Chapter 19
Chapter 19
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 19
Chapter Title: The Radish Alchemist (1)
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Hearing those words, I impulsively grabbed Helmut's hand with both of mine and said,
"Good work, Helmut! You did an outstanding job!"
Perhaps because I was showing such excessive joy, Helmut stared at me blankly before replying.
"Y-yes, thank you, my lord."
I must have overdone it. Showing this kind of reaction would only fluster Helmut...
Still, I pretended as if nothing had happened, wiped my mouth clean, and said,
"Guide me there as quickly as possible."
"Yes, understood."
"Oh, and... bring just you and a few reliable men. It's important."
Helmut tilted his head at my cryptic words.
"Yes, understood. But is all this really necessary just to run a factory like this?"
He had a point. For most production, security wasn't an issue—setting up in plain sight was cheaper and easier.
Especially in this world, where there were no proper land transport options beyond carts.
So I smiled and replied,
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The spot where I had complained about the trees in the forest had already been cleared, and a factory now stood there.
It wasn't much of a factory—built beside a large river, it used the water's flow as power instead of fossil fuels.
That's why it stretched horizontally along the riverbank, incorporating numerous waterwheels.
Inside were spaces to wash radishes with flowing water, rotating slicers to cut them to the desired size, enormous pots, and furnaces.
It looked less like a factory and more like some massive kitchen.
Helmut, entering this gigantic kitchen—or rather, factory—alongside Baldt, glanced around with a puzzled expression.
"Sir Baldt, why on earth did his lordship clear out the forest to build such a huge kitchen? Could it be that his lordship plans to... secretly learn cooking here...?"
Baldt scanned the kitchen-like interior before replying in a slightly hushed tone.
"Quiet down, Helmut. Even if you're a mercenary... surely our young master isn't the type to secretly take up cooking. He may act strangely at times, but he's still a proper noble."
"But don't nobles sometimes build houses or factories deep in the woods like this and do odd things? Back when I served someone, they built a factory like this and every night brought their lover here..."
"Our young master wouldn't... Wait, he's seventeen this year and still unmarried, so maybe... it could be."
Suddenly, the two nodded in mutual understanding.
I smacked Baldt on the back with my palm and said in a serious tone,
"Enough nonsense, Baldt. The serfs you've gathered outside—are they all trustworthy?"
"Yes, young master. From the second and third batches granted to you by Count Nant Excellency, I've selected only those with nowhere else to go."
"How many?"
"About twenty."
"Bring them in."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Soon enough, twenty serfs filed in.
Spotting high-status people like me and Baldt inside the facility, they quickly knelt and raised only their heads to look at us.
Yet they showed no aversion to the facility they had built themselves.
On the contrary, they curiously eyed the various machines, wondering what they were for.
Everyone wants to know if what they've made actually works, it seems.
To draw their full attention, I shouted loudly,
"Attention, everyone!!"
The sudden loud voice halted their wandering gazes, and they focused on me.
"From now on, you won't farm anymore—you'll work in this factory. I'll show you exactly what we make here, so follow along precisely. First, you there."
The designated serf replied in a startled voice,
"Me, sir?"
"There's a warehouse on the left side of this building. Go fetch the radishes from there."
"Yes, understood."
After a while, the serf returned, pulling a cart loaded with dirt-covered radishes.
With the cart full, it must have held about 150 kilos.
"Good work. Now follow my instructions exactly."
"Yes, my lord..."
I gave the serfs precise directions on what to do, then stepped out of the stifling factory for some fresh air.
We had to boil the peeled radishes for hours, so I'd just pop in midway to check the temperature and when to add the lime.
"I thought I was gonna die... Felt like I was being steamed alive..."
"Tell me about it. Hotter than trudging through summer in plate mail!"
"Hotter than the Bigos Desert."
The three of us grumbled about nearly dying of heat before scooping water from the nearby river into cups and drinking.
That single sip of water after escaping the steam-bath factory was pure nectar.
"Phew... Thought I was done for, young master."
"Me too. Baldt... I really thought I was turning into a steamed chicken."
"Ah, haha... Speaking of which, young master, why not ask Ella to steam a chicken once we're done today?"
Steamed chicken—without soy sauce, it wouldn't taste like back home in Korea, but with the local seasonings for dipping, it was delicious.
Hell, even just salt-dipped...
Sigh, now I'm craving actual chicken. Haven't had any since reincarnating here...
No, even if steamed chicken is good, it's no match for real fried chicken. Eating it would just make me miss chicken more.
"Nah, let's slaughter a pig today. Gather the whole mercenary company—how about a whole roasted pig?"
Baldt and Helmut's attention snapped to me.
"You always say we need to save money and just roast chicken, so why the sudden change...?"
"Thank you, young master. It's been a while since the lads got some proper grease."
"Don't you guys catch and eat chicken once a week? What do you mean 'been a while'?"
Helmut then gave the most absurd reply.
"Young master, chicken has too little fat to count as 'greasing up.' You need pig or cow for that."
"... Catch a big one. Salt the leftovers."
"Long live the young master!!"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Several hours later, the end product was finally ready.
A solid lump about the size of a large ladle, made from an entire cartload.
The exhausted, limp serfs—and even Helmut and Baldt—stared blankly at the cornmeal-colored solid.
After hours of labor turning carefully grown radishes into this, who wouldn't be dumbfounded?
But this was exactly the result I had been waiting for.
Baldt, steeling himself, stepped forward to ask,
"Young master... is that...?"
I cut him off firmly.
"Baldt, fetch a hammer and chisel."
"...Young master?"
"Hurry."
Baldt grumbled as he retrieved a chisel and hammer from the corner of the workshop.
I took them and positioned the chisel on the solid, then hammered away.
Powder flew with each strike, sometimes dusting my face...
I ignored it and kept pounding.
In a trance-like state for about five minutes, it broke into small chunks and powder.
I picked a bite-sized chunk and popped it into the mouth of the nearest serf.
The serf freaked out at the sudden intrusion of a strange lump, thrashing in panic.
But moments later, after chewing a few times, his face lit up with ecstasy and shock as he said,
"Young master, it's sweet. As sweet as honey."
I quickly shoved another chunk into my own mouth and chewed.
It was so hard it felt like crunching a rock with my teeth, but unmistakably, it was the sweetness of sugar.
Savoring this rare taste after so long, I chewed the sugar lump like a hard candy.
Only after finishing it did I notice everyone staring at me.
I looked at them with unprecedented seriousness and said,
"What we've made is sugar. Everyone, try it."
At my words, they all began sampling the crushed sugar.
Savoring the pure sweetness, they couldn't hide their smiles.
Some grinned ear to ear.
And rightly so—in the Elaine Empire, sugar doesn't grow at all. It must be imported from Spenia, a sea voyage of one or two months, or four by carriage. Even nobles ration it as a luxury.
For a rural knight like Baldt, a mercenary captain leading thirty men like Helmut, or lowly serfs excluding slaves, it's an unattainable extravagance.
Sugar goes for two and a half silver coins per kilo.
One silver coin covers ten days' food for a serf—enough for one to live 25 days.
In Korean terms, roughly 300,000 won in real value.
That's why it held such special meaning for them.
To refocus their attention, I clapped.
Those lost in the aftertaste of sugar turned to me.
"You will make this. And never leak it."
I turned to them, pressed a knife to one serf's throat, and declared,
Blood trickled from where the blade touched, and the serf's pants began to dampen as if he'd wet himself.
Ignoring that, I proclaimed solemnly,
"Siel von Kroitel swears by the holy Deus: Whoever leaks this will die on the breaking wheel, and their family likewise." The serfs stared at me in terror.
"In return, those working here will have lodgings and meals rivaling a knight's. Wait until I sell this and profits come. Clothes woven from soft cotton, chicken for your families every three days—no, every week—and occasional roasted beef. I'll pay wages to make that possible."
The serfs looked incredulous.
Such lavish living must be unimaginable for serfs.
But soon, visions of that unbelievable luxury made them beam uncontrollably.
"I'll head out now. You're factory workers from this moment. And to show I keep promises, enjoy pork and feasts. Baldt, bill me later—prepare enough food for them to eat their fill."
"Yes, understood."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ As I left the factory, Baldt asked in utter confusion,
"Young master, even if they're making sugar, why guarantee knight-level lodgings and meals? They're just technicians, aren't they?"
I chuckled at that.
"Just technicians...? Is that really all you see?"
"Well... it's not even some special skill, is it? You followed instructions from a chisel novice like yourself, and in hours we had sugar..."
Baldt's face hardened.
He must have grasped the magnitude of what I'd done.
I smiled casually, alternating glances between Baldt and Helmut.
"Baldt, one cart holds about 150 kilos of sugar beets. Sell them raw at market for two silver coins. Process as I described, get ten kilos of sugar—twenty-five silver coins. And it's easy to replicate. Leak the technique, and everyone will copy it. To prevent that, treat them well and keep it hidden."
Helmut's expression turned grave as he asked,
"My lord, were you planning to... eliminate us?"
I smiled nonchalantly.
"No, how about enlisting with me instead? If I treat mere laborers like knights, what would I offer you? At least daily chicken—tired of wandering?"
Helmut pondered for minutes before dropping to one knee.
He wanted to be knighted, it seemed.
Perfect timing—I needed a mercenary for 'drill instructor' duties...
And precedents of merit-earned nobility for future wars.
I drew my sword, placed it on Helmut's left shoulder, and said,
"By the rightful authority vested in me, Siel von Kroitel, I dub thee knight, Helmut."
"Yes, my liege."
"Liege? Just call me young master."
"Yes, young master."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Weeks later, with a decent stock of sugar, I moved to sell it.
Leaving the territory to another knight, I disguised myself as a merchant with Helmut's mercenaries.
Passing the city where Count Nant resided, onward to the great Free City of Hamburg.