Arc II – Agrarian Revolution
Chapter 6 – Tabula Rasa
Day 29 Since the Summoning
The sun had almost completely set, and outside Alan’s room window, the entire capital of the Armenas County, the city of the same name, had fallen almost entirely silent.
Alan lay on his bed with his hands behind his head, just staring at the ceiling.
‘Tomorrow Kamelia will dispatch town criers to her villages, and in a day or two she’ll send out recommendations to her vassals.
Good…
everything’s going more or less according to plan…
if you ignore the fact that I got poisoned by a mushroom and barely survived, the county is most likely on the brink of civil war, and the barons will almost certainly tell Kamelia to go to hell.
Just perfect.’
He rolled onto his side.
‘Plus the peasants of those barons…
will be left to starve…
they’ll gather a meager harvest at the end of summer, and in winter they’ll be left with absolutely nothing.’
He clenched his fists.
‘Maybe we really should have issued a decree?
What if they genuinely wouldn’t have wanted to start a conflict unnecessarily?
…
alright, stop, you’re making up nonsense.
It has to be this way.
I can’t do anything about it.
I am powerless here.
I can only help the peasants on Kamelia’s lands.’
He got up and walked to the window; the summer moon illuminated the entire city, which was almost empty.
Only the occasional townspeople returning from taverns, and the guards patrolling the area.
‘Regrets won’t help anything…
the main thing is that the first stage is finally complete.
We found something for the peasants to eat for the time being, while the harvest is weak.
Now the second stage, we need to…
we need to somehow get the four-field system running.
Kamelia already trusts me, that’s true…
but the peasants are unlikely to just agree to it.’
He yawned, his eyes already sticking together.
‘Alright…
I’ll think about that tomorrow, and at the same time I’ll explain to Kamelia how it will work.’
He lay back down on the bed.
‘Kamelia…
hah…
an amazing girl.
Three weeks ago she was beating the shit out of me with her fist, and now she listens like a schoolgirl…
doesn’t seem like your typical aristocrat at all.
Looks like life beat all the ego out of her.’
With these thoughts, he finally closed his eyes.
1 Month Since the Summoning
Alan and Kamelia sat at the same terrace table, waiting for Golna to bring the oyre.
Alan’s hair had grown almost to his shoulders, thick, golden, and messy.
Kamelia closely examined his face for about thirty seconds.
“Alan…
how old are you, anyway?”
He blinked.
“Huh?
You’re just deciding to ask now?
Seriously?”
She shrugged.
“I never thought about it.”
“I’m twenty-two, why?”
She narrowed her eyes, still looking at his face.
“Your beard hardly grows…
that is why I asked.
It is just unusual.”
Alan ran a hand over his face, where there was only a light, barely noticeable stubble.
“Ah, that…
yeah, my mustache and beard never really grew much.” He sighed.
“I don’t know why…
by the way, since we’re on the subject, how old are you?”
“I turned twenty recently.
That makes you older.”
Alan waved his hand.
“Almost the same age, not a big difference.” He touched his hair.
“By the way, it wouldn’t hurt to get a haircut…
going to cover my eyes soon.
You have scissors, I hope?”
Kamelia nodded.
“Of course we do, I can give them to you later.”
Golna stepped out of the doorway, her wolf tail dragging almost on the ground; in her hands she carried a tray with a teapot of oyre and cups.
She placed it on the table and gave a short bow.
“Thank you, Golna,” Kamelia said, and picked up the teapot to pour the oyre.
Golna’s hand, which was reaching for the teapot, froze, she blinked, and simply pulled her hand back, then left.
The countess poured for herself and Alan.
“So…
we stopped the sickness, found food for the time being, next, you said…
an agricultural revolution?”
Alan nodded.
“Exactly.
Remember what I was talking about?”
She took her cup.
“Yes, four equal fields, turnips, barley, clover, and wheat, swap them around every year.”
“Perfect,” Alan said and took his cup.
“But…
as you understand, peasants are very stubborn, no one’s going to agree to an agricultural revolution right off the bat.”
Kamelia took a sip.
“That is true.
The people are already terrified of the famine, so they will be even less likely to agree.
Any thoughts?”
Alan set his cup down.
‘That’s exactly the thing, I don’t have any.
It’s obvious that on the brink of starvation, no one is going to want to experiment.
First, we need to convert at least some of the fields to the four-field system, it doesn’t all have to be at once.
We need to either win their trust or find those who have nothing to lose.
Winning their trust…
takes too long, there’s not enough time for that, we need to start planning and preparing now so we can launch it all in the spring…
hah…
the spring…
what an optimist I am, assuming of course I live until spring and don’t get killed by something I didn’t even see coming.’
“We need a village…
that isn’t too squeamish about trying new things, and has nothing to lose.
Are there any like that?”
The countess leaned back in her chair.
“Hmm…
I do not even know, everywhere is taken up by fields actively preparing for the harvest, there are no free ones.”
Alan nodded.
‘Well, naturally, it makes sense that everywhere is busy.’
“Are there any villages without fields?”
Kamelia thought for about fifteen seconds.
“Yes…
there are a few.
One is not far from the forest, the second is at the foot of the mountains.
In the first they mostly hunt for the county, and in the second they mine iron.”
Alan took a sip of oyre.
“Well, well, well, more details about the hunting village?”
“It is a village where mostly beastkin live…
it is quite isolated from everyone, they do not like outsiders there, and besides…”
“Beastkin are disliked too?” Alan interrupted her.
Kamelia froze for a second, then simply nodded.
‘Just like I suspected back in the dining hall…
beastkin are second-class citizens here.
As expected.
But why?
There must be a reason.’
“Why is that?
Why aren’t they very well-liked?”
Kamelia squeezed her cup.
“As far as I know, it is only like this in Groliria and the neighboring kingdoms.
According to the chronicles, a very long time ago, before the Eight Prohibitions, the beastkin were nomadic tribes from the north who raided humans and dwarves for centuries, pillaging and killing.
Then they grew weak, and humans conquered their lands…
since then, beastkin have not been very well-liked, they are considered…
feral.
They are often even insultingly called ‘Mireyans’, so if you hear that word somewhere, know that someone has insulted a beastkin.”
Alan raised an eyebrow.
“Why Mireyeans?”
“In honor of the bloodiest ruler of the nomads, Mirey; in his time he conquered almost all human lands.”
Alan pondered this.
‘Oh holy shit…
turns out the beastkin used to be the local equivalent of the Mongols?
And there was even a local Genghis Khan?
Now it’s clear why they’re hated…
historical trauma that stretches back almost two thousand years.
Which means the beastkin are used to being…
well, they’re probably not outright hated, just treated with distrust.
That’s my target audience.
The fact that I’ll treat them normally is already a plus in my book.
Second, since they’re mostly hunters, they don’t have a centuries-old genetic memory of what can and cannot be planted.
In theory…
we can show them another way to live…
but the fact that there are no fields is also a problem, we’ll have to plow new ones.
No big deal.
Seems like we have time.’
“Got it.
Then I think we can start the agricultural revolution with this village.”
“I am not so sure,” Kamelia said.
“Golna is originally from that village, perhaps we should ask her?”
Alan blinked.
“So why were you keeping quiet?!
Call her in, of course!”
A minute later, Golna was already standing before the table, her hands folded in front of her.
“You called, my lady?”
Kamelia nodded.
“Yes, Alan wishes to speak with you.”
The beastkin blinked, then slowly turned to Alan; her face did not change.
“I am listening, Lord Gothwald.”
Alan placed his hands on the table.
“Kamelia said you’re from the beastkin hunting village, right?”
Golna’s shoulders tensed slightly.
“Yes, my lord…
I am from the village of Zoligasha.
What did you wish to ask?”
He stood up.
“Here’s the situation, Golna…
we…
um…”
“You can speak freely with her, she is reliable,” Kamelia said, sipping her oyre.
Alan exhaled.
“Okay…
anyway, we’re planning to introduce a new method of farming, but as you know, peasants won’t just agree to it right away.
But then there are you beastkin, hunters who haven’t really done much farming before.
Here’s what I wanted to know, since you’re from…
Zoligasha, you’d know how they’ll react to this?”
Golna froze, then something flashed in her eyes.
“They will react very…
very well.
You see, Lord Gothwald…
the people of my village have long grown tired of hunting, and wish to engage in farming, but the previous count…
he would not allow it…
he needed us to hunt…
he…”
“He wanted tasty and rare game for his feasts,” Kamelia said evenly.
Golna flinched slightly.
“Yes…
exactly so.
So the residents will receive this…
very well.”
Outwardly, Alan simply nodded, but inside he was literally dancing.
‘FUCKING JACKPOOOOOOOT!
FINALLY SOME LUCK SMILES UPON ME IN THIS BLEAK HELLHOLE!
I thought I’d have to tear this reform out with my teeth, but it’s so much simpler!
If they want to farm themselves, the work will go like clockwork!
YES, YES, AND YES AGAIN!
Finally I can just clearly plan everything out for once without having to worry about the fucking human factor!
Bingoooo!
A blank slate, like…
like a damn tabula rasa!’
“Hey, Alan, why are you smiling like an idiot?” Kamelia asked.
Alan flinched, and discovered that there was an idiotic smile on his face; he immediately wiped it off.
“You just have no idea how lucky we are, this is a real jackpot, Kamelia!
If they want change themselves, everything will go much easier.
We won’t have to spend a ton of time persuading, begging, deceiving, tricking, and so on.
We’ll just be able to tell them straight up what to do.”
Kamelia gave a sharp nod.
“Yes, I was thinking the same thing.”
Golna said nothing, but her shoulders were relaxed, and her tail swayed slightly.
“When can we set out for Zoligasha?” she asked.
The countess stood up.
“Even right now.
It is just…
the advisors have increasingly been pressing me with questions about where I have suddenly started traveling to so often, but it is fine.
They do not need to know.”
“Yeah, they can endure it,” Alan said.
“How long is the ride to the village?”
“Roughly half a day, perhaps less.” She turned to Golna.
“Go put on something more comfortable.”
Golna looked at her maid uniform, then nodded vigorously.
“Yes, my lady!” And she walked away briskly.
Alan scratched the back of his head.
“Why is she so excited?”
The countess was already walking back into the castle.
“She has not been to her home village for about a year and a half.”
“Hmm…
I see,” Alan muttered and followed after her.
An hour later they were already on the road.
Alan was with Kamelia as usual, and Golna rode on a horse with Lorgi; behind them were four more guards on horses.
Far to the east, the Southern Mountains were already visible, having become a permanent fixture while riding through the plains.
“So where will you begin in the village?” Kamelia asked.
Alan looked at the mountains.
“Where will I begin…
I suppose first we should make sure the beastkin actually want to farm, then we’ll see what lands there can even be plowed for fields, and then…” he shook his head.
“After that, it doesn’t matter.
As a famous fighter from my world used to say: everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.”
Lorgi rode closer.
“What was that the fighter said again?”
Alan turned to him.
“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.”
The captain was silent for a few seconds.
“Wise words.
What was this fighter’s name?”
“Mike Tyson.”
The man nodded.
“A fearsome name.”
“Fearsome words too,” Kamelia said.
“And surprisingly true…
I think I will remember them.”
Golna sat quietly in a simple gray travel dress, saying nothing, and not even listening.
Her gaze was simply fixed on the road ahead.
As sunset approached, a forest appeared on the horizon, and in front of it a small village.
Golna pressed into Lorgi’s waist so hard that he even frowned.
Alan continued his tradition of wincing in the saddle.
“Hallelujah…
finally a village, I’m once again…”
“I beg you, stop your talk about…
that already,” Kamelia said.
Alan smirked slightly.
“About what?”
She pressed her lips together.
“You know what.”
Alan’s smile grew wider.
“No, I don’t know, tell me, eh?”
“Balls,” the captain said with an absolutely stone face.
Alan clicked his tongue.
“Ah, buzzkill…
I wanted her to say it.
By the way…
I’ve never even heard you curse, Kamelia.”
She scoffed.
“Naturally.
No matter how you look at it, I am still a countess.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” he muttered barely audibly, then the squad of horses stopped at the edge of the village, and everyone began to dismount.
Golna practically flew off the horse and was already prepared to run into the village, but instantly stopped, collecting herself, though her body trembled slightly.
Kamelia hopped off her horse and looked at Golna, and Golna looked at her.
Five seconds of silence.
Then the countess simply nodded.
Golna flinched, bowed a little too deeply, and practically ran into the village.
Alan watched this scene unfold.
‘Looks like someone has a family reunion waiting for them….
Sigh…
happy for her.’
He carefully climbed down from the horse and walked into the village.
It was quite ordinary, wooden houses, wooden roofs covered with coniferous branches, silhouettes of beastkin in the windows, animal skins drying on some of the fences.
‘Hmm…
I thought this would be a dilapidated ghetto.
Just a regular hunting village.’
He turned a corner, and simply froze.
“Oh fuck…”
A fresh jerkos carcass lay in the yard, actively being butchered by beastkin.
There were several arrow holes in the animal’s corpse.
One beastkin, a large man with bear ears, was methodically skinning the jerkos’s fur, working his knife vigorously; the second beastkin, with dog-like ears and tail, was unhurriedly slicing the dead beast’s throat with a dagger, the blood flowing in a steady stream onto the grass.
He winced slightly.
‘Yeah…
I should have gotten used to this.
Middle Ages and all that…’
Lorgi and Kamelia simply scanned the area, looking for the village head.
Lorgi’s eyes found the scene of the jerkos butchering, and he merely raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Wow…
they are really something, taking down a whole jerkos.”
Kamelia nodded.
“Hunters.
Alright, let us go ask them where the village head is.” They moved toward them, when suddenly Alan looked toward the forest.
A creature resembling a cat, the size of a cheetah, and green in color, was calmly walking from there.
He narrowed his eyes.
‘What the fuck?
A green cat?
Wait a second…
A SHINNOR!’
“Kamelia!
There’s a shinnor over there!”
She spun around sharply, and Lorgi along with her.
“A bad opponent…” the captain muttered, grabbing the hilt of his sword.