Retreating to the highest tower of the central keep offered a rare and highly appreciated commodity.
Peace.
Kane paused at the sturdy door, glancing back at the two armored guards flanking the stairwell.
"Nobody enters," Kane instructed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Not Firlia, not Thora, and especially not Misha. If my women ask, tell them I am deep in meditation."
"Yes, my lord," the guard on the left replied, though his voice wavered slightly at the thought of denying the oracle entry.
Closing the door with a satisfying click, Kane walked over to the polished desk taking up most of the room.
Scattered ledgers and tax reports covered the surface, yet he ignored them entirely, opting instead to summon his interface with a simple thought.
Translucent blue screens materialized in the quiet air, casting a soft glow across the room.
[Territory: Menual. Status: Flourishing.]
[Current Treasury: 80,450 Gold Coins.]
[Trade Route Efficiency: 65% and rising.]
’I love my wives, but a man needs complete isolation to properly extort neighboring lords,’ Kane mused, tapping the treasury number to review the daily breakdown.
’If Misha were here right now, she would demand a new temple before I even finished counting the silver.’
Navigating through the menus, he selected the infrastructure tab.
Building things manually took months of hauling stone and paying wages, whereas the system offered a much faster, albeit expensive, alternative.
He allocated three thousand gold coins to instantly construct a dedicated Merchant Guildhall near the outer gates, skipping the tedious labor process entirely.
A soft chime confirmed the transaction, locking the funds away.
Before he could even examine the new projected income stats, a hesitant knock echoed through the room.
Kane sighed, swiping the screens away with a flick of his wrist.
"I specifically said no one."
"It is Jarn, Commander," a muffled, trembling voice called out from the hallway.
"The chief builder? It is urgent."
"Come in, Jarn."
The wooden door pushed open slowly, revealing a very sweaty, very anxious man clutching a rolled-up blueprint to his chest like a shield.
Jarn bowed awkwardly, his eyes darting around the empty room as if expecting to find an executioner hiding in the corners, or perhaps one of the warlord’s wives preparing a hex.
"Speak," Kane prompted, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together.
"I am currently organizing the entire regional economy, so please make it fast."
"We have a problem with the new alchemy lab," Jarn stammered, wiping his forehead with a sleeve while taking a cautious step forward.
"The stone shipments from the southern quarries are delayed by three days. Bandits washed out the main bridge, and the caravans are stranded near the river."
Kane blinked, entirely unfazed by the logistical nightmare threatening to halt his production lines.
"Is that all?"
"Commander, without that stone, the foundation cannot be set," Jarn explained, his voice rising in panic as he unrolled the blueprint to point at a series of complex diagrams.
"The alchemists are already complaining about the delays, and Lady Firlia will have my head if the potion quotas drop! She threatened to audit my personal finances!"
"Firlia is just passionate about profit," Kane replied, pulling up his system interface again.
It remained invisible to the builder, making Kane look like he was simply staring into space while addressing a very real crisis.
"Do not worry about the stone, Jarn. You will find the required materials stacked perfectly behind the barracks by noon."
Jarn blinked in confusion, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally found his words.
"But... Commander, the supply lines are completely blocked. It is physically impossible to move that much weight by noon unless we hire a legion of mages."
"I handled it," Kane stated simply.
He tapped a button on his interface, paying system coins to instantly teleport refined building materials directly into his territory limits.
"Your only job is to ensure the alchemists have enough boiling cauldrons to brew fifty batches of stamina potions a day. Can you manage that, or do I need to find a new chief architect?"
"Fifty batches?" Jarn swallowed hard, staring at the Warlord with a mix of terror and profound awe.
"Yes, Commander! I will double the work shifts immediately! The cauldrons will be boiling before sunset!"
"Excellent. Close the door on your way out, and tell Firlia to leave your finances alone."
Watching the architect scurry out of the room like a frightened rabbit, Kane allowed a satisfied smirk to reach his lips.
’Magic is definitely expensive, but it makes dealing with logistics so much easier,’ Kane thought, reviewing the slightly depleted treasury numbers.
’Time is money, and I plan to take all the money this region has to offer.’
With the trade hub sorted and the alchemy lab back on schedule, Kane shifted his attention to the military tabs.
The upcoming invasion of Sylvander required a vanguard equipped with more than just enthusiasm and basic steel.
Bringing up the Forge menu, he selected the Tier III upgrade path. It cost another two thousand gold, yet the investment was entirely necessary for his plans.
[Forge Upgraded to Tier III.]
[Blueprint Unlocked: Frost-Bound Broadswords.]
[Blueprint Unlocked: Siege Ballistae.]
Scanning the details of the new weapons, Kane drafted a quick, fake trade manifest on a spare piece of parchment.
’The neighboring lords are desperate for magical weapons to fight off the local monsters,’ Kane analyzed, tapping his quill against the desk.
’We sell them our Tier I gear at a severe markup, making them think they are buying our finest craftsmanship. Meanwhile, we arm our own hidden troops with these new Tier III broadswords.’
It was a beautifully devious plan.
By the time the surrounding kingdoms realized Menual possessed an overwhelming technological advantage, they would have already funded the very army marching to conquer them.
Kane finalized the blueprints, assigning a team of trusted blacksmiths to begin production on the siege ballistae in absolute secrecy.
The elves possessed powerful illusions and ancient barriers, requiring long-range artillery to safely break their defenses before the infantry ever engaged.
’They think I am just a barbarian warlord managing a mercenary camp,’ Kane laughed softly, dismissing the blue screens and standing up from the desk.
’Let them keep believing that. Right up until a frost-bound ballista bolt shatters their front gates.’