Preparations for the Merchant Caravan
It was the season when the heat reached its peak.
Summer in the north was brief, but it was incredibly intense.
Even though it was only eight in the morning, sweat dripped down just from sitting still.
The vassals were no exception.
Everyone attending the meeting had dressed in the thinnest clothes possible.
While the administrative vassals managed to endure by fanning themselves, the knights looked utterly miserable.
It was because of the armor they wore.
A sour, indescribable stench of decay wafted from their gear, so thick that one felt they might faint if the room wasn't constantly ventilated.
Plate mail was incredibly expensive, meaning most of it had been passed down through generations. Some suits of armor were over a century old.
Though everyone found it agonizing, in this uncivilized world, such a stench was accepted as a matter of course.
I'll have to search Earth for some steel plates that can be used as breastplates. This smell is truly atrocious.
At the very least, Sir Leila, being a female knight, seemed to pay some attention to her hygiene.
"My Lord, the official deed of transfer has arrived from the House of Rebion."
"Is that so?"
She handed a sheet of parchment to Jeron.
The quality of the parchment, used here as a substitute for paper, was not very good.
It was covered in mold and stained with mysterious spots.
This wasn't due to poor manufacturing, but rather because the messenger had carried the document close to his body while riding through the sweltering heat.
Every piece of parchment processed in the office lately looked like this.
It became unbearable around noon, when the heat reached its peak.
For this reason, Jeron handled his paperwork in the morning and evening, spending the hot afternoons outdoors.
He quickly skimmed the contents.
The deal had already been finalized through his contract with Viscount Rebion.
Once a noble recorded a contract in writing, it was absolute, so there was no need to scrutinize the deed of transfer. He only needed to confirm the new borders of the territory.
"Good. It has been drawn up correctly. Sir Cain! Can we begin clearing the newly acquired land and connect a canal from Lake Baitan?"
"Wait, my Lord! Are we clearing it this year? Isn't that a bit too rushed?"
"Not at all. There is a crop we can plant immediately after clearing the land."
"Pardon? Hasn't the sowing season for wheat already passed? Harvest is just around the corner."
"I am talking about the potatoes we planted. Potatoes are often called a hundred-day crop. They are typically harvested a hundred days after sowing. If we clear the land and plant them right now, we can harvest them before winter. The potatoes we planted in late spring are almost ready for harvest, so the timing is perfect."
"B-but my Lord, the territory's finances are on the brink of bankruptcy!"
Thick beads of sweat formed on Sir Cain's forehead.
He was already sweating from the heat, but Jeron's words brought on a cold sweat as well.
Regardless, Jeron remained stubborn.
"We will invest all available surplus funds."
"My Lord! I advise you out of sheer loyalty. Can we not postpone this until the autumn harvest? We can plant the potatoes next year."
"No. We must plant and harvest them this year, without fail."
"Who are you trying to drive to an early grave...!"
Jeron pushed his point firmly.
The knights were content to simply follow whatever orders Jeron gave, but the treasurer managing the funds could not afford to be so passive.
Sir Cain began to gear up for a full-blown protest.
"My Lord! If no new funds flow in, the territory will have no choice but to go bankrupt. If we lose the territory, our house is finished. We cannot allow such a thing to happen!"
"That will never happen. Sir Birken?"
"Yes, my Lord!"
"Please explain the situation."
Having been called upon, Sir Birken cleared his throat before speaking.
"Sir Cain, the territory's merchant caravan is currently preparing to launch, and we plan to begin trading in a week. We also intend to send items to the capital for auction, which are highly likely to fetch high bids. Furthermore, the second shipment of food from Hanes County will arrive soon. With all this, shouldn't we go all out on developing the territory?"
"The second food shipment?"
"We have been continuously selling precious metals to Hanes County. I heard that a total of thirty thousand sacks of wheat will arrive this time."
"Ugh, thirty thousand sacks..."
"What do you think, Sir Cain?"
Ultimately, Sir Cain let out a sigh and conceded.
If the payment for the second sale of precious metals arrived in the form of food, they could put out the immediate fire. Moreover, once the caravan began operating in earnest, they wouldn't be under such severe financial pressure. It was decided to proceed with the territory's development without delay.
The next agenda item was military matters.
"Sir James, how is the recruitment going?"
"Yes, my Lord. We conducted recruitment across the entire territory and selected five hundred men in the first round. About two hundred were disqualified during training, leaving us with three hundred official soldiers. Currently, the total strength of the territorial army is around eight hundred and fifty men. We plan to start a second round of recruitment soon, aiming for a thousand men this year."
"Good. Make sure we reach two thousand next year."
"Yes, my Lord!"
"Sir Garcia, what about the shields I distributed? How are they in practice?"
"Their performance is absolutely insane."
"Insane?"
"They are incredibly light and easy to handle. The shields are so sturdy that they deflect almost any weapon. The shields themselves are excellent, but the problem lies with the battle formation you devised, my Lord."
"What is the problem now?"
"That phalanx formation. Our boys are having a hard time because it's so unfamiliar to them. Are you sure this formation is actually effective?"
"Just keep training them. It's practically our trump card. I guarantee it will prove its worth."
"Well, we can force them through the training, but the weapons are another issue. Isn't the long pike the most important part of the phalanx? I have no idea when we will have enough of those expensive things. There is a limit to training with wooden sticks."
"Hmm."
Jeron was no military expert, but having received successor training since childhood, his military insight was considerable.
In this era, a long pike was a surprisingly expensive weapon.
A pike was a long weapon measuring at least three meters, and up to four and a half meters. The cost of sourcing and processing the wood used for it was ridiculously high.
The shafts of pikes were most commonly made of thornwood, with red thornwood considered the absolute best.
The problem was that there weren't many red thornwood trees tall enough to yield a pike. Even if they purchased the wood, it had to undergo a processing treatment of soaking in saltwater to harden it, which drove up the unit price.
Even if they managed to obtain the shafts, the spearheads needed to be mixed with at least some mithril to perform properly.
Jeron planned to raise a hundred pikemen, but how to obtain the weapons remained a mystery.
If I search Earth carefully, I might find something. Especially in hardware stores in towns with many detached houses.
In rural areas with detached houses, there was always at least one tool used for clearing cobwebs. The maximum length of these metal poles was about four meters, making them highly suitable as shafts for pikes. Another option was joining high-strength aluminum poles together, but obtaining those wouldn't be easy either.
"Money is the problem again. For now, keep training with sticks. I will find a way to procure the pikes."
"I'll just do as I'm told. Thinking isn't my department anyway."
"Yes, don't think. That is a very good attitude."
In addition, Jeron reviewed the overall progress of the three-year development plan for the territory.
How far the canal connection had progressed, whether the road construction was being carried out properly, when the castle wall construction would be completed, and how the reorganization of each village was going.
Jeron pushed forward with strong determination, and his vassals backed him up. Since everything was progressing smoothly according to plan, he decided to go out and inspect the territory in the afternoon.
"Lastly, Sir Jenald."
"Yes, my Lord!"
Sir Jenald stood up and saluted.
"How is the operation of the scouts going?"
"We have expanded our outposts to the new borders and are maintaining a strict watch. We are also deploying rangers separately."
"Good. Keep in mind that Viscount Rebion could invade our territory at any moment."
"Yes, my Lord!"
Jeron stood up and extended his hand.
The vassals stacked their hands on top of his and shouted.
"Get ready for the slogan. One, two, three!"
"Let's build a good life!"
***
The sun beat down mercilessly.
Despite the heat, the peasants worked up a sweat. Labor could be addictive. As long as Jeron paid them proper wages, they wouldn't complain, no matter how hard the work was.
The peasants also felt a sense of pride as they watched the rapid transformation of the territory and their villages.
Because of the intense heat, Jeron used a golf umbrella. Obtained from Earth, it blocked UV rays very effectively. This was a clear privilege of the lord; the knights following behind him would never dare to use an umbrella.
Jeron arrived at the flower farm.
On one side, potatoes were growing vigorously, and the flowers were gradually beginning to bloom. Soon, the territory's first specialty product would be harvested.
There were colorful roses and various seeds that could not be found in this world. The brilliant colors of the calla lilies, daisies, and daffodils were particularly exquisite.
Sir Leila marveled at the flowers filling the field.
"They are truly beautiful. If they sell well, they will bring in a fortune."
"It will likely cause a sensation. However, to keep them fresh, we must transplant them into pots."
"Aren't pots quite expensive?"
"Don't worry. I have secured a large quantity of pots."
Most pots in this era were made of glass, and because they were difficult to shape, they were quite expensive. Properly made pots were only seen in noble households. However, Jeron planned to sell these flowers in bulk at low prices. This was possible because he had gathered a large number of cheap pots.
Jeron walked slowly along the path between the flower beds. A sweet fragrance filled the air. After living in a world dominated by the stench of decay, it felt like entering a whole new world. Even if the flower business didn't succeed, just coming here to heal occasionally made running the flower farm worthwhile.
Jeron closed his eyes for a moment to savor the scent. Just then, the village chief ran over from a distance and prostrated himself.
"Oh, my Lord! Your humble servant greets you."
"Billion, you look well."
"It is all thanks to your heavenly grace, my Lord."
Billion's face had filled out considerably compared to before. Gaining even a small amount of power naturally improved one's quality of life. This was exactly what Jeron had intended. Dividing the serfs into classes would make them work harder to climb the ladder.
"Billion, are there any inconveniences or complaints from the serfs?"
"How could there be? You provide three meals a day and wheat every day, so everyone is busy praising your virtue, my Lord."
Jeron smiled faintly at Billion's smooth tongue. Having tasted power, Billion was slowly turning into a politician. Jeron looked around. The New Territory Movement had reached the serfs, and the plots were much better organized than before. Seeing the serfs working competitively, paying them even a small wage had been a good decision.
"Select ten middle managers from among the hard workers. Soon, a thousand new slaves will arrive. Half of them will be assigned as serfs, so make sure there are no lapses in management."
"Of course, my Lord. I shall execute your orders faithfully."
The harvest would begin soon. The flowers grown in the Farrow territory would immediately become commercial products, so Jeron decided to allocate five hundred serfs to them first. He also ordered that once more serfs arrived, they should begin clearing the newly acquired land.
"Keep up the hard work."
"Yes, yes. Do not worry about this place, my Lord."
Billion's assurance was quite satisfying.
Jeron left the farmland and headed toward the castle walls. Because the construction was progressing so rapidly, just walking around the territory was a chore.
In front of the walls, amidst the massive construction project, Jeron's gaze turned toward the castle gate.
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
It was a messenger from the House of Langton.
"Make way!"
The warhorse was foaming at the mouth, showing how fast it had run. The messenger of Duke Langton dismounted with an exhausted face and handed a letter to Jeron.
"A letter from His Grace the Duke to the Baron! If you can give me an answer by this evening, I will depart first thing tomorrow morning."
A letter from Duke Langton. It was bound to be about the trade rights.
Jeron first commended the messenger who had traveled so hard.
"You have worked hard to get here. I will give you an answer by this evening, so rest well."
"Thank you for your consideration!"
Finally, the time had come.