Somewhere inside the Beginner Lord Area, five Lords sat around a wooden table inside a small hut.
Rain hit the roof above them. Water slipped through one crack and fell into a metal bowl on the floor with a soft, steady sound.
Nobody spoke.
The system panel floating above the table gave them enough to look at.
--
[Beginner Rankings]
[Production Rank: 1]
[Lord Carlos Goldwin]
--
"Still him," one of the Lords said.
The man at the head of the table did not answer. He kept looking at Carlos Goldwin’s name until the ranking panel disappeared on its own.
"It has been him for a while," the woman on his right said. "What are we supposed to do about that?"
"Do something before we cannot," he replied.
A heavyset Lord near the door shifted in his chair.
"We have nine days."
The man at the head of the table looked at him.
"Exactly. Nine days until the Beginner Period ends."
Everyone in the hut understood the rest without him explaining it.
Carlos Goldwin was too visible already. First in production. An Agriculture Domain Lord who had somehow become connected to a regional cultivation district.
His name appeared in trade offers, rankings and conversations between Lords who had never met him.
The woman tapped the place where the ranking panel had vanished.
"Production is not strength. He could be turning every piece of wood and stone he owns into fields."
"Then he has even more to lose," the man at the head of the table said.
The sword-carrying Lord frowned.
"A first-place rank brings attention. It does not tell us how many fighters he has."
"No," the man said. "But it tells us he has people working. It tells us he has food moving through his territory."
The heavyset Lord rubbed at the rainwater on his sleeve.
"You are counting on him being afraid to lose the district."
"I am counting on him understanding what it is worth. There is a difference."
The woman looked at the regional map again.
"If the district mattered that much, he would keep more people there."
"Maybe he does," the sword-carrying Lord said. "We find that out when we arrive."
After the Beginner Period, someone would reach for him.
Some group would offer protection. Someone stronger would offer resources. A Lord with enough people behind him could make Carlos impossible to approach.
The woman crossed her arms.
"You think he will accept support from strangers?"
"He does not have to accept it for it to become a problem," the man said. "If someone puts their name beside his, attacking him becomes expensive."
Another Lord leaned forward. A sword rested against the wall beside his chair.
"Then we go before that happens."
The heavyset Lord looked toward the small window.
"Go where? Nobody knows where his territory is."
"Nobody knows that, sure," the man at the head of the table said. "But the Ancient Cultivation District is on the regional map."
The room became quiet again.
They all knew the place. Restored channels. Old crop beds. A visible Crop Keeper. It was not hidden behind Carlos Goldwin’s private territory walls.
It was the one part of his work they could find.
"There are people there," the woman said.
"There are workers," the sword-carrying Lord replied. "And a few guards. We are not going to fight his whole territory."
"What are we taking?" the heavyset Lord asked.
The man at the head of the table rested one finger on the rough wood.
"Access."
"Forced access is blocked."
"They cannot transfer ownership by force," he corrected. "Damage the district, and Carlos will have a reason to sign access himself."
The heavyset Lord gave a short laugh that held no amusement.
"That sounds simple when you say it sitting here. What exactly are we asking him to sign?"
The man pulled the map closer. The agricultural symbol glowed between his fingers.
"A shared-access contract. Our people can enter the district. We get the right to inspect what is grown there and take a portion of any harvest produced from the restored land. In return, we provide guards and materials when he needs them."
"He will see through that," the woman said.
"Of course he will. He is not supposed to like it. He is supposed to decide it costs less than losing the district."
The sword-carrying Lord picked up the cup in front of him, found it empty and put it back down.
"And when he refuses?"
For the first time, the man at the head of the table looked away from the map.
"Then we make the choice clearer. A restored channel can be broken. Beds can be trampled. A place that needs workers and water cannot be repaired in one afternoon."
The woman’s expression tightened.
"You said no workers."
"No workers," he said. "We are not here to make enemies we do not need. Keep them away from the channels. Take the storehouse if there is one. Block the road. Let Carlos see the damage before anyone makes it worse."
The heavyset Lord stayed silent for a moment.
"And if his people attack first?"
"Then they chose a fight," the sword-carrying Lord said.
The man at the head of the table lifted a hand before the others could answer.
"If they attack, put them down. Do not chase anyone beyond the district. Do not burn crops. We need something left for him to protect."
Rain drummed harder against the roof. The metal bowl on the floor was nearly full.
The woman studied the four men around the table.
"We are committing troops for a contract he may never sign."
"We are committing them for a chance," the man said. "Nine days from now, the chance is gone."
Nobody argued after that.
The woman gave him a hard look.
"You want to threaten him into a contract?"
"I want him to understand that he cannot hold everything alone."
Nobody called it a good plan and nobody stood up and left either.
The man opened the regional map. A small agricultural symbol glowed far to the east.
"We damage a restored channel. We do not touch the workers unless they fight us. Carlos gets a chance to speak. If he signs a shared-access contract, everyone walks away."
"And if he does not?" the sword-carrying Lord asked.
The man looked at the marker on the map.
"Then he will learn what happens when he keeps a door open for everyone to see."
Outside, their troops gathered beneath the rain.
The five Lords left the hut one after another.
None of them looked back at Carlos Goldwin’s ranking. They had already decided that nine days was enough time to take something from him.