The golden morning sun cast long shadows across Kisor's bustling streets, vibrant with life and activity. They were no longer the muddy lanes Ali had known when he awoke in Zidan's body. Now, they were clean, partially paved with new cement, and free of garbage and filth. The air was filled with the scent of fresh bread and wildflowers, replacing the former stench of decay and rot.
Zidan walked through the town, accompanied by Layla, his loyal maid who had become much more than just a servant. Layla wore a simple yet elegant dress, her eyes gleaming with pride as she pointed out the changes in Kisor.
"Look, My Lord Baron!" Layla exclaimed, pointing to a group of children running in the street, their faces clean, their clothes tidy. "They're healthier and happier. We no longer see children starving in the streets."
Zidan smiled. "That's what matters most, Layla. To see our people living with dignity."
They stopped before an old stone building, once an abandoned warehouse, but now transformed into a school. The voices of children echoed from within, reading and writing.
"This is one of the four schools you established, My Lord," Layla said, her eyes shining. "I oversee it myself. The children are eager to learn. They soak up knowledge like sponges."
"And are they learning well?" Zidan asked.
"Amazingly well, My Lord!" Layla replied. "I've appointed some educated people from the town to help me. There's Ivan, a very clever young man, and Clara, a girl with incredible patience with young children. And there's also Finn, an old man who used to be a record keeper; he oversees the adult literacy program in the same place. They've all become part of this morshditt of all people. They believe in your vision, My Lord."
Zidan entered the school and watched the children learn. Their small faces lit up with curiosity, and their tiny fingers traced words on the wooden tablets. In another corner, Finn oversaw a group of adults, men and women, learning to read and write for the first time in their lives. This was the real revolution Zidan had sought: the revolution of knowledge.
After leaving the school, Zidan continued his tour. He arrived at a wide square where a group of children and young people were playing football. Their shouts rose, and their laughter filled the air. Zidan saw in them the spark of life, a spark that hadn't existed before his arrival.
One of the children, a 13-year-old boy, saw Zidan watching them. The boy stopped playing, raised his small hand, and shouted loudly, his voice echoing through the air: "Long live our guide! Long live the just nobility! Morshditt of all people!"
Zidan was stunned. His eyes widened. "Morshditt of all people," he murmured to himself. He hadn't thought of a name for his new kingdom, or for his vision. But this child, with his simple words, had summarized everything. "Morshditt of all people." Yes, that truly was a wonderful name. Perhaps these people saw him as a guide to justice, a guide to prosperity, a guide to a better future. The name resonated in his mind, filling him with a deep sense of purpose.
In the evening, Zidan returned to the palace, his heart filled with satisfaction. But the work wasn't over yet. He went directly to the secret underground laboratory, where Master Rojo and Smith awaited him. The scent of sulfur and metals filled the air, but it was the scent of progress.
"My Lord Baron!" Rojo exclaimed excitedly, wiping his grease-stained hands. "We have wonderful news! We've succeeded! We've succeeded in making the first real pistol!"
Zidan smiled. "Show it to me, Master Rojo."
Rojo presented Zidan with a small pistol, made of polished metal. It was a flintlock pistol, simple yet effective in design. It had a complex firing mechanism, but it operated smoothly.
"This is it, My Lord!" Rojo said, his eyes gleaming with pride. "We worked tirelessly to improve the gunpowder composition and the firing mechanism design. This pistol, My Lord, possesses astonishing power! Its caliber is about .50, and it's capable of firing a small metal projectile with enough force to penetrate light armor at close range. Its accuracy isn't perfect over long distances, but it's deadly in close quarters. A single soldier can now carry firepower unimaginable before!"
Zidan took the pistol, feeling its weight in his hand. This was the dawn of a new era in warfare: individual firearms.
"Well done, Master Rojo," Zidan said. "This is a great achievement. How many can we produce?"
"Production will be slow at first, My Lord," Rojo said. "But we'll work to improve the process. We can start by arming our elite soldiers, then gradually expand."
After Rojo finished speaking, Smith eagerly stepped forward, carrying scrolls of paper. His eyes sparkled with excitement.
"My Lord Baron! My Lord Baron! That's not all!" Smith said, his voice almost a shout. "The idea of steam tools and machines has succeeded! We've managed to build the first working prototype of a small steam engine!"
Zidan was shocked. The steam engine! This was the key to the Industrial Revolution.
"We've tested it, My Lord!" Smith continued, unfurling the papers that contained drawings and diagrams. "We can use it to power huge machines! Imagine, My Lord, machines for making fabrics! Or chairs! Or even spoons! All without extensive human intervention! The machine does the work, and at incredible speed!"
"This... this means abundance in production!" Zidan exclaimed, his eyes gleaming.
"Exactly, My Lord!" Smith said. "This will create tremendous production abundance in Kisor! And it will make us produce goods in quantities and quality no one has ever seen before! And perhaps Sigret too, once we can transfer this technology to it. We will become an unparalleled industrial center!"
Zidan looked at Smith and Rojo, then at the pistol in his hand, then at the drawings of the steam engine. This was the moment his dream began to come true. It was no longer just about defending Kisor, but about building a new kingdom, a kingdom based on science, technology, and justice. A kingdom of "Morshditt of all people."