Lord: My Shop Connects to Modern Times

The registration process went more smoothly than expected.

The temptation of food is real, not to mention salt—a hard currency almost everywhere in the empire, usually only used sparingly during festivals.

The line was long, and Martha and Elisa were sweating profusely, but the order was still relatively good.

Musketeers from Grayrock Town were maintaining order. They wore neat linen uniforms and had strangely shaped iron pipes hanging from their waists. No one dared to cut in line or cause trouble.

Around noon, several large pots were set up on the west side of the square.

The aroma of stewed potatoes and meat wafted through the air, a flavor enhanced by the special seasonings of Gray Rock Town, combined with potatoes that the people of Ironstone Fortress had never tasted before, making it so rich that it made one's mouth water.

After registering, people lined up to receive soup. Each person received a large bowl, and the soup contained real chunks of meat and soft, tender potatoes.

An old man, holding a bowl, squatted in the corner, wolfing down his food. As he ate, his eyes reddened. Several teenagers nearby licked the bottom of their bowls, their eyes fixed longingly on the pot.

Everything seemed so warm and cozy, but this warmth had nothing to do with any one person.

Ivan, holding an empty bowl, paced back and forth at the edge of the square.

His stomach was convulsing and gurgling in protest.

Since the day Viscount Gavin led his troops away from Ironstone Castle, he hadn't had a proper meal—last month's pay hadn't been paid, and the last bit of rye flour in the house had been eaten up three days ago.

He was an alchemist, or rather, he considered himself one.

I spent three years as an apprentice to an old alchemist in Frostfire, learning to identify minerals and to prepare basic potions.

After being ostracized and driven away by the guild, the teacher ended up in Ironstone Fortress, barely making ends meet by preparing some medicine for Gavin and simple hemostatic ointment for the miners.

The pay was meager, but at least we wouldn't starve.

But now Gavin has fallen.

Ivan looked at the long line that had formed in front of the registration tent.

The emaciated and pale-faced citizens gave their names and fingerprints, then happily left carrying potatoes and salt.

The aroma of the stewed potatoes and meat from lunchtime still lingered in the air, and his saliva was uncontrollably secreting.

But he didn't dare go over.

He had seen the captured soldiers; Gavin's private army left behind in Ironstone Fortress had all been captured and their fates unknown.

Having worked for Gavin for a long time, mixing medicines and such, even though it was just mixing some insignificant things, he still worried that he might be purged as a "remnant of the old party".

Then there's their profession. Alchemists have always been called the "wild school" because they can't use magic like mages, nor can they comprehend combat techniques like warriors. They have no combat power whatsoever.

Especially for a self-taught alchemist like myself, my effectiveness might be less than that of a doctor.

Because he researched those random reagents every day, he was often regarded by nobles as a "fraudster who knew some sorcery." Ivan had seen those "heretics" who were hanged.

Some of them simply used the wrong recipe, while others offended the wrong people.

As the sun began to set, fewer and fewer people registered.

Martha and Elisa began organizing the booklet.

There was only a little soup left in the pot, and several children were gathered around it, watching it longingly.

Evan's stomach clenched violently again.

He gritted his teeth, stuffed the empty bowl into his tattered robe, and walked toward the tent with his head down.

At worst, I'll be arrested; that's better than starving to death.

"Name?" the young woman in charge of registration asked without looking up.

"Evan..."

"age?"

Thirty-one.

"Profession?"

Ivan swallowed hard. "An...alchemist."

The young woman finally raised her head, her large eyes giving him a curious look.

Ivan's heart raced, and his palms sweated. Oh no, something terrible is about to happen.

But the woman simply nodded and wrote something in the booklet.

Do you have family?

"No, it's just me."

"address?"

"The third shack on Old Workshop Street in the western district of Ironstone Fortress."

After the woman finished writing, she picked up a small bag of potatoes and an even smaller bag of salt from the table and handed them to him.

"This is for registering supplies. Go over there to get some soup; there's only a little left."

Evan took it blankly.

Is it really that simple? No questions asked about his teacher? No investigation into his relationship with Gavin?

Little did he know, the little girl in front of him didn't understand any of this.

Martha has always been rather unassuming in front of outsiders.

Evan carried the potatoes and salt to the pot.

The cook was a burly man from Gray Rock Town. He glanced at him, then scooped up the last spoonful of soup and poured it into his bowl—there wasn't much meat, but the potatoes were heavy.

Ivan squatted down against the wall, ignoring the heat, and began to drink it in large gulps. The soup tasted strange, but it was so delicious that it made him want to cry.

The saltiness was just right, and there was also a kind of umami flavor that he couldn't quite describe.

The potatoes were stewed until very soft, melting in your mouth, and had the unique sweetness of grains.

This was his first full meal in a week.

"You're Ivan?"

A voice sounded overhead.

Evan looked up and coughed – it was the new lord, Lynn Cole.

He was young, even younger than he appeared from a distance. Dressed in a simple linen shirt and trousers, he looked more like a scholar than an aristocrat.

Ivan hurriedly tried to stand up, but his legs gave way and he sat back down. "M-Sir..."

The other person squatted down next to him, completely unconcerned about the dust on the ground.

"Martha said your registered profession is alchemist."

"Yes..." Evan's heart pounded.

"But I'm just an apprentice, really, I've only been learning for three years, it's not like I'm anything serious..."

Upon hearing this, the other party fell silent for a moment.

Evan felt a little flustered, and before he could speak again, the other person suddenly asked a strange question.

What is the essence of water?

Ivan was stunned. What was this question?

"Water...it's just water. Wet, cold, flowing, it belongs to the water element..."

The other person waved his hand, interrupting him.

"If you heat water to an extremely high temperature, it will decompose into two gases," the other person gestured with their hands.

"One gas is called hydrogen, which is very light and can burn. The other is called oxygen, which supports combustion. When these two gases are mixed, even a tiny spark can cause an explosion."

"Impossible!" Evan blurted out instinctively. His alchemist experience made him inadvertently blurt out his thoughts. He instinctively covered his mouth, looking terrified.

What nonsense is this new lord spouting? The "Elements Theory" he studied includes earth, water, fire, and wind.

Water is water, how can it turn into something else?

But the lord spoke with such certainty, as if he had seen it with his own eyes.

"Do you think I'm talking nonsense?" The other person didn't take offense at Evan's rudeness; he seemed to be able to read his mind and asked.

"No, I wouldn't dare..." Ivan swallowed hard. "But... but this doesn't conform to classical theory..."

"The classics might be wrong." The other person stood up.

"I need to build a lab in Grayrock Town to study the nature of matter. Not some vague blend of elements, but precise formulas, proportions, and reaction conditions. Are you interested?"

Ivan's mind went blank. A laboratory? Studying the nature of matter?

He was certainly interested; it was something he'd dreamed of doing. But he was just a wandering apprentice, without guild certification or noble backing…

"I...I worked for Gavin," he said in a low voice, almost as if confessing, "though it was just preparing ointments, but..."

"Gavin is Gavin, and you are you," the other person said.

"What I need is someone who understands the basics, is curious, and is willing to learn new things. As for the past—as long as there was no murder or arson, I won't pursue it."

Ivan looked up at the young lord.

The other person's eyes were calm, without the arrogance or scrutiny typical of nobles, more like an assessment of a tool—but an honest assessment, without any hint of contempt.

"Does Grayrock Town...have the necessary equipment?"

"There are the most basic ones: utensils, a balance scale, and a stove. There will be more later," the other person said.

"There are also blacksmiths, carpenters, and stonemasons there. You can talk to them."

"I'm willing," I heard myself say, my voice trembling slightly. "My lord, I'm willing to go."

"Okay." The other person nodded.

"Meet at the castle gate tomorrow morning and come back to Grayrock Town with me. Bring your things—books, notes, tools. The treasury will give you an advance of one month's salary so you can buy the necessities you need."

After the other person left, Evan remained squatting in the same spot, holding the empty bowl.

The setting sun cast a long shadow over him. The potatoes in his hands were heavy, and the salt rustled in the cloth bag.

Laboratory. Studying the nature of matter...

He suddenly felt that the change of ownership of Ironstone Fortress might not be a bad thing.