In the days following the loss of Rand, the remaining villagers were relocated to Castle Hohengrenzberg. To avoid tension with the servants and other residents of the castle town, it was decided that the seventy-odd peasants would temporarily sleep in the grand hall while I figured out a better solution.
Despite the earlier victory, the mood in the castle was visibly glum. Most tried to hide it in front of me, but I could hear the sorrowful mumbles and soft crying whenever I’d stay up working too late and had to sneak around the makeshift bedding strewn around the hall. I felt the dejection creeping at the edges of my heart, too, but I didn’t let it overtake me. Instead, I focused my efforts on making the best of our new position.
Work was the best method for getting distracted from the grief and discomfort of daily life, so once the worst of the sorrow simmered down, I made sure everyone had plenty of it to go around.
And I didn’t even need to try hard to find them work.
The victory over the Count wasn’t just a military victory; it was also a huge triumph for my industrialisation plans. Along with the castle, I also gained control over the surrounding land, people, and raw resources—and it was important to start utilising them as soon as possible.
I didn’t know how much time I had before the Count rallied another army, or some other force such as Karl’s brothers or father, intervened. Ugo’s sons and that idiot Henrik also remained at large, which only made my position more difficult.
We needed to steam ahead.
And to fuel the locomotive of progress, I needed much more than I currently had.
***
“M-my Lord… You simply demand too much…!” One of the village elders, Veit from Reichtal, gasped as I finished reciting my new plans. “Our craftsmen, our children, men for the army…”
Following a spring cleaning of the ruling nobles, I had summoned an impromptu council of elders from all villages under my control. There were eleven in total, squeezed together in front of me, with a single chair left empty.
“Indeed, Veit speaks it plainly. Our cooper is the only man who can fix our barrels. Without him, our salted fish spoils. Then what do we eat through the second winter?”
“Shut it, you two.” Another elder, a sallow man with a sunken face, answered him before I could. He then turned to me with a fawning smile. “It is within His Grace’s right to demand such things, no? I am sure he only has the best intentions for his loyal subject, yes?”
“Best intentions or nay, if so many people are drawn away, who will be left to mine? We are already stretched thin after the famine.” A third man interjected. Hauer of Eisdorf, a buff grandpa from one of the mining towns. “Which reminds me… Gert! Don’t think we haven’t noticed you made sure the grain sacks we bought two dozens ago were lighter than usual. Best intentions, my ass!”
The second elder frowned. “It was all balanced with the royal weight. But surely His Lordship can come and confirm its accuracy, yes?”
“Bah, I know how much my miners eat in a day and how much we had to cut the portions, you can’t fool me.”
“It’s true, it’s true!” One of the two female elders joined with a rugged voice. “Our grain was also lighter! And also—”
I sat in my chair for a while, looking over the squabbling men and women. Despite being at least two or three times my age, they reminded me more of high school students than supposedly respected representatives of their communities.
Only one of the eleven remained silent throughout the meeting so far. Felix von Hanshof.
Unlike the other village elders, he was not an elder. Instead, he was about my age; a fact made apparent by his charming, almost boyish features and fluffy hair in the midst of wrinkled faces and bald heads. And even more surprising—he was actually a noble! Though he was as far from a typical noble as one might imagine.
From what I gathered, his family were outcasts because his grandfather married a commoner woman he loved, forever banishing the family from high society. Since then, they have spent most of their time around the peasants and were highly popular among them.
I honestly wasn’t sure how to feel about it all.
On one hand, I was happy that there was a person in this wretched world who cared about the people. Though on the other hand, it made things quite awkward, given the whole narrative of uniting the people against nobles as a common enemy.
I sighed.
It was time to get things done.
“Ahem.”
I loudly cleared my throat.
The room instantly went silent as everyone stopped mid-sentence and returned their eyes to me with varying degrees of unease.
“If you will allow me a word,” I asked with a thin, measured smile. “I believe my intentions and plans will be clear to you.”
The quarrelling elders silently nodded their heads and quickly sat back into their seats, like students being reproached by a teacher.
“Thank you.” I stretched my fingers and continued. “Now, I understand the demands may seem big on paper, but in reality, it will benefit you all.”
Several men couldn’t hide their disbelieving glances.
“One, assembling all the local craftsmen here in the castle will help centralise production and improve efficiency. It will also help standardise production and distribution to avoid any inconsistencies.” I glanced at Hauer and Gert. Gert's expression soured a bit while Hauer looked quite pleased. “Finally, it will allow them to better work together on larger projects for the common good.”
I let the words sit with the men, then continued before anyone started complaining and squabbling again.
“Two, the young children can’t possibly be of that much help in the fields or in the mines yet, so it would be better for them to be properly educated. I am sure most families would like for their sons and daughters to be able to gain better jobs that come with better education, and, of course, the better pay that comes with it. And teaching them all can only be done efficiently here in the castle. They will also receive meals and a small stipend.”
Another brief pause.
“Finally, if we want to protect everything we build and create, and your tax breaks, we will need a strong army. Not one dragged from the fields whenever danger appears, but a professional one with sufficient manpower. It will require lots of hard work and rigid discipline, but it will also be voluntary and provide good pay and opportunity for promotions. And for everyone else, it will guarantee they will be able to focus on their own work without worry about fighting.”
The council breathed for a moment as the elders looked at each other. Finally, one of them gathered enough courage to answer.
“It all sounds clean when you say it, My Lord…” Veit mumbled, wringing his hands, “But even if we can live without our craftsmen and our children close by… still the problem remains. It takes the whole village to work the field. We… we will all starve if we send away so many people!”
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. Hauer crossed his arms. The two women exchanged worried glances. Even Gert, for all his fawning, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“You raise a fair point,” I said, nodding at Veit. “You’re worried that pulling people from the fields means less food. That’s simple maths, and I can’t fault you for it.”
“Then you see our position, Your Grace,” Veit pressed, emboldened. “We are not trying to be difficult. We are trying to survive.”
“I know. Which is why I’m not asking you to produce the same amount of food with fewer hands.” I leaned forward. A smug grin tugged at the edges of my mouth as I set the stage. “I’m asking you to produce more food with fewer hands.”
Silence.
“That’s… that’s not possible,” one of the female elders said slowly. “Farming doesn’t work like that. The land gives what it gives. Not even magic can make more grain from it.”
“You are right. Not even magic can do it.” I let my smile spread wide. “But—engineering can!”
I strode towards the other end of the room where a blanket of canvas shrouded an exciting new invention. Without wasting a breath, I pulled off the cover to reveal it.
A long, wooden box, divided into compartments, sat perched above a series of hollow-legged pipes that descended like the teeth of a great, mechanical comb. And beneath it, a small, fluted cylinder, no larger than a man’s fist, studded with tiny cups, each one a patient mouth waiting for its portion of grain.
This was the deceptively humble masterpiece that kickstarted the Second Agricultural Revolution—and consequently, the Industrial Revolution: Jethro Tull’s seed drill.
Once it was revealed, I turned back to the crowd, feeling like an actor after a successful play.
Unfortunately, my enthusiasm was ill-shared by the others. Well, except for Felix, who eyed the machine curiously.
"This," I announced, patting the hopper, "is a seed drill. At present, your grain is sown by hand. Some seeds land too shallow and the birds take it before they set. Others go too deep or too close, and the plants strangle each other. The rest survives more or less by luck." I tapped one of the descending tubes. "This puts each seed at the correct depth, in a straight row, at a consistent spacing. Every time. One person guiding it, one horse or ox pulling it."
"One horse…" Hauer repeated in disbelief.
"And one person." I finished his thought.
"For the whole field?"
"For the whole field. Faster than six people scattering by hand, and with considerably better yields."
Stunned silence.
"And this is merely the beginning." I unrolled the parchment I'd kept under my chair, spreading it across the small table. The sketches were functional rather than elegant, but legible enough. "A heavier plough with a proper curved iron mouldboard that turns the soil fully rather than scratching the surface. A horse-powered reaper that can harvest fields in a day. And a threshing machine that separates grain mechanically, without the whole village beating the wheat until their arms give out. Taken together, one man can do the work of ten. And the remaining nine can then go work the forge, or the mine, or join the army—all without anyone going hungry."
The elders stared at me as if I had just brought down one of the Suns.
“Aye, this all seems impressive. But is it really possible to make?” Hauer questioned as he scratched his chin. “Surely someone would have thought of such obvious ideas before if it were possible.”
“It is possible.” I eagerly nodded. “If all your craftsmen work together, we can make enough for every village to get a set of these machines in time.”
Several elders exchanged looks. Cautious. Unconvinced.
Felix, however, had abandoned his seat entirely and was crouching beside the seed drill, prodding various parts and peering up at the tube mechanism from below.
“So, how does it meter the seed?” he asked, without looking up. “There must be something inside the hopper. A wheel of some kind?”
“A toothed feed roller on the axle. As it turns, it releases a measured portion into each tube.”
He stood, eyes bright. “Can it turn differently depending on one’s needs?”
"Not yet. That needs more precise ironwork than we currently have."
“But could it be done?“
“In principle, yes.“
“Oooh…” He produced a small piece of parchment from somewhere inside his bright coat and began jotting down notes. “I want one! Can you build two at once?!”
“Felix—“ Veit started.
“I'll take yours if you don't want it, Veit.”
***
I looked on with a satisfied smile as the elders filtered out of the meeting chamber.
It was unfortunate that most of them didn’t share my passion for mechanised agriculture, but at least they seemed appeased by my demonstration. I am sure things would have gone even better if Erika were around to smooth things out, but she was too busy caring for Otto and the remaining wounded.
However, in the end, between the show and tell, and the fact that at the end of the day, I was their lord and could just force the issue anyway, the elders agreed to comply with my demands.
Ample food, a centralised workforce, educated youth, and a standing army.
I licked my lips.
The heat was rising in the boiler of industry.
But it was still not enough.
To move further, we had to build the next station for the locomotive of progress.
And it was to be built out of cement and steel.