I entered the office, and the sight that greeted me was gratifying. Seraphina was there, impeccable. Yesterday, she was just another peasant among the thousands suffering in these infertile lands, but the Mark of Lust on my chest does not lie: she possesses the potential I need. I pulled her from the mud, gave her the secretary outfit Tobias provided, and placed her in a position of power.
She bowed deeply as I entered. The new uniform highlighted her curves in a professional manner, but it was the glow of gratitude and reverent fear in her silver eyes that truly mattered. She knows she owes everything to me.
"Good morning, Your Grace," she said, her voice still holding the softness of the common folk but attempting to mimic the rigidity of the nobility.
"Good morning, Seraphina," I replied, feeling the mark on my chest pulse slightly in her presence. I sat in the oak chair as Tobias approached.
"What are the orders for today, my Lord?" Tobias asked, observing how quickly Seraphina organized herself by my side.
"The next step is a total focus on the construction of the walls," I declared, tapping my finger on the map of Solaria. "We have people, Tobias. A population that equals any other duchy. But until now, they were just people scattered across dry lands. The wall will change that. It will give them the sense that they belong to a fortress, not a graveyard."
I looked at Seraphina. She was taking notes with fierce concentration.
"The people are cooperating because they saw that I didn't come here to drain what they don't have," I continued. "When I arrived, the situation was critical. Because of that, I dropped the taxes to the floor—nearly zero. In exchange, I demanded their sweat on the land. Since no one had money, they paid with labor."
Thanks to this maneuver, our first harvest wasn't just for survival; it generated the profit that allowed us to buy construction materials from neighboring nobles. They think they are just selling stone to a banished prince, but they are giving us the tools to become impregnable.
"We have material for the main entrance," I pointed to the map. "And the great mountain to the north will serve as a natural wall. We'll save a fortune in labor and stone there."
Tobias nodded with pride. Seraphina, however, looked up from her notebook, her peasant mind—accustomed to saving every grain of wheat—now processing grand finances.
"Your Grace," she began, her voice a bit firmer. "I will ensure that every stone purchased is accounted for. You gave us a chance to live; I will not let a single cent be wasted."
I gave a half-smile. Her loyalty, reinforced by the contract, was absolute.
"Good. Tobias, provide a horse. I'm going on a short scouting trip. The map shows a location not far from here, and I intend to be back by early evening."
I stood up, and Seraphina immediately stepped forward to escort me to the door, acting with an efficiency that justified my choice. She was still a peasant on the inside, but under my command, she would become the most brilliant administrative mind in this kingdom—and an inexhaustible source of energy for my growth.
The cold wind blew against my face, but I barely felt it. My mind was a whirlwind of calculations. I left Tobias in command with a clear order: no one was to slow the pace on the walls. I needed order, structure. Solaria had the people and the numbers, but it lacked the backbone that only money and security could provide.
As I rode, the system's translucent screen glowed before my eyes—a spectral guide indicating the coordinates for the *Coffea* plant. I smiled. Coffee would be my "black gold." With the knowledge from my previous life, I would transform this commodity into the economic engine of my duchy. The profit would fund not just stones for the wall, but weapons and training to turn my guard—currently a group of weak men—into a professional elite army. There are a thousand ways to get rich, and I knew them all.
After hours of riding, I reached a small village. I tied my horse to a worn post. The map indicated my destination was just beyond those houses, but something made me stop. My eyes were drawn to a blacksmith's shop. The hanging sign, though battered by time, displayed a symbol that made my blood run cold for a moment: a hammer wrapped in stylized flames. It was the same mark I had seen on the guard of the ancient sword Tobias carried.
The place looked like a metal tomb. I entered, and the only sound that greeted me was the flapping of birds' wings, startled by the echo of my voice.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" I called out.
The silence was broken by a deep voice coming from the back, harsh and laden with disdain.
"What do you want? If you're looking for horseshoes or kitchen knives, you've come to the wrong place."
"I'm looking for a blacksmith," I replied, keeping my voice firm, the authority of a Duke emanating from every word. "I recognize the symbol on the door. I've seen this mark on the swords of high-ranking nobles."
A dry, sarcastic laugh cut through the gloom.
"That stayed in the past, traveler. The flames on that sign went out a long time ago."
"And why did you let them go out?" I questioned.
A figure finally emerged from the darkness, and I felt a prickle of strangeness. The man was thin, almost skeletal, with long hands marked by scars, but lacking the musculature expected of a blacksmith. His deep voice didn't match his debilitated physique at all.
"You really don't know what happened in this village, do you?" he asked, with a bitter look that seemed to pierce my soul.
"No," I admitted.
He sighed, and the story began to flow like molten metal, heavy and destructive. He told me that this village had once been the birthplace of the greatest blacksmiths in the kingdom. They didn't just create steel; they created legends. Magical swords and equipment that were coveted by all the nobility. The problem, according to him, was the clan's neutrality. His father, the master smith and clan leader, served anyone who could pay—mercenaries, wandering heroes, peasants.
"The nobility does not accept that the common people have access to the same power as they do," the man said, his voice failing with hatred. "They tried to buy us; they tried to impose exclusivity contracts. My father refused. He said the steel belonged to whoever had the courage to wield it."
The outcome was cruel. No one defies the powerful with impunity. The village was massacred in a night of fire and blood. False accusations of treason served as a pretext for the kingdom's knights to reduce the clan to ashes. His father, the man who signed the legendary blades, was killed in front of the survivors. The village of blacksmiths became a desert of ghosts.
I listened to everything in silence, processing the magnitude of the loss. I didn't just see a tragedy; I saw the sin of the nobility I now represented, but I also saw the opportunity for redemption.
"My father's name was Garrick. I am Elias," he said, turning back toward the shadows. "Now go away. There is nothing for you here."
"My name is Arthur. I am a noble, but not like the nobles who destroyed your family. I was banished by my own blood and I am rebuilding a land called Solaria from scratch. I don't want slaves; I want the best masters in the world. If you have the knowledge, I will provide the resources."
"And how do you intend to do that? With empty promises?" he mocked.
"There is something special here," I replied, noting the confusion on his face. "It will generate a monopoly on the greatest wealth this kingdom will ever see."
The mark on my chest pulsed, and I felt a wave of mana reinforce my presence. Elias seemed to hesitate. A spark of hope is a dangerous thing for a man who has already lost everything, but I intended to turn it into a wildfire.
"I'm going to get what I came for," I continued, returning to my horse. "But I will return. And when I do, Elias, I hope you are ready to decide if you want to die as the last ash of a dead clan or make your mark and history flourish again."
I left the workshop without looking back, feeling Elias's gaze burning into my back. Coffee would change Solaria, but blacksmiths like him... they would change the world.
---
I spurred the horse, crossing the dense vegetation surrounding the blacksmiths' village until the terrain began to slope toward a damp valley protected by rocky walls.
It was then that I saw it.
Hidden under the shadow of ancestral trees, a wild plantation of *Coffea* stretched out before me. They were shrubs with shiny, dark-green leaves, laden with fruits ranging from green to intense red. The system pulsed:
[OBJECTIVE LOCATED: WILD COFFEA ARABICA - QUALITY: HIGH].
I dismounted, my heart beating fast. To anyone else in this world, that was just a decorative shrub or, at most, a worthless wild plant. To me, it was the foundation of my empire. I approached and began the meticulous work. I spent a large part of the day there, under the sun filtering through the treetops, selecting only the ripest fruits and the densest seeds.
With every seed that fell into my bag, I saw a stone of Solaria's wall being raised. I saw Elias's steel being forged. I saw the bread on Seraphina's table. By my count, by late afternoon, I had collected about **840 superior quality seeds**. When I finally stood up, my back aching and sweat pouring down, the sun was already beginning to dive into the horizon, painting the sky with tones of fire.
I mounted the horse and returned to the village. I had what I needed, but I needed to ensure the armed wing of my duchy was also with me.
Entering the dark smithy again, I found Elias sitting on a wooden bench, staring at the cold ashes of the forge. He looked up, surprised that I had kept my word and returned.
"Why are you different, Arthur?" he asked abruptly, without preamble. "Nobles don't return to dead villages. Nobles don't look at broken blacksmiths unless they want a weapon to kill a neighbor. What do you gain by rebuilding this place?"
I walked to the center of the workshop, my Duke's presence filling the empty space.
"I don't want to be king, Elias. I have no desire to see my name on maps of territories conquered by others' blood," I replied with absolute sincerity that seemed to disarm him. "My goal is Solaria. I want to give my people a dignified life. I want every peasant to have food on the table, every worker to feel safe under my wall. I take care of my own, and if you are one of mine, I will take care of you."
Elias studied me for long seconds. He searched for the lie, but the determination in my eyes was unshakable. He sighed and pointed to the bag on my shoulder.
"And how do you intend to do that? With those seeds?"
I showed him a handful of the red beans. Elias recoiled, frowning.
"That is the poisoned plant. The Fruit of Agony. Those who try to eat it suffer from fevers and delusions. You have harvested death, Duke."
"Not if it's purified," I countered promptly. "The toxicity is the plant's natural defense, but purification magic can neutralize the poison and release the stimulating potential it carries. I already have the solution: I will find a Saint to bless the plantation and the harvests. What the world calls poison, I will call wealth."
Elias let out a short laugh, but this time there was no sarcasm. There was a reluctant admiration. He stood up, walked to the back of the workshop, and dragged a huge leather bag, heavy and noisy.
"A Saint and poison that turns into gold... You're a madman, Arthur. But I'd rather follow a madman who wants to feed the people than serve a 'wise man' who only wants power. I'm going with you."
I felt a triumph greater than the harvest of the seeds.
"Welcome to Solaria, Elias."
He loaded the horse with his tools—precision hammers, tongs forged by his father, and molds of ancient secrets. Seeing the animal buckle slightly under the weight of the iron, I felt a pang of pity for the horse, but we had no time to lose.
We set off as night swallowed the village. After a few hours of travel, fatigue set in. We stopped at a small village along the way and stayed in a simple inn. There was no luxury, only the rest necessary for two men carrying the future of a duchy on their backs.
At the break of dawn, we left in silence. The morning sun hit our backs as we rode toward the manor of Solaria. I had the iron, and I had the coffee. Now, I needed to turn those promises into reality.
Crossing the gates of Solaria shortly before lunch brought me a satisfaction I hadn't felt in a long time. I looked to the sides and saw that the foundations of the wall were already beginning to take shape. Stone blocks being hoisted, the sound of hammering against the chisel, the sweat of the people who now worked with a purpose. The progress of just one day was visible; they were beginning to believe.
Stopping at the manor's stable, I dismounted, feeling my body complain from the long ride. Tobias approached with his measured step and that expression that mixed efficiency with a slight paternal disapproval.
"You took longer than necessary, Your Grace," he commented, adjusting his jacket cuffs.
Seraphina was right behind him. She greeted me with an impeccable bow, her soft voice laden with a respect that seemed deeper than the day before.
"Welcome back, Your Grace."
I noticed Elias freeze beside me. The man seemed to have received a shock. He stared at me with wide eyes, his face paling slightly. Only now had the realization hit him: he had spent the previous day treating a Duke of royal blood by name only, acting with a sarcasm that bordered on insubordination.
"Who is this man, Sir?" Tobias asked, analyzing Elias's worn clothes and the immense bag with a clinical gaze.
Elias cleared his throat, trying to find his voice.
"I am Elias... I have come to be Your Grace's blacksmith," he said, his voice more subdued, almost a whisper compared to the harshness of before.
I placed my hand on Elias's shoulder and looked at Tobias.
"Look at him closely, Tobias. Elias's father was the master blacksmith responsible for creating that very sword you carry at your waist."
The old butler's eyes widened. He instinctively reached for the hilt of the weapon, the relic he polished with such zeal. The respect in Tobias's gaze shifted instantly from cold formality to almost sacred reverence.
"It cannot be..." the old servant murmured. "It is an honor to have the blood of the masters under this roof."
"Tobias, take him to the main house's forge," I ordered. "Clean the place, get the best charcoal in the duchy, and ensure he has everything he needs."
Elias only nodded, still dazed by how I had elevated him in front of my subordinates. As Tobias guided him away, I turned to Seraphina.
"To the office. Now."
She followed me in silence through the corridors. Upon entering the office, I walked straight to a fresh wooden cabinet, away from the sunlight, and deposited the bags of coffee seeds. It was Solaria's treasure, the fuel for my future empire.
I sat in the oak chair and let out a long sigh. In the same instant, I felt the mark on my chest burn. It was a pulsating pressure, a physical demand rising up my neck. The mana accumulated from the mission and Seraphina's proximity created an electric tension in the air. The skin under my shirt burned, demanding the tribute necessary to convert my effort into real power.
I loosened my shirt collar and looked at Seraphina, who stood before the desk, waiting. She was no longer the frightened peasant of yesterday; she was my source, the vessel that would keep my body strong and my mind sharp.
"The trip was productive, Seraphina," I began, my voice deeper, laden with the influence of the mark. "But the effort has taken its toll. It's time for you to work."
The metallic sound of the latch being slid across the door echoed through the office like the closing of an irrevocable contract. Seraphina did not hesitate. With precise movements, she began to undress, letting the pieces of the secretary uniform fall to the floor, one by one.
"You are being very proactive, Seraphina," I commented, leaning back in the chair and observing every inch of skin revealed.
"Since I signed that contract, I knew this moment would come," she replied, her voice firm, though there was a slight tremor in her hands. "I've spent the last two nights preparing for this."
I gave a corner-smile. Her beauty was undeniable; there was a rustic strength in her peasant body that the secretary outfit had hidden, but which now flourished before me. It was a pity she was married. If she were single, I could easily make her my official concubine. However, the fact that she had a husband changed nothing for me. She signed the contract of her own free will and was there, willing to fulfill her role. I hadn't forced her into anything; I simply offered salvation, and the price was her flesh.
When she was left only in worn-out panties, the contrast hit me. Despite wearing the fine clothes I had provided during the day, she still returned to her home at night and wore her rags, refusing to wear the silk clothes I prepared in the back house, unlike Maya. She was still trying to maintain a line between the two worlds.
I decided that line would be erased today.
"Come here," I ordered.
She walked until she stopped exactly in front of me. The Mark of Lust on my chest pulsed with violent force, sending waves of heat through my entire body. A dark urge to corrupt the woman before me surged in my chest—a desire to mark her soul as much as I would mark her body.
"I'm going to kiss you, Seraphina," I said.
Her eyes widened. From my last conversation with Maya, I knew that for the women of this world, a kiss held a sacred meaning—a symbol of love and emotional surrender that went beyond the carnal act.
"Listen well," I continued, holding her gaze. "In here, you are my woman. There are no extra worries, no husband, no relations with the world outside. Here, you belong only to me. Do you understand?"
She hesitated for a second, her chest heaving, before nodding in a silent 'yes'.
I brought my face close to hers and pressed my lips against hers. It began slowly, almost exploratory, but the intensity rose like a wildfire in dry hay. Seraphina had never been kissed that way; it was a possessive, deep kiss that claimed every inch of her mouth. My hands descended forcefully and sank into her firm buttocks, pulling her against me.
A muffled sigh escaped her lips against mine. My cock was already hard as stone inside my pants, throbbing in sync with the mark on my chest. I felt her mana beginning to flow into me, but this time it was different; it wasn't just energy—it was the feeling that I was breaking her moral defenses.
I was determined to corrupt her. To transform her into someone who could never again look at her husband or her old life the same way. Seraphina would not just be my secretary or a source of mana; she would be mine, body and soul.
I rose from the chair without breaking contact, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine, ready to begin the process that would consolidate my power and her fate in Solaria.