The blazing sun cast golden beams into Ravenna’s study, illuminating the sand-colored walls with a warm glow. Despite the heat radiating from Jola’s desert climate, the room remained serene, the air filled with the faint aroma of freshly brewed tea. Ravenna sat by the window, her silhouette outlined against the shimmering dunes outside, as she sipped her tea leisurely.

  John, seated across from her, shifted slightly in his chair, the sound of his armor faintly clinking as he prepared to deliver his report. He had returned earlier that morning, after the expedition she had ordered.

  “As instructed, Your Highness, we located the layered rock formation in the western region,” John began, his voice steady and confident. “The prisoners worked tirelessly through the night, and we managed to extract several tons of limestone.”

  Ravenna’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Excellent,” she said, setting her teacup down with a soft clink. “Now, we can begin cement production.”

  John tilted his head, curiosity evident in his gaze, though he chose not to question her further.

  After a few minutes, Ravenna and James stood by the rugged coastline. The sound of waves crashing against the shore mixed with the rhythmic hum of activity as workers prepared the site. A custom-built blast furnace, crafted meticulously by Nile, had been transported from the blacksmith’s workshop. Nearby, a small waterwheel—designed by James and constructed by the church’s engineers, spun slowly, its paddles glinting under the sun.

  “So, this is where the magic happens?” James asked, his scholarly tone betraying a hint of skepticism.

  Ravenna smirked. “You doubt my claims, Your Holiness?” she teased, her voice carrying a playful edge that made James stiffen slightly. “Fear not. You’ll soon witness the process for yourself.”

  She turned to the assembled workers. “Follow my instructions carefully,” she commanded, her voice firm and authoritative.

  A floating panel hovered discreetly before her eyes. It displayed a step-by-step video guide on the internet, detailing the cement-making process. Although unfamiliar with some terminologies, Ravenna adapted quickly, pausing to consider her instructions before issuing them to the workers.

  The workers began by feeding limestone into the blast furnace. This furnace, designed with low airflow to optimize calcination, heated the limestone until it underwent a chemical transformation. The heat drove out carbon dioxide, leaving behind calcium oxide, or quicklime.

  Once the lime was ready, Ravenna instructed the workers to mix it with clay and a small amount of sand. These materials were placed into a milling station powered by the waterwheel. The grinding stones rotated steadily, crushing the mixture into a fine, homogeneous blend.

  “This step ensures the materials bind effectively,” Ravenna explained to James, who watched with growing fascination.

  The blended mixture was then returned to the furnace for sintering, a high-temperature process that produced clinker: small, hard nodules essential for cement. Finally, the clinker was ground together with gypsum, which Ravenna had sourced from the solar stills used for water treatment. The result was a fine, gray powder: cement.

  James inspected the powder closely, running it between his fingers. “It’s remarkably fine,” he remarked. “Surely this isn’t used on its own for construction?”

  “You’re correct,” Ravenna replied. “It’s mixed with crushed stones and sand to form concrete, which is then poured into molds or used to bind bricks.”

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  Intrigued, James nodded. “Let’s test it, then.”

  The workers mixed the cement with aggregate and water, creating a smooth paste. They used it to construct a small brick wall by the beach, carefully layering the bricks with precision.

  By midday, the wall stood firm, its surface glistening slightly from the moisture in the fresh concrete. Ravenna and James decided to let it cure under the sun’s heat and inspect it the following morning.

  “This could revolutionize construction,” James mused aloud as they walked back. “If it works as you claim, the efficiency and strength it offers would be unmatched.”

  Ravenna smiled, the gears of her mind already turning. “This is just the beginning,” she said. “Imagine what we could build with a material like this. Cities, fortresses, aqueducts… even temples to rival those of the Western Continent.”

  As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the beach, Ravenna felt a deep sense of satisfaction. By the next day, they would know if their efforts had paid off.

  Ravenna walked into the dining hall, her feet clicking softly against the polished stone floor. The warm scent of roasted herbs and bread filled the air, mingling with the faint tang of parchment and ink that always lingered in the castle. At the grand table, Marie sat stiffly, her posture betraying exhaustion. Her pale face and trembling hands revealed the toll that combat training had taken on her malnourished body.

  Ravenna took her seat gracefully, observing the young girl’s attempts to mask her fatigue. “Is combat training proving to be too rigorous?” Ravenna asked, her tone sharp yet not unkind. “Aisha has a habit of underestimating her own strength. If it’s too much for you, I can instruct her to ease up.”

  Marie quickly shook her head, her disheveled hair brushing against her cheeks. “No, Your Highness,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “Master’s training is fine. I can handle it.”

  The word master caught Ravenna’s attention. She raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes narrowing. “Master?” she echoed. “You call Dame Aisha ‘Master,’ yet you address me as ‘Your Highness’? Are you not my disciple as well?”

  Marie’s eyes widened with nervousness, and her hands fidgeted in her lap. “I... I thought you wouldn’t want me to call you that since I’m a former—”

  “Enough with your self-pity,” Ravenna interrupted, her voice cold and cutting. “If I wanted to discard you, I would’ve left you to the mumbling priests and their pity-driven sermons. You are here because I see potential, not weakness.”

  Marie swallowed hard, her face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and determination. She bowed her head slightly. “I understand... Master,” she whispered, the word feeling foreign yet oddly comforting on her tongue.

  Ravenna’s stern expression softened slightly into a satisfied smile as servants began placing lunch on the table. Marie straightened, fumbling with the utensils. She had been given only one etiquette lesson so far, and her grip on the fork and knife was awkward at best. Despite this, she made an earnest effort, her brows furrowed in concentration.

  Ravenna observed her attempts without comment, calmly cutting into her meal. After a moment, she said, “You can take the rest of the day off. There’s no need for you to assist me in the office or join the patrol tonight. I underestimated how taxing your first days would be.”

  Marie opened her mouth to protest, but the weight of her exhaustion silenced her. Instead, she nodded quietly, grateful for the reprieve.

  After lunch, Ravenna retired to her study. The room was bathed in warm light from the setting sun, and the faint rustle of papers filled the air as she worked. Alice had delivered a detailed report earlier that morning, listing expenditures, resource allocations, and outstanding wages. Ravenna methodically reviewed the data, occasionally glancing at the spreadsheet interface floating in her Reputation System.

  She still can’t get over how lucky this functionality is. It allowed her to quickly sort figures, cross-reference expenditures, and calculate potential savings. What would have taken an entire week with parchment and ink took barely two hours.

  By the time she finished, Ravenna leaned back in her chair, stretching slightly to ease the stiffness in her back. She gazed out of the window, her mind already shifting to the next pressing issue.

  Ravenna got up and stepped into her carriage as the evening sky deepened into shades of purple and orange. The rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestone accompanied her thoughts as she considered the scarcity of iron. The blacksmiths had reported delays in tools production, and several construction projects were at risk of stalling.

  “This shortage is becoming problematic,” she muttered under her breath, her fingers tapping lightly on the carriage’s wooden frame. “If we don’t resolve this soon, it could destroy all my efforts so far.”