NOVEL NEXT Chapter 2: Chapter 2:Laying the Foundation
The morning sun filtered through the cracked stone windows of my room, casting uneven rays on the cold, damp floor. I had barely slept, my mind buzzing with ideas. If I wanted to rebuild Wynthall, I needed to see it with my own eyes. It was time to step out of the castle and truly understand the land that I now called home.
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As I rode through the winding paths of the dukedom on a sturdy but aged horse, I began to notice something extraordinary. Despite its poverty, Wynthall had a raw, untamed beauty that was impossible to ignore. The rolling hills stretched endlessly, blanketed with lush green meadows and dotted with small clusters of wildflowers. Crystal-clear streams snaked their way through the valleys, their waters shimmering like liquid silver under the morning light.
The forest on the horizon was a dense canopy of vibrant greens and browns, with tall oaks and birches swaying gently in the breeze. Every now and then, I'd catch glimpses of wildlife—a deer darting through the trees, or birds chirping melodious tunes as they flitted from branch to branch.
But then, my eyes fell upon the villages scattered across the land, and my heart sank.
The houses were in shambles—simple wooden huts with thatched roofs that sagged under the weight of neglect. The roads were little more than dirt tracks, turning into rivers of mud after every rain. Children ran barefoot, their faces smeared with dirt but still lit with innocent smiles. Farmers toiled in their fields, their tools crude and rusted, their clothes patched beyond recognition.
"This place is full of potential," I thought, clenching my fists. "But it needs a foundation to stand on. And I'll be the one to build it."
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That night, I summoned a meeting in the castle's crumbling hall. My father, Duke Roderic, watched curiously as I outlined my plans to a handful of villagers and workers who had gathered at my insistence.
"I'm starting a construction company," I announced. My voice echoed in the room, carrying both determination and unease.
A murmur ran through the crowd, quickly giving way to laughter.
"A company? From a boy who hasn't even grown a beard?" one villager chuckled, nudging his friend.
"Does the young master think he can fix what generations of dukes couldn't?" another scoffed.
I held my ground, my small frame straightening with defiance. "Yes. And I'll prove it to you."
I unveiled the name of my company: "Wynthall Innovations."
The name drew confused looks. Words like "innovation" were foreign to these people. To them, I was just a child with delusions of grandeur. But I wasn't discouraged. I knew the only way to earn their trust was through action.
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The next day, I began my first project.
While exploring the village, I came across a man named Garrick. He was a widowed farmer, living with his two young daughters in a house that was barely standing. The walls were rotting, the roof was leaking, and with winter fast approaching, it was only a matter of time before the cold claimed their lives.
"Let me build you a new house," I told him.
Garrick looked at me, bewildered. "You? A noble? Why would you help someone like me?"
"Because I can," I said simply. "And because this is only the beginning."
He hesitated but eventually agreed, more out of desperation than trust.
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Using my knowledge of modern construction, I designed a simple but effective house. The key feature? Underfloor heating.
I explained the concept to the villagers who had gathered to watch me work. "By running heated water through pipes under the floor, the entire house will stay warm during winter."
The crowd looked at me like I had spoken in another language. "Pipes under the floor? And heated water? The boy has gone mad," someone whispered.
Ignoring the skepticism, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. I enlisted a few curious onlookers to help dig trenches for the foundation and lay out the pipes. I scavenged materials from the castle and the village—metal scraps for pipes, clay for insulation, and wood for the framework.
Over the next few days, the project began to take shape. With every nail hammered and every pipe laid, Garrick's house transformed from a crumbling shack to a sturdy, insulated home. When the underfloor heating system was activated for the first time, the warmth spread through the house like magic. Garrick's daughters giggled as they pressed their bare feet against the warm floor, their faces lighting up with pure joy.
The villagers, who had mocked me earlier, now stared in awe.
"He's done it," one of them muttered.
"It's like something out of a legend," said another.
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By the end of the week, Garrick's new house was complete. It stood proudly at the edge of the village, its sturdy walls and warm interior a testament to what modern engineering could achieve.
Word spread quickly. Within days, villagers began approaching me, not with ridicule but with requests.
"Can you build us a warm house like Garrick's?"
"Will you fix the road leading to the market?"
"My barn roof leaks—can you repair it?"
Some even offered to work for me, eager to learn how to build these miraculous structures. My construction company, which had started as a joke, was now being taken seriously.
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That night, as I stood on the hill overlooking the village, I felt a sense of accomplishment I hadn't experienced in years. This was just the beginning. With Wynthall Innovations, I would rebuild this dukedom, one brick at a time.
I tightened my grip on the blueprint in my hand and smiled. "They'll see soon enough. I'm not just a boy. I'm a builder, and this world is my next project."
The journey to reshape Wynthall had begun.