The Necro-Industrial Revolution

What is he doing here again? Jack’s mind raced for a fraction of a second as his eyes locked onto the man sitting on one of the chairs.

A momentary spike of panic hit Jack’s chest, but his rational mind instantly crushed it. Why am I panicking? He is a traveling merchant. Of course he is on the autumn trade route. Jack steadied his breathing. Even though he is a slave trader, I did highly profitable business with him last spring. Naturally, he assumed I would want to do business again.

Jack kept his face completely flat, not letting a single ounce of his internal surprise bleed through to his expression.

“How much do you have?” Jack asked, his tone neutral and commanding.

“I have as much as you need, My Lord,” Merchant Vane replied, a greasy, knowing smile stretching across his weathered face. “Ten. A hundred. A thousand. Just tell me how many you desire.”

It was indeed the slaver. The exact same man who had sold Jack the bonded slaves that now lived as villagers of his valley.

“I do need quite a sum of them,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair. “But how much commission are you going to charge? If the rate is too high, I will simply decline and make the journey to the Church’s regional branch myself.”

Vane tapped a ringed finger against the wooden table, pretending to think it over. “I usually charge a minimum of seven percent procurement fee for magical goods. But since you are an old, valued customer, My Lord, I will offer a discount. I will only charge you four percent. How does that sound?”

Jack ran the math instantly in his head. Four percent. That is actually cheaper than I anticipated. If I buy one hundred Spirit Stones, the base cost is usually ten gold per stone. That’s one thousand gold. With his commission, the total comes out to one thousand and forty gold coins.

Forty gold, Jack reasoned inwardly. I could save that forty gold if I traveled to the Church branch, but the journey would take a week of travel, energy, and provisions. The time saved is worth far more than the forty gold.

“It is a deal, then,” Jack finally nodded. “I will buy one hundred Spirit Stones from you. After this meeting concludes… Ah, my head maid will finalize the payment, and you will hand the stones over to her.”

A wave of hushed murmurs instantly swept through the Great Hall. Buying one hundred Spirit Stones in a single transaction was an enormous flex of wealth for a minor northern Lord.

“Very well, My Lord,” Merchant Vane smiled, dipping his head. “May I ask… is everything going well here? I saw the village on my way up. It is flourishing incredibly well.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, viewing the merchant with heavy skepticism.

“You know, My Lord,” Vane continued, his smile turning slightly arrogant, “the common people often deem merchants like us as evil. But look around. Because of our business—because of the goods I provided you—your valley is experiencing a renaissance.”

The atmosphere in the Great Hall instantly soured. Every other merchant at the table grimaced. While owning and trading slaves was legal in this continent, there was an unspoken etiquette to it. Openly gloating that human trafficking was the sole foundation of a Lord’s prosperity was incredibly distasteful. It was a jagged pill for anyone in the room to swallow.

Jack’s expression turned remarkably cold.

“You are entirely wrong, Merchant Vane,” Jack said, his voice dropping an octave and filling the room with a heavy, dominating pressure. “My village is flourishing, yes. But it is not because of the slaves I bought from you. It is because of how I treat them.”

Vane’s arrogant smile faltered.

“I do not beat them. I do not abuse them,” Jack continued, his eyes locked onto the slaver. “They are now villagers of this valley, and they live as equals to everyone else. The reason they work so hard to build my walls and forge my iron is not because they fear the whip. It is because they actually want to make this valley a better place to live.”

A heavy silence descended over the table. Vane realized he had severely overstepped. He quickly bowed his head, pasting a fake look of contrition on his face. “Oh. I deeply apologize, My Lord. I did not mean to offend you.”

Jack ignored the hollow apology entirely. He shifted his gaze down the table. “Merchant Gatry. We should talk now.”

Yarun Gatry sat up straight, eager to break the awkward tension. “Yes, My Lord! I brought everything you requested in our contract. I have two full carriages heavily laden with raw iron ore and pure limestone.” Yarun paused, a clever glint in his eye. “Given the materials, I presume you are attempting to convert that raw iron into true steel?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. The experienced merchant was no fool. Based on the massive quantities of iron and the specific inclusion of limestone, Yarun had easily deduced Jack’s future plans.

“Very good,” Jack nodded, offering a rare smile. “Yes, I am attempting to forge steel myself, considering it sells for a vastly higher price than raw iron. You are very clever, Yarun.”

“No, no, My Lord,” Yarun laughed loudly, the booming sound successfully lightening the tense mood in the Great Hall. “It is just that I have conducted so much business over the years. My eyes can easily determine what raw materials are destined to become.”

The other merchants chuckled along with Yarun, some nodding in agreement that the deduction was simple. Yet, beneath their laughter, they were deeply shocked. This young boy had spent a fortune today. He had pulled his fief back from the brink of death, and now he was casually establishing a steel industry?

Two full carriages of raw iron and limestone cost a staggering amount of gold. How did he possess such wealth? Just last winter, this valley was synonymous with poverty and starvation.

Internally, Jack felt a sharp twinge of regret regarding the limestone. He had ordered the massive quantity from Yarun months ago to use as a chemical flux to clear impurities out of the molten iron. However, just a few weeks prior, Corin had informed Jack that the northern ridge of their own valley near the river, contained natural limestone deposits. Jack could have mined it for free.

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There is nothing I can do about it now, Jack sighed internally. He had signed a binding custom order. If he rejected the limestone now, he would shatter his working relationship with Yarun Gatry and the major guilds, causing massive logistical headaches in the future. He accepted the financial loss as the cost of doing business.

“My Lord,” one of the younger merchants spoke up, unable to contain his curiosity. “The process of forging true steel is incredibly difficult and requires extreme, sustained heat. May I ask how you intend to achieve this?”

“That is on me to know, and for you to find out when I sell you the finished products,” Jack dismissed the question smoothly.

He clapped his hands together, shifting the focus. “Moving ahead. I have thirty-nine raw gemstones that I recently extracted from my mines. Who among you is willing to purchase them? Kindly submit your bids after inspecting the quality.”

Jack gestured to Karen, who had also entered the great hall at some point of time. The head maid stepped out and came back carrying a heavy burlap sack. She walked to the center of the oak table, untied the thick knot, and poured the contents out.

Thirty-nine raw, unpolished gemstones clattered against the wood, catching the firelight and casting faint, colorful glows across the room.

The merchants’ eyes widened in sheer greed. While these stones were unrefined and lacked immediate utility, they were the core components required to craft magical artifacts in many guilds. They were incredibly valuable.

Instantly, several merchants pushed their chairs back and stood up, reaching out to inspect the stones closely, holding them up to the light to check their clarity and density.

Watching the frenzy, Jack fell into a deep, cynical thought.

After mining the deep shafts for months, it seems only specific veins contain these gems, Jack reflected. My skeletons haven’t uncovered a single new stone in weeks. The vein must be drying up.

He watched the wealthy merchants drool over the glowing rocks. It’s ironic, Jack thought, a bitter taste in his mouth. These simple, shiny stones cost more than human lives in this world. The last time Merchant Vane was here, I bought fifty living, breathing human beings for just five large gemstones. These thirty-nine stones are smaller, but they still represent a fortune. A human being is sold for a few tens of gold… yet these men will pay thousands for rocks.

“Eight hundred and fifty gold, My Lord!” one of the standing merchants shouted, breaking Jack from his thoughts.

“Just eight hundred and fifty?” Jack asked, his voice dripping with disappointment.

“I will pay you nine hundred gold, My Lord!” another merchant countered quickly.

The auction ignited.

“Nine hundred and twenty!”

“Nine hundred and fifty!”

“Nine hundred and seventy!”

“One thousand and fifty gold, My Lord,” Vane’s raspy voice echoed over the shouting. The slaver hadn’t even bothered to stand up or inspect the stones; he just casually threw out a massive bid to secure the investment.

Just a thousand and fifty? Jack calculated mentally. That means when Vane sold me those slaves last spring, he valued a human life at roughly twenty gold pieces, assuming the larger gems I traded him fetched double this rate. Disgusting.And I even participated in it, how ironic.

“One thousand, two hundred gold is my absolute maximum limit, My Lord,” the oldest merchant at the table finally declared.

The room fell silent. No one else spoke up. The bidding war had reached its ceiling.

Jack frowned slightly. This was quite a loss compared to his initial expectations. He had originally hoped the thirty-nine stones would fetch at least four or five thousand gold coins. But a thousand and two hundred was still a massive influx of capital.

“One thousand, two hundred it is, then,” Jack finalized, pointing to the winning merchant. “They are yours once the gold is weighed.”

The meeting dragged on for another half hour. Jack purchased a few more mundane essentials, sold all the crop yields and utilized the merchants’ vast knowledge of the continent to ask a few pressing questions.

As they neared the end of the agenda, Jack asked for suggestions regarding livestock. “I need cattle that can survive harsh northern winters and require very little maintenance, as my manpower is currently focused elsewhere.”

The merchants offered several suggestions, but one specific breed caught Jack’s attention: the Rimehorn Kine.

From their descriptions, it sounded remarkably similar to a Tibetan Yak from Earth, covered in incredibly thick, insulated wool. The merchants explained that it was technically a low-level magical beast, but its temperament was entirely docile, making it perfect for domestication. The major downside was the astronomical cost of importing a breeding herd.

I don’t have the capital to spare for that right now, Jack decided. But by next year, if the steel trade proves lucrative, I will definitely buy a herd.

Just as Jack prepared to dismiss the meeting, one of the merchannts spoke up spoke up again.

“My Lord, last winter, you sold us a massive quantity of wild beast hides and frozen meat. I was wondering if things will be similar this coming winter? Are your men going on the hunt again?”

“Ah, yes, I forgot to mention that,” Jack said with a confident, sharp smile. “Yes. I will have more than enough beast meat and high-quality pelts for all of you.”

With that final promise, Jack adjourned the meeting. He felt a deep ache of exhaustion for some reason. Excusing himself to his private chambers to rest, Jack left Elias in the Great Hall. By maintaining a passive mental link with the undead mage, Jack could safely oversee the merchants as they descended the hill to deliver the goods.

Before heading downstairs, the merchants settled their debts with Karen in the treasury. Today, Jack had spent a staggering fortune. He paid Yarun Gatry alone over 8,500 gold coins for the iron and limestone.

It was a terrifying deficit, but Jack knew it was a necessary investment. The raw iron would soon become steel, generating massive profits. However, he also knew he wouldn’t see that liquid gold return immediately. Most of the first batches of steel would be directly reinvested into his own valley—reinforcing the palisade, building ballistas, and forging proper tools for his workers. Only the surplus would be sold.

Down in the village, the atmosphere was electric.

Elias marched into the dirt square, followed by the wealthy merchants. The villagers, who had been busy hammering cabins and working on the palisade walls, stopped their work to gawk at the massive convoy of goods.

The unloading process began immediately. Because the raw iron ore and limestone were so unfathomably heavy, Jack had simply paid extra to purchase Yarun’s sturdy wooden carts outright, rather than wasting hours transferring the heavy rocks by hand.

The villagers gathered around the open crates, their eyes wide with joy. Seeing the massive bundles of dried herbs and carefully sealed ceramic medicine jars lifted a heavy weight from their shoulders. In the north, a simple cut from a rusted axe or a sudden winter fever could easily lead to a crippling infection or death. Having a fully stocked medicinal reserve was literally the difference between life and death. The merchants had thankfully provided detailed, written parchments explaining exactly how to brew and apply the remedies.

But out of all the crates, one specific smell caught the villagers’ attention, making their mouths water instantly.

Spices.

These commoners hadn’t tasted heavily spiced food in years. Salt was a luxury, let alone other spices. The pungent, wealthy aroma wafting from the canvas sacks made them practically giddy.

Up in his room, viewing the scene through Elias’s eyes, Jack also smiled. He desperately wanted to eat something with actual flavor. Plain roasted meat and boiled root vegetables got incredibly boring after several months.

Naturally, under the new economic system, the villagers would have to buy these spices and medicines directly from Jack using their newly earned wages. The days of free castle handouts were over.

But looking at the eager faces of the workers, no one was complaining. They were earning fantastic wages, and they knew their Lord was a pragmatic, fair man. He wouldn’t extort them with unreasonable prices. They were more than happy to spend their copper for a taste of luxury.

Under the watchful, silent gaze of the armored mage, the villagers worked together, spending the next several hours carefully unloading the carts and hauling the precious cargo into the secure stone storehouses in the castle.