The square before the great bulletin board of Black Tortoise City was already crowded by the time the morning bells had finished tolling. Men and women gathered in small clusters, their voices low and eager, eyes darting toward the parchment-covered board at the center. The faint chill of dawn still lingered in the air, but the excitement buzzing through the crowd made it easy to forget the cold.

"What task's posted today?" someone muttered near the front.

"Not sure," came the reply. "Wait for Lady Mirean to read it."

All eyes turned toward the elegant woman standing before the board — Mirean Moon, once a leader in her own right, now the Moon Lord of Black Tortoise City. Her long silver hair caught the sunlight as she lifted her hand, a calm dignity radiating from her that silenced even the rowdiest of voices.

When she finally spoke, her voice carried clearly, polished yet kind.

"Everyone, the city has entered a new phase of reform. From this day on, the tasks will no longer be short-term. We are moving toward long-term responsibilities — positions that require dedication and skill."

A ripple of surprise ran through the crowd.

"Long-term?" someone called out. "What kind of work?"

Mirean smiled faintly, a flicker of pride softening her features. "The City Lord has established a number of new workshops," she said. "Each will need capable hands. Your contributions will be measured daily, and you'll earn points for every task you complete."

She gestured toward the bulletin board, where a fresh list had been pinned, ink still gleaming. "The furniture workshop requires ten workers. The pottery workshop, five. The decoration team, four. The City Manor is hiring two maids, and the commercial street will need ten attendants."

Murmurs filled the air again. Men and women leaned closer, scanning the parchment as Mirean continued, "From now on, furniture and tableware will be produced in organized workshops rather than scattered individual efforts. The days of every family crafting their own crude pieces are ending. Black Tortoise City is growing — and with it, our way of life must evolve."

Her words hung in the cool air, heavy with meaning. The people knew she was right. The city had changed. What had once been a cramped settlement of stone huts and makeshift tools had transformed into a thriving fortress — layered terraces of sturdy buildings, one family per floor, their homes larger but still bare. The walls were solid, yet lifeless without furniture or warmth.

But wood was precious. Most preferred to save their hard-earned wood for cooking fires or lighting rather than tables or beds. Few could afford such luxuries.

Luciel, the City Lord, had foreseen this. He wanted his people to live better — not by giving handouts, but by teaching them to earn what they desired. The more they contributed, the more they could trade for comforts. Work creates worth, he'd said, and those words had already taken root in the hearts of many.

"I'll go to the ironworks!" a burly man shouted suddenly. "I used to be a blacksmith before joining the defense patrol."

"I'll take the pottery post!" cried another.

"What about attendants?" a younger man asked, half-joking. "Do they only take women?"

"I'm signing up as a maid!" a girl called, laughing, though her flushed cheeks showed she wasn't entirely joking.

Within moments, the square had erupted into a storm of voices — eager, hopeful, competitive. People jostled to get closer to the front.

"Everyone, please, calm yourselves," Mirean said, raising her hand with practiced grace. The noise died at once, though the air still vibrated with excitement.

She gestured toward a small figure standing beside her — a girl with soft brown hair and a clipboard clutched in trembling hands. "You may register with Sophia here once you've chosen your workshop."

"I want to be a cook!"

"Sign me up first!"

In an instant, the poor girl was surrounded. Mirean could only sigh as Sophia struggled to keep up, her pen flying, sweat beading on her forehead.

Silently excusing herself from the chaos, Mirean slipped away from the throng, her movements smooth as a shadow, and crossed the square to where Luciel stood with several officers.

Alec and Cao, the veteran captains, bowed in greeting. "City Lord," they said in unison.

Beside them stood a tall newcomer — Zanyan, who still seemed uncertain of his place among them. He bowed a beat later, awkward but sincere. He had heard tales of Luciel's retinue: how his attendants were as graceful as nobles and as sharp as blades. Meeting one of them now, Mirean Moon herself, left him wordless.

Mirean inclined her head slightly, acknowledging their respect, then turned to Luciel. "So," she said softly, "has the hunting team been reformed as well?"

Luciel shook his head. "Not yet. We've only begun announcing the citywide changes."

He lifted a hand, signaling for Alec and the others to withdraw. They saluted, turned, and departed at once. Only Luciel and Mirean remained on the high steps overlooking the crowd.

"Elara," Luciel called over his shoulder, spotting a lithe woman waiting nearby. "See to the city defense lot-drawing. Assign everyone their divisions."

Elara bowed and left without a word.

Mirean glanced around. Voices echoed faintly nearby — though she saw no one. Her brows drew together in momentary confusion before realization dawned. "You've got invisible guards stationed here?" she whispered.

Luciel's lips quirked. "They were invisible outside the walls," he said. "They stay that way only during missions."

Mirean nodded slowly, though unease lingered. Having unseen sentinels nearby still felt… uncanny.

Her attention drifted back to Sophia, who was now half-buried by the crowd, scribbling names with a panicked expression. Her soft voice barely carried over the commotion.

Luciel frowned slightly. "You're letting her handle it alone?"

"She'll manage," Mirean said, though her sigh betrayed her sympathy. "We're short on literate people. For now, she's all I have."

Not far away, Mino, the rabbit-eared girl, clasped her hands and whispered a small prayer. "Sophia, hold on…" Her long ears drooped with worry.

Luciel chuckled under his breath. "And Agni?" he asked, glancing toward the distant marketplace.

"She's inspecting the commercial street," Mirean replied with a weary smile. "You gave us those blueprints last night — decorations, furniture designs, shop layouts — it's going to take days to sort it all out."

Luciel nodded, a spark of amusement lighting his eyes. He admired the way Mirean tried to stay composed despite her exhaustion. "Then teach more people to read," he said gently. "You mentioned training fighting maids — perhaps they can assist."

Mirean's gaze flickered toward him, a glint of jealousy crossing her eyes before she caught herself. "If only I had the time," she muttered. "There's too much to handle already."

Luciel pretended not to notice her tone. "Do what you can," he said. "I'll leave this to you. I need to work on a design for the new military uniforms."

"Uniforms?" she echoed, one brow lifting.

He nodded thoughtfully. "We have that red ghost spider silk from the last expedition. It should serve as fine material."

As he turned to go, Mirean called after him, "Don't forget the wood situation! We're running low."

Luciel paused mid-step. "I know," he said. "I'll handle it."

Closing his eyes, he reached out with his mind, sending a silent command to the ancient creature resting beneath the city's foundation — the Rock Tortoise.

Find us deadwood, he projected.

The answer came in a low, rumbling growl that only he could hear. The bond between them vibrated faintly in his chest, like the echo of distant thunder.

Mirean stepped closer, lowering her voice. "We're also running short on fresh meat. The last stores won't last much longer."

Luciel nodded. "Then it's time for another hunt. I'll lead the next expedition myself."

A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Still planning to tame beasts for mounts?"

"Perhaps," he admitted. "If we can find creatures suitable for breeding, even better. The farmland's finally yielding crops — we could start a small-scale livestock program soon."

Mirean tilted her head, studying him. "And the city defense army? They'll continue to hunt, won't they? You're not taking that away from them?"

Luciel's smile deepened. "Of course not. In fact, I intend to make hunting part of their training. We'll send two teams at a time — let them compete, keep their skills sharp."

"That's… clever," she said softly, relief washing through her tone. "I worried you might confine them to the walls. Without real combat, soldiers grow dull."

"They'll have plenty of work," Luciel said, glancing toward the bustling square. "This city's growing faster than any of us expected. Every man and woman here — they'll build it with their own hands."

For a long moment, Mirean simply watched him — the young man who had turned a struggling settlement into a living, breathing city. There was something unshakable about him, an inner stillness that made others trust him even when they didn't understand his plans.

Around them, the morning sun climbed higher. The crowd had begun to thin as workers dispersed to their new assignments. Laughter and chatter echoed between the stone walls. Somewhere, the rhythmic clang of hammers rang out — the first sounds of the workshops coming to life.

Mirean exhaled softly. "You make it sound easy," she said. "But there's so much left undone."

Luciel smiled faintly, eyes distant. "That's the nature of building something new," he said. "It's never finished — only growing."

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of smoke and fresh earth from the city's edge. In the distance, the Rock Tortoise's low rumble rolled through the ground — a reminder of the ancient power sleeping beneath them, now bound to their cause.

Mirean brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Then I suppose I'd better keep up," she murmured.

Luciel gave her a sidelong glance, his tone teasing. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

She met his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, the exhaustion faded. There was pride there — and something softer, unspoken.

Then she turned back toward the square, where Sophia still fought her brave battle against the endless list of names, and sighed. "I'll help her before she faints."

Luciel chuckled. "Good idea."

As Mirean strode back into the fray, her voice rose once more, commanding and composed, the crowd parting before her. And Luciel, standing on the high steps of his growing city, looked out over the people he had gathered — the workshops, the soldiers, the humble beginnings of a civilization.

The reforms had only just begun.

But for the first time, Black Tortoise City felt alive.

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