Location: Armathane, Guild Quarter & Blackstone Forge District Time: Day 162 After Alec's Arrival
If the scholars Alec recruited would sketch the blueprints of the future, then these were the men and women who would build it from smoke and dust.
He need more than just workers.He need builders. Loyal. Experienced. Efficient.
And He knew just where to find them.
Craftsmen. Smiths. Carpenters. Stonewrights. Wheelmakers. Tanners. Shipwrights.
The makers.
And in Midgard, they were still shackled to the weight of tradition — locked inside centuries-old guild hierarchies, with every hammer swing blessed by ancient method and every innovation strangled by superstition or fear of guild sanction.
Alec's mission today was not to inspire them.
It was to free them.
By force, if necessary.
Blackstone Forge District – Armathane's Industrial Heart
The first stop was the Forge Circle, a ring of heavy workshops that beat with rhythmic violence morning to night. The clang of metal, the roar of bellows, the deep grunts of blacksmiths in endless labor echoed through smoke-stained courtyards.
The Smiths' Guildmaster, a man named Halgren Brask, met Alec with a cautious glare.
Brask was thick-necked, soot-stained, and famous for breaking two apprentices in a week — one literally. His beard was braided with iron bands, and his hands were so calloused they looked more like armor than flesh.
He greeted Alec with bluntness.
"You're the clever bastard who built the new grain routes."
"I am."
"And now you want my smiths."
"I want the ones who can think."
Brask narrowed his eyes.
"I've heard rumors. That you mean to set up a private works. Unbound by guild charters."
"That's correct."
"Unlicensed."
"Efficient."
"Dangerous."
Alec smiled. "Only if you're not part of it."
Brask crossed his arms. "You can't match my guild's wages."
"I'll triple them."
"You can't protect them from backlash."
"I am the backlash."
Brask paused.
"And if I refuse?"
Alec stepped closer.
"Then I'll set up my own forge under ducal charter, pull every apprentice with a brain in their skulls, and bankrupt your district in ten years."
The air thickened.
Then Brask barked a low, gravelly laugh.
"Gods damn it, you talk like a war hammer."
Alec nodded. "And I build like one, too."
By end of day, Brask gave him names: four smiths, two young, two grizzled, all promising — and curious enough to risk heresy for innovation.
The Stonewrights – Masons and Foundations
Next came the stonewrights — the backbone of Midgard's builders, responsible for bridges, fortresses, and roads.
Unlike the smiths, the masons were more political, more entwined with noble contracts and baronial favors.
Alec didn't bother with flattery.
He walked into the Armathane Masons' Hall and requested a demonstration.
They offered him a puzzle wall — five layers of interlocking stone. Complex, resistant to collapse. Used for palace foundations and city fortifications.
It took three masons twelve minutes to assemble.
Alec took it apart in five.
Then he rebuilt it — upside down — in seven.
They were speechless.
"I don't need stone-layers," Alec told them. "I need engineers who can think like terrain. Who understand tension and collapse. Who can shape space like it's alive."
Three of them signed on by nightfall.
The Woodwrights – Carpenters, Wheelmakers, Shipbuilders
Alec knew the woodwrights would be easier — because they were already underpaid, overworked, and rarely recognized by title.
He visited a carpentry yard at sunrise, watched two journeymen argue over axle angles, then stepped in and corrected both.
When they tested his numbers, the wheel turned smoother than either of theirs.
"How?" one asked, stunned.
"I've never carved a wheel," Alec said. "But I've built vehicles that cross rivers without bridges."
That was enough.
By day's end, he had recruited:
A master shipwright nearing retirement but eager to teach.
Two carpenter-joiners.
A wagonwright who had once studied foreign sailcraft.
And a journeyman wheelmaker who, like Alec, asked more questions than he answered.
The Rest – Tanners, Tilers, Tinkers, and Toolmakers
Not everyone joined easily.
The Tanners' Guild flatly refused. Too proud. Too afraid of what Alec's methods might do to hide-based trades.
He left them behind. For now.
But others answered.
A potter with an eye for volume theory.
A glazier who experimented with chemical finishes and colors.
A candle-maker who understood wax density and burn efficiency.
Even a barrel cooper who, after one conversation with Alec, sketched a self-balancing transport system using weighted sloshing barrels.
Each person added something unique — not just skill, but perspective.
Alec wasn't collecting trades.
He was building a human engine.
One that could adapt. Scale. Conquer.
Internal Monologue (Late Night – Alec's Quarters)
He stared at the list by candlelight.
Fifty-seven names.
Not nobles.
Not legacy holders.
But doers. Craftsmen. Women with iron hands. Men with dirty boots. Old minds and young curiosity.
He was creating a workforce of innovation in a world that still feared change.
And now, he needed to give them structure.
A banner.
A symbol.
A purpose greater than coin.
That would come next.
Serina's Visit
Serina met him in the forge yard the next day, watching sparks fly in the half-finished company workshop.
"Finally found you at last."
Looking around she said "You've been quite busy."
"Building an empire" he replied.
"A company mother called it." she said.
"Mother has also been making moves to solidifying her rule" she added.
"I am guessing that had something to do with all these."
He nodded.
"And i do have a part in all this too" she asked.
Alec turned to look at her."You know you do" He answered softly.
She smiled. "Just checking".
Looking at the people and workers milling around. "They follow you," she noted.
"No," Alec replied. "They follow what I give them — freedom to become more."
She turned to him.
"And what do they give you?"
"Leverage," he said. "The kind no noble army can stop."
Serina didn't reply. She only watched the fire and whispered:
"They'll write stories about this someday."
Alec's gaze didn't move.
"I'm writing the story now."
He fully intended to be the author of this story. His story. Their Stories