I didn't know you were standing behind me..."

"I was the one who startled you." Gawain waved it off. "By the way, that move you used just now was pretty good, wasn't it?"

Heti blushed slightly. "Sculpting Hand is a very basic spell. I practiced its metamagic techniques, so I can make it last longer. As long as I keep pushing, I can guide even a heavy raft to the shore. But if the current were any faster, it wouldn't work..."

Though Gawain was a knight, everyone in the pioneering era had been forced into becoming a naturalist, so he knew a little of the theoretical knowledge in the Magic Domain. Heti made it sound simple, but he knew that strengthening a basic Sculpting Hand to such an extent—and specifically practicing metamagic for it—was no easy feat. It was rare as well.

"I... don't have much talent for magic." Hearing Gawain's question, Heti looked even more embarrassed. "Although I awakened magical affinity when I was very young, my Mental Power gathers too slowly, and I can't construct overly complex Spell Models. So even now, I'm only a newly advanced third-level mage, and I'll probably remain at this level for the rest of my life. All I can do is strengthen those elementary spells again and again."

"Rebecca's magical talent doesn't seem very high either..." Gawain frowned, thinking of that stubborn great-great-great... great-granddaughter who could knead out four kinds of Fireball Spells.

"Her total magical power is immense, and her Mental Power is strong as well, but she encounters problems similar to mine when constructing Spell Models—perhaps even worse ones." Heti lowered her head. "She can only master Fireball Spell, or Greater Fireball Spell, whose Spell Model is similar to Fireball Spell. Actually, she's a very hardworking child. She knows herself that none of her talents are outstanding—she's neither a good lord nor a good mage. Though she usually seems carefree and careless, she knows it all, and she has always been working hard in secret. But there's nothing to be done. The limits of talent are limits. They are a wall that is difficult to cross."

As she spoke, she sighed softly. "That's why I was so moved when I saw that Wild Mage's notes... He wasn't an exception. This situation is actually very common among impoverished mages. Their ability to construct Spell Models cannot keep up with their theoretical knowledge, so they can only remain low-level spellcasters for life. To practical-minded mages, if they cannot turn the calculations in their minds into usable spells, then everything is worth zero..."

"No." Gawain's voice suddenly interrupted her.

Heti did not react at once. "What?"

"If being 'practical' only means kneading out a fireball or an ice arrow yourself, then a mage waving a staff is not all that different from a monkey waving a club." Gawain shook his head. "Formulas aren't zero. They're the one in front of countless zeros. You simply haven't found where to place the decimal point yet..."

Heti frowned. "I... don't really understand. If there's no way to use Spell Models to realize the formulas in one's mind, what use is knowing so much theory? Can it beat people in a fight?"

"One day, you'll understand that 'being able to beat people in a fight' is not the sole standard for judging mages. It should not even be the main standard." Gawain smiled. "I've already sent someone on horseback to Tanzan Town to notify Knight Philip to purchase some additional items. Once the main force arrives, your Magic Laboratory can be set up as well."

"Magic Laboratory?" Heti froze for a moment, then frowned. "Those things are all very expensive. At the beginning..."

"I took several mithril ingots from the Mountain Treasury. They aren't coins, so they don't need to be recast, and they can be used directly as hard currency when buying magical items. They're enough to equip you with a basic set of supplies. I know your Magic Laboratory in the castle was completely destroyed, but we need a new laboratory as soon as possible."

Heti remembered the task Gawain had assigned her earlier.

"Understood. Once the Crystal Resonator arrives, I'll copy out all those rune structure diagrams you requested!" Heti could not help smiling. Though she regretted spending those mithril ingots, how could a mage possibly be unhappy at having her own Magic Laboratory again? Besides, as the saying went, a child selling the family land did not feel the pain...

Was there anything wrong with an ancestor giving his great-great-great... great-granddaughter some pocket money to buy a set of experimental equipment? Absolutely not!

Well, that way of putting it did not suit the steady, reliable, mature Heti, but it would certainly work for Rebecca.

Once they had some spare capacity, should he also set up a Magic Laboratory for that stubborn little girl? Though she would most likely only study Fireball Spell in it...

With his thoughts beginning to wander, Gawain returned to his tent, preparing to study those strange crystals.