A minor war failed to cause even a ripple in High Cliff Castle. To its people, their Lord winning a war was perfectly normal; they would have been astonished if he'd actually lost.
However, what did capture their attention was the bustling reconstruction that had begun in High Cliff Castle.
The brick kilns by the Bengyong River billowed thick smoke day and night as pile after pile of red bricks was continuously fired.
The settlers worked tirelessly digging in the clay pits, while the Giants grunted and groaned, straining to drag carts across the snow.
"I've decided to build the castle on the hill. In the future, it will house the leaders of High Cliff Castle." The Lord, wearing a white-painted wooden safety helmet, stood inside a temporary tent surrounded by red bricks, tapping a blueprint on the table before him with a quill.
A group of Feder Craftsmen stood ramrod straight, like a congregation of lost believers listening to a sermon.
