The Price of Abundance
Even now, long after other nations have adopted the three-field system, Spain remains stubbornly wedded to the two-field system.
The three-field system divides land into spring crops, autumn crops, and fallow land, achieving a land utilization rate of 66%. The two-field system is far more primitive; it leaves half the land fallow, utilizing only 50%. So, why do the Spanish persist with the two-field system? Wouldn't they want to "copy" more wheat and beans by switching to the three-field method?
The answer lies in Spain’s romantic, yet unforgiving, natural environment. Spain is blessed with scorching sun, but cursed with a lack of water. To practice the three-field system, you need water in the summer—and in Spain, that is exactly when the water vanishes.
Take the river here in Valladolid, the Pisuerga. Its flow coefficient is roughly 1:100. You might think, "The Han River is 1:400, so what’s the big deal?" But the problem here is that the river dries up completely during the summer, exactly when the crops are thirstiest. Furthermore, thanks to the easily eroded limestone bedrock, the river flows deep within a canyon.
"This land is a pain in the ass to farm. Seriously."
I stood at the edge of the plains, staring at that hateful river. In spring, it flows about three to five meters below the surface. But in summer, when the crops demand water most, it retreats ten to fifteen meters down, hiding deep in the canyon like a shy girl saying, "Oh my, I’m so embarrassed!" If you want to irrigate the fields, you have to dig canals from the mountains 100 to 200 kilometers away.
There used to be a long-distance canal network built by the Muslims called an acequia, but the expulsion of the Moriscos wiped out the people who knew how to maintain them. Once the agricultural technology that allowed this land to "copy" even sugarcane vanished, the region became a sickly mess that couldn't even manage a proper wheat harvest.
If the river would just stay elegantly at the bottom of the canyon, I could at least build waterwheels. But no, come winter and spring, it goes on a rampage, flooding like a madman. I’d be happy if it flooded reliably like the Nile, but it’s completely unpredictable.
In the spring of 1628, under a sky blessed with perfect weather, a massive bumper crop was already being predicted across all of Castile.
To go back to 1626: after the great flood and the ensuing famine, most people had eaten their seed grain. Only a few landlords, myself included, were able to begin the autumn sowing. The weather remained perfect for farming through 1627, but most farmers, having no seeds, had been left twiddling their thumbs, waiting for the 1627 sowing season.
By the autumn of 1627, everyone had finally secured seeds, and that’s when Spain’s romantic two-field system collided with reality. The great flood of '26 had replenished the soil nutrients that the 50% utilization rate usually lacked, so the farmers, having waited so long, planted wheat on every single inch of their land.
The yield per unit of land wouldn't be bad, but the total cultivated area had effectively doubled.
"Wheat prices are going to crash into the abyss."
Just as in 21st-century Korea, where you only make money if you’re the "only one with a bumper crop," the same holds true in 17th-century Spain. When a harvest this massive hits, grain prices plummet, and farmers go bankrupt.
The road conditions here are so bad that even that bald Duke gave up on transport. That shameless man had the audacity to send me a letter saying, "For the sake of price stability in Madrid, you must send wheat," and I threw it straight into the fireplace.
It’s just like the 2020 oil market, when the Saudi brothers decided to crush shale oil by increasing production 500-fold, sending oil prices into the negatives. This harvest season, wheat is going to be worth less than dirt.
With the support of Genoese finance, I had been able to hire the materials, labor, and "high-level personnel" I’d been lacking. As architects and surveyors—people I couldn't have hired with wheat alone—joined in droves, the construction speed accelerated.
"Your Excellency, the land required for the 'Castile Reinforcement Plan' has been mostly acquired. Furthermore, the Count of Fuensaldaña, owner of Rivas de Campos, has finally agreed to hand over his land. Externally, it was handled through a hidalgo in Valladolid, and by this harvest season, the purchase of real estate for the western and southern routes will be complete."
"Ah, Advisor Spinola. Thank you for your hard work."
The chief legal advisor sent from Genoa was his son, Filippo Spinola. With the cold, calculating gaze of a banker, he was dissecting the nobility and bringing new land to our 'Agricultural Development Company.'
The phenomenon where prices across Europe skyrocketed two to four times between the mid-16th and early 17th centuries is known as the Price Revolution. In the context of the Middle Ages, where prices hadn't changed for centuries, a 2-3% annual inflation rate would feel like 40% in the 21st century.
However, since rents had been frozen for decades or even centuries, many nobles couldn't keep up with the rising costs and became debt-ridden. Using Genoese capital to buy up their bonds, he was seizing their land titles in a much more sophisticated way than my brute-force methods.
I would use my development rights to claim abandoned, devastated land, while he would slap the nobles in the face with their own debt bonds to take the land that still had owners. This two-pronged approach was unstoppable.
Although Genoese are technically forbidden from owning land in Spain, using the names of penniless hidalgos as shields was an old specialty of theirs. With the added legitimacy of a 'Royal Company,' their acquisition of land titles knew no bounds.
Medina de Rioseco, the stronghold of the Enrique family, had once built immense wealth as a trade hub for silver arriving from the Americas via the port of Seville. This historic land, which had flourished as a trade city hosting international fairs, was losing its past glory as the center of Atlantic trade shifted to Lisbon, Amsterdam, and London.
Once the magic of the 'monopoly' that allowed them to overcome Castile’s shitty road network and absurdly inefficient land transport was broken, it was destined to fall into a mere rural town.
Ultimately, to survive in this godforsaken land, one must move beyond agricultural and production innovation to achieve logistics innovation.
The 'Castile Reinforcement Plan,' with equity invested by Admiral Enrique, Marshal Velasco, Commander Spinola, and myself, was, in fact, a grand canal project.
Sourcing engineers from the Low Countries and Italy and attracting capital was the job of the Genoese. Except for Commander Spinola, everyone else believed it was just a 'large-scale agricultural irrigation facility.' When I told them it was a facility necessary for my 'wheat copying,' they all approved. Their only condition was an ambiguous clause: "Agricultural technology shall be transferred after sufficient trust has been built."
They took the entire warehouse city I was building as collateral, and I had to agree that if I couldn't show a profit within ten years, they would begin exercising their property rights.
With the harvest approaching, my days were spent supervising the construction of the granaries.
"Your Excellency! We have a problem!"
The former head of the Valladolid Stonemason Guild, now the head of the construction division, Master Diego, came running over.
"What is it, Master?"
"The! We’ve hit a bedrock layer at the granary construction site."
"Bedrock? Wasn't that expected?"
The traditional method in Valladolid is to dig until you hit the limestone base, break through it to create a pit four meters deep, and then plaster the walls with lime. It’s a locally specialized grain storage method—just dig a hole and finish it with the lime found everywhere nearby.
Once sealed, the grain stays perfectly fine for ten years! Mice or bugs that wander in are wiped out by carbon dioxide poisoning. The only downside is that if you don't dry the grain until it makes a 'clack' sound, it turns into alcohol inside.
"It’s... it’s not limestone, sir. It’s gypsum."
The Valladolid area is limestone territory. But it seems we hit a gypsum deposit this time.
"Oh, gypsum! Gypsum is great."
Natural gypsum is like a wizard that revives the earth. If you powder it and spread it, it heals dead soil and supplies calcium to crops, preventing them from lodging.
"If we hit gypsum, the foundation will collapse, and we can't build the underground silos. Shouldn't we redo the geological survey?"
Knowing absolutely nothing about architecture, I finally understood the gravity of the situation.
"Sigh... Talk to the designers first, and call the surveyor to check another location. By the way, what was the quality of the gypsum like, Master?"
Master Diego broke into a wide grin.
"Oh! We found alabaster-grade selenite gypsum, clean enough to sell to Genoa for sculpting!"
I clapped my hands together. One thing that had changed since the Genoese joined as financial partners was the constant pressure to monetize high-value goods like beeswax, honey, and dried fruits.
"Good! Master! Cover it with a roof immediately! If water gets into the gypsum, it’ll all melt!"
"I’ve already given the order, Your Excellency."
"As expected of you! I knew I could count on you!!!"
I hopped onto my horse and galloped to the site, where Advisor Spinola had already arrived to inspect the goods.
"Your Excellency. It is truly high quality. It’s too small for giant statues, but it’s snow-white gypsum, perfect for carving baby angels."
He held up a sample, touching the milky-white stone carefully before setting it down.
"If processed well, it’s even possible to make gypsum glass."
"Ah... um... is it expensive?"
"Of course. It’s not quite Italian marble, but it’s a valuable commodity."
"Commander Spinola will be pleased."
"Haha. Thanks to you, Your Excellency, our family is finally getting some breathing room."
Commander Spinola had been looking younger lately. It was incredible to see black hair sprouting back beneath his white locks.
Advisor Spinola’s job, sticking to my side, was to secure items with transport value. Since he was representing Genoa, I asked him, thinking I should at least cover his labor costs since he was working so hard.
"So, do you think it’ll be profitable?"
"Hmm. First, items with transport value—honey, beeswax, membrillo, pancetta, jamón—are crucial. Transport costs are still so high that I just hope the road network to Haro is completed quickly."
The pancetta that the bald Duke had claimed from the start had been snatched away by the Genoese using debt bonds. If there was one happy thing about having a Genoese banker involved, it was that I no longer had to deal with the bald Duke’s bullying.
"Marshal Velasco said he would finish the road network connecting Burgos and Haro within this year’s sowing season, so I think we can trust that."
I said, reading the letter Marshal Velasco had sent. He had already emptied all the grain from the existing granaries and was waiting for the harvest, having treated them with sulfur fumigation.
"Crushed stone roads are surprisingly decent. They don't require the grueling labor of Roman roads, yet they have enough durability. They’re perfect for this Castilian land."
In the 21st century, you don't make farm roads in a grand way. You don't even dig; you just lay down crushed stone, compact it, and lay another layer. If you finish by spreading a layer of finer crushed stone fragments, the road is done. Asphalt might crumble and warp, but this stuff just crunches even when a tractor drives over it. If it gets damaged, you just pour a bit more crushed stone on top.
For localization, I dug deep drainage ditches on both sides of the roads to help with runoff—and to piss off the sheep. Sheep hate ditches that make their ankles sink.
"That’s why I’ve been diligently collecting stone, but after building warehouses and whatnot, it’s running out fast."
Even during the famine, I offered generous exchange rates for grain if people brought me stone. Thanks to that, every quarry in the northwest was mobilizing all their workers to mine stone and bring it to my warehouses.
"So, I’m rushing to secure stone supply contracts."
"People don't seem to realize how precious wheat is, knowing a bumper crop is coming."
"It doesn't matter. The only places that have restored and maintained granaries in the region are the Enrique, Velasco, and here, Valladolid. Others are so addicted to Valladolid’s logistics that they aren't even properly restoring their own city granaries."
I was so dumbfounded by the idea of them neglecting their city granaries that I blurted out:
"Wait, isn't it normal to at least store enough grain for a year?"
"That is why it is an Empire."
In Advisor Spinola’s eyes, I could feel the power of hatred that had been festering for ten thousand years.