Nathan - POV

  Winter had settled deep into the land, the kind of cold that gnawed through layers of fur and cloth and made every breath sting. Snow blanketed the plains around the old fort, and the wind carried a sharp bite that reminded everyone that nature, not man, ruled this season. In the middle of all that, I turned eight years old.

  Mother, of course, insisted on a grand celebration. She always did—birthdays, victories, even minor achievements like mastering a new spell. If she could celebrate waking up in the morning, she probably would. So, despite the cold, despite the ongoing construction, despite the fact that we were technically living in a fortified campsite, she organized a party that could rival a small festival.

  This year’s celebration was far larger than last year’s. Our numbers have grown; retainers, families of Lyle’s former employees, and our household staff. The campsite outside the old fort, now officially named Fort Bunzad, buzzed with life. Mother even hired a medieval band and hearing them play was surreal. Their music wasn’t far off from the medieval-inspired bands back on Earth, though a few instruments were unfamiliar. One looked like a lute fused with a drum, and another resembled a flute with too many holes. The sound was rustic, raw, and strangely comforting.

  Their music made me think of my electric guitar back on Earth. I wondered if Brian, our newly acquired carpenter, could craft a wooden acoustic version. Not electric; no electricity yet; but something close enough to scratch the itch. Maybe later, when things were less chaotic.

  Since we couldn’t move into the fort yet, the party took place around a massive bonfire in the center of the camp. Flames crackled and danced, casting warm light over laughing faces. Food and drink flowed freely. Even my minions joined in, mingling with the people. Their presence helped ease some of the lingering fear among the newcomers. They didn’t know my minions were demons in disguise, but even without that knowledge, the aura of dread they naturally exuded made people uneasy. Tonight, though, the warmth and music softened that edge.

  The fort repairs were progressing, but slowly. The structure was old; ancient, even; and the modifications I demanded were extensive. I spared no expense. Even if Fort Bunzad was only temporary, I wanted it to be secure, comfortable, and efficient. A proper base of operations while we prepare for the future.

  The laborers had no issues with most of my designs; until they saw the plumbing blueprints.

  That was when I had to step in personally.

  The blacksmiths forged copper pipes, and the stone masons carved the toilet bowls according to my sketches. I routed the plumbing system toward the highest point of the fort. John, our blacksmith, assumed the pipes were for collecting rainwater. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but not entirely right either. I told him the final touches were a “family secret.” That explanation seemed to satisfy him, though I could tell he was itching to know more. I told him I would be sharing such knowledge when the hired workers were gone.

  The real challenge came with the sewerage system. Medieval people; both here and on Earth; had the charming habit of dumping waste into rivers. The environmentalist in me recoiled at the thought. I refused to let Fort Bunzad become a cesspool.

  So, I designed a three-chamber filtration tank, placed far enough from the fort that the smell wouldn’t reach us. The system would break down waste, filter the water, and release something far cleaner than the sludge we produced. Not perfect, but better. And conveniently, a swampy section of the nearby river acted as a natural treatment plant. Nature’s own biofilter.

  Next came the water tower. Brian was already working on it, though he kept asking how we planned to fill such a massive tank. A water mage would run out of mana long before filling even a quarter of it. I gave him a dramatic smile and told him the answer would be revealed later. I didn’t want the outside laborers catching wind of my modern innovations just yet.

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  In truth, I planned to build a hydraulic ram pump connected to the river. Simple, effective, and mana-free.

  Winter slowed everything down. Snowstorms forced us to halt construction several times. To compensate, we hired more workers. When I asked Mother about Shaxaia’s climate, she confirmed it was similar; cold winters, unpredictable storms. That pushed me to sketch out a central heating system for our future home. Not for this fort though; this wasn’t our permanent seat of power. I already had dreams of building a fortress-palace inspired by the Alhambra, something worthy of our future dominion.

  But for now, we endured the cold.

  Several days passed and the intense cold eventually changed my mind. We will need to heat the water or else the pipes will freeze and clog. Thankfully, John came up with a solution. Heat the water tank during winter. It was crude and not the broilers I envisioned but it will do for our temporary home.

  I silently thanked the search engine in my head for all the knowledge I was pulling from. Naturally, my family questioned where I got these ideas. I used the same excuse I always did: “It just popped into my head.” It worked... for now. I knew I’d have to tell them the truth eventually, but not yet. Not until we were secure.

  Still, I couldn’t help but feel a bit presumptuous. Planning a palace fortress when we hadn’t even secured land yet? The territories we aimed for were lawless, dangerous, and constantly in conflict. But the Earthling in me refused to accept a lifetime of squatting over holes in the ground with no toilet paper. Water and soap were fine, but runoff created mud, erosion, and a host of other problems. Civilization needed plumbing. And I was confident that we would be able to succeed in our mission.

  Where I got that confidence, I do not know. It may be because of my modern knowledge or the luck I seem to possess or perhaps both. But I knew reality has a tendency to knock out confidence out of a person. The best I can do is make plans within plans and roll with the punches. Mitigate risks I suppose.

  While construction continued, our retainers; especially Anda and his former party; focused on training and scouting potential recruits. They hadn’t begun dungeon delves yet. Father insisted the fort be completed first for safety reasons.

  John and Brian estimated the fort would be ready by mid-spring. Good timing, otherwise we’d be wading through mud once the rains came.

  We also learned that Jake, one of Anda’s former party members, level 39 hunter, excelled at procurement and logistics. He had been the one managing supplies for their adventuring group. Naturally, we appointed him as our logistics officer or quartermaster.

  Mother and Father grew increasingly anxious about our spending. Gold flowed out like water. So, one night, I opened a portal to the pocket dimension and let them peek inside and assuage their fears. Their jaws dropped.

  Honestly, mine did too.

  The place was now overflowing with gold, jewels, artifacts, paintings, sculptures, silverware, treasures far beyond what we had before our operation against Count Nobesk. My minions had apparently taken my command to “transfer all wealth” very literally. They cleaned everything out. I felt a tiny pang of guilt for the count’s heir… but only slightly. He was a jerk just like his father.

  As we stared at the mountain of riches, Krizek appeared, startling us. He presented several simple silver bracelets, magical trinkets that allowed the wearer to access the pocket dimension without me or him. He made ten of them.

  I distributed them to Father, Mother, Serena, Jack, Christine, Sebastian, Jennie (our treasurer), Anna (one of our maids and her assistant), and Shive—though Shive refused, saying she could enter the dimension at will. That surprised me. Later, I learned all my minions could freely enter and exit the place.

  Krizek taught them the spell to open a portal and assured them they wouldn’t get stuck inside. He added that he and I had complete access and would always know what was taken or added. That last part sounded more like a warning than reassurance. Cheeky demon. Threatening my family, but then again, they were intensely loyal to me alone.

  Their loyalty to me was absolute. If I ordered them to harm a family member, they wouldn’t hesitate. The thought unsettled me, even though I trusted myself never to give such an order.

  Winter worsened. The cold became brutal, forcing me to sleep inside the pavilion where it was warmer. At least I had Shive and Christine beside me, their bodies radiating heat like living furnaces.

  Spring was approaching. Soon, the snows would melt, the land would thaw, and the real work would begin.

  I just hoped we could recruit enough people before the dungeon expeditions started.