A day later, after my relentless pursuit of military progress was done, I realized that I had neglected the development of civilian infrastructure and industry, as I poured every last bit of funding into the army without looking back.
As it turns out, I really should have been looking back.
The number of serfs, workers, and soldiers sent straight into my fiefdom by Valeria and Arina had become truly enormous as my industry and army grew. The problem arose when the prefab housing I built was huddled together into what was essentially a ghetto.
Although the problem could be solved later after the war ended and I dismantled those temporary houses, that might cause the aftereffect of having to deal with more crime and dissent.
I could raise the number of guards, but that would not solve the structural problem.
And so it was decided, I would tear up the contract I made with those workers for their own sake and grant them a small plot of land along with proper housing, to nip the formation of a ghetto in the bud.
Good for the civilians, bad for me, since my heart called out to finish every civilian matter, which included True proper roads, food welfare, hygiene programs, etc.
Basically, I would tie up every civil loose end I could think of to make the lives of my citizens better as a last gift before I plunged them straight into the fire of war.
And that entailed yet another endless workload for me once again.
*Yay*
-----
A week later, in the morning of yet another peaceful day, I, Libertas "Victor" von Vindia, walked through the construction site in inspection of the new city roads alongside Nikos, my advisor, and Albert, my newly appointed chief architect.
The roads beneath were not packed gravel nor cobble.
They were now built upon my newest invention.
"Cement, Das Conk Creet Baybee!" I shouted with a cheerful smile. Causing workers stared at me in confusion, while Albert adjusted his monocle and Nikos pretended not to hear me.
Because of the literal mountain of iron in my possession, I had constructed line after line of high-capacity blast furnaces. Officially, they were for metallurgy, but unofficially, some of them were now glorified experimental ovens to make cement.
Did I know the exact temperature required to produce proper clinker?
Absolutely not.
Did I understand the precise chemical balance of limestone to clay?
Not even remotely.
So how did I manage to produce usable cement?
The process is called combinatorial experimentation, or in less academic terms, industrial-scale trial and error.
You vary temperature, you vary ratios, you vary burn time.
Then you discard what cracks and keep what hardens like stone and refuses to crumble easily.
It is basically pure brute-force science of throw enough controlled variables at a problem until something eventually answered back.
Result in a crude yet effective cement, just good enough to be used make create concrete for one or two years, at least, until the war is over and I could developed more sophisticated product.
Nikos looked down the long stretch of gray roadway that cut through the city like a scar.
"Drainage channels are functioning, I have some worker tested it" he noted.
Meanwhile, Albert crouched and tapped the cured concrete with the tip of his walking cane.
"Integrity is holding, Impressive" he murmured.
I nodded in response, "Impressive indeed" I spoke proudly.
"But I think with these new material, we could make something even grander!" Albert declares to me.
"What is it?" Me and Nikos asked in unison.
Albert's posture straightened. His voice shifted, no longer the measured tone of a practical architect it was the voice of a man possessed by a spirit of a passionate artist.
"Imagine," he began, "a structure so vast that it dwarfs every building in the kingdom, a monument to your glory, lord Victor." he spoke a while gesturing up with his cane as if he was about to sketching the blueprint in the air.
"A colossal domed hall so vast that tens of thousands could easily gather beneath it, with single unified chamber, not fragmented into wings or corridors, but one immense space crowned by a monumental dome."
He gestured broadly, sketching shapes in the air.
"The dome would rise higher than any castle ever constructed. Its interior would be vast enough to make a man feel small merely by standing within it. It's columns would ring the circular hall like a forest of stone titans"
Then his voice grew even more intense.
"The outer façade would be monument of it's colossal proportions, an entrance framed by enormous pillars, perhaps even flanked by sculpture of you, lord Victor"
Nikos and I stared at him in bewilderment of his grand idea, and yet Albert continued, impossible to interrupt.
"It would not merely be a building, It would be a symbol carved into the skyline. A structure so imposing that any witness would feel the weight of your majestic aura pressing down upon them."
He looked at me directly.
Silence followed.
I imagined the sheer absurdness of it, then I rubbed my temples which were now in pain of a throbbing headache.
"Albert," I said, "we are preparing for civil war, just focus on built a house, dammit!"
-----
In the afternoon of that very same day, I rode my carriage to the church of my city. It had been upgraded from a small pinewood structure into a somewhat larger pinewood structure, just enough to prove that I cared about religion in the eyes of my citizens.
In front of the church, along a long foldable metal table, a mature woman dressed in a white and gold nun's outfit stood with dignity. She was a priestess of the Divine. Beside her were several maids from my mansion, handing out free bread to any citizen holding an authorized purple food ticket, distributed once per month per person.
I was shamelessly copying Rome's "Cura Annonae"
A massive welfare program deliberately designed to divert attention from the incoming war. Fortunately, both Princess Gloria and Lady Valeria had supplied me with a massive surplus of grain for my ever-growing army, so much so that there was excess I could use to fund such a reckless populist policy.
I cut through the line and approached the priestess with a smile.
"Hello! How is the bread distribution going, Mother?" I asked humbly.
In that moment, a man behind me grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me backward, throwing me onto the ground. When I looked up, I saw that he appeared to be a newly immigrated peasant who likely thought I had cut in line and did not know who I was.
"This guy cut the line!" he shouted angrily, pointing down at me.
Chaos immediately erupted around us. The priestess and the maids gasped in horror, while everyone else nearby ran for cover, fully aware of what was about to happen.
*Smack*
A thick black iron baton struck the man's leg, causing him to scream in agony, Then his arm, Then his back. He collapsed to the ground beside me.
The one who struck him wore a jet-black, finely tailored Carabinieri-style police uniform complete with a cape (Funded by Valeria, Made in Venetia), along with a Prussian-style gorget. The officer quickly extended his hand to help me up, then saluted me sharply.
"What should I do with him, milord?" the man asked.
He was one of the newly militarized guards, part of my newly created professional, highly trained police force tasked with maintaining order in the city while the army was out fighting.
The code of law I had given them to uphold was, honestly, draconian by the standards of a modern man like me, but essential for maintaining order.
Even the smallest act of thievery could result in months of forced labor in a dangerously unstable coal mine. Crimes such as rape or murder, if supported by sufficient evidence, led straight to either the guillotine or being used as a test subject in my newly established medical research branch of my R&D facility.
"He assaulted the head of state. What do you think would be an appropriate punishment, hm? Officer?" I asked.
"According to the code of law, he becomes a test subject, milord!" the officer replied.
I looked down at the peasant, who was still writhing in pain on the ground, after a moment, I delivered my judgment.
"Yes, he did hurt me… but I really did cut in line. So, one month in the coal mine will suffice," I said sternly and authoritatively.
Another group of police officers arrived and quickly and professionally carried him away.
The officer who had saved me returned to his post beside the bread distribution table.
I turned back to the horrified priestess and maids.
"Hello again! How is the bread distribution going?" I asked the priestess with a warm smile, as if nothing had happened.
"Umm… it's going great?" she replied hesitantly.
I nodded in response, then hurried back to my carriage to inspect my next project, which is a newly constructed public toilet, and I also planned to check on Daisy, who was supposed to be teaching children about basic hygiene that day.