MM - Chapter 228 - MOLDING WITH A FIRM HAND

Raine knew how bad of an idea it would be to come scurrying the moment he was called. Instead, he took his time, wrapping up the review of his build and going over his status screen.

NAME: Alaric

CLASS: Armsman

PROFESSION: Adept Engineer

CRAFTING MASTERY: 46/150

TITLE: Spearhead of Orthrus / Sky Catcher / One Man Army / Big Game Executioner

ASPECT: Greater Aspect of the Werewolf

LEVEL: 41

SUPERIORITY: 1 / 225M

ATTUNEMENT: 34,632%

GENERAL SKILL POINTS: 4 > 3

HEALTH POINTS: 4,534 (10,669)

ATTACK POWER: 644 (1,504)

DEFENSE: 453 (1,345)

RESISTANCE: 518 (759)

CRITICAL RATE: 50.47% (52.9%)

ELEMENTAL POWER: 690 (1,012)

CELESTIAL POWER: 690 (1,012)

DEMONIC POWER: 690 (1,387)

DISCIPLINE: 798 (2,104)

ATTACK SPEED: 3.63 (4.40)

MOVE SPEED: 38.53 (87.57)

POTENCY: 320 (819)

FINESSE: 317 (758)

ACUITY: 330 (612)

PHYSIQUE: 453 (903)

CONNECTION: 345 (506)

WEAPON MASTERIES:

[Fists - Adept 12,707/25,000%]

[Mace - Adept 11,981/25,000%]

[Knives - Adept 13,012/25,000%]

[Shield - Adept 9,447/25,000%]

[Axes - Adept 10,090/25,000%]

[Staff - Adept 11,601/25,000%]

[Wands - Adept 11,255/25,000%]

[Spear - Adept 9,801/25,000%]

[Swords - Adept 10,558/25,000%]

There was no reason not to be pleased with his progress. Thanks to the soul flame and Heart of Plutus, Raine’s stats were superb for his level. Usually, at 40, one would need raid gear to get any of their attributes to breach 400. 

With measured patience, he approached the stairs leading to the main foyer while practicing his newest skill. Since his soul flame invalidated the need for an identification skill, he’d gleefully sacrificed a General Skill Point and five hundred Attunement on what would certainly save his life more than once.

[Disengage: (Completion - 77% Expert) After breaking line of sight with all enemies, instantly exit from a combat state. If Disengage is successfully triggered, any stealth or escape skill utilized within 3 > 2 seconds will grant a bonus 50% > 38.5% to Movement Speed for 5 > 3.85 seconds (Cost: 10 > 12 Discipline) (Cooldown: 120 > 147 seconds)]

While he wouldn’t get any use out of the speed boost, the ability to drop from a combat state would keep Prominence of the Fool from rapidly draining his health and speed. Regardless of the time of day, his soul flame’s new cloak would allow him to easily break line of sight, making Disengage an easy choice. Having plenty of experience with it in the past didn’t hurt.

Raine descended the wide marble staircase, each step echoing through the vast hall. Below, fifty Vaaterrans stood in precise formation, five lines of ten stretching across the polished floor. Deep blue uniforms reinforced with overlapping metal plates gleamed under the chandelier's light. Straight postures and tight musculature radiated quiet power, a latent threat that pressed against Raine's senses like an unsheathed blade.

His eyes, smoldering with an inner flame, swept across their ranks, finding exactly what he expected. Each line of basic classers was headed by a 2nd-tier Bearer. The vast difference in their attributes was evident in the deep internal glows. Raine was beyond pleased but didn’t let it show. Being able to tell the difference between classers and bearers at a simple glance was a life-saving boon. After all, nobody wanted to accidentally offend someone that could so easily end their life.

He focused on two at random to get a sense of how close they were in overall power to himself.

[Elite Warrior: (Level 40) (HP 5,472/5,472) (Primary Attribute - Physique) Disciplined infantry of the Silvergate Kingdom. This particular specimen has been trained in superior formations and close-quarters combat. Excels in shield walls, coordinated strikes, and enduring sieges, serving as the backbone of royal forces with unyielding loyalty to the crown]

[Elite Phantasmal Defender: (Level 50) (HP 16,180/16,180) (Primary Attribute - Physique) A frontline guardian forged in the SilverGate Kingdom by an ancient rite. This elite sentinel excels in repelling arcane assaults, countering illusions, and shielding allied formations from ethereal threats]

As with almost all level 50’s who passed their class quest, the other 4 bearers also had unique classes that represented their personal strengths and weaknesses. Among them, Raine spotted a mage, healer, and two melee strikers focused on dealing damage. Head Clerk Rhamos had been as thorough as ever in his selection of leadership for Raine’s retinue.

To a man, the elite’s expressions were a mask of indifference so deliberate they bordered on disdain; eyes fixed forward, avoiding his gaze. Intent laced with resentment hung thick in the air. Raine doubted there was such a thing as a Vaaterran soldier who eagerly anticipated entering the service of an untested noble. Even a regular noble who was new to a military position was prone to fatal blunders. The fact that Raine hailed from beyond their world and had so cheaply purchased their lives was fuel to the fire.

It was clear they anticipated short, brutal tenures ending in a swift death due to foolishness alone, Queen's Favor be damned.

If he wanted to turn them into swords and shields worthy of Astra Infernum, he would first need to dissuade them of those perceived shortcomings. He paused several paces away from the bearer leading the central column. The man's four-striped badge marked him not only as their current superior, but also as a Vaaterran with well above-average maximum potential. Raine had hoped for just one three-stripe leader in the group; finding four instead, and on top of them, a four-stripe as well, exceeded his wildest expectations.

A potential 4th-tier powerhouse?! Hell yes! Is this the benefit of being the first to hire full-time Vaaterrans?

Raine forced fury he didn’t feel to crease his features and bleed into his tone. “Is this how you were trained to greet your lord?” Triggering The Fraction of Grace, his Finesse and Acuity increased by a combined 239 points. Further activating Grace of Nirvana multiplied Raine’s Movement Speed by 4.

He vanished in a flickering blur, materializing before the Elite Phantasmal Defender. The man barely registered the motion before a fist wreathed in golden flames crashed into his cheek. Raine held nothing back. The impact echoed like thunder, hurling the man backward into his line. They tumbled across the floor in a tangle of limbs, plates clanging and scraping loudly. [Critical hit! -4,672]

Jaws slackened at the damage readout hovering above the downed man; he was the strongest among them in terms of Defense, and lost nearly a third of his health in an instant. With one move, Raine proved who would end who if provoked. Shouts erupted, cries of outrage filling the hall, but were summarily silenced when bloodlust exploded in a tsunami of raw mental force that completely overwhelmed them, causing many to stagger back as their attributes plummeted.

In the brief moment of shocked silence, Raine roared. “I was told you were the elite of elites! Was I deceived?! You will salute upon entering my presence! Since your training clearly falls short of basic expectations, allow me to demonstrate!”

Raine executed a flawless Silvergate salute: his right fist slammed against his chest, directly over his heart, releasing a resounding crack. At the same time, his left fist smashed into the side of his head. The gesture symbolized unyielding strength of heart and mind, both united to guide the soul in absolute loyalty to the crown.

Eyes widened at the outsider's mastery of their custom. The display was an old trick, and just like the past, it was working wonders to convince these complete strangers that he was no ordinary outsider. A ripple of surprise spread outward from Raine, shattering their indifference more than hours of shouting ever could. 

He held the pose, daring defiance with his glare. The struck bearer stirred, head shaking as he wiped blood from his chin. Upon catching sight of Raine’s proud figure staring down at him with disdain, the man’s eyes shot open and he launched to his feet, bellowing into the suddenly quiet hall, “Salu-et!” Fists pounded chests and skulls in unison. The hall rang with synchronized reverberations of metal on metal. “Lord Baron! Your retinue presents!”

“Lord Baron!” Forty-nine voices shouted together, filling Raine’s chest with giddiness that he didn’t dare let show. 

He lowered his hands, nodding curtly. “Acceptable.” He advanced on the leader, spine rigid. The man stood his ground, unwavering in the face of death. Raine clapped the man on the shoulder, a Healing Burst restoring most of his lost health. Jaws once more dropped around him, none daring to ask how someone who could punch so hard could also heal. Raine spoke softly, his voice cutting the silence. “Bearer, your name?”

The man straightened at Raine’s further knowledge of the official title given a 2nd-tier. His voice was only slightly strained. “Thoris Varak, my Lord.”

“You can take a hit, First Bearer Varak, I like that.” The realization that their new lord not only acknowledged their current leader, but could just as easily strip him of the title, caused a round of audible gulps. With a nod of his head at their understanding, Raine gestured toward the front door. “Your brand new Premium Barracks is that way; settle your troops. Bearers, report to the briefing room upstairs within half a knuckle.”

“Sir!” Varak saluted in acceptance of his orders. Raine caught the curiosity reflected in numerous eyes. There was relief as well, from not being more severely punished for their earlier breach of etiquette. Instead, they were being granted valuable slots in a Premium Barracks. Clearly, their new lord wasn’t someone they could understand at first glance. Following Varak, the soldiers moved with disciplined haste, boots echoing as they vanished outside.

With a crooked finger, Raine beckoned the remaining staff: five support servants in simple tunics, laden with cleaning tools and satchels; a youthful steward in embroidered robes, carrying himself with utmost seriousness; a treasurer with blank ledgers waiting to record every tidbit of Raine’s budding accounts; and an assistant clerk, spectacles perched on a too-large nose, inkwell at his belt.

He led them upstairs to the briefing room, its long table flanked by stools overlooking the new barracks through arched windows. The youthful steward bowed low, silver hair catching a ray of light from a distant streetlamp. “Charles Rhamos, at your service, my lord.”

Raine clasped his wrist briefly. “A pleasure, Charles. Your uncle speaks highly of you. I’m expecting great things. Acquaint yourselves with the premises, then get the hall stocked for full operations. Anticipate thirty thousand guilders arriving within two hands, expanding to one hundred thousand by prime's end.”

Charles inclined his head. “Of course, my lord.”

Raine quirked a hopeful brow. “Head Clerk Rhamos mentioned your expertise in acquisitions. I assume you’ve come prepared.”

Charles grinned widely, nodding enthusiastically as only a youth untainted by the trials of reality could. The naive boy handed over a thick slip of paper scrawled by a steady hand. Raine greedily devoured the long list of additional guild supplies that could be purchased through Charle’s connections. Usually, within a week or two of inception, guilds gained access to a limited supply of various potions, powders, and scrolls thanks to connections with local shops seeking to expand their customer base.

The list in Raine’s hand couldn’t even remotely be considered limited. And skipping having to wait for shop keepers to approach him as their reputation slowly rose was a huge bonus. There was no point trying to keep the wicked grin from his face. “I’ll take ten thousand of these, and five thousand of these. Also, one hundred of each of these four.” Not giving the boy a chance to respond, he passed over a hefty sack containing almost all of his remaining gold.

Charles accepted the sack without flinching, tucking it away in his inventory. Raine approved of his composure; the youth's steady hands when dealing with so much gold suggested experience that belied his appearance. “I will have them delivered with all haste, my lord. As for my salary, Uncle-err-Head Clerk Rhamos mentioned settling it upon my arrival.”

“I was thinking two million gold annually, settled at prime’s end.”

Charles gaped at him, then quickly clicked his mouth shut and gulped. “That… that would be more than acceptable my lord! I swear not to disappoint your expectations!”

 “Good. See to it that you don’t, and in the future, we’ll talk about raising you to what you’re really worth. Now, off with the lot of you before the soldiers return.” He winked conspiratorially, to which they smiled nervously while shuffling out.

Kid’s going to make me a damn fortune. I could resell those items to the other guilds in the area for a five-x profit. What a damn steal. Not that I’m going to. Will be much more fun to ‘donate’ them to CronGate’s little ambush.

Raine was still giggling madly when the bearers entered. He straightened at their arrival, and they saluted crisply upon spotting him. “Prepare your lances to depart immediately. Varak, did your ranger’s drills take you to Mirror Lake, beyond the peaks?”

Again, the slight widening of eyes displayed shock at his knowledge of their training regimen. Varak nodded. “Yes, my lord.”

Raine tossed him a sack of two hundred gold. Now, he truly only had enough for his plans with the crafters and the coming battle. “Purchase food, lodging, and Return Stones, then proceed to Hammer Smith Town at maximum speed. No later than two days. You will await my arrival there. Maintain full combat readiness. And remember, you now represent Astra Infernum; we shall adhere to her majesty's laws without fail. Is that clear, First Bearer Varak?”

The soldier vanished the pouch, then saluted crisply. “Yes, my lord!” The rest copied his salute, then filed out when Raine dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

He exited behind them, descending to the foyer where soldiers were already reformed into neat lines. Varak dispatched a scout to purchase the Return Stones, speaking loud enough that all overheard. It was a subtle yet vital acknowledgement that their new lord valued them enough to spare items for their travel, rather than forcing them to run the entire way. Usually, that privilege was not afforded to such low-level soldiers, regardless of future potential.

As Raine left, their glances held the first flickers of dawning respect, and the sharp edges of their intent had noticeably softened from its earlier hostility. Satisfaction coiled within Raine at the solid start. With further guidance and levels, they would be a deadly addition to Astra's regulars.

Walking to the crafting hall, Raine considered what he'd seen so far of his elites. They were rough around the edges, in need of actual combat experience outside the structured training they had received. Their levels were perfect. Even if he could have hired higher-level soldiers, he wouldn't have. Raising these fifty from the ground up would yield superior results, both in maximum levels and potential tiers. Just like Earthlings, not every Vaaterran was capable of reaching beyond the 3rd-tier wall. Only harsh training could push someone to their maximum potential.

Night cloaked the streets of Silverlight, lanterns casting elongated shadows as wind tugged at his tunic. He arrived at the crafting hall and pushed through the doors. Unlike just that morning, the space churned with activity. Hammers rang amid roaring forges, and the thick, cloying scent of cooking herbs filled the air with pungent vapors. Raine ducked into each of the rooms he’d rented one at a time. Crafters glanced up, nods of recognition passing as he called out the division heads—representatives for each profession.

They met in a central meeting chamber off the main lobby. The only adept crafter besides Raine was a stout metal smith named Elana. Against her will, she’d been promoted to production lead. Until someone else came along who was bossy enough to get the job done, she was stuck with it. She leaned against the meeting table, arms crossed, grumpy as usual. “Hope ya got something new fer us. My boys r’ already tired of making struts n’ bolts.”

Raine snorted, brushing off her complaint. Until they started tiering up, nuts and bolts were all they would be allowed to make. Instead of responding, he locked eyes with the alchemist's head—a wiry man named Lanaky, “Any issues so far?”

The man wrung hands pocked with scars, “There’s some kind of instability in the final phase; curdling when the heat rises. We’re currently below a five percent success rate.”

Raine frowned and squeezed his eyes tight, holding up a hand for silence as he scoured his memory. A consistently repeated conversation about curdling during the volatile creation process came to mind. He wasn’t sure if it was right, but it couldn’t hurt to try. “Slow the moisture introduction by incrementally opening the burette. Three drops per minute should stabilize the curdling at higher heat. I think.”

Lanaky frowned, but nodded slowly. “Okay. We’ll give that a try.”

Raine called out the head scribe next, Kara—the young girl from earlier. She held out a slip of parchment in small fingers, fidgeting slightly. He looked it over with pursed lips. “The rune alignment is off here and here. Remember, these are going to go on curved surfaces; you have to account for the shape ahead of time.”

She cringed, bopping herself on the head. “Sorry. I completely forgot…”

Raine’s voice was gruff with an undertone of understanding. “Mistakes are how we learn; so long as you’re not making the same ones over and over, there won’t be a problem.” Done with the two he wouldn’t need for the foreseeable future, he scanned the other faces. “Elana, how many sets of sub-materials do we have so far?”

“Four hundred.” She couldn’t meet his gaze, knowing they were well short of expectations.

Raine had told them he wanted two thousand sets by the time he returned. The figure had been meant to motivate them, but might have backfired. He glanced at the head engineer, a short man with a nose so big Raine was sure he’d been trying to turn his avatar into a dwarf. “Anyone else reach adept yet?”

“No, sir.”

“Alright, then you’re not behind yet, Elana. Whatever you have to do to increase production, make it happen. Other than the alchemists and scribes, every team is at your disposal. We have less than two days to finish thirty thousand final products. Nobody rests until we’re done.” She gaped at him, and she wasn’t alone. The number seemed impossible, but unlike before, Raine would be there with them the entire time. “My errands are done; I’ll be putting the products together right alongside you. If anyone needs my help, you’ll have it.”

That news cheered them up slightly. What they didn’t realize was that Raine would have no way of guaranteeing a 100% chance of success. They needed thirty thousand in total, which meant upwards of a hundred thousand sets of sub-materials. He clapped his hands, meeting them with a confident smile, “C’mon then, our secret weapons aren’t going to build themselves!”

Leading the way, Raine headed toward the room he had reserved for his own use. Before arriving, he swapped titles, more than eager to get his hands dirty.

[Master Engineer's Disciple: (Title) (Upgradable) Thanks to the many decades of experience handed down from your master, you receive a 5% increased success chance on all engineering crafts]