"Hmm... that’s good. You must already be having a hard time keeping up with so many people, right?" Ethan smiled.

One blacksmith for eight hundred people, a population that kept growing without any sign of slowing down, was a dangerous ratio.

Sooner or later, Roderik would find himself unable to meet the demand. Especially since he also maintained the guard’s equipment.

"At the current rate of growth, we’ll have problems in a few months. The shortage of steel and manpower alone..." Roderik trailed off, wiping his soot-blackened hands on a rag before motioning Ethan to sit beside him on a worn bench.

The blacksmith’s wife appeared shortly after, carrying a jug of juice.

Ethan accepted a wooden cup with a thankful smile and brought it to his lips.

The juice was simple, but pleasant. Sweet, and made with care.

"I know," he said, setting the cup down. "The guard will bring you more weapons and armor soon. They’re already collecting them from the dead outside the city."

"Repair whatever’s useful and melt down the rest. On top of that, I plan to invest in your smithy. I want you to hire three more apprentices. I’ll cover their wages."

"Three more?" Roderik blinked. "My lord, the smithy is too small. There’s no room."

"That won’t be a problem." Ethan’s lips curved as he stood and pressed his palm flat against the smithy wall.

He activated his instant construction ability.

The blueprint he chose wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was infinitely superior to what stood here now. Two hundred gold coins. The old wooden walls and muddy floor would give way to solid, elegant concrete.

The moment the upgrade took hold, the ground trembled beneath their feet.

Then the change began.

A second floor rose above the shop, forming a proper home: a suite, a bedroom, a spacious and fully equipped kitchen, and a bathroom.

On the ground floor, two storerooms expanded outward. One for raw materials, the other for finished goods. The old, cracked forges and worn-out grinders vanished, replaced by gleaming new ones arranged in a neat row.

Within moments, the ramshackle workshop had become a legitimate blacksmith’s shop. Large enough for ten men, with a front counter where a small tool shop could operate.

Roderik stood frozen, jaw slack.

His wife didn’t hesitate. She bolted upstairs the instant the last wall settled into place.

An excited scream echoed through the building as she found the new kitchen, the new bedroom, the spacious suite. The kind of home only wealthy merchants could afford.

Downstairs, two additional rooms with bunk beds and a second bathroom had appeared as well, meant for staff.

For her, that second floor was the dream of a lifetime.

For Roderik, the first floor was his.

"M-my lord..." The blacksmith’s voice cracked. "I can’t pay for this!"

Ethan smiled gently.

"You can. Work loyally. Teach your apprentices with dedication. Fill this shop with talented young people, and help secure Goldenveil’s future by my side."

The words settled deep in Roderik’s chest.

He turned just in time to watch the woman he’d recently married come down the stairs. Her eyes glistened, bright with excitement, a few tears rolling freely down her cheeks.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

"I won’t let you down, my lord." His voice was thick, but firm. "Tomorrow, I’ll go out and find young talent for the forge!"

Ethan nodded in approval and quietly left the couple alone.

From what he’d gathered, Roderik’s wife had barely gotten pregnant and already wanted another child. It seemed the blacksmith was in for a sleepless night.

The investment had been substantial, but it would pay for itself.

Once Goldenveil started welcoming adventurers, their coin would flow straight into Roderik’s shop, turning it into one of the wealthiest establishments in the settlement.

And when Ethan began collecting taxes, all that gold would find its way back to him. One way or another.

With that thought, he made his way over to old John’s place.

The man was working with his usual energy. Ethan had recently raised his salary to twenty-five gold coins a year, a figure that better reflected his value to Goldenveil.

That alone made John the richest man in the village, second only to Ethan himself.

Ironically, twenty-five gold coins barely matched the price of a single bottle of green fairy wine. And Ethan planned to produce at least a thousand bottles a year once the next winter passed.

In the end, what counted as pocket change for a city or a merchant guild could be a veritable fortune for an ordinary citizen.

The old house where John handled production was also on Ethan’s list. Soon enough, he would transform it with his instant construction ability into a proper factory for both wine and beer.

The moment he pushed open the door and stepped into the fermentation room, the thick, yeasty smell of aging wine filled his nostrils.

John’s face lit up the instant he spotted him.

"My lord! In a week, I think the first full batch will be ready. Four or five hundred bottles, if all goes well!"

"Good." Ethan nodded. "And beer, you’re still producing that?"

John gave a firm nod.

"I don’t know how much you’ve got stored, but I want you to stop selling and set everything aside. I’ll buy it all in a week. We’re opening a tavern in Goldenveil."

"A tavern?" The old man’s eyes went wide, gleaming.

He had plenty of barrels put away. More than enough for Goldenveil’s working population, at least as a starting supply.

Ethan also had his own reserves. Hundreds of free and common tickets had yielded all sorts of items over time, drinks included.

Those would fill the tavern’s shelves alongside John’s beer.

After confirming everything was running smoothly, he left the old man to his work and set off toward the barracks.

Now, it was time.

Two more loyal followers with Rank S talents awaited him.

Among all the Golden Lords, Ethan was certain no one had gathered as many talented followers as he had.

But he didn’t let that go to his head.

It had been a stroke of luck. A gift from Erick.

The world wouldn’t be that generous again.