Delegation

With Isolde gone, the fate of their proposed alliance was out of Argon's hands. He must now focus on what he could control – improving his fiefdom. First on his list was to locate Melvin. He moved towards the village square, his powerful voice echoing through the early morning air, "Melvin!"

A familiar face appeared from the crowd, Boyd, who always seemed to be in the right place at the time. "Master Argon," he greeted, "Melvin went to the mine earlier this morning."

Argon nodded in response, thanking Boyd for the information. With a new destination in mind, he began to stride towards the mines. His plans for the day had just become a lot more straightforward.

Argon set out from the village, the cobblestone path beneath his feet giving way to a dirt trail stretching towards the mines. The morning air was crisp, a reminder that autumn was coming. The landscape around him was stirring to life, with villagers beginning their daily routines.

Argon encountered a cart laden with dark, metallic rocks on the path, glinting subtly in the early morning light. Hematite. The cart was being pulled laboriously by a group of serfs, their faces flushed from the exertion. He nodded at them, pleased to see the fruits of their labour being brought back to the village.

Continuing down the path, the entrance of the mine gradually came into view. The mine was a beehive of activity. An influx of workers moved about, their bodies slick with sweat as they toiled. Their hammers and pickaxes clanged against the hard rock, creating a rhythmic symphony of industry.

A lot of progress had indeed been made since Argon had last visited. New tunnels had been dug into the mountain, scaffolding was being erected, and the piles of mined hematite had noticeably increased. It was a testament to the hard work of the men and women who risked their lives in the earth's dark depths in search of valuable ore.

The mine was indeed a spectacle of human endeavour. Everywhere Argon looked, he could see the gritty determination etched on the faces of the miners as they delved deep into the belly of the earth. They were guided only by the dim flicker of their lanterns, their shadows dancing on the rock walls as they chipped away relentlessly at the stubborn earth.

Men hauled carts filled to the brim with chunks of hematite towards the mine's entrance, their muscles straining with the effort. Some would pause briefly, catching their breath before resuming their work. Others could be fine-tuning their tools, ensuring they remained sharp and efficient. Each clink and clatter reverberated through the expansive mine, echoing off the raw stone walls, filling the space with the sounds of persistence.

Nearby, miners worked in unison to pry a particularly stubborn piece of ore from the rocky wall. Their pickaxes swung in a rhythmic concert, hitting the rock with steady, unyielding force. The spark that erupted with each hit lit up their determined faces, revealing the beads of sweat trickling down their foreheads.

Argon could see the fruits of their relentless labour, the piles of extracted hematite growing ever larger everywhere he looked. There was a certain raw, untamed beauty in the scene - the union of human strength and persistence against the rugged stubbornness of nature. Despite the harshness of the work, there was a sense of unity among the miners and a shared determination to uncover the hidden treasures within the earth.

The mine was indeed a spectacle of human endeavour. Everywhere Argon looked, he could see the gritty determination etched on the faces of the miners as they delved deep into the belly of the earth. They were guided only by the dim flicker of their lanterns, their shadows dancing on the rock walls as they chipped away relentlessly at the stubborn earth.

Men hauled carts filled to the brim with chunks of hematite towards the mine's entrance, their muscles straining with the effort. Some would pause briefly, catching their breath before resuming their work. Others were fine-tuning their tools, ensuring they remained sharp and efficient. Each clink and clatter reverberated through the expansive mine, echoing off the raw stone walls, filling the space with the sounds of persistence.

Nearby, miners worked in unison to pry a particularly stubborn piece of ore from the rocky wall. Their pickaxes swung in a rhythmic concert, hitting the rock with steady, unyielding force. The spark that erupted with each hit lit up their determined faces, revealing the beads of sweat trickling down their foreheads.

Argon could see the fruits of their relentless labour, the piles of extracted hematite growing ever larger everywhere he looked. There was a certain raw, untamed beauty in the scene - the union of human strength and persistence against the rugged stubbornness of nature. Despite the harshness of the work, there was a sense of unity among the miners and a shared determination to uncover the hidden treasures within the earth.

He scans the area and spots Melvin, the old healer turned steward, overseeing the workers as they dig for hematite. Despite his age and haggard appearance, Melvin commands a sense of respect among the villagers working around him.

Approaching Melvin, Argon claps him on the back, causing the older man to startle and turn. Seeing Argon, Melvin politely nods respectfully and wipes the sweat from his brow. "Master Argon," he greets

With the chiselled backdrop of the mine entrance behind him, Argon extends a hearty handshake to Melvin. The atmosphere hums with anticipation as the men exchange their greetings.

Melvin starts with a report on the progress of the mine, "The workers are motivated, and the yield of hematite is promising. We'll soon have enough to put Blackwood on the map."

"Did you manage to find the things we needed?" Argon's voice cuts through the din of mining activity.

Melvin's eyes sparkle with an affirmed confidence as he nods. "Yes, I was able to secure supplies for both the blacksmith and the tailor," he announces, his voice resonating with satisfaction. He pauses for a breath before continuing, "And I also managed to purchase a couple of slaves for miners and soldiers."

A slow, approving grin forms on Argon's face. "Perfect, perfect," he mutters, the satisfaction evident in his voice. His mind starts to weave plans around these new resources, ideas flickering in his gaze.

"Master," Melvin began, calm but excited, "I have good news. I've found a merchant in Horntide, a respected one, named Yoren. He has a solid reputation, well-connected, and most importantly, he's interested in setting up in Blackwood."

Argon paused, studying Melvin's expression. This was excellent news indeed. Merchants meant trade, and trade meant wealth flowing into Blackwood. "That's good work, Melvin. When is he expected to arrive?"

Melvin's lips curled into a satisfied smile, "Soon, my Lord. I've arranged for his travel. He should be here within the week."

Argon clapped Melvin on the shoulder, "Excellent. This could be the beginning of great things for Blackwood, Melvin. You've done well." As he walked away, Argon felt a renewed sense of hope. Perhaps the path to prosperity and power was indeed within reach.

In the harsh daylight, Argon's stern expression hardens further as he outlines his new directives. "Split the workers into groups," he commands, his gaze darting across the bustling scene of miners before him. "Their wages will be based on the quantity of hematite they bring up."

Melvin nods, an understanding flicker in his eyes as he starts to grasp the implications of the order. "Understood," he responds, his tone firm.

"And the lowest performing group?" Argon's voice sharpens, a ruthless edge creeping into his tone, "They get nothing."

The following silence seems to reverberate around them, even as the sounds of mining echo in the backdrop. This new decree would surely stir the workers into a new efficiency level. Argon knew well that the promise of reward - and the threat of having it stripped away - was a potent motivator.

As they continue to watch the miners work, Argon turns to Melvin and asserts, "Melvin, you're third in command in this village, under Brolan and me. I can't always be here. I have other obligations that will require my attention, journeys that will take me far from Blackwood."

Melvin swallows audibly, his eyes wide in surprise. Being placed in such a position of responsibility was a weighty matter.

Argon continues, his voice steady and severe, "You're going to run everything. I trust you can handle that."

"Everything, sir?" Melvin queries, his tone wavering just slightly.

"Everything," Argon repeats, his gaze unwavering. "The management of our resources, the village's defenses, the workers, the slaves... everything. You'll be my eyes and ears here in Blackwood."

A moment of silence passes between them, and then Melvin nods, a newfound determination in his gaze. "I understand, Sir. I won't let you down." His words resonate with sincerity, his resolve clear.

"Good," Argon says with a nod. He knew his village was in capable hands.

Argon's gaze rests on the bustling mine; he solidifies his earlier instructions, "Each evening, I want you to gather a few select individuals - those who manage our workers, defences, and resources - in the manor. We will hold a progress meeting. I want to be updated on everything that happens in Blackwood."

Still wrapping his mind around the new responsibilities bestowed upon him, Melvin raises a brow in curiosity, "May I ask why, My Lord? I was a mere village healer before you arrived. I tended to injuries and beast maulings. Why entrust me with such responsibility?"

Argon turns to face him; his expression is stern yet understanding. He replies, "Because, Melvin, I've observed you. I've seen how you interact with the people and your commitment to this village. You might have been a 'mere village healer,' but you were integral to this community. People trust you, and so do I. You have the wisdom and the commitment we need."

A look of understanding dawns on Melvin's face, his eyes reflecting gratitude. He nods, more determined than ever to meet his expectations. "Thank you, Sir. I promise to do my best for Blackwood."

Looking over the thriving mine again, Argon pats Melvin on the shoulder. "Oh, and before I forget, lease the farmland out to the peasants. That should lighten your load a bit. There's a lot more you need to oversee now."

Melvin nods, taking in the instruction, "Understood, my lord."

"And, Melvin," Argon adds, catching his eye, "This mine, while it was your discovery and your pride, it's only one part of your new duties. You'll need to delegate and supervise everything - the workforce, supplies, defenses, everything. Don't get too caught up with the mine."

"I'll bear that in mind, my lord," Melvin replies earnestly. "The whole of Blackwood now rests on my shoulders, not just this mine." The weight of his new responsibilities is evident in his voice, but it doesn't waver, showing his determination to live up to Argon's expectations.

Argon chuckles a deep and resounding laugh that bounces off the stone walls of the mine. "Well, don't get too happy, Melvin," he grins, clapping a heavy hand on Melvin's shoulder. His smile fades slightly as he leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Remember, if you screw things up too badly, I won't hesitate to execute you."

Melvin swallows, the threat hanging heavy in the air, and nods. He does not doubt that Argon is entirely serious. Despite the newfound power he's been granted, he's keenly aware of the razor-thin line he'll have to walk to stay in Argon's good graces.

After leaving Melvin, Argon begins his rounds with a light heart. He feels a sense of satisfaction, of having set important wheels in motion, that makes the weight of responsibility sit lighter on his shoulders.

His first stop is the makeshift barracks where his soldiers are housed. He walks the length of the rough wooden structure, approving that the place is in good order. The men are alert and attentive, their weapons well cared for. Each one stands a little taller as he passes, eager to show their respect for their leader. He gives them a curt nod, acknowledging their efforts.

Next, he moves on to the village walls. It's a simple barrier hastily thrown together after the recent conflicts but solid and sturdy. He looks critically over the wooden stakes and rough stones, noting places that need reinforcement. He instructs some nearby workers to fetch more timber and outlines his plans for improving their defences.

By the time he's done, the sun sets, and a sense of calm descends over the village. Satisfied with the day's work, Argon heads back to his manor. He takes a moment to appreciate the tranquillity, the sense of peace that his rule has brought, before retiring to his chambers, being greeted by Saera and Lyra.

As he settles into his bed, his mind is still buzzing with plans and strategies for the future. But for now, he allows himself a moment of respite, letting the soft sounds of the night lull him into a well-deserved sleep.