"Perfect, perfect," Galen thought, a surge of confidence coursing through him as he met his father's intense gaze. He imagined himself, a figure of legendary renown. "Please, call me Galen 'Crouching Tiger' Trollbane."
Aloud, he spoke with a measured tone, "Father, I have a clear understanding of the trolls we will face. They are primitive, savage, brutal, and possess an abhorrent hunger – they devour humans." A flicker of genuine emotion touched his voice, a hint of steel underlying his words.
Galen, having once guided a troll druid through virtual adventures, harbored no inherent prejudice against the troll race. He knew that the trolls depicted in the game represented a small, relatively enlightened faction, the Darkspear tribe. He was also aware that, within that virtual world, some trolls practiced cannibalism, consuming humans and even their own kind.
But transmigrating to Azeroth had transformed that knowledge into a visceral reality. He now inhabited a world where the threat of being devoured by trolls was not a mere game mechanic. He had heard the chilling tales, seen the gruesome evidence in the troll raiding parties' baggage carts.
It was a concept he found utterly repulsive.
Humans were on the trolls' menu – his future subjects, the people of his kingdom. He possessed the power to change this horrific reality, and he was determined to do so.
"Father, a mere dozen days ago, my guards and I encountered a band of twenty trolls within the very mining area I seek. We utterly annihilated them. Among the slain, we identified two particularly notorious figures, both listed on the kingdom's most wanted: a troll witch doctor named Hex'jin, and a savage warrior named Drek'maz. They were key leaders within the Revantusk tribe, responsible for numerous brutal raids upon our villages."
Galen paused, his voice dropping to a low, resonant tone, each word carrying the weight of conviction. "I personally beheaded them both, Father."
A profound silence descended upon the royal study.
Thoras, a seasoned warrior and astute judge of character, sensed the unwavering resolve in Galen's words, the burning conviction that fueled his ambition. He remained silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed upon his son, before finally uttering a single, powerful word: "I agree."
Those words resonated through Galen like a triumphant fanfare. His head snapped up, his eyes blazing with renewed purpose as he met his father's gaze.
"Thank you, Father!"
"Do not grow overly exuberant," Thoras cautioned, a wry smile playing on his lips as he observed Galen's barely contained delight. "The mining area you seek is ancestral Trollbane land. I grant you the mining rights to that region. As for the full authority of a fiefdom, that will be bestowed upon you when you reach the age of sixteen."
"In the meantime, I will augment your current guard with a squadron of the Highland Cavalry Regiment. Beyond that, you will receive no additional support from the crown."
Galen's initial euphoria gave way to a mixture of surprise and a touch of disappointment. The first part of the agreement aligned perfectly with his plans – land for land, people for people, even the addition of an elite unit like the Highland Cavalry Regiment. Though only a squadron, its members were chosen from the kingdom's finest, their skill level at least intermediate, with many approaching adept.
I anticipated the beginning, but not this abrupt ending, he thought ruefully.
The formal bestowal of a fiefdom was a secondary concern. Galen's primary objective was to secure the authority to raise a force, a necessary cover for the troops he would train through his base.
Securing the mining rights was also acceptable. He would control the territory, recruit his own miners, and, when the time was right, discreetly integrate his base-trained forces into the ranks.
But Thoras's stipulation of "no additional support"? No financial assistance? Not even a token amount to get him started?
"Father," Galen ventured, unable to conceal his dismay, "will I receive no financial support? Some initial capital, perhaps?"
He couldn't fathom how he would make any meaningful progress with his current resources. Ten thousand gold, a substantial sum in most contexts, barely allowed him to train a hundred Footmen. He desperately needed Thoras's financial backing; he needed the gold.
"The kingdom's treasury is currently strained," Thoras explained, his tone firm but not unsympathetic. "We are committed to replacing the army's outdated weaponry and equipment, and a significant order has already been placed with Ironforge. Stromgarde Keep itself requires extensive repairs, and we are conscripting farmers, who must be compensated for their labor. We are simply unable to allocate any funds to your endeavor at this time."
"Not even a small amount?" Galen pressed, his hopes dwindling.
"The next tax collection will occur after the autumn harvest, which is still some time away. Once the surplus grain is traded, a portion of the revenue may be available for allocation from the royal treasury."
Thoras's gaze softened, a hint of a challenge entering his voice. "Do you not possess your own caravan? You have accumulated a small fortune over the years, have you not? I suggest you utilize those resources to establish your initial operations. Consider this a test of your abilities."
Seeing that Thoras's decision was firm, Galen reluctantly abandoned his hopes of securing land, people, and a substantial sum of gold. While he had only achieved half of his objectives, he still felt a surge of excitement.
The mining rights alone were a significant victory. Since time immemorial, mines represented wealth and power. What better way to demonstrate my family's affluence and my own burgeoning influence than to declare, 'My family owns a mine'?
No one in their right mind would refuse such an opportunity. And since Thoras had not explicitly mentioned taxes, Galen chose to interpret that as tacit permission to retain all profits.
Silence implies consent. Excellent.
Others might be daunted by the prospect of initial expenses – recruiting laborers, paying resettlement fees, and providing ongoing wages. But Galen possessed a unique advantage. The farmers trained at his base required no resettlement fees or wages, only the assurance of three square meals a day.
I am soon to be the largest landowner in the Arathi Highlands, have an abundance of food.
His primary concern now was the base's already fully operational mine. He needed to establish a branch mine in the southeast mining area, the location of Stonefist Hall.
However, this expansion required substantial initial capital, as his caravan's earnings trickled in far too slowly to fuel the base's rapid growth.
Galen had determined that each farmer harvested approximately ten units of resources per hour. Through experimentation, he had learned that ten units of gold translated to roughly five gold coins in value – a respectable rate of production.
However, this output was largely symbolic. The base only accepted raw resources, not refined gold coins. Galen had yet to discover an option to convert the mined gold into usable currency. Furthermore, he realized that the "gold" resource defined by the base encompassed more than just gold ore.
It seemed to include rare minerals found in association with gold deposits, as well as ores like copper and silver. Once the farmers completed their mining, the Town Hall absorbed the raw materials, converting them into a unified energy source, simply and crudely labeled "gold" by the base.
The Origin Heart Base is truly a marvel of efficiency, Galen mused, a touch of wry admiration in his thoughts.
As for wood, Galen had observed that a single farmer could fell, process, and transport a massive, hundred-year-old tree – as thick as a man's embrace and towering ten meters tall – to the lumber mill in approximately one hour.
The farmers would meticulously remove the branches, then process the trunk into manageable one-meter sections, each adding +1 to the base's wood reserves.
Galen was generally pleased with the farmers' resource-gathering capabilities.
Moreover, the larger the farmer population, the faster the resource collection rate increased, seemingly exponentially. With no population cap imposed by the base, and an abundance of food ensured by his farms, training a vast number of farmers became a viable strategy for rapidly expanding his power.
The mine within the base was already operating at maximum capacity. To optimize gold extraction, Galen had instructed Cliff to divide the mining personnel into two shifts, ensuring continuous operation.
His initial plan had been to secure financial support from his father, inject those funds into the Town Hall, and then unleash a wave of newly trained farmers and infantry to establish a branch mine in the southeast mining area, centered around Stonefist Hall.
That plan, however, had now been effectively derailed.