Chapter 357: The Issue of Public Order
In the third week of the Month of Revival, a light rain finally fell over the Cecil Territory.
Norris, the agricultural supervisor, stood before the freshly leveled fields, watching the farmers busily move about. On their backs were metal boxes shaped much like the combat packs carried by soldiers. Attached to these boxes were iron pipes and levers; when the user pressed the levers, nozzles at the pipe ends would spray a steady, generous mist of liquid.
These were the new “sprayers” produced this spring by Workshop Three of the Mechanical Manufacturing Institute. Rumor had it that Miss Rebecca invented them. They contained no magical components, so even the clumsiest person could learn to operate one with minimal training. With these sprayers, a single farmer could accomplish in one day what used to take several people. Their purpose was simple: to quickly and efficiently distribute alchemical solutions across the farmland.
The mist emitted shimmered faintly with a bluish-green glow under the sunlight. These magic-infused vapors acted swiftly upon touching the soil, soaking in and breaking down plant residues while releasing harmful magical energies accumulated in the earth. It was common knowledge among farmers that as crops grew, they concentrated certain types of magic or elemental energies in their roots. Over time, this buildup would reduce yields and cause wild overgrowth. Traditionally, farmers had only two options: either let the land lie fallow for two or three years to restore balance, or use druidic potions or fertility spells to adjust the soil. The former wasted precious time and land; the latter was costly and unreliable.
But in Cecil Territory, none of this was a problem.
The alchemy factory’s operation had brought an astonishingly abundant supply of alchemical agents. Normally scarce growth enhancers and soil rejuvenators were now rationed directly by the Administration Office to every farmer. Thanks to this, spring plowing was done with these highly efficient sprayers, ensuring every inch of soil received ample care.
Watching the mist seep into the earth, causing the entire field to glow faintly with magical light, Norris felt as if he were finally tasting sweet rain after a long drought. He knew that well-nourished land would yield far more grain—and grain was the lifeblood of the people. All of this was thanks to the lord’s vision and the brilliant minds at the various research institutes across the territory.
What other unexpected innovations might these clever people bring next—things that could transform the entire domain?
In the Administration Office at the territory’s center, Gawain met with Hetty, who had just finished the latest population census.
“We’ve welcomed the 30,000th settler,” the beautiful lady reported excitedly as soon as she saw Gawain. “This morning, a cargo ship arrived at the Whitewater River dock carrying a group of farmers from the western region. They’ve completed registration and reported to the buffer camp.”
When at the office, Hetty usually wore a simple black dress and styled her hair in a neat bun. Seeing her like this, Gawain couldn’t help but think “career professional.” Hearing the news, he smiled. “Looks like the newly expanded West District will be bustling soon.”
“Yes, all thanks to last year’s active outreach and the merchant caravans,” Hetty said happily. Then her brow furrowed slightly. “But some problems have started to emerge… As the population in the main city grows, especially with more people coming from different regions, fights have been breaking out from time to time. The newly formed security force is handling things actively, so order hasn’t been seriously affected—but it’s not a good trend.”
When the territory was first established, soldiers maintained order in the camps. But as the settlement grew into a town, Gawain created a separate “Security Force” independent from the military, tasked solely with internal law enforcement. Byron’s apprentice knight, a man named “Klim,” was appointed the first security chief.
So far, this force, which reports directly to the Administration Office, had done a decent job. But clearly, the recent rise in brawls wasn’t just because “more people means more fights.”
Gawain showed no surprise at Hetty’s report. In fact, he had already heard about the increase in fights from Amber.
“I’m aware of the situation,” he nodded to Hetty. “Amber mentioned it to me three days ago.”
“Amber…” Hetty looked surprised. “She still does actual work?”
“…Sometimes,” Gawain’s lips twitched in a wry smile. That half-elf spent most of her free time wandering the territory, freeloading meals from various departments or playing pranks on passersby. Gawain called it “slacking off” (a term that once annoyed Tyr), but she did occasionally do useful things—like reporting everything she saw and heard around town. Though mostly for her own amusement, her reports helped Gawain keep abreast of many changes.
Hearing this, Hetty smiled ruefully. “That one… well, I guess she’s somewhat useful. But Lord, the security issue still needs addressing. While fights are minor now, if this trend continues, it could become serious.”
Gawain had been pondering this recently. Hearing her words, he asked, “Have you ever thought about how the settlers spend their leisure time?”
“Leisure time?” Hetty blinked, clearly unaccustomed to considering this. After a moment’s thought, she answered uncertainly, “I don’t know what they do. I usually spend my free time reading magic books or studying the stars…”
“Ordinary people don’t have that luxury,” Gawain smiled and shook his head. Then he glanced at the clock on the wall—mechanical clocks had long existed here thanks to engineers and clockmakers. “Well, it’s about time for a break. Come home with me. I want to show you something.”
Hetty was puzzled but obediently followed Gawain. What he showed her only deepened her confusion.
She had expected some new magical device or a management system to improve security—both were specialties of their ancestors. Instead, Gawain brought a simple square wooden box containing a few dozen wooden carved pieces.
“What is this?” Hetty asked curiously as Gawain laid out a parchment marked with a grid on the table and placed the black and red pieces on it.
“Chess,” Gawain said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. “I’ll teach you how to play.”
“Play? This is a game?”
Curious, Hetty sat down. She felt no magical aura from the pieces, which were just ordinary wood. She couldn’t see how this related to the security problems she’d reported. But trusting Gawain, she listened carefully as he explained the rules.
Chess was simple enough that even uneducated commoners could learn it easily. With Hetty’s sharp mind, she quickly grasped the meaning of each piece. Gawain had localized the names—calling them “King,” “Emperor,” “Guard,” “Knight,” and so on—to help her understand.
After learning the rules, Hetty tried playing a game against Gawain.
“Is this… moving forward one step?” she asked, carefully pushing a piece labeled “Infantry” forward and looking up.
“That’s right,” Gawain smiled. “Now it’s my turn…”
Less than ten minutes later, Hetty suffered her first crushing defeat in chess.
Yet, despite the stumbles and loss, she found an incredible joy in the game. So many possibilities hidden in these simple pieces and rules—who knew it could be so fascinating?
“Can we… play again?” she asked eagerly, eyes shining. “I think I can do better without your hints this time!”
“Of course,” Gawain said, pleased to see her so relaxed and happy. “This time you set up the pieces, and I’ll teach you.”
Fifteen minutes later, Hetty stared at her “King” surrounded and trapped by chariots and wizards, clenching her fists in frustration. “Lord, I want… to try again…”
As the sun dipped and dusk fell, Betty came in to light the magic crystal lamp. Only then did Hetty suddenly realize the time. She glanced at the clock and the board, then straightened up with a sharp crack in her neck. “Ah! I forgot the ti—(crack).”
Her neck cracked loudly, and the unfinished sentence turned into a pained groan. “Ouch, ouch…”
“You’ve been sitting too long; time to stretch,” Gawain said, glancing at her. “So, is chess fun?”
“It is…” Hetty replied instinctively. Then she remembered the real topic. “But how does this relate to the rising conflicts and security issues in the territory?”
“Of course it does,” Gawain crossed his arms. “Why do you think people fight and cause trouble?”
Hetty rubbed her neck, thinking hard. “Because… they have bad tempers?”
“There are some hotheads, sure. But it’s impossible that so many people suddenly became irritable—especially since everyone was calm through autumn and winter, only to get angry in spring,” Gawain shook his head. “The real reason is that our settlers finally have spare energy. They’re well-fed and clothed, no longer exhausting themselves just to survive. But with no entertainment to occupy them, fights become inevitable. This isn’t the whole story, but it’s a big part of it.”
“No entertainment?” Hetty seemed to be considering the idea of “common folk’s leisure” for the first time. “But before… and in other territories, why didn’t they have these concentrated outbreaks of fighting?”
Gawain looked at her. “Because they were never well-fed.”
Hetty paused, half-understanding his meaning. Then she looked back at the chessboard. “So you think this game alone can solve the territory’s security problems?”
Gawain’s answer was firm. “No, it can’t.”
(End of chapter)