The gentle rain drizzled, shrouding the mining area in a misty veil.
Upon hearing of the lord's impending arrival, the miners displayed expressions of awe.
By common consensus, a spokesperson stood in the rain, anxiously awaiting the lord.
Soon, this tall miner named Ethan spotted the lord arriving atop a mule.
The muddy roads made the mule a steadier mount than a horse, especially since Yeats lacked riding skills and wasn't yet able to ride "Raddish."
Fortunately, in this world, magic could be learned quickly, so riding skills could be acquired later.
Yeats, donned in an oilcloth rain cape, dismounted.
"Lord, I didn't expect you to come here in the rain," Ethan said hurriedly, recalling the stirring speech at the square. "We are honored by your arrival!"
Yeats smiled. "I heard your name is Ethan from Derek. Please show me around the mine."
"No trouble at all! Follow me."
Accompanied by official Derek, Yeats toured the three-tiered mine, information slowly forming in his mind.
Frostridge's main mineral resources were copper and iron, with occasional colorful gems.
Previously, Frostridge sold ore with no fixed buyers, but now the Starlight Trading Company had become a partner.
The ore could be sold directly to them, and once the smelting workshop was built, profits from copper and iron ingots would improve significantly.
To further motivate miners, Yeats promised Ethan:
"From now on, miners will shift from a daily wage to a daily wage plus piecework system."
"Piecework?" Ethan looked confused.
"In simple terms, on top of your usual pay, the more ore you mine each day, the more you earn that day," Yeats explained.
Ethan blinked, slowly grasping the meaning.
Excitement and joy surged within him.
He imagined the cheers of his fellow miners upon hearing the news.
Kneeling, Ethan exclaimed, "Thank you, Lord, for your generosity!"
In this world, nobles often exploited commoners harshly. Meeting a humane lord was like winning the lottery.
Yeats tried to help the tall miner stand but couldn't move him. Clearing his throat, he turned away, thinking he needed to work out more.
"I have another question, Ethan. Have you seen any salt rock bugs in the mine?"
Salt rock bugs were monsters covered in a white crystalline shell, resembling walking white stones. As they crawled, they left trails of salt that killed plants, making them agricultural pests often spotted near mines and hills.
"There are many salt rock bugs in the mine," Ethan reported. "They don't harm people and just crawl around, so we ignore them while mining."
Yeats' eyes brightened. "Where exactly do they gather? Take me there!"
Shortly after, Yeats crouched to observe a salt rock bug crawling. He dipped his finger into the salt trail, his eyes gleaming.
"You mustn't eat this salt, Lord!" Ethan warned, face pale. "It's secreted by the monster and will cause dizziness and food poisoning if consumed!"
The salt left behind was nearly indistinguishable from ordinary mineral salt.
Over the years, careless adventurers mistook it for seasoning, causing repeated poisonings.
Yeats pondered… Raw salt from the bugs was certainly inedible.
But in his mind was a refining technique similar to "sun-drying," involving dissolving and drying to produce a high-quality seasoning salt.
Regular salt sold for one copper coin a bag; refined salt could be worth ten times more and was favored by nobles.
Since salt rock bugs thrived in the mines, there must be a source.
Following their habits, Yeats ordered a wall to be broken.
Sure enough, a huge natural salt deposit was revealed.
"Derek, move this salt block to a separate cavern and relocate the salt rock bugs there as well," Yeats instructed.
Derek hesitated. "Lord, you intend to harvest salt from these bugs? That's forbidden…"
Yeats calmly replied, "I know how to refine salt from them. Follow my orders."
Derek was stunned briefly but nodded in compliance.
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The autumn rain continued for three days.
When the sun returned, the snowy mountains gleamed golden in the light, and Frostridge echoed with the sounds of carts and bustle.
Under Lena's direction, craftsmen hired by the trading company cooperated with locals to build the potion workshop.
Salt-drying fields spread bug salt to dry, cheese fermented in caves, and the smelting workshop lit its furnace.
Yeats' rousing speeches and tangible benefits fueled rapid infrastructure growth.
Bang!
Gray took aim at a twig monster in the woods and hurled her axe, splitting it and releasing fuel branches.
The axe arced through the air, returning to Gray's hand.
Startled, she caught it and threw it again.
Bang!
Again, the returning axe landed safely.
"Did Yeats plan this when buying the returning axe?" Gray wondered.
In the stable, Frakas unpacked a bag of dried salt, placing some before Raddish.
The horse licked a large mouthful of salt, eyes gleaming, nodding almost humanly.
Frakas sighed with emotion. "The lord has created another source of income for Frostridge."
In the cave, the stale scent of fermenting cheese filled the air.
Baker Rolf pinched his nose, looking at the "Frostridge Cheese" Yeats had high hopes for.
"Lord, who would like this smelly cheese?"
Yeats also pinched his nose. "Let's see… rich people have strange tastes."
Just then, Derek appeared at the cave entrance.
"Lord, a reply from the capital has arrived regarding troop deployment!"
Yeats' eyes flickered with hope.
If the capital agreed to send troops, the chances of surviving the monster surge would soar!
Without changing, Yeats stood outside the cave, taking the letter from Derek.
Breaking the wax seal, he skimmed the contents; his face darkened.
Derek anxiously asked, "Lord, what did the capital say?"
"We won't be getting reinforcements," Yeats said coldly. "The letter is full of pleasantries, basically saying—"
"They will provide all assistance except sending troops."
Derek paled.
"So… the capital refused to send soldiers?" he asked dryly.
Derek tried to appear indifferent, but having faced the cold wave before and with age weighing on him, he deeply feared death.
Yeats closed his eyes, recalling the first chapter's cold wave storyline—did Frostridge perish there?
The answer was unclear.
But recruiting a key general from the story could greatly improve survival odds.
The Valkyrie should have appeared by now—but was she in the Kingdom of the Golden Lion?
Yeats rubbed his forehead.
Enough.
He couldn't rely on story characters to save the day.
Gold coins could hire seasoned mercenaries and buy powerful spell scrolls—this was Frostridge's true hope.
At that moment, Gray rushed in.
"Yeats, there's something you need to know!"
Her face was worried.
Yeats asked, "What is it?"
"The little girl who helps you make potions, Regilave… she's fallen ill!" Gray said.
Yeats was stunned, unease creeping in.
"Little Red Riding Hood is sick?!"