Systems Over Individuals

Translator: CinderTL

Schroeder stepped forward, "Next, I must report to you about the unusual movements of the Orcs!"

The air in the study room instantly froze.

The Chief of Staff's finger pressed heavily on a certain spot on the map, "Recent reports!" The old knight's voice was very serious, "The Orc army has filled the entire Neron Corridor."

He pulled out a charcoal pencil and drew a circle on the area representing the Blackstone Wasteland, "Reliable information indicates that Abal's Golden Chieftain's Tent... has moved here."

Victor suddenly stood up, the chair legs scraping a harsh sound on the floor, his eyes turning red with anger, "Those beasts dare to come again?"

The Chief Steward's fist slammed on the table, causing ripples in the inkwell, "Was the lesson we gave them last time in the Blackstone Plain not deep enough?"

Schroeder looked at him, "Last time we only defeated a detachment of the Orcs moving west, not their main force. Clearly, the Orc Chieftain considers that just an accident, or a minor ripple."

Paul gazed at the advance route marked with a pencil on the map, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the new stubble on his chin.

The long life in another dimension made the threat of war in the real world seem somewhat unreal, but the tense atmosphere in the study was awakening the vigilance in his bones.

"My intelligence can corroborate with the Chief of Staff's, this invasion will be larger in scale than the last."

Cecil handed over a scroll from the shadows, densely recorded with the assembly situation of the Orc Clans, "According to the messages returned from the grasslands, at least twenty clans have responded to Abal, swearing to follow the Chieftain's Tent into battle."

The dusk outside the window deepened, the last ray of sunset through the stained glass, dyeing the Blackstone Wasteland on the map a bloody red.

Paul looked up, his gaze slowly moving between Ford and Schroeder, his fingertips lightly tapping on the oak table.

"I hope to hear that we are prepared." His voice was steady, and carried an undeniable authority.

Without any unnecessary words, Ford immediately opened the leather-bound ledger, his finger accurately stopping on a page.

"My lord, the Council of Administration has fully activated wartime production scheduling." His fingertip moved across the densely packed numbers, "The steel mills have adopted a three-shift rotation system, with production increasing by forty percent compared to last month. Nitrate production has also been standardized, with daily output reaching two thousand five hundred pounds."

The head of the Council of Administration pushed his glasses, the lenses reflecting the candlelight: "We have established a material distribution network, setting up twelve transfer stations on the main roads, equipped with twelve hundred four-wheeled heavy wagons, capable of delivering strategic materials to any border fortress within a week."

Schroeder immediately followed up with his report, his military boots making a strong sound on the floor. He walked to the wall and unfolded a map, hanging it up, which precisely marked the troop deployments and supply routes.

"All second-line troops have been fully replenished, ten infantry regiments have all completed the upgrade to new rifles, with excellent rates in live-fire assessments exceeding eighty percent."

The Chief of Staff's voice was as powerful as a war drum, "Two cavalry regiments have completed the scheduled training content, their assessment performance meets expectations, each company is equipped with standardized medical wagons and ammunition supply vehicles."

His fingers tapped on the map at several fortress markers: "We have established a comprehensive courier system along the border. Fifty thousand reserve militia can complete their assembly within four days of receiving orders, ready to replenish any combat losses at any time. Additionally, the armories in each defense zone are stocked with standard-issue weapons and supplies."

Of course, Alden's war preparations were far more extensive than what was mentioned in their conversation. They only highlighted the key points before placing two thick reports in front of Paul for the lord to review during his free time.

Paul felt reassured and praised, "You all have done an excellent job. Well done."

Bernard placed a stack of documents in front of him, "To prepare for this war, the Council of Administration has drafted a series of decrees that require your signature." Paul flipped through a few files, finding little that needed modification.

A complex mix of emotions welled up in his heart.

Years of meticulous management had resulted in Alden's administrative system, military organization, and commercial network becoming highly refined, operating like a precise clockwork. Even during his mysterious disappearance, Alden's war machine had continued its preparations in an orderly manner.

His fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of the paper, the texture real and clear. This feeling of both satisfaction and subtle loss reminded him of modern enterprises on Earth—once a company established a robust system, the founder's presence became less crucial.

Would his standing in people's hearts diminish if they realized they could function well without him, their lord?

"My lord?" Bernard's voice brought him back to reality, "Shall we proceed with signing these decrees?"

Paul looked up to see everyone in the study awaiting his instructions. Ford's ledger, Schroeder's map, Bryce's sword—each represented a cog in this vast machinery.

He suddenly laughed.

How ridiculous this worry was! The power of systems over individuals had always been his pursuit, hadn't it? "Of course, we'll sign them."

Paul picked up the quill, the ink leaving smooth traces on the documents, "I plan to personally inspect the Border Fortress in a few days."

His pen paused slightly, "Together with everyone."

Paul looked up again, still seeing the reverence and trust in their eyes.

Rather than worrying about trivialities, it was better to focus on the tasks at hand.

Ha, a flash of inspiration struck him, and he felt he could reinforce his presence.

He walked over to Schroeder's map and drew a heavy line with a pencil: "We must accelerate the construction and application of the railway. The existing experimental line's capacity is already twenty times that of horse-drawn carriages. We need to extend it to the front lines."

Ford nodded, "Can we adopt a simplified standard, using fast-growing pine for sleepers and prefabricated rails, laying them in sections?"

"Of course, perfection isn't necessary," Paul said decisively, "This railway only needs to last until the war ends. First, we'll establish the transport artery from Alden to the Blackstone Wasteland, then push forward to the front lines, putting each completed section into use immediately."

Schroeder thoughtfully added, "We can modify the existing track cars to serve as temporary trains."

Before the advent of the steam locomotive, Alden already had horse-drawn track cars.

"Exactly," Paul said with a fiery gaze.

He wanted to show the Orcs what advanced productivity and industrial civilization truly meant.

Under the candlelight, the lines on the map seemed to transform into a torrent of steel, ready to surge toward the front lines.

(End of the Chapter)

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