Laying Foundations, Planning the Future

"I don't even know my manservant's name," Field inquired of the steward.

"My Lord, he is called Pot, sixteen years old, parents both peasants. The cook is called Plate. The maids are Scissors and Sparrow."

In this world, only the educated, the nobility, or those wielding supernatural power possessed pleasant-sounding names.

Take Field's full name, for example: Field Rose. 'Rose' meant the flower, but as a name, simply 'Rose' was more fitting. Like President Bush – his full name was George Walker Bush. You could translate it as George Walker Shrub, but that sounded rather odd.

"My Lord, do you have instructions?" Pot, having been named, trembled with fear, his voice shaking. He worried he might be dismissed; yesterday while mopping, he had slacked off for ten minutes.

"The temporary bed you made in the carriage was very soft. Without it, I might have been shaken apart on the journey here," Field said lightly, snapping his fingers. "Kaul, reward Pot with one silver coin."

*Hiss~*

Envious glances immediately shot towards Pot from the others. One silver coin was equivalent to over six days' wages.

Pot was stunned for a moment, then pure elation spread across his face. He threw himself at Field's feet, kissing his boots. "Goddess above, thank you for your generosity!"

"Lucky brat," Scissors pouted, deeply displeased. Making a bed wasn't so special; she could warm one too!

Pot swore silently to himself: *Never slack off again, not even for a minute.*

"Each month, there will be a review. Everyone has the chance to earn silver coins, as long as they perform well. The cook preparing delicious meals, the maids keeping rooms spotless – I see it all," Field announced.

Their breathing grew rapid. They exchanged glances, seeing the spark of heated competition ignite in each other's eyes.

A faint smile touched Field's lips. From now on, their work efficiency would be fueled by silver. Crucially, it would likely lead to reporting on each other – informing, even snitching. Field *wanted* this. Servants forming tight cliques wasn't necessarily good; it could lead to collusion against their lord.

"Alright, back to your duties," Field said with a smile, waving them off. They scurried away immediately. However, the steward took two steps, hesitated, and turned back. Field looked at him questioningly. "Yes?"

"My Lord, uh... it may not be my place, but as your steward, I feel I must offer some counsel." Since arriving alive in Nightfall Territory, Kaul had shed his constant complaints and begun working earnestly.

Field raised an eyebrow. "Speak freely."

"It's... about the races. You seem to be offering beastkin a path upward, promising them the possibility of becoming freemen. But... beastkin are different from us. They are foolish—apologies—except for Lady Ashina, perhaps. The others... is granting them freedom truly necessary?"

Field pondered for a moment. "We are now in the Cursed Lands, surrounded by death. There's a saying: 'When in Azeria, be an Azerian.' Nightfall Territory needs its own rules. Tomorrow, I will proclaim unified decrees. Then you will understand."

That night, Field took out paper and pen, drafting his plan for developing Nightfall Territory. He wrote in English characters only he could understand: "Raiding and Exploration."

"My territory has nothing. Relying on just two hundred people to rapidly develop and accumulate the means of production is impossible." Even the land itself was saturated with toxins.

*Knock-knock-knock~*

The door sounded.

"My Lord, it's me." Ashina's voice came from outside.

Field needed Ashina's support for his plans. "Come in. I was waiting for you."

"Good evening, my Lord." Ashina entered wearing a shortened maid's dress. Her slender calves were positioned in a slightly shy manner, her expression tinged with bashfulness. Freed from the harsh life of a slave, her jade-like skin was finally revealed. Even her feet were elegant, toes long and pale, possessing a distinct beauty. "How may I serve you?"

Whether it was his imagination or not, the atmosphere instantly grew ambiguous.

Field slapped his forehead. *No wonder she looks so awkward.* Calling a young woman to his room in the dead of night? Anyone would get the wrong idea.

"Ahem. It's about the territory's development."

"Oh." Ashina's nervously fidgeting hands immediately dropped to her sides. She sighed with relief, though a faint trace of disappointment flickered within her. "My Lord, I have no experience in management. I fear I cannot be much help." Before becoming a slave, Ashina had been a freeman, the daughter of a wolf-kin hunter. She couldn't read, write, or manage.

"It's fine. You can learn. I will teach you myself. Besides, you are a Chosen One. That is a natural advantage." The greatest leap in social class in this world was becoming a Chosen One. One moment you might face execution; the next, declared a Chosen, and the local nobility would absolve you of guilt and welcome you as an honored guest. After all, the gods could not choose wrongly. This was also why the lower classes were often reluctant to rebel against their lords. Everyone harbored the hope of class ascension. If a daughter or daughter-in-law became Chosen, comfort was assured.

"I've decided to raid my brother," Field dropped the bombshell.

Ashina was stunned: *Is this something I'm supposed to hear?*

"Alright. I support you unconditionally!" Confirming Field wasn't joking, Ashina thought for a moment. "I can sense you are not a cruel or evil person." When she was a slave, Field had never abused her, nor taken advantage while she slept to commit beastly acts. On the contrary, he was the most unique person she had ever met. He treated beastkin with equality... even, perhaps, a bit of fondness? That might be her imagination, but undoubtedly, Field was a gentleman!

"Thank you." Field poured Ashina a cup of black tea. "The reason is... a long story." He vividly remembered his brother's vicious, perverse glare. It genuinely troubled his sleep. His brother had openly threatened to kill those Field cared about. Field was not the original owner's weak, easily bullied self. He would strike back hard! And the preparation had to start now.

"I'll explain the reasons to you gradually. I need your assistance in training a unit of light cavalry. Cavalry specifically born for raiding." Field's dear elder sister had "aided" him with twenty warhorses. They would now serve their purpose.

After finalizing the plan, Field convened an assembly of all settlers the very next day – every slave was required to attend.

Everyone who arrived found their gaze drawn to the wooden crate beside Field, filled to the brim with silver and copper coins.

Field didn't launch into a lengthy speech. Instead, he produced a list.

"Members of the guard, step forward to collect your bounty as I call your names. One silver coin per corrupted corpse slain. I keep my word."