Magic, steel, heavy industry

Chapter 1 Anvil Collar

"Lord Vilan, wake up, we've arrived."

A slightly deep voice sounded in Vilan's ear. He opened his eyes in a daze and saw a gray-brown carriage. Although the wooden frame had long lost its luster and looked somewhat shabby, it still stubbornly hung with faded blue coarse cloth curtains. A thin wool carpet was laid under him.

Vilan blinked, looking somewhat wearily at the smartly dressed man beside him.

"Mr. Llorente, this journey has been quite grueling."

Vilan gave a somewhat helpless wry smile, his thoughts already returning to that afternoon half a month ago.

Yes, he traveled through time.

In his previous life, his name was Zhang Weilan. He was a civil engineering graduate student on Earth. He accidentally fell into the water while working on a construction site and woke up in this completely unfamiliar world.

Vilan Northstone, that's his current name. He was born into the glorious and illustrious Stone family of the North, but due to the unexpected death of his parents, his unscrupulous uncle and aunt stole his inheritance rights, claiming that "the stones of the North need to be honed," and thus exiled Vilan to a barren territory ahead of time.

How barren is it?

Vilan parted the blue carriage curtain and looked out at a gray, muddy dirt road. Crooked, low mud sheds lay along the roadside, and the air was filled with the mixed smell of livestock sheds and excrement. Several ragged farmers peeked out from behind the mud walls, their bewildered eyes mixed with a hint of fear.

At the end of the muddy dirt road stands an incongruous gray castle, perched halfway up the mountain.

Yes, this is all that Vilan is about to have: a territory with a population of only three hundred households, a handful of buildings, and virtually no defenses.

Anvil Territory is a barren land located on the northeastern border of the Kingdom of Orion.

"Lord Vilan, I suppose your aunt is not as heartless as you think. At least, she did bring you some of her wealth and thoughtfully provided you with a guard."

A middle-aged man named Llorente smiled politely and made a very inappropriate joke.

His so-called "partial property" consisted of nothing more than a carriage, an old horse, and a chest of gold coins. For ordinary citizens, a chest of gold coins would certainly allow them to live a wealthy life, but Vilan was to manage this entire territory. If he were to carry out large-scale industrial development as he envisioned, perhaps it could last a week? Or three days?

He didn't expect the North to pay him a salary or subsidies, since this was a world similar to the Western Middle Ages, where everything within the territory was the sole responsibility of the lord.

As for the guard, they were just ten poor young men. Although they had studied under the knights for a while, their low birth meant they would never be able to become true knights. Most importantly, Vilan himself had to pay their wages.

Aside from these, the only other companions were Llorente, the nominal advisor, and a rigid old butler named Hans.

"There isn't even a maid."

Vilan sighed helplessly, then, with the help of the captain of the guard, jumped off the carriage.

An elderly scholar dressed in black linen robes with gray hair immediately approached. "Excuse my bluntness, young master Vilan, your castle is just ahead. Rather than treading on this wretched muddy ground yourself, it would be more befitting of your status to sit in a carriage."

The scholar was none other than the old steward, Hans, who often carried a thick ancient book. In the past two weeks, he had taught Vilan how to be a qualified lord, how to collect sufficient taxes, and most importantly, how to maintain noble etiquette.

Vilan inherited his predecessor's memories and adapted quickly, but Hans's constant reminders every day still gave him a headache.

"Hans, I know you mean well, but this is my first time in Anvil Territory, and I want to meet my people." Vilan declined Hans's offer and, surrounded by his guards, headed towards the town.

To be honest, Vilan was somewhat relieved about the time travel. Although he was in a different world, he was still alive, wasn't he?

Moreover, this world didn't feel too unfamiliar to him; the rich medieval elements around him made him think for a time that he had traveled to the Western Middle Ages. However, after meeting the magicians of the Northstone family, he realized he was wrong.

Yes, magical elements exist in this world, though only a little, and they are far from enough to shake the ruling position of the nobility.

But from this alone, Vilan knew that he had transmigrated to a completely new world. However, the start was not bad; at least he was a minor lord, not a hellish start like becoming a serf.

Vilan straightened his aristocratic attire, carefully avoiding the excrement on the ground, and walked into the town.

Iron Anvil Territory is a nearly abandoned and barren land, without even a single administrator. Apart from the bard merchants who come once a week, the only people who visit are the bandits from the nearby mountains and the tax collectors who come twice a year.

Therefore, there was no handover ceremony. When Vilan announced that he had become the lord of Anvil Territory, the people did not dare to say a word and greeted him with "Greetings, Lord." Then, several of the most prestigious hunters escorted Vilan to his castle.

This is a three-story stone castle with its own large garden. The path leading to the castle is the only one paved with stones within Anvil Territory. At the end of the path is an arched wall and a locked iron gate, isolating the castle from the outside world.

"It seems it's not entirely without merit. At least this castle is quite nice, even larger than the castles of other minor lords we've seen along the way," Vilan said with satisfaction.

The advisor, Llorente, smiled and looked at the captain of the guard behind him. "Send a few men in to take a look, and while you're at it, clean out a room for Lord Vilan that he can stay in."

"OK."

The captain of the guard quickly selected four men and ordered them to go inside and get to work.

Vilan didn't want to stay in the dusty castle, so he simply found a tree and sat down under it. Hans wanted to remind him to be polite, but Vilan glared at him and shut him up.

Although Vilan had tried his best to act like a nobleman, that was within the Northstone family. Now that he was on his own territory, who was he going to perform for? Besides, he couldn't even sit down anywhere he wanted. Nobles were so pathetic. Back when he was working on a construction site, he could sit wherever it was cool, not caring whether the ground was dirty or not.

Just then, a scream suddenly came from inside the castle, accompanied by the sound of swords being drawn and slashed.

"Protect the lord!"

The captain of the guard immediately drew his greatsword and stood in front of Vilan. Hans also hurriedly rushed in, but Llorente remained calm.

Soon, a guard from the innermost castle rushed out, saluted Vilan, and said with a strange expression, "Lord, your castle doesn't seem to need cleaning at all. I swear, it's cleaner than any room I've ever stayed in. And, we've also captured an... assassin?"