Lord: Starting from the Pit-Dwelling Courtyard

Chapter 8: Goblins

Ron and Old Hall exchanged a glance.

The Ancient Austerian Era, also known as the First Era.

It has been more than 3,500 years since then.

"A set of blueprints that allows ordinary building mages to construct magical buildings," Harland said. "Whoever obtains these blueprints can build a true magical fortress anywhere, even in a dead land like the Blackthorn Wasteland."

Harland stared intently at Ron.

"Rumor has it that someone waited ten years for this set of blueprints."

The cave dwelling was so quiet that you could hear the wind blowing through the ventilation ducts.

Ron was silent for a few moments, then spoke.

"You believe the item is with me?"

Harland shook his head with a smile. "If they were in your hands, you would be dead long ago. I'm even more convinced that those blueprints are fake."

Why?

"If Ashwood really possessed the blueprints, they wouldn't have been wiped out." Harland leaned forward. "Even if they couldn't decipher them all, they could still gain enormous benefits from them. But in reality, the Ashwood family wasn't powerful beyond that scope."

What do you want?

"The last young master of a family that was wiped out was exiled to the Blackthorn Wasteland. Within five days, he built five mud-brick houses, dug a well with drinkable water, created a device to filter sewage, and invented an underground house that no one in the wasteland had ever seen before."

Haaland drew a circle on the table with his finger.

"I can only say that you are indeed a member of the Ashwood family. I would like to cooperate with you."

Ron didn't reply.

"Of course, the matter of buying grain is over," Harland said. "I won't take your grain, but I want something else."

"What?"

"Four months from now, I need a complete filter system. Not this one, but a complete version that can filter any sewage in the wasteland. Blueprints, materials list, construction methods."

Ron squinted.

This guy is trying to get something for nothing.

"In exchange?"

"In exchange," Haaland said, "for four months, no one from Haaland's territory will set foot on your land. If any of your men wander into my territory, I will let them come back alive."

"not enough!"

Haaland smiled.

This was the first time he had smiled today; the scars tugged at his skin, making his smile look somewhat ferocious.

"You're greedier than I thought," Harland said, but not angrily. "Fine, add one more thing: I can sell you some intelligence, important enough to keep you alive in the wasteland."

Ron remained silent for a long time.

Old Hall gently nudged his leg under the table.

It wasn't a hint, but a reminder that he should think carefully about this decision.

"I need to think about it," Ron said.

"You have four months." Harland stood up. "After four months, you either give me the filter or 1,500 pounds of grain. If you give me neither, then we'll talk in another way."

Haaland walked to the door and paused for a moment.

"Ron Ashwood."

Ron looked up.

Harland gave a playful smile: "I'll give you a secret for free: this area used to be the territory of a goblin tribe."

Ron and old Hall both showed expressions of surprise.

Ron quickly revealed a cold smile.

This is a danger, but also an opportunity.

Goblin tribes represent a threat, but also spoils of war.

If there are looted grain, tools, or even relics of other lords there.

Haaland walked out of the mud-brick house.

Grayson and his bald bodyguard followed closely behind.

The afternoon sun was blinding.

Harland squinted, his gaze sweeping over the camp, the wooden walls, the well, the pit, and the mud houses, finally settling on the mud houses.

The basement is indeed very comfortable; I can try building one when I get back.

"Let's go back. The message has been delivered, and it's no longer our concern." Harland strode towards the camp exit, mounted his horse with swift movements, and displayed the qualities of a knight to the fullest.

The cavalry raised dust as they headed north.

Ron stood on the wooden wall of the stockade, watching the smoke and dust disappear on the horizon.

"Young Master," Old Hall's voice sounded from behind, "can we trust his words?"

Which part?

"Goblin Tribe"

Ron didn't answer immediately. He looked north, to the edge of the wasteland, where the outline of the gray-black mountains distorted slightly in the heat.

"The chances of a goblin tribe existing are very high," Ron said. "I did some research before I came. The total area of ​​Blackthorn Wasteland is several times that of the kingdom, and it is surrounded by several countries. The reason why such a vast land has not been developed is not only because the land is barren, but also because countless alien races live on Blackthorn Wasteland. Many pioneering lords have died at the hands of these alien races."

Old Hall asked instinctively, "So what should we do next?"

Over the past few days, Old Hall could clearly feel that the young master had grown up, becoming more composed in his dealings and more comprehensive in his considerations, even more cautious and meticulous than himself, an old man.

Ron said, "It's simple. Speed ​​up the construction of the stockade walls and try to complete them within three days. Set up a militia to patrol day and night, and at the same time spread the word that there may be a goblin tribe here."

Goblins are greedy and despicable, with an evil, cunning, and deceitful nature. Crucially, they like to capture other females to breed, with no reproductive isolation whatsoever. It is said that goblins produced in this way are stronger than traditional goblins.

Many border villages are attacked by large numbers of goblins every now and then. Besides plundering food and burning villages, their favorite thing to do is to capture females in their reproductive years.

Once this news is released, these refugees will surely prepare for war with all their might.

Because most of them have wives and daughters by their side, they would inevitably fight desperately to protect them from being defiled.

After thinking for a moment, Old Hall immediately went to make arrangements, while Ron returned to the pit courtyard to meditate and recover his magic power.

[Ding! A new building template has been developed: Pit-Dwelling Courtyard, one courtyard with eleven rooms, requires 30 magic points]

Seeing the data for the pit dwelling, Ron's lips curled up slightly. Sure enough, cave dwellings were the most suitable for the wasteland environment. They were not only comfortable, but also consumed less magic power. 30 points of magic power seemed like much more than a mud-brick house, but if you counted, it was about eleven rooms, which was five more than a mud-brick house. Most importantly, it did not require many building materials.

The excavated soil can be turned into bricks in construction, and all it takes is magic power.

When Ron regained his magic, it was the hottest time of day, and everyone was taking shelter from the sun, waiting for it to set before going to work.

As a result, news about the goblin tribe quickly spread throughout the entire territory.

Both vagrants and criminals were extremely nervous about this.

"We want to see the lord!"

"We want to see the lord!"

Is the goblin news true?

Ron opened his eyes, his magic power restored to 21 points.

He stood up and walked towards the exit of the cave dwelling.

It's time to tell them the answer.