Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Restore the Territory (5)
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A month after punishing those who had exploited the peasants under the previous lord.
I sat in my office, reading the farming reports from the village heads—who functioned like neighborhood leaders across the territory—and clutched my head with both hands, groaning in frustration at their utter incompetence.
If the soldiers saw me like this, it might undermine my authority, but since I was alone in the office, it was fine.
Even so, just to be safe, I opened the door, checked that no one was around, closed it again, and shouted.
"Fuck, it's only because this is a fantasy world that they're surviving with farming like this. If they'd tried this shit in medieval Europe, they'd all have starved to death!"
And I could say this with absolute certainty.
'Even in our history, back in the Goryeo Dynasty, they farmed more efficiently than these idiots!'
Someone from a nation with modern education like the academy, or a centralized system separating lords from the military, might scoff at that.
But the truth was, this empire's farming methods were a total disaster—a chaotic mess right out of hell.
To farm properly, you need to plow the fields, dig furrows, make ridges, plant seeds at proper intervals, and manage water and fertilizer well for a successful harvest.
But here, they barely plowed, skipped the furrows entirely, scattered seeds wildly, and that was it for fertilizer—just some half-rotted cow dung mixed with straw.
I wasn't expecting them to use the four-field crop rotation that saved England, but hoping for no famines with methods this pathetic felt downright unethical.
So, I dug deep into my memories from reading military science primers and books on medieval and early modern history.
And surprisingly, I managed to devise some pretty solid farming techniques.
Now all I had to do was teach these new methods to them and order them implemented. If only they'd hurry up and get here...
And just like the old saying that even a tiger comes if you so much as mention it, the local landowners of the territory rushed into my office and greeted me right on cue.
"We pay our respects to Peter Jaeger, Lord of Bruno Territory."
"You've had a long journey. Come, sit comfortably."
Truth be told, the territory wasn't that big, so they could ride here in about four hours—not exactly far by fantasy world standards.
But for these people, who had suffered abuse and torment from the previous lords, even my simple words seemed to touch them deeply.
Already, tears welled up in the eyes of some among the landowners and village heads.
I extended my hand toward them to calm them down and spoke.
"How has life been lately? Have one representative step forward and answer."
At my words, a landowner in his fifties—who looked noticeably healthier and plumper than a month ago—stepped forward.
"The serfs' lives have improved beyond words. Just a month ago, all of us, myself included, were on the brink of starvation. But since Your Lordship arrived, you've reduced taxes, provided flour to eat right away, and lent oxen for farming. We're slowly regaining our strength. The serfs in the villages all praise Your Lordship as the source of this grace and merit."
Unless it was a real tyrant—or some depraved lord obsessed with luxury—even the local elites had no choice but to play the yes-man and say the lord could do no wrong.
So, even if they praised me, the lord, in front of everyone, I couldn't take it as 100% sincere.
But the eyes of the landowner before me shone with genuine sincerity.
The other landowners and village heads nodded vigorously at his words, chiming in one after another with, "Yes, that's the same for us."
That let me clearly gauge how my support policies for the territory's people—and the executions or forced labor for corrupt soldiers—had landed with them.
"It's been a month since I distributed food and lent oxen. What are the serfs doing now?"
"Most spend weekdays on corvée labor to receive rations, and on Saturdays, they clear new fields from dawn till late. It was unthinkable back when no household had an ox."
For the next half hour or so, I received reports from the landowners on the territory's general state, the peasants' economic situation, and more.
As the reports wrapped up, I handed out booklets detailing tool usage for farming and revolutionary methods to boost yields.
"I called you here not just to check on the territory and the serfs' morale. My main purpose is to order the introduction of these new farming methods. The details are in the booklets I've given you—just follow them exactly."
At that, the landowners' and village heads' faces crumpled as if to say, "Are you insane? New farming methods?"
Forgetting I was the lord with the power to execute them on a whim, they started protesting wildly.
"Even though we've received Your Lordship's grace, this is too much! Our families' lives hang on each year's harvest. Changing such a vital matter overnight is like sentencing us to death!"
"We understand Your Lordship's urgency to rebuild the territory. So we'll go back and make the serfs work Sundays too, right after Mass. Please retract your order."
"Your Lordship, please spare us lowly folk."
Protesting so fiercely, as if their lives weren't precious, showed just how risky changing farming methods was in this era—untested new ones were a gamble with death.
Because if yields dropped after adopting new methods, with almost no surplus food in this time, that many more would starve.
So rather than rage at their near-insubordination, it was smarter to reassure them: even if it failed, I'd cover their losses.
"You have a point. If the new methods fail, I'll take responsibility and supply enough food for the territory's people for a full year. And I swear I won't force this on you again. Does that make you willing to try?"
The local elites nodded in relief at my words, and I ordered them to open the books.
"First off, your current methods have major flaws. From the reports you sent, the seeds scattered haphazardly mean you can't tell wheat from weeds in spring and summer. And since they're not properly buried, they'll just sit on the surface— you'll need scarecrows till they sprout, chasing off birds from pecking them. Right?"
Anyone who's lived in the modern world could figure that out with basic reasoning.
Doves gobble up scattered grain, so birds picking at seeds on fields is obvious.
Even elementary textbooks stress weeding as crucial in farming—anyone not sleeping in class knows it.
But here, they'd think, "Even the high lord has studied farming this deeply," boosting their trust.
"So before planting, roll the template I made over the plowed field to mark outlines. Dig holes a thumb's width deep at the cross points and plant the seeds there. Even if weeds sprout, the wheat will be in neat rows, easy to pull. Now turn the page."
At my words, they flipped to the next page detailing other methods, and I continued.
"Instead of leaving fallow land to grow weeds for grazing, plant beans there. Collect the dung from the oxen I lent you, mix it with human waste and straw as described, pile it to rot into fertilizer. Build sheds next to each house for animals, only bringing them out for farm work."
That way, you collect the dung, grow beans for people to eat, and feed the stems and leaves to the livestock.
"Making fertilizer my way before this year's planting will take too long. Instead, before starting, scrape the dark brown topsoil from nearby forests or hills, spread it over the fields, then plow it in. Follow the rest as written in the book."