Chapter 154: Building the Territory

After finishing the tests on the thermal ray gun, Gawain left the testing grounds, accompanied by Hetty and Amber. Rebecca and Jenny were still busy optimizing the rune arrays, Nicholas had to return to the mechanical research institute to design new production lines, and the two knights each had their own assignments—so none of them joined Gawain.

The success of the new weapon lifted Gawain’s spirits, putting him in an unusually good mood. With that optimism, he looked over his territory and saw everything in a much brighter light than usual.

Half of Frostmoon had already passed, and the temperature was dropping day by day. Soon, this southern land would enter the cold grip of winter. But the first harvest had been bountiful, and with the king’s promised grain supplies steadily arriving, plus the steady flow of provisions purchased from Tansang Town filling the warehouses, there was no fear of hunger this winter.

The Cecil family was perhaps the most generous noble house when it came to food. On other noble estates, peasants often had to hand over seventy to eighty percent of their harvest as taxes, and serfs sometimes nearly ninety percent. Even with druidic magic or blessings of abundance, the poor still lived on the edge of famine. A bad year meant starvation was common, and wild herbs, tree bark, and roots were staples in most poor households. But in the Cecil lands, Gawain had set the grain tax at just fifty percent.

The people were grateful, but Gawain still thought the tax was too high.

Other nobles charged exorbitant taxes partly because they didn’t truly care about farming or improving agricultural techniques or labor management. Their lands were low-yield, so they needed high taxes to maintain their lavish lifestyles. On top of that, their extravagance was staggering: even a minor baron had to build a castle and maintain a steward, a personal servant, four senior male servants, four senior female servants, plus a host of other staff—laundry maids, kitchen maids, stable hands—and hold endless feasts and hunts. Devout nobles also donated large sums to the local church every year. All these expenses translated into crushing taxes on already struggling peasants.

But the Cecil lands didn’t need any of that.

Gawain also understood something crucial: with the rise of arcane industry, agricultural economies would inevitably be surpassed and replaced. Farmland had once been the main source of wealth, but soon gold coins would flow from factories and commerce. He had no intention of continuing the exploitative model of draining peasants to fuel growth—though for now, with arcane industry still in its infancy, he had to maintain the status quo.

The treasure stored in the mountain vaults would eventually run out, but Gawain was confident that before that happened, the territory would shift from running a deficit to breaking even. Once industrial output met internal needs and generated surplus, it would be time to send out trade caravans…

Passing by the Whitewater River docks, Gawain saw a large ship moored there. A crowd of ragged people was disembarking, undergoing routine registration and inspection. The clerks handling this were drawn from the Hundred-Men Aid Corps, along with literate soldiers from the territory. After some time adapting and training, these men were now capable of managing such tasks.

The population was steadily growing. After confirming this year’s harvest, Gawain boldly authorized the Tansang Town “Population Introduction Office” to place new orders for serfs and ramp up recruitment of refugees. Now, nearly every three or four days, a full shipload of people was transported down the Whitewater River, becoming new residents of the Cecil lands. Even more encouraging was the increasing number of refugees among them.

This meant that the homeless drifting outside had finally heard and believed the news about the Cecil frontier—and once such a flow began, it would continue without end.

In places with plenty of people, refugees were a serious headache for the sheriff. But in the Cecil lands, where Hetty and Gawain were already pulling their hair out over the shortage of labor, refugees were pure gold—anyone who could be supported was welcome, no matter how many came.

Compared to slaves, each with a fixed price and cost, these continuously arriving refugees were the most stable source of population for the future.

“How’s the housing situation?” Gawain asked, his gaze drifting toward the docks. “It’s getting colder by the day.”

“There are enough wooden cabins,” Hetty replied. “Following your new policy, newly arrived serfs and refugees don’t start with farm or factory work. Instead, they first build their own homes, learning the local labor system and basic knowledge during the process. This method works surprisingly well—they work exceptionally hard and all praise the kindness of the Cecil family. By the time they finish, the basic labor rules and life skills are firmly ingrained.”

“Building a home for yourself naturally inspires full effort. It’s a simple truth,” Gawain smiled. “And this kind of immersive education is far more effective than any whip or scolding.”

He frowned slightly. “But wooden cabins can’t compare to brick houses, especially in winter… Even with plenty of dry straw and mud plastering the walls, the cabins still get cold.”

“Your kindness is touching, but the brickworks can’t keep up,” Hetty shook her head regretfully. “The population is growing too fast. It’s impossible to build brick houses for everyone. In fact, if the logging camp and sawmill hadn’t stocked up on large amounts of timber in advance, and if the magic-powered sawmill wasn’t so efficient, we might not even have enough wood cabins.”

“Then at least ensure a steady supply of charcoal so they can get through the first winter,” Gawain nodded. “Have all the new building zones been fitted with hive magic nets?”

“Yes. As you ordered, all areas are being networked. Even if we can’t cover every inch, we at least connect the hive structures in lines, linking each building zone and leaving exposed magic net interfaces.”

These magic net interfaces were short rods of magical conductor extending from the magic net units underground to the surface. Made from iron rods plated with a thin layer of mithril or cheaper blackstone rods, one end connected to the underground magic net, the other protruded above ground. This was Gawain’s foundation for future development.

Though the magic net could transmit power wirelessly within close range, the efficiency wasn’t high. Reserving many interfaces would prepare the territory for urban growth—connecting street lamps or supplying magic power to every household.

“There’s one more issue,” Hetty hesitated, then spoke up. “It’s about the night school education you’re promoting.”

Gawain frowned immediately. “Night school? The general knowledge courses? What’s wrong?”

“You required everyone in the territory to receive education, but with the population surging and most newcomers illiterate and innumerate, we don’t have enough teachers,” Hetty said awkwardly. “We’ve set up learning centers in the central, western, and southern districts, and have all literate soldiers, craftsmen, and department heads take turns teaching after work—but it’s still not enough. Each classroom can only hold so many, and the new residents lack discipline. When too many gather, it’s chaos; when too few, we have to open more classes.”

“More classes mean more teachers,” Gawain frowned. “Didn’t Tansang Town send some clerk apprentices?”

“They’re teaching, but it’s still insufficient.”

“Then recruit from the Hundred-Men Aid Corps,” Gawain decided. “Besides high-level talents like Jenny, there are literate craftsmen and apprentices who might be interested in extra pay for teaching. Also, start promoting job openings at the steel mill and mechanical research institute. Tell the people—free citizens and serfs alike—that they can work in factories, but must be literate and numerate to apply. Factory workers get extra food subsidies like craftsmen, which will motivate learning—and help maintain discipline.”

Hetty nodded slightly. “Understood.”

Gawain thought for a moment. “Anything else to report?”

Hetty glanced at Amber. “She’s really amazing—walking around half asleep.”

Gawain blinked, turning to see the half-elf indeed trailing beside them with her eyes closed, clearly having been asleep for some time.

“When did she fall asleep?!”

Hetty sighed helplessly. “Right when we started talking about housing.”

Gawain looked stunned. “…In a way, she really is a talent.”

Just as he finished that thought, Amber slowly woke, rubbing her eyes. She looked at Gawain and Hetty with curiosity. “You two finally done nagging?”

Gawain’s mouth twitched as he deliberately glanced at Hetty. “Tell me more about steel production…”

Amber closed her eyes again. “Call me when dinner’s ready.”

Gawain was at a loss. Just as he reached out to pinch Amber’s ear to wake her, a soldier suddenly came running over.

“My lord!” The soldier saluted sharply. “A stranger has arrived in the territory!”

“A stranger?” Gawain was surprised, unsure why this was urgent. “Is it a refugee from the north? If they came seeking refuge themselves…”

“No, he’s wearing the robes of the Holy Light Church. Looks like a missionary, but for some reason, he’s currently working at the construction site.”

“Huh?”

(End of chapter)