"Infrastructure?"
Theresia walked to the table, looking at the scrawled handwriting and simple diagrams rapidly taking shape under Lacey's pen.
"Infrastructure construction," Lacey explained without lifting his head, his quill scratching across the parchment with a rustling sound. "Simply put: transportation, energy, communications, housing construction, water supply, and most importantly, establishing a stable food production system."
His speaking speed was fast, but his logic was clear.
"What is Kazdel's greatest energy source? It is that furnace, the Soul Furnace. What are we using it for right now? We use its energy to supply the military industry, letting craftsmen manufacture witchcraft weapons to provide to the army, and exporting them to nations like Leithanien and Victoria. Only a small amount of energy is supplied for use within the city."
"The residents, meanwhile, scavenge for bits of crude iron from the slag to exchange for food," Lacey continued. "This isn't exactly wrong; it is an export, after all, and counts as one of Kazdel's few means of earning foreign exchange. It's not shabby. But supplying almost the vast majority of energy to the military industry to arm the troops... that is a massive mistake."
"This is undoubtedly begging while holding a golden bowl."
Lacey drew a circle on the parchment representing the furnace, then drew several lines leading out from it.
"To be honest, in a situation where Kazdel cannot mass-produce landships, heavily arming the military is unnecessary. War has entered the age of dreadnoughts and landships; the role of ordinary infantry has been largely superseded. We might as well take that portion of the share used to arm the troops and use it to develop infrastructure."
"We can modify the node reactors and pipelines to concentrate this energy and provide a massive, stable energy supply to the city. With stable energy, we can do many things."
He drew another square box and wrote the words "Greenhouse Farms" inside it.
"Kazdel's land is barren and Catastrophes are frequent; traditional agriculture won't work. However, if it won't work on the surface, we can build upwards. Do you know about Yan's agricultural plots? Not just Yan—great powers like Victoria and Columbia also have technology in this area. We can use military industrial orders to import these technologies."
"Then, utilizing the energy from the furnace, we build large-scale indoor greenhouse plots to grow high-yield crops. During my travels, I saw some plants that are tolerant of barren soil and have short growth cycles; they can absolutely be transplanted here."
Theresia's breathing hitched slightly.
Developing agriculture in a place like Kazdel? This concept was practically a fantasy to her; most Sarkaz would scoff if they heard it. But listening to Lacey's description, she felt that... it actually seemed feasible.
"This requires a massive amount of resources and manpower," she pointed out the most critical issue.
"Resources are everywhere. What we need to do is classify, recycle, and re-process this waste material. This requires establishing small-scale smelting plants and processing workshops. The energy will still come from the furnace." Lacey drew a few more small square boxes, connecting them to the circle representing the furnace.
"As for manpower... Theresia, what is the one thing Kazdel is least lacking in?"
Theresia fell silent.
"It's people," Lacey answered for her. "It's the thousands of idle mercenaries, and the refugees struggling on the poverty line. They have strength, they have time; what they lack is just a goal, a job that can exchange their labor for food and dignity."
He stopped writing and looked up at Theresia.
"I will establish a Kazdel Construction Corps. Everyone who joins will be paid according to their work. Work for a day, get a day's food and pay. Those who perform excellently can be prioritized for allocation of newly built housing."
"I won't preach grand philosophies to them. I will just tell them: use your sweat to build a house for yourself that can shelter you from the wind and rain, and plant a field for your family that can fill their bellies."
"This..." Theresia was shaken by the blueprint Lacey described.
It solved the food problem, solved the employment problem, and even indirectly weakened the mercenary system's corrosive effect on Kazdel.
"Your Babel can be responsible for logistics, medical care, and technical guidance. Your knowledge can play its greatest role here. Teach them how to identify materials, how to operate machines, how to farm scientifically. Let knowledge turn into tangible bread and bricks."
"As for Theresis's Military Commission," Lacey's lips curled up. "In the early stages of the Construction Corps, we will definitely touch upon many people's interests, such as those people in the 'Scar Market,' or certain mercenary leaders accustomed to chaos and plunder. When that time comes, we will need him to clear away some obstacles."
In just a few minutes, a small piece of parchment had been sketched by Lacey into a practical construction plan.
It perfectly integrated the ideals of both Theresia and Theresis, making them no longer two parallel lines running in opposite directions, but forces serving a common goal together.
Lacey pushed the parchment in front of Theresia.
"This is just a first draft, but it tells you, Theresia, what kind of foundation your Hanging Gardens should be built upon. Perhaps we will still encounter all sorts of problems, like where the money will come from. But these are all things we can figure out, as long as we try to do it."
Theresia reached out a slightly trembling hand and picked up the parchment.
The handwriting on the paper was scrawled, the drawings crude, yet she seemed to see a brand-new Kazdel rising slowly. Factory chimneys puffing white smoke, greenhouses full of various crops, tidy streets where smiles of peace and contentment filled people's faces.
She remained silent for a long time, so long that the light in the room began to dim.
"I..." She opened her mouth, only to find her throat somewhat dry.
She wanted to pour Lacey a glass of water, but found her own cup was already empty. She stood up, picked up the kettle on the table, and refilled the water for both Lacey and herself.
Lacey lifted his cup and took a sip, then his brow furrowed immediately.
"What is this? It tastes like dirt."
Theresia's hand, holding her cup, paused in mid-air. A rare look of embarrassment appeared on her face.
"It's purified rainwater. Babel's budget... most of it has been used to purchase medicine and medical equipment. There is no extra money to buy water purification tablets or tea leaves."
Lacey looked at her and suddenly laughed.
"You see, even you, the Lord of Fiends, can only drink water that tastes of dirt. And you expect those ordinary people who can't even get water to drink to understand your philosophy of peace?"
This half-joking remark caused Theresia to completely let go of the final doubts and pride in her heart.
Indeed, if she herself was in a predicament, how could she demand anything of others? She drained the water in her cup in one gulp, as if making a decision.
"Lacey, I admit, you are right." She put down the cup and looked at Lacey solemnly. "I was blinded by ideals and ignored the ground beneath my feet. I agree to your 'Third Road'."
"I need authority," Lacey said straightforwardly.
"I give it to you," Theresia replied without hesitation. "You can mobilize all of Babel's personnel and supplies. I will also issue an order in the name of the Lord of Fiends, granting you full authority to handle the reconstruction of Kazdel."
"I need a formal department to implement this plan."
"Let's call it the Kazdel Civil Livelihood Construction Department," Theresia said. "You will be the first Minister."
"Very good." Lacey nodded; he was satisfied with Theresia's decisiveness. "However, before we formally begin, I need you to introduce someone to me."
"Who?"
"Kal'tsit," Lacey spoke that name.
"My plan has many technical details that require her professional knowledge."
More importantly, Lacey knew from the memory fragments of past Lords of Fiends that this Feline woman, who had lived for who knows how many years, possessed knowledge and secrets far beyond simple medicine. To truly gain a firm foothold on the land of Terra, Kal'tsit was a figure one could not bypass.
Theresia's eyes flashed with surprise, but she didn't ask further questions.
"Alright, I will arrange for you to meet."
She stood up, walked to the door, and pulled it open. Outside, the red-haired female Sarkaz still stood like a statue.
"Ascalon," Theresia ordered.
Lacey's eyebrow raised slightly.
"Go and invite Doctor Kal'tsit here."
Ascalon stole a glance at Lacey inside the room, then bowed to accept the order. "Yes, Your Highness."
As Ascalon departed, only Lacey and Theresia remained in the room again.
"Lacey, I am betting the future of Kazdel, and my own ideals, on you." Theresia turned around, her expression more serious than ever before. "Do not let me down."
"I won't."
Lacey looked at her, revealing his first genuine smile since returning to Kazdel. "I will only surprise you."
Outside the window, the post-rain sunlight finally pierced through the cloud layer completely, sprinkling golden radiance over this dilapidated land.
Ascalon's figure disappeared outside the door, her footsteps fading away. The room returned to silence, leaving only the light spots cast on the floor by the sunlight through the window lattice, and the fine dust floating in the air.
Theresia refilled the dirt-tasting rainwater for both of them again. This time, Lacey didn't frown; he just silently watched the water surface swaying in the cup.
Persuading Theresia was just the first step, and the easiest step. What he had done was merely provide a more persuasive alternative, a staircase that allowed her to see hope. The real tough battle was still ahead.
He lifted the cup and drained the water—which really didn't taste like much—in one gulp.
"Kal'tsit... what kind of person is she?" Lacey asked, seemingly casually.
Although he had a vague impression of the owner of this name from the jumbled memories inherited from the Black Crown—a ghost who had lived for ten thousand years, a witness to Terra's civilization—those were, after all, memories belonging to past Lords of Fiends.
In his own personal experience, the other party was merely an enemy who had once led a multi-national coalition to push Kazdel to the brink of destruction. And a resurrected enemy at that, somewhat similar to Lacey's own title.
"A... very complex person," Theresia weighed her words. "She is Terra's top scholar and doctor, knowledgeable and learned; at the same time, she is an extremely rational and pragmatic person. She views problems with a calmness that is always near-cold... Deep as a bottomless sea."
Theresia paused, then added, "She only believes in facts she has seen with her own eyes, and logic she has verified with her own hands."
"Sounds hard to deal with."
"Yes," Theresia admitted frankly. "She has always maintained a vigilance towards me, or rather, towards us Sarkaz. Even now, I dare not say she trusts us completely."
"Then why would she stay?"
Theresia's gaze softened. She looked out the window at the city that still appeared dilapidated under the sunlight, and said softly, "Perhaps, she saw a certain possibility in me... A possibility that could make this land not so terrible."
Lacey didn't ask further. He understood.
For an "immortal" like Kal'tsit who had lived too long and witnessed too many tragedies and cycles, the fate of any single individual or race might no longer be able to stir great waves in her heart. The only thing that could make her stop was the hope of changing the trajectory of the entire Terra civilization. Theresia's ideal was that kind of hope.
Neither of them spoke again, waiting quietly. Time passed drop by drop, until clear footsteps came from the doorway again.
The door was pushed open. Ascalon stood sideways to the side. A figure wearing a white coat walked in.
She had short, light green hair, with a few strands hanging by her cheeks. Her features were exquisite, and a pair of emerald green eyes were sharp enough to seemingly pierce through people's hearts. Her arrival caused the air in the entire room to congeal.
That invisible pressure did not stem from the fluctuation of Originium Arts, but was an aura precipitated by endless years.
This was Kal'tsit.
Her gaze first fell on Theresia. That sharp look instantly softened a little, and she nodded slightly in greeting. Subsequently, her line of sight turned to Lacey. When she saw the black crown atop his head, her pupils showed no emotional fluctuation, as if she were merely confirming an established fact.
"Theresia, you were looking for me," Kal'tsit said.
From beginning to end, she did not give Lacey a second glance.
"Kal'tsit, sit." Theresia pointed to a nearby chair, then introduced, "This is Lacey. You should know him. One of the Seven Sarkaz Heroes, and also... the new Lord of Fiends."
Only then did Kal'tsit look squarely at Lacey, her tone flat and waveless: "I know of him. Lacey the Undying, the hero of the Defense of Kazdel over a hundred years ago."
"Doctor Kal'tsit." Lacey nodded to her, counting it as a greeting. He felt no displeasure at her coldness; this was entirely within expectations.
"Theresia has just appointed me as the Minister of the Kazdel Civil Livelihood Construction Department, fully responsible for the reconstruction of Kazdel," Lacey said, cutting straight to the chase. "This plan requires your help."
Kal'tsit did not answer Lacey. Instead, she turned to Theresia, her brows furrowing slightly: "Civil Livelihood Construction Department? Theresia, Babel's resources are already tight. The medical and education projects are already stretched to the limit. Why establish a new department?"
Theresia handed the parchment with the sketch to Kal'tsit. "Look at this first."
Kal'tsit took the parchment, her gaze sweeping rapidly over the content. Her expression remained unchanged, but Lacey noticed that her reading speed was extremely fast, and her gaze lingered slightly longer on words like "Greenhouse Farms," "Energy Modification," and "Construction Corps."
A few minutes later, she put down the parchment.
"Castles in the air." She gave a four-word evaluation, concise and comprehensive. "Theoretically feasible, but it completely ignores realistic conditions. Kazdel possesses none of the resources, technology, or stable social environment required to execute this plan."
She raised her eyes, finally looking Lacey in the eye this time.
"Lord Lacey, as a hero who once defended Kazdel, you left for decades when Kazdel needed you most. Now you return, put on a crown, and then draw such a 'big pie'. I am very curious, what makes you think that with such a crude plan, you can solve the problems Kazdel has accumulated for thousands of years?"
Her voice was not loud, but every word condemned the heart.
"If I may ask you: in the years you were away, what have you done for Kazdel? And what makes you think you are qualified to give directions here?"
The air in the room seemed to have been evacuated. A look of worry appeared on Theresia's face; she wanted to speak up to intervene, but was stopped by Lacey's look.
Faced with Kal'tsit's merciless questioning, Lacey smiled instead.
"Doctor Kal'tsit, you ask very well." Lacey put away his smile, staring back at her, his sharpness fully revealed, his momentum not losing out in the slightest. "Actually, I also really want to ask you: as a former enemy of Kazdel, in what capacity and with what purpose do you appear here?"
Kal'tsit's gaze sank, and she did not answer his question.
Before Theresia could speak to dissuade them, Lacey returned to a face of calm, switching to say: "The reason I left was precisely because I couldn't see a shred of hope. Over a hundred years ago, we fought with our lives to keep the multi-national coalition out. I thought the war was over and we could welcome a new life, but what was the reality?"
"Kazdel is still that Kazdel. The Royal Courts govern themselves, and the people still don't have enough to eat. We won the war, but lost the future."
"If I stayed here, apart from being enshrined like a mascot, or wearing down all my energy in endless internal friction and guarding against others like Theresis, what could I do? I couldn't find a way out. Kazdel is like a patient rotten to the core; people like us couldn't even find where the root of the disease was."
His voice carried a convincing power.
"Therefore, I chose to walk out. To go to Ursus, to see how their Emperor integrates a massive empire; to go to Yan, to see how they feed hundreds of millions of people with a system unchanged for a thousand years; to go to Columbia, to see how they rose in just a short century and what they relied on."
"I spent decades traveling Terra, studying the rise and fall of each of their nations, learning their technologies, analyzing their systems. I saw how they build roads, how they build cities, how they develop agriculture, how they universalize education."
"Now, I am back, because I have found the prescription I believe to be correct."
Lacey reached out and pointed to the parchment on the table. "You are right, this is a crude plan. But it was not imagined out of thin air. It is the only feasible path I have summarized after decades of measuring Terra with my own footsteps."
"As for what makes me qualified..." Lacey's gaze became sharp. "It is because I know better than any of you what the first step should be for a nation that wants to rise!"
He took a step forward, his entire aura rising steeply. The Black Crown atop his head emitted a faint, profound light, as if resonating with his words.
"It is not ethereal concepts of peace, nor is it militaristic expansion! It is the foundation! It is the survival foundation that allows every citizen to have enough to eat, clothes to wear, and a house to live in!"
"Theresia's ideal is very great. She wants to cure Oripathy, wants to save every life. But, in a place where people can't even drink clean water and might die from hunger and cold at any moment, how many people can your scalpel and medicine save? Your patients might starve to death in their hospital beds before you can even develop a cure!"
"My plan is to lay the foundation. I want to build a city on these ruins first that allows all Sarkaz to survive. Then, you can build your hospitals and your schools in this city."
This speech, like a storm and like thunder, echoed in the silent room.
Theresia looked at Lacey in a daze. She had never seen a Lacey like this. That comrade in her memory, who was somewhat silent and more accustomed to speaking with his fists, was at this moment like an eloquent debater, a leader with great foresight.
Kal'tsit also fell silent. In her green eyes, for the first time, a clear emotional fluctuation appeared.
It was not anger, but a scrutiny mixed with surprise and contemplation. She had lived too long, seen too many leaders who talked big, seen too many ambitious monarchs. They either talked emptily of ideals or were obsessed with martial force.
But this was the first time she had seen someone like Lacey, who elevated the foundation of survival—eating, clothing, housing, these simplest, most basic needs—to the position of the core national strategy.
This did not conform to the nation-building logic of any mainstream country on the Terra continent. The monarchs of those countries always considered military, power, and territory first. But Kal'tsit's reason told her that what Lacey said... was correct. Especially on this cursed land of Kazdel.
"Technical problems."
After a long time, Kal'tsit spoke again. Her voice was still cool, but it no longer held the indifference that kept people a thousand miles away. "The greenhouse farms, waste recycling and smelting, and energy pipeline modifications mentioned in your plan—how do you intend to solve these?"
She threw out a series of technical difficulties; this was her instinct as a scholar.
"I can't solve them." Lacey's answer once again exceeded her expectations. He spread his hands frankly. "I am just a soldier who has walked many roads. I know some basics, but I am far from being an expert. I can propose the direction, I can plan the blueprint, but the specific execution requires professional people to do it."
He looked at Kal'tsit. "For you, perhaps these are just subjects that require some time to conquer. I hope you can do it for Theresia's ideal, for our common goal—to let the Sarkaz, to let Kazdel, have a true future."
The room fell into silence again. Kal'tsit lowered her head, saying nothing. Lacey's words had plunged her into long contemplation.
Finally, she raised her head.
"I can promise you, in order to help Theresia complete her ideal."
"I understand." Lacey nodded.
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