"All of you, pay attention! What we're building are mine tunnels that need to last decades—anyone cutting corners shouldn't blame me for being merciless!"
With the comprehensive survey of the mining area complete, Valentin immediately began directing the craftsmen to start mine tunnel reinforcement work.
Black birch wood was cut to standard sizes, with workers carrying heavy wooden beams into the mine tunnel.
A beam column was firmly fixed at every location in the mine tunnel to ensure the entire mine passage's stability.
Carpenters used thick wooden wedges to reinforce the joints and applied resin at connection points to ensure long-term frame stability.
For every black birch beam column, Valentin personally tapped it lightly with his mining hammer, confirming its solidity.
Meanwhile, the first batch of miners composed of slaves was ready and waiting.
They had donned simple protective equipment, awaiting instructions.
Valentin nodded: "Start with the most stable areas, small-scale extraction, to see the specific condition of the magical marrow."
After receiving orders, the miners carefully wielded their pickaxes, striking the rock walls, peeling away chunks of ore.
Each time a pickaxe fell, the purple veins glowed faintly, as if magical power sleeping deep in the earth was awakened.
This first batch of ore was then brought before Hilco, Crimson Tide Domain's only alchemical apprentice.
"Test the purity," Vaerik instructed briefly.
Hilco nodded, placing a small piece of magical marrow ore into the testing solution.
The liquid faintly glowed purple, then magical fluctuations swirled in the air.
The solution color rapidly deepened, becoming a profound dark purple—the symbol of high-purity magical marrow!
"My lord, the ore purity is even higher than expected!" Hilco's tone couldn't hide his excitement.
The corners of Vaerik's mouth lifted slightly, the stone in his heart finally settling.
...
Night was deep, candlelight flickering in the study.
Vaerik sat behind his desk, his gaze falling on Bradley across from him.
"For ore extraction and processing, I hope everything stays in Crimson Tide Domain, with sales handled by the Tudor family," he said straightforwardly.
Bradley was slightly stunned, then showed a meaningful smile: "I understand."
Vaerik had his own calculations for doing this.
He currently needed family support and couldn't show independent tendencies too early. He had to provide sufficient benefits to make the family willing to continue investing.
Only when the family's interests were satisfied would they provide more resources and protection, allowing him to establish a firm foothold in this Northern Province wasteland.
Moreover, he was far inferior to the Tudor family in controlling sales channels.
The Tudor family's trade routes spanned the empire and could even trade with other countries.
If he wanted to develop equivalent-scale sales channels, or even inferior ones, it would be nearly impossible in the short term.
Since this was the case, rather than exhausting energy on things he wasn't good at, it was better to stabilize the situation and get money in hand first.
But processing technology must remain in his own hands.
If variables appeared in the future—such as Duke Tudor's death or internal family changes—he might lose this sales channel.
But as long as Crimson Tide Domain firmly controlled magical marrow refining and processing technology, even if kicked out of the market, he could still rebuild markets rather than being at others' mercy.
Bradley glanced at him, the corners of his mouth carrying an almost imperceptible smile.
He naturally understood Vaerik's thoughts but didn't expose them.
"I'll draft a letter according to your wishes and convey it to Duke Tudor," Bradley's tone remained respectful.
Everything would be decided by the duke; he only needed to play his role well without interfering too much.
Then Vaerik opened a heavy wooden chest, revealing gold coins that filled the view.
About fifteen hundred gold coins.
The resources the Tudor family provided this time also included three thousand gold coins, making Vaerik suddenly wealthy.
But no matter how many gold coins, if they couldn't be exchanged for substantial resources to develop strength, they were just dead objects.
What Crimson Tide Domain needed most now was population.
Vaerik closed the chest and looked seriously at Bradley: "I want to exchange these gold coins for slaves."
A flash of approval crossed Bradley's eyes: "It seems you already have a clear plan."
Vaerik nodded: "Based on current food production and reserves calculations, fifteen hundred people is the limit I can support."
He wasn't greedy for more—too many slaves would become a burden, instead weakening Crimson Tide Domain's stability.
Bradley: "Leave this matter to me."
For the Tudor family's old steward, this indeed wasn't difficult.
Bradley merely wrote a letter.
Within just a few days, slave merchants from a thousand miles away traveled all the way to Crimson Tide Domain, personally delivering a batch of carefully selected slaves.
Their attitude was extremely respectful, even being cautious when discussing prices, afraid of offending Bradley.
These slaves were obviously much higher quality compared to the batch of miscellaneous slaves Vaerik had personally purchased at the black market last time.
Robust laborers made up the majority—muscled and solid. Though their skin bore the marks of weather, their mental state was fairly good.
Among them was also a batch of marriageable female slaves, who would play a key role in Crimson Tide Domain's future population growth.
But what surprised Vaerik most was the transaction price.
After acquiring fifteen hundred slaves, there were still seven hundred gold coins left!
"Much cheaper than I imagined," Vaerik sighed while looking at batches of quality slaves.
Bradley smiled slightly: "Market prices aren't fixed—they depend on who the buyer is."
The implication was that if it were someone else, even with fifteen hundred gold coins, the quality and quantity of slaves they could buy would absolutely fall far short of what they'd achieved now.
But Bradley had merely written a letter, causing slave merchants to travel thousands of miles personally delivering the highest quality goods.
Their attitude was deferential, even voluntarily lowering prices just to maintain long-term cooperation with the Tudor family.
Was this the power of the Tudor family's old steward?
Terrifyingly formidable.
This wasn't just a matter of negotiation skills, but a kind of "rule" that penetrated society's foundations.
Vaerik secretly felt fortunate that he too was a member of the Tudor family.
Of course, only by proving his strength within the family would he be qualified to truly control this powerful weapon.
If it were himself from two months ago, he probably wouldn't even have had the opportunity to touch this power.
Suddenly, a thought emerged in Vaerik's mind.
If one day he could completely control this influence, making the entire Tudor family's power serve him, how wonderful would that be?
Vaerik suppressed that momentary ambition in his heart and looked at Bradley: "Thank you for your hard work this time."
Bradley nodded slightly, his face still calm and composed: "Serving you is what I should do."