The river stretched wide before me, its waters rolling lazily under the golden glow of the rising sun. I wiped my brow, feeling the sting of sweat and sawdust clinging to my skin. Around me, hundreds of men labored, hauling timber, hammering beams, and securing stone foundations. The noise of construction was deafening—wood creaking, saws shrieking, and hammers ringing like battle drums. But my mind was fixed on something else.
The City Lord's plan.
A shipyard that could house two hundred ships? Madness, I had thought at first. But as the structure began to take shape, I saw it—the genius behind it. Wide wooden piers stretching out into the river, deep channels dredged so that even the largest vessels could dock with ease, and massive stone slips arranged in rows, ready to cradle the ships as they were built. It wasn't just a yard—it was a city of ships waiting to be born.
I had never seen a plan like this. The shipyards of old were simple—some wooden scaffolding, a few work sheds, and whatever dry land we could find. But this... this was different. The City Lord, a man of strange ideas and strange words, had explained it to ship builders with drawings so precise they looked like magic.
It was beyond what I could have ever imagined, and yet, here it was. I ran my hand over a beam of freshly cut wood, knowing that soon, it would be part of something grand—something no kingdom had ever seen before. The City Lord had taken an idea that seemed impossible and made it real.
I turned back to my work, hammering the nails in with renewed vigor. The world was changing before my eyes, and I was proud to be a part of it.
*
From Weiss's POV
Standing atop the wooden scaffolding, I surveyed the progress of the shipyard below. The smell of freshly cut timber and hot pitch filled the air, mingling with the sweat of hundreds of workers. The river had been widened and deepened over the past week, its banks reinforced with stone to prevent flooding.
It has not been easy.
The City Lord's vision had been overwhelming at first. When he had unrolled those strange blue drawings before us, detailing a shipyard that could house two hundred ships, I had nearly laughed. No king or emperor had ever built such a thing. But as he spoke, his words full of certainty, I found myself believing in the impossible.
The process had been meticulous. First, we cleared the land, cutting away the dense undergrowth that had once choked the riverbank. Then, the laborers would dig trenches and lay stone foundations. The City Lord had insisted on something called "reinforced support beams"—a technique that used iron and interlocking wooden joints to strengthen the docks. It made sense, even if it was new to us.
"Efficiency is key," He had told me.
And so we had. Specialized teams worked on different parts—keel-layers, frame-builders, deck-fitters—all assembling pieces as if they were parts of a puzzle.
I watched as workers fitted planks to a new hull, their tools moving with precision. The City Lord's ideas had turned a simple shipyard into a machine of production. Kingdoms would tremble when they saw the fleet that would soon set sail from these docks.
I smiled, feeling the weight of history settle upon my shoulders.
*
"One, two, one! One, two, one!"
The sound of synchronized shouts echoed from afar. Before Lucas even reached the shipyard, he could already hear the familiar cadence of the military drills.
"One, two, one! One, two, one!"
As the soldiers ran closer, their sweat-drenched bodies moved in perfect rhythm with their chants, their steps steady and coordinated.
"Now this is real training," Lucas nodded in satisfaction. Compared to what he had seen in previous days, today's drills were much more to his liking.
A few days ago, their training barely made them sweat. But now, with this level of exertion, they were finally breaking a proper sweat. As long as they had enough salt water for hydration and proper warmth, there wouldn't be any major issues.
The soldiers set down the logs they had carried, then lined up again to run back to the Forbidden Mountain Range. There was still plenty of wood to transport, but this would be their last trip before they could return for lunch.
Dahlia stared blankly at the orderly ranks of men carrying logs. Their discipline reminded her of the knights in the royal capital—no, they were even more coordinated, lacking the laziness and arrogance of those knights.
"Lord Lucas, who are they?" Dahlia asked curiously.
"My soldiers," Lucas replied with a light chuckle. Seeing her puzzled expression, he added, "They're what you would call knights. But in my army, they're simply soldiers."
"Soldiers?" Dahlia raised an eyebrow. It was an unusual title.
However, she was quite shocked—knights carrying logs? That was unheard of in other cities. Knights were supposed to focus on swordsmanship, horsemanship, and lance training. No one would ever ask them to haul wood.
Lucas didn't bother explaining the meaning of soldiers. He had no intention of recognizing too many knights—otherwise, class struggles would arise. In his vision, soldiers would become the backbone of the military, and knights would eventually be replaced by a structured officer system.
"Crack, crack, crack…"
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The shipyard was bustling with activity. Hundreds of workers were gathered, following the instructions of a dozen shipbuilders. Some were sawing logs, others digging foundations—everything was progressing in an orderly manner.
Nearby, dozens of tents were set up, providing workers with a place to stay warm, eat, and drink water. Since they were sweating so much from the labor, any carelessness could lead to illness or colds.
"City Lord!" A supervisor noticed Lucas and quickly bowed in respect.
"Where is Weiss?" Lucas scanned the area but didn't see him.
"City Lord, Weiss is at the riverbank opening, overseeing the work." The supervisor replied respectfully.
"Oh?" Lucas raised an eyebrow. They've already started modifying the riverbank opening?
"I'll go call him over." The supervisor quickly offered.
"No need. Take me there." Lucas shook his head. He wanted to see for himself how the transformation was progressing.
"Yes, sir!" The supervisor immediately led the way.
At the riverbank opening, Weiss was busy directing workers as they dug holes and drove wooden stakes into the ground. They were constructing a slanted wooden platform—an essential part of the shipbuilding process.
Shipbuilding would take place directly on the wooden platform. As long as one end was blocked with wooden pegs to prevent the ship from sliding prematurely, the process would be smooth. Once the ship was completed, removing the pegs would allow it to glide effortlessly into the water.
This method was commonly used in coastal shipyards. After all, ships were far too heavy to be manually dragged into the water.
When Lucas arrived at the riverbank opening, he immediately frowned. The slipway (wooden platform) and the shipyard's roof covering weren't even in place yet, and there wasn't even a framework for the shipyard itself.
Without a miracle material like cement, the construction process was indeed frustratingly slow.
"City Lord, you're here!" Weiss immediately ran over and saluted. He looked a bit nervous, worried that something might not have been done properly—after all, this was the biggest task he had ever taken on.
"How's it going? Any problems?" Lucas asked calmly.
"No, everything we need is here!" Weiss quickly shook his head. How could he not be satisfied? He had all the manpower he needed, an ample supply of wood, and even top-tier woodworking tools—like saws and precision-forged steel chisels—far beyond anything he had used before.
"Just build one slipway for now. We'll expand the rest next year." Lucas instructed. He wanted an indoor slipway—after all, wooden ships needed protection. Before they were coated with waterproof tung oil, exposure to wind and rain would significantly shorten their lifespan.
Next year, the expansion wouldn't use wooden slipways anymore. Instead, it would be pure concrete slipways with a water-channel system. By utilizing water to create buoyancy, ships could be easily guided into the river.
More importantly, concrete pillars reinforced with steel could support bridge cranes using pulley systems. Although these cranes would need to be manually operated, the mechanical advantage of pulleys meant that just a few workers could lift objects several times their weight. This would be essential for building larger ships, as lifting heavy materials was one of the most time-consuming tasks—especially for tall ships, where hauling wood to the upper sections took significant effort.
At that point, shipbuilding speed would increase several times over, as the biggest bottleneck was always material handling.
"Understood!" Weiss quickly responded. In truth, he had been thinking the same thing. Once the first ship was successfully launched, expanding the shipyard would be much easier to justify.
"What kind of wood are we using for the ship?" Lucas asked curiously. He hadn't seen the actual materials yet, and the wood names were unfamiliar to him.
"It's striped fir!" Weiss became excited as he spoke. "City Lord, this wood is perfect for shipbuilding! Its hardness is only slightly lower than ironwood, but it's highly resistant to rot—it can stay submerged in water for a long time without deteriorating!"
It turned out that striped fir only grew in a few select regions, and a vast forest of it existed within the Forbidden Mountain Range near Sedona City.
Weiss had personally inspected the area and found that there was enough striped fir to build ships. To him, this was nothing short of a blessing. In coastal shipyards, a ship made entirely from striped fir could cost more than five times the price of an ordinary vessel.
"Take me to see it." Lucas ordered.
"Yes, sir!" Weiss immediately led the way, guiding Lucas to the storage area where the striped fir logs were kept.
Striped fir was a tall and straight tree species. Its trunk was smooth, with distinctive red-streaked spots running along the grain—hence the name striped fir.
"What about the keel? What wood are we using?" Lucas asked next. In a wooden ship, the keel was the most crucial component—it determined the ship's overall strength and durability.
"Ironred wood." Weiss replied seriously.
If striped fir was a pleasant surprise, then ironred wood was a miracle. This material, as tough as iron, was the best possible choice for a ship's keel.
The price of ironred wood was more than ten times that of striped fir. Typically, only wealthy merchants or nobles used it—for crafting lance handles, high-end furniture, or other luxury items.
As for using it to build ship keels? That was almost unheard of. The price was one reason, but the bigger issue was scarcity—ironred wood only grew in the Forbidden Mountain Range.
Lucas nodded. He was already familiar with ironred wood—renowned for its unbreakable toughness and deep red heartwood. It was said that a knight could swing a longsword at an ironred tree for an entire day and still fail to cut it down.
This reminded Lucas of ironwood back on Earth—equally tough, though not as extreme as ironred wood.
As for why ironred wood wasn't used to build entire ships? The answer was simple: processing it took far too long. Lucas had heard that even with four or five men working together, they could only produce a single wooden plank per day.
Now, imagine how many planks a single ship required—just thinking about it was enough to make someone lose hope.
Yes, ships could be built from ironred wood, but not yet. Lucas had already considered the idea but realized that at the current rate, it would take an entire year to finish just one ship—a timeline he couldn't afford.
However, one day in the future, his personal flagship would be made entirely of ironred wood. After all, he had plans to sail the great oceans of this world.
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