The proclamation had been sent. A gauntlet thrown. My calculated risk had paid off, at least for now. The initial shockwaves reverberated across the continent, prompting outrage from King Leo and a frantic scrambling among the noble houses. But no immediate invasion materialized. They were still assessing, still underestimating, perhaps even suspicious of each other. This bought us time. Time that I would use to transform Rimuru City from a defiant declaration into an unyielding reality.
"Your Majesty," Miles reported one crisp morning, his face weary but determined. We stood on the scaffolding of the rising outer wall, the wind whipping at our clothes. "The construction is proceeding faster than expected, thanks to Johnson and Johny's innovations. But the King's Customs Agents… they're still watching. More discreetly now, but they're here. Steve's disinformation is holding, but it won't last forever."
"It doesn't need to last forever, Miles," I replied, my gaze sweeping across the bustling construction site. My vision of Rimuru City was slowly, painstakingly, taking shape. "Just long enough for us to become undeniable. Keep Steve and Marlow focused on that. And continue our trade routes with Bellwether. We need their resources."
Our immediate priority was the fishing industry. The Lake of De Bay, our constant provider, needed to become an even greater asset. I spent hours with Miles and the local fishermen. "These boats," I explained, looking at one of the newly reinforced vessels, "are good. But they can be better."
I found Johnson and Johny at their workshop, now a symphony of ringing steel and the hiss of steam from their experimental boilers. "Johnson, Johny," I began, spreading a charcoal sketch on their workbench. It was a design for a more efficient fishing trawler, not massive, but optimized for stability and larger nets, with a rudimentary steam-powered winch to haul in heavier catches. "We need these. In numbers. For every fishing family."
Johnson studied the blueprint, his brows furrowed in concentration. "A steam-powered winch… fascinating. It will take time, Your Majesty. The materials are scarce."
"Then we make them less scarce," I countered. "Prioritize mining for suitable metals. And think bigger. What if the boat itself were powered by steam? No more relying on unpredictable winds."
Johny's eyes lit up, his notebook already out. "A steam-powered fishing vessel! The efficiency… we could trawl deeper, faster. Cover more ground."
Over the next six months, the first of the improved fishing boats, small but sturdy, began to glide across Lake of De Bay. The steam-powered winches, crude but powerful, amazed the fishermen. Catches increased, not dramatically, but steadily, providing a surplus that Elara, as Minister of Health, used to improve the diet of our growing population, reducing sickness and bolstering their strength. The initial murmurs of fear among the villagers slowly gave way to a quiet, growing confidence.
Next, my attention turned to agriculture. The fertile lands around Kutsilyo were promising, but our methods were still ancient. I stood with Asuna and Feron in a vast, cleared field, the smell of damp earth heavy in the air. "We have manpower," I told them, "but we lack efficiency. We need to feed everyone, and eventually, export."
I returned to Johnson and Johny, my mind conjuring images of intricate irrigation systems and massive agricultural machines from my past life. "We need to master water," I explained, sketching a rudimentary water wheel connected to a pump system. "And we need to mechanize the harvest. No more manual threshing." My Divine Blueprint hummed, creating detailed schematics for a robust, steam-powered thresher and a network of simple canals designed to bring water directly to the fields, even during dry spells.
Johnson whistled. "A steam thresher… this would save hundreds of man-hours, Your Majesty! And the irrigation system… it's a massive undertaking, but entirely feasible."
Feron, surprisingly, embraced the new farming methods with gusto. "More food means more men for the walls, Your Majesty. And less grumbling. I'll organize the labor." His practical eye for efficiency, honed in managing bandit operations, now applied to food production.
Over the next year, the landscape around Rimuru City transformed. Fields that once lay fallow now stretched green and abundant, fed by the new irrigation canals. The steam thresher, a clunky but powerful contraption, became a symbol of our burgeoning innovation, separating grain from chaff with a speed that astonished the farmers. Food supplies became consistently plentiful, filling our storehouses and creating a sense of security that had been unknown for generations.
As agriculture and fishing flourished, innovation continued to be the lifeblood of Rimuru City. Johnson and Johny, driven by my endless stream of 'sketches' (Divine Blueprints, effortlessly transferred from my mind to slate), pushed the boundaries of this world's technology. They began to experiment with mana stone beyond just a power source.
"Your Majesty," Johny presented one day, his hands smudged with mana dust, "we've managed to refine the mana stone further. If we grind it to a fine powder and mix it with certain resins… it glows. And it can conduct energy in a way we've never seen."
My eyes widened. "Mana-infused lighting," I mused, picturing the endless possibilities. "And what about reinforcing our walls? Could we integrate mana stone into the very structure?"
Johnson nodded, his eyes gleaming. "If we imbue it with stone during construction, it could drastically increase durability. Even absorb some magical attacks."
The Kutsilyo Shadows, meanwhile, under Lindsy's command, were far from idle. Their intelligence network, now managed through Steve and Marlow's expanding trade contacts, stretched further than ever. They tracked the movements of nobles, mercenaries, and even isolated monster attacks that could affect our trade routes. Stanley, ever the strategist, used this flow of information to refine our diplomatic approach with House Bellwether, ensuring our trade relationship grew stronger, providing a lifeline of external goods that Kutsilyo simply couldn't produce yet.
One cool evening, almost three years after our declaration of independence, a grim piece of intelligence arrived. Lindsy, her face unusually pale, slipped into my study.
"Your Majesty," she whispered, her voice tight. "A House Bellwether caravan. The one due last week? It disappeared."
My blood ran cold. "Disappeared? No word?"
"Nothing. No ambush site found, no survivors. Just… gone. And our contacts in Delgado say King Leo has quietly moved a legion of his most elite soldiers to the western borders, closer to our mountain passes. It's a subtle shift, but significant."
The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken dread. The peaceful rebuilding, the quiet years of growth, had been a precious gift. But now, it seemed, the illusion was beginning to crack. The Kings Customs Agents had gone silent. House Bellwether's caravan, our most vital trade partner, vanished without a trace. And King Leo was moving his elite troops. My carefully calculated peace, the one I had fought so hard to create, felt like it was finally about to explode. This wasn't a small skirmish. This was the opening move in a very different game.