Fragha understood that he could not continue protecting a place called the Nameless Village.
A village without a name had no identity. It was easy to ignore, easy to mock, and even easier to trample over. If the people were going to build a future here, then they needed something to stand behind.
So he gathered every resident in the square.
Men, women, children, fishermen, farmers, and craftsmen slowly filled the open space. Some still had dirt on their hands from work, while others carried baskets, tools, or children too young to understand what was happening. Even so, they all looked toward Fragha with quiet expectation.
Fragha stood before them and let his gaze pass over the crowd.
For many of them, this village had always felt like a cursed place. A poor settlement beneath Balan's shadow. A place people left when winter came, not a place people proudly called home.
That would end today.
"With the authority given to me over this land," Fragha said, his voice carrying across the square, "I declare that this village will no longer remain nameless."
The murmurs stopped.
"From this day forward, this land shall be known as Constantia."
The name settled over the square like a bell ringing in the air. It sounded unfamiliar at first, but there was weight behind it. Strength. Dignity. A sense of permanence that the people had never been allowed to feel before.
Fragha took a slow breath, then continued.
"They called us weak. They laughed at our cracked walls, our poor fields, and our rusted swords. They looked at this land and saw nothing worth fearing, nothing worth respecting."
Some of the villagers lowered their eyes. They knew those words were true. They had heard similar insults too many times to count.
"But they forgot one thing," Fragha said. "This land was not built by gold. It was not built by the blood of rotten nobles, nor was it saved by some miracle falling from the sky. This land survived because its people refused to give up."
The crowd grew still.
"As long as even one soul of Constantia remains standing, this land has not fallen. Let the world come with war if it wishes. Let hardship come again. We will face it as we always have, but this time, we will not bow our heads."
His voice rose, firm and steady.
"We stand because we are Constantian."
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
Then Fragha raised his fist.
"Viva Constantia!"
The square erupted.
"Viva Constantia!"
The cry spread from one person to the next until the entire crowd was shouting. Some raised their tools into the air. Others embraced their families with tearful smiles. The sound of their voices rolled through the square, louder than anything the old village had ever known.
They were no longer merely people living on unwanted land.
They were the people of Constantia. The Constantian.
Fragha waited until the cheers settled before raising his hand again. The crowd slowly quieted, though the excitement had not left their faces.
"From today onward, we will manage this land ourselves," he said. "We are no longer tied to Balan's rotten rule. Our food, our homes, our roads, and our future will be built by our own hands."
The villagers exchanged looks, and a wave of hope passed through them.
Fragha continued, "The first major project will be housing. Every household will receive a proper home. No one here will be forced to leave for Balan when winter comes."
That announcement struck the people even harder than the naming of the village.
For years, winter had been a season of humiliation. Families had packed what little they owned and moved toward Balan, accepting cramped shelters, debt, and contempt just to survive the cold months. The idea that they could remain in their own village through winter felt almost impossible.
"Free homes?" an old fisherman asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Fragha looked at him and nodded. "Free homes. Built for the people of Constantia."
A woman near the front covered her mouth with both hands. Beside her, her husband stared at Fragha as if afraid he had misheard. Then the square filled with voices again, not as loud as before, but warmer and more emotional.
Fragha turned slightly and gestured for Albert to step forward.
"This is Albert Harmlet," he said. "He will lead the housing construction project. Follow his instructions on the worksite. If he gives an order related to construction, treat it as mine."
Albert straightened his back at once. He looked nervous for a moment, but when he saw the villagers watching him with trust rather than suspicion, his expression hardened with resolve.
"I will do my best," Albert said. "If we work in order and do not waste materials, I believe we can build faster than you expect."
Fragha gave him a faint nod, then addressed the crowd again. "We will also expand the village granaries. Our current storage is not enough for the wheat harvest and fish supply we have now. Food that cannot be stored properly is food that will be wasted."
Several farmers nodded immediately. The old wooden warehouses had already become cramped, with sacks of wheat stacked too close together and dried fish hanging wherever there was space.
"That will change," Fragha said. "A village that cannot store food cannot survive growth."
By that afternoon, the people began working under Albert's direction.
Albert unrolled a map he had drawn and placed it on a flat wooden table near the construction area. The lines were not perfect, but the layout was clear. Roads, housing blocks, storage buildings, and work areas were arranged in a consistent pattern.
Fragha leaned over the map and studied it.
"You want the buildings arranged in squares?"
Albert nodded. "Yes, my lord. If the roads are placed evenly, movement becomes easier. Carts can pass without blocking each other, and future buildings can be added without destroying the old layout."
Fragha's eyes sharpened with interest.
In his modern knowledge, this was close to the concept of a grid city. It was not a perfect urban plan, but for someone from a medieval world to reach this idea on his own was impressive. More importantly, it suited the village's limited land along the cliff.
"This is good," Fragha said.
Albert looked up, surprised by the direct praise. "You think so?"
"It's efficient. With the cliff limiting our space, a messy layout would become a problem later. Your plan makes expansion easier."
Albert's shoulders relaxed slightly, though he tried to hide his satisfaction. "Then I will use this as the base."
"Do that. But leave room for larger warehouses near the main road and close to the route down to the beach."
Albert glanced at the map, then nodded as he understood the reason.
The village's harvest and fishing yield had grown too abundant for the old wooden storage buildings. The wheat alone was already filling the existing granaries, and the fish brought up from the coast needed proper handling before it spoiled. More warehouses were no longer a luxury. They were necessary.
They also needed to fix the road leading down to the beach. Until now, the fishermen had been forced to use steep cliff stairs that were exhausting even when empty-handed. Carrying fish, nets, barrels, and supplies up those steps made every trip slower than it needed to be.
"A wider road with a gentler slope," Fragha said, pointing at the side of the map. "Strong enough for carts. If the dock and the village remain difficult to connect, our logistics will always be weak."
Albert rubbed his chin as he studied the route. "It will take work, but it is possible. We may need to reinforce parts of the slope."
"Use stone where needed. Cement where it matters."
"I understand."
After the general layout was settled, Fragha took an old sheet of paper and began sketching the type of houses he wanted.
In his mind, the image was close to classical European buildings, but explaining that directly would have been pointless. Albert had no idea what Europe was. So Fragha focused on shapes instead: clean walls, balanced windows, sloped roofs, and small details that gave each house character without making the design chaotic.
He slid the paper toward Albert.
"Build them close to this style," Fragha said. "The houses should be mostly uniform so there is no obvious gap between families, but I don't want every building to look exactly the same. Give each one a small difference. A window shape, a roof detail, a doorway, something simple."
Albert studied the drawing carefully.
"Hm. This resembles some buildings in the capital," he said after a while. "But with cement powder, the walls should be easier to shape and faster to finish."
"That is what I'm aiming for."
"If we standardize the frame and change only the details, we can keep the work efficient while making the village look better."
Fragha smiled slightly. "Exactly."
With that, the project officially began.
Teams were divided between foundation work, warehouse expansion, road planning, and material preparation. Some villagers gathered stone, others carried wood, and several began mixing cement under supervision. The square that had been filled with cheers earlier now echoed with the sounds of hammers, shovels, carts, and shouted instructions.
As the work started, a familiar message appeared in Fragha's mind.
He had gained 15 points from naming the village and establishing the housing development plan.
His total was now 65 points.
Fragha glanced at the notification for only a moment before dismissing it. The points were useful, but the real reward was happening in front of him. Constantia was finally beginning to look like a village with a future.