Lord: My Shop Connects to Modern Times

"Silence!" Thorin, who was walking ahead, winked at the two who were whispering.

When Thorin vaguely heard the words "small, run-down place," he almost broke out in a cold sweat.

Describing someone else's territory in this way in front of the local inhabitants would likely anger even a good-natured noble like Lord Lynn if the news reached his ears.

But Martha, who was walking at the front, seemed to have not heard at all, or rather, she did not care at all. She continued to stroll leisurely, and would stop from time to time to introduce herself to the group.

Martha led them to register at the communal kiosk, then put down the booklet: "Breakfast is here, lunch and dinner are over there at the kitchen shed. It's a ration per person, but you can eat your fill."

The young girl spoke earnestly, pointing to a large pot of steaming water not far away. That was where they usually ate their "staff meals."

The aroma of food wafted over, the smell of mixed grains stewed with minced meat and wild vegetables, very hearty.

By the time they squatted down to eat, their steaming wooden bowls in hand, in the open space outside the shed, it was already dark. Torches, placed at intervals along the wall, were lit, their dim yellow light dispelling the darkness.

Lynn also came over with her bowl and then squatted down like the others.

"The taste is rather bland, please bear with it." He said, taking a big bite himself and chewing it very carefully, as if he were savoring some delicacy: "The soil in Gray Rock Town is poor, and food is precious. But recently, almost everyone can afford to cook their own meals and even have some meat to eat."

Looking at the wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys of every household in the town, Lynn couldn't help but think to himself, "At least it's much better than when I first arrived."

As he spoke, his gaze swept over the group of people.

Thorin ate slowly, savoring each bite as if he were weighing something in his mind.

Hal ate quickly, but each bite was substantial, and his eyes kept involuntarily glancing toward the blacksmith's shed.

Elro ate absentmindedly, his eyes still fixed on the direction of the field.

"Master Thorin," Lynn suddenly spoke up, "look at our wall. If we were to raise it another five feet and add watchtowers at each corner, how long would it take with the current cement and stone? How many men would we need?"

Sorin put down his chopsticks, squinted, and quickly estimated in his mind: "If the stone is readily available, and if you can supply the cement... plus the foundation reinforcement, it will take at least two months. As for manpower, you'll need at least thirty strong laborers, and a few more who know a thing or two about bricklaying."

"What if we only build watchtowers first?"

Thorin recalled the foundations he had seen when he first arrived, and pondered for a moment: "With the same manpower, about fifteen days should be enough."

Lynn nodded without comment, then looked at Hal: "Master Hal, the blacksmith shop can only make farm tools and simple knives and spears now. If you want to try making better arrowheads, or... repair some more delicate iron parts, what are you lacking?"

Hal swallowed the food in his mouth and said in a hard voice, "We lack good iron, good quenching oil, wire drawing plates that can draw fine wires, and most importantly, furnaces that can maintain a constant high temperature and save fuel."

He finished speaking in one breath, paused, and added, "The stove we have now is usable, but it wastes charcoal and the heat isn't stable enough."

"Okay, I've got it." Lynn took out a small notebook and half a charcoal pencil, and by the firelight, quickly wrote down what Hal had said. His movements were very natural, without the slightest air of a nobleman.

"Mr. Elro," he turned to the naturalist, "besides potatoes, what other drought-resistant, short-season crops do you think we could try to cultivate in the soil of the Southern Territory? Or, what wild grasses or tree bark in the nearby mountains might have some medicinal value?"

When asked about his expertise, Ero perked up immediately, adjusted his glasses, and spoke faster: "My lord, I... I need to examine the soil samples and the vegetation in the nearby mountains and forests first. As for drought-resistant crops, chickpeas might be worth a try, and there are also several tuberous wild grasses that might be domesticated... As for medicinal uses, we'll need to collect samples on-site to make a judgment."

Lynn made a few more marks on the notebook.

The firelight danced on his young face, casting an atmosphere of focused concentration. His expression was earnest, not merely perfunctory politeness, but genuinely thoughtful and meticulous note-taking.

Thorin looked at the young lord squatting on the ground, writing and drawing by the firelight, then at the real food in the bowl, the steady shadow of the wall in the distance, and the residents of each household who, though tired, had smiling faces.

He slowly chewed the last bite of bread, the coarse wheat scraping against his throat. Then, he picked up the bowl, drank the remaining porridge clean, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"My lord," Thorin began, his voice more composed than before, "if it's convenient, I'd like to take a look at the sketch of your reservoir tonight. As for the western slope, I'll survey it first thing tomorrow morning."

"Yes, my lord, I'll go back tonight and design a sketch of the blacksmith's forge for you."

"Me too, my lord. I'll go and take a look at your plant samples later."

Hal and Elo also expressed their opinions.

Lynn looked up, the firelight illuminating his eyes. He put away his notebook and nodded.

"it is good."

There were no extra promises, no passionate words. But something seemed to settle quietly in the air outside the shed, in that question and answer, that glance and the gesture.

As night deepened, the craftsmen returned to their sheds. Oil lamps were lit, casting flickering light and shadow.

In the corner, by the light of the lamp, Hal repeatedly sketched out plans for improving the furnace on the ground with a thin stick. Thorin, meanwhile, spread out his old measuring tape and square, carefully wiping them clean. Eero, already impatient, pulled out a small shovel and cloth bag for soil sampling from his leather bag.

Inside the lord's stone house, Lynn, by the light of the same oil lamp, flipped through the pages of notes he had taken that day.

Lynn circled the "15-Day Watchtower Completion Plan", the "Otherworld and This World Crop Classification and Planting Plan", and the "Blacksmith's Forge Improvement Project".

He was satisfied with the suggestions and shortcomings pointed out by the technicians and planned to implement improvements in the future.

Lying in bed, Lynn looked at the public opinion score given by Thorin and the others on the system interface, and he smiled happily.

……

About 10 kilometers outside of Huiyan Town, a group of starving and freezing refugees were slowly making their way towards Huiyan Town.

The monsters are now more rampant and more ferocious and powerful than ever before.

They appeared out of nowhere, as if they had materialized out of thin air. Several nearby villages were destroyed; the villagers either died or fled, and those who survived gathered together, becoming this group of homeless refugees.

At this moment, no one noticed that among the crowd of refugees, a short, hooded man was carefully looking around.

Seeing that there was nothing unusual around her, Leah carefully let out a breath. For some reason, Viscount Gavin's soldiers stopped chasing after them when they got here. Although Leah found it strange, she didn't think much of it.

All she had to do was follow this group of refugees to the Grayrock Town they mentioned, which was another lord's territory. As for whether the two lords were on bad terms, what did it matter to her? She even hoped they would fight.

"Hmph! To put it bluntly, they're all just a bunch of damned nobles!"