Russell did not like the term "slag," probably because being hit by a dump truck had restarted his life.
However.
After dinner, he still seriously discussed the feasibility of slag bricks with his father, Baron Roman, and his elder brother, Roland.
"Wooden houses are currently the main homes of serfs and commoners throughout Guangguang River Valley. Hardly anyone builds better stone houses. I took a walk around town this afternoon and found that it is not that people dislike stone houses—they simply cannot afford them."
Russell said, "Most of the stones quarried from Curved Blade Mountain and Dagger Mountain are transported here to build castles. There is so little left that even roads cannot be paved with stone; they can only use coal slag."
"So you think firing slag bricks from clay slag would have a huge market?" Roland asked noncommittally.
"I do not know about other places, but there should be considerable demand in town and on my manor."
"Russell, do not aim too high." Roland adopted Baron Roman's tone as he advised his younger brother. "Just repair the manor residence where you live. There is no need for major construction on the manor, exhausting the people and wasting money."
"Uh, I merely want to govern my territory properly."
"Following tradition is far better than blindly meddling on your own. You will understand in time," Roland said.
Baron Roman nodded as well. "Your brother is right, Russell. Have you forgotten all the principles I taught you on the snowfield? Be a steady, reliable lord, train more knights, and do not blindly meddle."
"I understand, Father." Russell nodded sincerely, but he had no intention of changing his mind.
It was not because he believed that, as a transmigrator, he had to become some invincible figure who battled heaven and earth,