Chapter 59: Management Issues

Gawain was well aware that Norris had no real understanding of what the “position” he mentioned actually entailed, nor did he grasp the form the new system to be implemented on this land would take. At this moment, Norris was simply lost in the joy of soon becoming a “respectable man.” In truth, even those so-called respectable townsfolk probably lived lives beyond the old farmer’s imagination.

But that didn’t matter. What Gawain intended to establish here was an order and a situation that had never existed before. Not only was it beyond Norris’s comprehension, but even Hetty and Rebecca couldn’t quite envision it.

He knew he had to proceed cautiously, ensuring everything unfolded smoothly and under control, to avoid provoking a backlash from this era’s realities. Yet he couldn’t stand still—alerts from the satellite monitoring station still echoed in his mind. If the magical tide was truly unavoidable, it was better to make some effort than to do nothing at all.

After Norris left, Hetty finally couldn’t hold back her doubts any longer. “Ancestor, are you really going to let him manage your lands?”

Gawain had expected her question, so he showed no surprise, only a gentle smile. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Although he can read and write, he…” Hetty hesitated, wanting to say he came from a humble background, but changed her words. “He probably lacks the experience and doesn’t understand the rules of high society. If you make him the steward of your lands, I worry he’ll mess things up—and end up punished for it.”

Gawain simply looked at her quietly, waiting until she grew a little uncomfortable before asking, “Where exactly is this ‘high society’ you speak of?”

Hetty was taken aback.

Gawain smiled and gestured around them. “Look at this land—empty and bare. There’s no high society here, no noble customs, no rules for commoners or peasants. Let’s throw all those outdated notions onto the scorched earth of old Cecil’s domain! Here, everything starts from zero. All rules, laws, and standards will be brand new.”

Hetty stared blankly at the fields being cleared and the camp taking shape in the distance. There were no towering castles, no cramped hovels for the poor. The camp was built strictly according to Gawain’s four principles: orderliness, hygiene, efficiency, and room for future growth. The old rules—“peasant houses mustn’t face the castle,” “noble districts must be separated from commoner areas by at least one street,” “serfs can’t live in the inner layers”—none of that existed here.

She began to grasp what Gawain meant.

Gawain studied Hetty’s expression. He knew she didn’t have deeply ingrained noble prejudices. As a fallen noble, her hardships had sharpened her thinking. The Cecil family had been excluded from the core noble circles for generations, making them less “noble” in the traditional sense. Hetty even helped out on the construction site herself, so her mindset was flexible. But the habits and social constraints tied to the “noble” identity were hard to shake. That was why she instinctively doubted that a poor farmer—even a literate one—could be qualified to help Gawain manage the estate, especially the crucial food supply.

Seeing the change in her expression, Gawain knew she was starting to think, but he needed to push a little further. “Do you know what the ancestors of the Franklin family in the Western Territories did?”

“The Duke of the West?” Hetty blinked. “I remember the history books said the Franklins controlled the ironworks and were the ‘Iron Generals’ of the expeditionary army…”

“Yes, he was a blacksmith,” Gawain smiled, “with monstrous strength and enough talent and luck to rise during the northern campaign. Guess what I did back then?”

Hetty was shaken by the truth about the first Duke of the West and dared not speak so confidently. “I think the history books say you were the knight of knights, the model for all knights…”

“Right, I was a knight apprentice. I didn’t master my first skill until I was fifteen. But my mentor drowned after getting drunk before he could write a recommendation letter for me. So I wrote one myself, forged his seal, and went to find my lord. Halfway there, the magical tide broke out, and the lord died. Then I met Charlie, who was leading a group of refugees. He said the south was a mess and going further south was a dead end. I told him, ‘I still have to be knighted—I’ve been training for years and finally passed.’ Then Charlie told me a truth everyone should know:”

Gawain paused deliberately. Hetty couldn’t help but ask, “What truth?”

“We’re just so-called knights—because all the lords in the south are dead.”

Hetty: “…So-called?! That’s allowed?!”

“But it’s true,” Gawain’s smile faded as he looked into her eyes. “A self-proclaimed northern army leader, leading a ragtag group of so-called knights made up of blacksmiths, carpenters, apprentices, and vagrants, managed to cross the entire wasteland and establish a kingdom here. Do you think it was because we had noble blood? Or that we were blessed by the gods?”

Hetty was speechless.

“Originally, there were no nobles on this earth. The first people who stood up early grabbed the wealth, so they became nobles,” Gawain pressed on, patting her shoulder gently (she was older now—no more head-patting like Rebecca). “Apart from that, Ansu was just a kingdom built by a bunch of dirt farmers. And this land before us is exactly like Ansu at its founding. I’m planning to introduce some new rules here.”

Hetty frowned slightly, a vague unease making her hesitate. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what felt wrong. “I… I can’t imagine what the future would look like if you really do this…”

“Yes, maybe I told you too much too soon,” Gawain nodded slightly. “But I believe you’ll stand with me.”

“Of course!” Hetty answered without hesitation. “You’re the only pillar of this land! The only support for Rebecca and me…”

“Then I promise you this—everything I do is to bring prosperity and civilization to this land. If you follow my lead, you and Rebecca will witness an unprecedentedly powerful Cecil family,” Gawain said earnestly. “Do you accept this promise?”

Hetty nodded firmly.

“Now, back to the management issue,” Gawain chuckled. “About involving so-called ‘commoners’ and even ‘peasants’ in managing the estate.”

“You have more ‘positions’ planned, don’t you?” Hetty guessed from their earlier conversation. “Although I no longer think it’s wrong, is it really necessary?”

Gawain gave her a once-over. This beautiful, elegant lady had been overworked these past few days; her face was drawn and weary. Today, she hadn’t even washed up. She was almost single-handedly handling all the camp’s internal affairs, yet still carried an air of grace. She hadn’t even realized the lack of a management team.

“Do you think you can handle all the internal affairs alone?” Gawain asked slowly.

“It’s tiring now, but it’s just the beginning. Once the estate is on track…”

“You won’t be able to keep up even then, because you’ve never really had ‘management’ before,” Gawain gave her a sidelong glance. “Have you done population censuses? Production statistics? Economic reports? What about inventory and development plans for the coming year? Forget all that—have you ever once known exactly how much gold flows into and out of the estate in a year?”

Hetty’s eyes went wide. “…What?”

“Sending someone to peek in the granary at year’s end, or counting how many tenants owe rent during tax collection—that’s not management,” Gawain chuckled. “I had you and Rebecca record the names, ages, occupations, and family situations of those 800 people. Honestly, how did you find those forms?”

Hetty admitted, “They were really convenient—I never knew there was such a simple way to understand how many people of each trade lived here, and when arranging production, I could just refer to the records instead of sending people to ask around.”

“One day, when the estate has 8,000 or even 80,000 people, do you plan to keep doing the census yourselves? When the estate expands beyond the Dark Mountains, will you still trek over the hills knocking on doors to ask about families?”

Hetty was silent.

“If you want to keep things that convenient, you need a ‘management team,’” Gawain spread his hands. “And to build such an organization, we have to involve the people.”

Hetty frowned again. “But most people here can’t even write their own names. How can they…”

“That’s my next plan,” Gawain said with a smile. “Teach them to read and write.”

Hetty was speechless—she’d probably been stunned more times today than in all her previous years combined.

Gawain gave her a moment to think and respond, then looked toward the villagers reporting their progress to the overseers nearby.

Things couldn’t be rushed.

Building a system took time. Building a society on that system was even harder. And building a kingdom on top of that—that would take years.

For now, with only 800 people, Hetty could manage with her own efforts, maybe with Rebecca’s half-hearted help to stir things up—burning brush and such. But for long-term development, some foundations had to be laid step by step, starting now.

(End of chapter)