Reborn as a Hated Noble Family, We Start an Industrial Revolution

Dawn arrived at the Forward Military Outpost devoid of any warmth.

Since the early hours of the morning, Roland Sudrath had been standing near the ruins of the watchtower.

His dark blue diplomatic robes were coated in limestone dust. The hem was torn, a lingering memento of last night’s incident. Mountain winds ruffled his dark hair, while the wound on his left shoulder continued to throb with a dull ache. He suppressed a wince, choosing instead to focus his gray eyes through the thick mist, staring fixedly in the exact direction the Alpha Wyvern had vanished.

The shuffling sound of approaching boots broke the silence.

The Outpost Commander—his head still wrapped in bloody bandages—came to a halt beside Roland. The suspicious glares previously aimed at the Northreach delegation were gone. Last night’s tragedy had melted factional divides into a single, unified group: those who wanted to survive.

”What are our casualties, Commander?” Roland asked without turning his head. His voice was perfectly calm.

The commander swallowed hard. ”Four dead. Thirteen critically injured. Acid burns and fractured bones. We lost a third of our active combat strength in a single wave.”

Roland let out a long breath. He didn’t offer any cliché condolences.

”Pull your wounded back to the central steam facility,” he instructed. His tone was diplomatic, yet heavily laced with absolute authority. ”Concentrate the remaining able-bodied troops on guarding the inner perimeter. Starting today, we’ll secure the blind spots outside the outpost.”

The outpost commander stared intently at Roland, then gave a stiff nod. ”Thank you... for your unit’s help last night.”

Roland returned the gesture with a subtle nod, turned on his heel, and walked toward the technical zone.

The harsh clanging of metal echoed from a corner of the courtyard cluttered with steel pipes.

Yara had been working since the sky was as black as coal. Her pale face was smudged with soot and grease. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, and the sleeves of her gray apron were torn. The girl’s brown eyes were sharply focused. Her leather-gloved hands cranked a massive wrench, fighting tooth and nail to connect a backup pipe to the main valve.

Soft footsteps stopped right behind her.

Yara glanced back. Rianor Sudrath stood there, scrutinizing her pipework.

The Head Architect of Northreach looked just as exhausted. His shirt was dusty, the sleeves rolled up neatly. Behind his thin glasses, his gray eyes scanned every inch of the mechanical joints. The Arcanotech Bracer on his left arm was locked in passive mode, emitting zero mana signatures.

”Tch, the pressure in that secondary pipe will blow if you force it into the main valve without a reducer,” Rianor cut in suddenly, his voice as cold as a scalpel.

Yara wiped the sweat from her nose with the back of her arm. ”I know. But we’re fresh out of copper reducers, Rianor. I have to force the connection—”

”Install double clamps on points four and six,” Rianor interrupted swiftly. ”Then open valve number three. Remember, exactly half a turn. No more, no less. It will create artificial turbulence to dissipate the steam pressure.”

Yara froze. Her brain spun, processing the fluid mechanics calculation the man had just thrown at her. Her eyes widened in awe.

Without another word, she grabbed a set of double clamps and got to work. Krk... KRK!

She secured points four and six, then carefully cranked valve number three. Exactly half a turn.

Psssshhh...

The steam flow, which had been hissing violently, now hummed with a smooth, stable rhythm.

Rianor adjusted his glasses. There was no hesitation in her work, not off by a single millimeter.

”Hmm. Your precision tolerance is remarkable,” Rianor muttered flatly.

Coming from the rigid Architect, that sentence was the highest form of praise. Yara carved out a faint smile. However, the rare moment of appreciation was cut short by the sound of hurried footsteps.

A scrawny young man caked in black soot vaulted over the barricade. His Iron Empire scout uniform was plastered in mud. His eyes darted around rapidly before he sprinted toward the Outpost Commander and Roland.

”Lieur!” the Commander called out. ”Thank the gods you’re alive. What did you find?”

Lieur steadied his ragged breathing. His hands unrolled a canvas scroll over a wooden crate. It was a crude topographic map sketched in charcoal.

”They aren’t just a band of nomads, Commander,” Lieur reported hoarsely. His index finger tapped a black cross mark. ”The rebels have a semi-permanent camp behind the northern limestone gorge. This is a route clear of rock-traps, and this line... is the Wyverns’ takeoff trail from before dawn.”

Rianor stepped forward, narrowing his eyes to scan the map. Inside his head, the holographic memory from his Bracer the previous night instantly cross-referenced the coordinates.

”This limestone gorge...” Rianor pointed at the narrow chokepoint. ”...is a natural magnetic distortion zone. Hah, no wonder your steam sensors are always blind. They’re operating completely off the grid of your military instruments.”

Lieur frowned at the bespectacled man but couldn’t argue with the logic. ”There’s one more thing.” Lieur’s finger slid to a bold mark not far from the camp. ”On this cliffside, there’s a massive cave entrance. I didn’t dare get too close. The guard detail there is three times as tight as the main camp.”

Roland and Rianor exchanged a knowing look. The answer to last night’s tragedy was hiding right there.

Ten minutes later, a rapid tactical briefing convened behind the concrete barricades.

Riven Sudrath dominated the space with his colossal frame. His left arm, shredded by the Wyvern’s talons, was wrapped in thick bandages. A short sword hung at his waist, while his black wolf-fur mantle was draped casually over his right shoulder.

”Marching a platoon of Iron Empire troops up there is pure suicide. We’d be detected before we even hit the slopes,” Riven evaluated coldly. ”We use a small-unit formation. Silent and fast.”

”How many are deploying, General?” Captain Thorne stood at attention.

”I’ll clear the path. Thorne is on my six. Roland, Rianor, Selene, the mechanic girl, and this young scout as our guide,” Riven pointed to them one by one.

Rumina clutched her ledger tightly to her chest. ”And me?”

”You stay here, Rumina,” Riven decided. ”A Sudrath needs to hold the backline. Manage the logistics and make sure the Outpost Commander doesn’t do anything stupid while we’re gone.”

Rumina swallowed hard, then nodded. Her treasurer’s instincts knew that diversifying their risks was the most logical investment. ”Be careful out there.”

Roland stepped forward. His gray eyes locked onto everyone present.

”Listen up. Our mission is strictly observation and mapping,” the diplomat stated firmly. ”We aren’t looking for heroics. We infiltrate the gorge, peek at what’s inside that cave, and extract. Zero open confrontation unless we are backed into a corner. Are we clear?”

Everyone nodded in unison. The expedition through the eastern ridge had officially begun.

By midday, the terrain of the Eastern Mountains was dishing out brutal torture.

The limestone rocks were slick, coated in dead sulfur moss. A thick fog pooled at knee-height, masking narrow ravines that were ready to swallow them whole.

Lieur crept at the vanguard like a phantom silhouette. Behind him, Yara acted as the secondary navigator, pointing out the rusted remains of steam pipe installations clinging to the cliffs.

”These pipes have been dead for twenty years,” Yara whispered, panting slightly. ”As long as we hug them as a handhold, we won’t drift off course to the north face.”

In the center of the formation, Rianor intermittently activated his Bracer. Just a fraction of a second to scan for unstable footholds before immediately powering it down.

”Stop.”

Selene suddenly gripped Roland’s arm. The Arcanum Master closed her pale blue eyes. ”The atmospheric pressure just plummeted. We’re about to exit this ravine into an open expanse.”

Riven hand-signaled for the team to crouch.

They inched forward, hugging the rock wall. As they rounded the corner, their eyes widened. Gouged into the surface of a massive limestone slab were four claw marks, half a meter deep.

”The Alpha Wyvern’s takeoff tracks from last night,” Rianor murmured. His eyes traced the angle of the shattered rock. ”This launch trajectory... yeah, they glided straight into the valley sector directly beneath us.”

Late afternoon crept in by the time they reached a rocky observation bluff.

They lay prone behind jagged rock formations. The valley winds swept away the fog, granting them a crystal-clear bird’s-eye view into the basin of the colossal limestone gorge.

The Eastern Mountains Rebel Camp revealed itself.

Hundreds of tents made from monster hides and drab tarps were arranged in concentric circles. The smoke from their campfires was perfectly camouflaged, blending seamlessly into the sulfurous haze. At various points, smaller Wyverns were fast asleep, their necks chained securely to stone pillars.

Rianor crawled closer, scanning the area with his Bracer’s thermal optics.

”There are roughly three hundred life signatures in the outer perimeter,” he whispered to Roland and Riven. ”And in the inner ring... twenty massive heat signatures. Their mana circulation is unnatural. Likely a tamed pack of Basilisks.”

Roland narrowed his eyes. Beside Rianor, Yara slowly raised a pointing finger.

”Rianor... look at that cliff.”

At the deepest end of the camp, flanked by sheer vertical cliffs, gaped the mouth of a colossal limestone cave. It was pitch black inside.

However, what defied logic was the security detail. While the rank-and-file soldiers outside the camp looked relaxed and conversational, the cave entrance was guarded by two rows of rebel troops standing as stiff as statues. High-tier military discipline.

”Well, they wouldn’t deploy an elite vanguard just to guard an empty hole,” Roland whispered sharply.

”You’re right.” Riven crushed a clump of limestone moss in his fist. ”Whatever is hiding in that darkness... is the beating heart of this rebellion.”

The decision wasn’t up for debate. Charging in right now was an act of suicide. The small squad crawled backward slowly, securing a defensible position behind the bluff.

Nightfall brought freezing air that felt like a blade against their lungs.

They hunkered down in a crevice. No campfires allowed. They had nothing but the freezing limestone to lean against. Riven and Lieur took turns keeping watch at the mouth of the gap.

In the darkest corner, Yara huddled up, hugging her knees. Her body shivered faintly. Her stomach grumbled, practically begging for something warm.

A shadow slipped over and sat down right next to her.

Rianor offered her a block of dense, dry ration bread. ”Eat. Your core body temperature will plummet if you leave your stomach empty.”

”T-thank you,” Yara took the rock-hard bread and chewed on it slowly.

The girl stole a glance at him. Rianor didn’t look cold in the slightest. The man’s brain seemed to be constantly crunching data, even when his physical body was at rest.

”Rianor...” Yara called out hesitantly. ”...do you never feel scared in places like this?”

Rianor turned his head slowly. His gray eyes stared straight into Yara’s pupils.

”Fear possesses no mathematical correlation to reducing the risk percentage of a mission, Yara,” he answered with his usual, absolute logic.

Yara looked down, a little disappointed by the rigid response.

”However...” Rianor’s voice lowered. ”...I have observed that since we left the docks, you have never gone hysterical when situations deteriorated. For a civilian, your composure is highly beneficial to the survival rate of this party.”

Yara was stunned. Her pale face slowly flushed with warmth.

For someone as frugal with pleasantries as Rianor Sudrath, that analysis was the most poetic compliment he could ever muster for a dockyard mechanic.

One hour before dawn broke over the eastern horizon, the squad managed to crawl their way back to the Forward Military Outpost. Rumina welcomed them with a long sigh of relief.

Roland gathered the core members behind the barricades.

”We can’t extinguish the flames of this rebellion just by wiping out their vanguard. They’ll just keep regenerating from within,” Roland began, rubbing his dusty jaw. ”Their command center is inside that massive cave.”

Selene nodded slowly. ”Something guarded with that kind of insane discipline... is definitely hiding a VIP, or a weapon of mass destruction.”

Roland looked at Riven, Rianor, and his troops one by one. The diplomat’s gaze sharpened into a deadly glare.

”In that case, there is only one option left.” Roland closed the tactical meeting with a tone of finality. ”We need absolute confirmation of what’s resting in the belly of that cave. Tomorrow... we infiltrate.”