Page 238

In larger towns like Northwind Fortress and Trol City, people's lives had undergone drastic changes.

The Machine God Church's factories, with the support of new policies, expanded rapidly, and arcane steam machinery became increasingly known to the populace.

Tall smokestacks rose above the once-low buildings, belching thick black smoke—so much so that kingdom spellcasters often had to cast wind spells to disperse the haze above the cities.

Many former serfs, upon being freed, flocked from rural areas to towns, becoming low-level workers in large factories. They endured the most grueling work, suffering the foul air and harsh environment, but at least they no longer had to worry about their basic survival or fear dying at home on some snowy night for lack of coal.

Cheap, filling mixtures made from potatoes, wheat, and other ingredients became the staple choice for many impoverished people to fill their bellies.

The so-called "luncheon meat" made from scraps, starch, and additives also allowed many of humble origins to taste meat for the first time. During holidays, families often gathered to open a precious can of luncheon meat and savor its rare and delightful flavor.

Thanks to the properties of the magic net, the fumes from these machines were far less deadly compared to those of the "Industrial Revolution" from the previous era, and they could be periodically dispelled with spells. Thus, workers' conditions were far better than those poor souls in history, and while laborious, they weren't treated as expendable commodities.

Under the kingdom's rule, the thoughts and ideals of the various social strata diverged significantly.

The former northern nobles longed for their days of luxury and refined living. They often gathered in dingy taverns to passionately discuss current affairs, criticizing the decline of morality in society and voicing their discontent with the kingdom, painting the old Lackman Duchy as an ideal utopia.

They would start their speeches with phrases like "Back in Grand Duke Lackman's time" or "When my family flourished," reminiscent of the elders of a bygone dynasty.

Though they spoke fiercely, as soon as the Royal Guards or members of the Nocturne arrived, they would scatter like frightened birds. After several nobles were imprisoned for "spreading slander," such gatherings became increasingly rare.

The old nobles complained about their toilsome lives, yet they had no choice but to make ends meet by working.

Meanwhile, ordinary citizens quickly adapted to the new way of life. Under the kingdom's system, they not only found it easier to secure food and clothing but also had more avenues for advancement. Positions once reserved for nobles were now targets for common people to strive for.

In this new era, the greatest hope of a Northwind Fortress citizen was to pass examinations and become a clerk or tax officer—if not that, at least a factory manager. Some took different paths, using their physical prowess to try and join the Dragon-Oath Hall or the Redscale Guard.

The freed serfs were deeply grateful. Though they still didn't understand the concept of freedom due to their ingrained mindset, and were more accustomed to obeying the so-called "noble lords," they had slowly begun to change, becoming loyal supporters of the kingdom's order. After all, they could at least fill their stomachs.

Of course, since the kingdom was originally a force born from the Ember Nest, a considerable part of its ruling class consisted of monstrous retainers, who held a special status in the kingdom and looked down on the "conquered" humans.

These retainers adhered to the old beliefs from the Storm Highlands, believing that the weak were only worthy of being humiliated by the strong.

Though constrained by the kingdom's regulations, their violent and cruel nature remained unaltered. Conflicts between humans and monsters, even ghastly incidents, were not uncommon. Though these events were quelled by the city guard, it felt more like a cover-up.

Many residents felt deeply uneasy about this, while the monsters resented having to stand on equal footing with these frail humans.

Tieflings, caught between "monsters" and "humans," often found themselves playing the role of intermediaries.

Langpu often found himself overwhelmed by the task of resolving these racial conflicts. He had dealt with several high-profile cases, executing many monsters who abused or killed humans but had also occasionally covered up the truth, even resorting to silencing people.

For instance, in the "Bear Hobgoblin Murder Case," which had resulted in nearly ten deaths, Langpu enforced strict justice, making an example by sending the hobgoblin to the guillotine without hesitation.

But in the "Outskirts Beggar Disappearance Case," rumored to have been caused by a chimera, Langpu used magic to conceal the truth, giving the chimera only a token punishment of house arrest.

In his view, both retainers and humans were merely tools to strengthen the kingdom, all part of the red dragon's grand vision. His only criterion for weighing decisions was the kingdom's supreme interest. Concepts like identity and empathy meant little to the ogre who had long outgrown his former self.

Langpu's policies and approaches were largely shaped during the beta phase in discussions with the players, later improved and refined by the kingdom's think tank before being implemented.

Among the thousands of beta players, over a dozen had experience in historical research or government work. Their insights were far ahead of the productivity level of the medieval-like northern lands, which earned them Langpu's particular regard.

In military matters, after the players departed, the kingdom's armament upgrades abruptly halted, but this gave the army ample time to drill and adapt tactics to the current armaments.

Tactics such as ground-air cooperation between hobgoblin units and wyverns, or combined operations involving infantry, artillery, and cavalry, saw some development through experimentation.

Though much of it was still rudimentary, it already gave the kingdom's forces an overwhelming advantage over their contemporaries in the North.

Before leaving, the players copied and presented a treatise, "On War," which became a treasured possession of the hobgoblin warlord Dolo. He often had human clerks read it to him during his leisure and even gathered his generals to study it together. It was during this time that he learned many common words.

All in all, society maintained basic stability.

Over the past three years, regardless of how many hidden dark secrets lay behind the kingdom or how much bloodshed underpinned the new order, one thing was certain: this fledgling state continued to grow vigorously and had transformed during its dormancy into a behemoth powerful enough to shake the North, even in the red dragon's absence.

It was merely waiting for the opportunity to unleash this long-suppressed power.

To borrow a phrase from "A Tale of Two Cities": "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

The wheels of the era rolled forward, and anything that did not align with the kingdom's order would be mercilessly crushed, leaving only ruin in its wake.