CHAPTER 67: Hall of Knowledge (Part 5)

Unification of South

“Now, let’s proceed with the last agenda item of the session.”

The hall moved as one.

Paper shifted. Benches creaked. Those seated turned the sheets over as instructed, while those standing near the walls leaned toward their neighbors to read from shared copies. The earlier demonstration had left the room heavy with awe, caution, and the faint exhaustion that came after touching something too large to understand in one attempt. Now, beneath the last agenda heading printed at the back of the paper, four words waited for them in clean, deliberate order.

PURPOSE
USAGE
OPPORTUNITY
SURVEY

For a moment, no one spoke.

The first three words were expected enough. Purpose told them why. Usage told them how. Opportunity told them what the method might open. But the final word made people glance at one another with uncertainty.

Survey.

A knight near the left row frowned as if the word belonged to clerks, not swordsmen. A farming coordinator tilted the paper closer, lips moving silently as he read it again. One of the younger mages blinked twice, then looked toward Elaine as if expecting her to explain why a method powerful enough to help ordinary citizens sense mana would require something as mundane as reports. The servants understood faster than most. Work that changed over time required feedback. Kitchens knew this. Workshops knew this. Storehouses knew this. Fields knew this. Only people proud of their old rank assumed that a method should descend from above and remain untouched forever.

Adrian let them sit with the question.

Then he turned to the blackboard and wrote the first word.

PURPOSE

“The purpose of mana sensing,” he said, “is not to create excitement. It is not to satisfy curiosity. It is not to make every citizen imagine themselves a hidden master. It exists for application.”

He drew three lines beneath the word.

WAR
PEACE
EMERGENCY

“The first purpose is war.”

The air tightened.

No one in the South had been allowed to forget that danger was approaching. Rumors had spread beyond the walls. Noble dissatisfaction was no longer soft enough to ignore. Bandits had been spoken of too often by the outer roads for coincidence to remain convincing. But hearing Adrian state war directly gave the concern a colder shape. It did not sound like panic from him. That made it worse. Panic could be dismissed. Adrian’s assessment could not.

“War is nearly approaching,” Adrian said. “Whether it comes in one month, or whether the enemy chooses a longer scheme and delays for a quarter, does not change the conclusion. Conflict is inevitable. The form may change. Open battle. Route disruption. assassination. sabotage. rumor pressure. merchant strangulation. forced legal dispute. The method does not matter. The direction is already visible.”

The hall did not interrupt him.

“Mana sensing, even at the lowest level, has traits useful in preparation. You have only grasped the tip of it today. Even so, the first step gives us more than personal growth. It allows organization. It allows preparation. It reduces unnecessary burden. A citizen who can sense danger earlier is not merely a citizen requiring protection. He becomes a warning point. A gate guard who senses irregular mana pressure in a traveler’s belongings may prevent disaster. A porter who feels unnatural heat in a crate may stop sabotage before fire starts. A patrolman who senses fear, killing intent, or unstable mana around the route may report before blood is spilled.”

Darius’s eyes sharpened. The knights near him wrote with greater urgency.

Adrian continued, “If we defend the wall, mana sensing helps us distribute people more intelligently. If we attack elsewhere, mana sensing helps ensure the vicinity does not become vulnerable in our absence. War is not won only by those who swing swords. War is won by the territory that does not collapse behind them.”

He erased nothing. He simply moved to the second line.

“The second purpose is peace.”

The word seemed gentler, yet Adrian’s tone did not soften into sentiment.

“When you learn even basic mana sensing, it will help your daily routine. Especially the work staff. Do not underestimate that. A territory does not become strong only because it has knights. It becomes strong when its people waste less time, less movement, less material, and less health.”

A workshop supervisor nodded before realizing he had done so.

“Mana sensing can increase manpower and expected output in every sector. More than many of you currently imagine. Not because mana will magically perform your job for you, but because perception changes action. A worker who senses fatigue earlier can correct posture before injury. A farmer who senses moisture, heat, or soil density more accurately can improve timing. A cook who senses ingredient condition, heat flow, or bodily focus can reduce waste. A clerk who uses the method to sharpen attention may process records faster and with fewer mistakes. A guard who senses unrest in a crowd may stop an incident before it becomes violence.”

A few citizens looked down at their hands.

They had expected mana to belong to battle or magic. Adrian was placing it inside their ordinary day.

“The third purpose is emergency,” he said.

He tapped the word once.

“This is not only about man against man. There is also man against nature. Fire. flood. collapse. storm. sickness. accident. poisoned supply. unstable building. beast migration. My weakness. ship damage. assassination. All of these are emergencies. Some are born from enemies. Some are born from negligence. Some are born from the world itself.”

He turned toward the miners. “A tunnel collapse often speaks before it falls. Most fail to hear it.”

Then toward the fishers. “A storm often shows pressure before it arrives. Most fail to read it.”

Then toward the household staff. “Poison, rot, heat, and strange mana contamination may leave traces before they become a disaster.”

Then toward the knights. “An assassin may conceal his blade, but not always his intent, breath, or mana disturbance.”

The hall had become fully alert again.

“In conclusion,” Adrian said, “mana sensing is a gift from the Valenhart family to the South. A weapon that even an ordinary citizen can begin to wield. A protection that can guarantee higher safety even when no soldier is nearby. A privilege given to certified citizens of the South because no one here should be left behind.”

Those words carried farther than any promise of wealth would have.

A maid standing near Maria lowered her gaze, but her fingers tightened around the paper in a way that looked almost like an oath. A stable hand near the rear swallowed hard. A young clerk blinked repeatedly and pretended to reread the sheet so others would not notice his eyes had grown wet.

Adrian did not linger on emotion.

He moved to the second word.

USAGE

“This method is not only for enhancing the pace of mana accumulation,” he said. “It can help create, stabilize, and improve a core or circle level for those capable of walking that path. But if you think that is its only use, then you have already narrowed it too much.”

He wrote beneath it:

ENHANCEMENT
APPLICATION

“Imagination is your limit, but imagination without method becomes nonsense. So we begin with categories. First, enhancement. Mana sensing can improve the way you think, the way you breathe, the way your muscles move, the way your bones endure pressure, the way your body stretches, the way aptitude awakens, and the way mana quality settles.”

A knight raised his hand.

Adrian nodded.

“My lord, can sensing truly improve bone and muscle? Would that not require physical training?”

“Correct,” Adrian said. “That is why mana sensing is not isolated. It works with physical training, not instead of it. If you sense where your movement wastes effort, you correct it faster. If you sense where tension gathers, you reduce injury. If you sense how breath affects strength, you use it deliberately. The body improves because awareness improves the training.”

The knight bowed his head.

Adrian wrote another line.

OBLIGATION + METHOD

“Application is split into obligation and method. From today onward, mana sensing has two prerequisites for all participants. Learn to exercise your body. Learn to train your mind.”

A murmur rose, quickly suppressed.

Adrian looked over them. “Again, instructors will be assigned. I will personally teach the first supervisory group. Each instructor will supervise at least five students per day. No age qualification. No status limitation. You already know this. A child who can understand basic instructions may begin with imagery. An elder may begin with breath and awareness. A noble, a servant, a guard, a clerk, a fisher, a miner, a cook, a farmer—none are exempt if they are certified citizens and physically able to participate.”

He turned toward Norman. “Schedules will be coordinated.”

Norman bowed. “Understood.”

“The hospital will remain open day and night during the early adaptation period,” Adrian continued. “It must have enough capacity to accommodate injury, strain, headaches, mana discomfort, breathing irregularities, or any major or minor issue. Everyone undergoing the curriculum will complete a quick check-up.”

A few proud knights looked pained.

Adrian noticed. “Those who dislike check-ups may dislike burial more.”

That ended the resistance.

A few quiet laughs passed through the hall, but they vanished quickly under discipline.

“The schedule will be prepared per group. One hour of exercise. One hour of a lesson. Absences are allowed only for emergencies. There will be no make-up classes for lazy people.”

A group of younger workers stiffened.

“This is a choice for growth,” Adrian said. “Always remember that. If you treat it as a burden, it will become one. If you treat it as a privilege, it will repay you.”

He paced once before the board.

“Now, application method. If there is an enhancement, you can apply it to any field.”

He pointed toward the clerks. “If a clerk enhances quick thinking and attention, how much faster can the workload be completed?”

A clerk answered softly, “Perhaps twice, my lord, if mistakes decrease.”

“Perhaps,” Adrian said. “But accuracy matters more than speed at first. Speed built on error is only faster failure.”

He turned toward the farmers. “A farmer who improves muscle awareness, breath, and bone endurance may feel training like therapy rather than punishment. He may work longer without destroying himself. He may recognize heatstroke earlier. He may handle tools with better rhythm.”

Toward the gate guards. “A gate guard, public informant, trade supervisor, or sector leader may improve decision-making by sensing the mana that surrounds a person. Not reading minds. Do not turn this into superstition. But fear, aggression, tension, killing intent, nervous concealment, and unstable mana often affect the body and surrounding flow. Perception gives you one more tool.”

Toward the kitchen staff. “A cook who enhances body and mind may multitask better. Smell, timing, heat, ingredient freshness, and mana condition may all improve. Food is not separate from survival. A poisoned or spoiled meal kills more quietly than a sword.”

Toward the common citizens. “A normal citizen may defend themselves better against enemies or nature. Not by becoming soldiers overnight, but by noticing danger sooner, moving better, breathing better, and refusing to remain helpless.”

The hall grew more alive with each example.

“Yes,” Adrian said, as if answering the thoughts spreading across the room. “These are only examples. It may take us a week to name every known feature, and longer to discover those we do not yet know. For knights and mages, the combat and cultivation applications are self-explanatory. But again, no self-learning. No boasting. No public demonstration. Especially around visitors.”

His gaze hardened.

“This method is a reward. For the greedy, it will have consequences. And those consequences will serve as punishment.”

No one misunderstood.

“The contract per job remains the same. This curriculum becomes part of your work obligation. High title or ordinary position, no exception.”

He paused.

“Even me.”

That mattered more than a command.

Adrian had not placed himself above the rule. He never did when the rule was structural. The South had learned that from him. He demanded because he also performed. He commanded because he also understood the burden of what he commanded. That was why people who feared him could still follow him without resentment.

He moved to the third word.

OPPORTUNITY

“Necessities in the South are being equalized,” he said. “Food, safety, work access, basic learning, and protection. That does not mean all people are equal in ability, discipline, result, or future contribution. It means the ground beneath them is being made stable enough for merit to appear.”

That line stirred the crowd.

“This method will give you a chance for a higher position as long as you deserve it. More importantly, if I see potential, I may include some of you in my personal group.”

The hall froze.

Even the knights reacted.

Adrian’s personal group.

He had never declared it openly like this before. Rumors had existed, naturally. People spoke of those who received direct correction from him, those who were allowed closer to certain projects, those who disappeared into advanced drills, technical work, private instruction, or special assignments. But to hear him announce the possibility before citizens of every status changed the air inside the hall.

“Those chosen will serve no one but me,” Adrian said.

No one moved.

“In return, they will receive more than the mana sensing method and may accumulate advanced instruction in the future. Do not misunderstand. This is not favoritism. It is a selection. Potential without discipline will be rejected. Loyalty without ability may be honored elsewhere, but not there. Ability without loyalty will be watched, not admitted.”

Isaac looked as though he wanted to stand already. Marian’s gaze sharpened not with jealousy, but interest. Darius remained still. Garret’s face gave nothing away. Elaine wrote one sentence, then stopped.

“Manuals for this curriculum will be prepared and placed in the higher-floor library once the first revisions are complete,” Adrian continued. “If you are not chosen for personal instruction, you still know how to gain access to the library. It allows those who are worthy.”

The fourth word remained.

Adrian looked at it for a moment before writing it larger than the others.

SURVEY

The room stirred.

This time, the commotion was small but real. A method that had already produced visible reactions, a method Adrian himself tied to his dual-circle path, a method that could affect war, peace, emergency, labor, and personal advancement—yet he called it incomplete.

Adrian turned before the murmur could grow. “Yes. The method is far from complete.”

That broke more confusion through the hall.

A mage raised a hand quickly. “My lord, if it is already effective, how can it be incomplete?”

“Because effectiveness at the beginning does not prove perfection,” Adrian answered. “It proves potential.”

He underlined SURVEY once.

“Change is the foundation of this method. Therefore, I need surveys from each of you every week. Improvement. confusion. lack. gaps. discomfort. failures. success. unexpected results. possible shortcuts. All are acceptable if honestly recorded.”

A workshop assistant slowly raised his hand. “Even shortcuts, young master?”

“Especially shortcuts,” Adrian said. “If they are safe, they improve efficiency. If they are dangerous, we must identify and forbid them. A hidden shortcut is more dangerous than an admitted mistake.”

A clerk asked, “Will the surveys be written?”

“For those who can write, yes. For those who cannot, sector recorders will assist. No one will be shamed for lacking writing skills. That, too, will be corrected over time.”

A miner asked, “What if someone feels nothing for weeks?”

“Then that is recorded. Failure patterns are data.”

A servant asked, “What if someone feels something strange but not like the examples?”

“Report it immediately.”

A young knight asked, “What if someone improves faster than others?”

“Then he is monitored more carefully, not praised blindly.”

Questions swarmed again after that.

Adrian answered flawlessly. He explained reporting structure, instructor responsibility, hospital procedure, privacy rules, disciplinary punishment, certification seals, record storage, and how each sector would adapt the surveys according to work type. He made clear that no instructor had the right to humiliate slow learners, no participant had the right to hide injury, and no citizen had the right to teach outsiders for coin, affection, pity, arrogance, or pressure.

By the end of the session, the South had not merely received a lesson.

It had received a system.

The week that followed began awkwardly.

There was no elegance in the first days of mass adaptation. Workers who had never meditated grew restless after ten minutes. Knights struggled to count without turning the exercise into endurance training. Mages overcomplicated instructions and earned headaches for their pride. Servants proved unexpectedly capable in imagery because household work had trained their attention in quiet details. Farmers understood volume faster than scholars expected because pouring, measuring, carrying, and rationing were part of their daily lives. Children learned imagery quickly but emotion poorly. Elders learned emotions deeply but sometimes struggled with calculation.

Failures were common.

So were recoveries.

The hospital remained open without interruption. Minor headaches, shortness of breath, fatigue, nausea, emotional agitation, trembling hands, and overexertion were treated as quickly as possible. The medics, warned, became more efficient with every case. Norman adjusted schedules twice within three days. Garret modified certification procedures before a single forged name could enter the records. Elaine helped classify early mage responses. Darius reorganized knight drills so mana sensing did not interfere with essential combat readiness. Maria quietly became one of the best household examples for calming beginners, especially young maids who panicked when they first sensed anything unusual.

The elders and main family members who had not been present for the full session received a private briefing from Adrian that same week.

Alistair listened without interruption.

Elise asked the questions no one else thought to ask: how fear would be managed among commoners, how pride would be contained among nobles, and whether children should be shielded from early failure. Merek looked more alive with every explanation, especially when Adrian described long-term military and territorial effects. Seraphine smiled in a way that made even Garret pause slightly; she understood very quickly that a population trained in perception was harder to infiltrate, manipulate, poison, or frighten.

After the first week, the improvements began appearing.

Small at first.

Then undeniable.

Clerks completed records faster, not because their hands moved magically, but because their attention broke less often. Workers adjusted their posture before pain became injury. A cook noticed a spoiled batch before it reached the evening meal. A gate guard reported a suspicious traveler not by proof, but by irregular behavior and unstable mana pressure; a later search discovered concealed blades. A mining team withdrew early from a shaft section after two workers reported identical pressure unease; the support timber cracked that night. Farmers began comparing soil impressions with old experience and found patterns worth testing. Public informants became more careful with emotional disturbance in crowds.

Morale rose sharply.

Output doubled again in several sectors, not all from raw mana, but from the belief that improvement was no longer reserved for the gifted. A man who believed himself capable of growth worked differently. A woman who understood that her observation mattered reported differently. A servant who felt she had been entrusted with protection stood differently.

Pellen laughed so loudly one morning that half the household heard it through the building.

“They called this land exhausted!” he shouted from the lower administrative hall, waving a revised production sheet with such joy that two clerks nearly dropped their ink. “Exhausted! If this is exhaustion, then I fear what we’ll look like when awake!”

The laughter that followed was not quiet.

For once, no one tried too hard to suppress it.

But while the South learned to breathe differently, the noble faction’s second plan steadily moved in the same week.

The first report arrived at dusk.

Then the second.

Then the confirmation.

The King of Bandits had been seen near a Valenhart route.

Not a rumor from taverns. Not public exaggeration. Not a drunken voice trying to buy attention with fear. A legitimate report, cross-checked through scouts, outer traders, and one of Garret’s private sources. Arslov’s men had not yet attacked the main line, but they were near enough to matter. Near enough to be seen. Near enough to be deliberate.

That night, Alistair sat in his private chamber with a glass of wine held loosely in one hand.

The lamp near his desk burned low. Reports lay open before him. Garret stood near the side, silent as always, but the shadow at his feet seemed deeper than usual beneath the lamplight.

Alistair read the final line once more.

Then he took a slow sip of wine.

“We will proceed with Plan C.”

Garret bowed quietly.

And moved like a shadow.