Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 297 - 3: Describing the Future

Origin City’s population suddenly boomed by over nineteen thousand people, four thousand of whom were patients.

Roman suspected that Alex had dumped all the epidemic sufferers on him.

But there was no other way, the cost was too cheap, equating to only four arrows per patient, and that included shipping. For Roman, the temptation was great.

He had no choice but to designate the original site of Sige Town as an isolation zone, where the patients could stay for the time being.

Either they’d die and be buried, or get better and come out.

These epidemics, arising from the floods, were all from external bacterial infections, and weren’t considered real plague. Besides, the bacteria of that era were quite primitive and hadn’t developed into high-intensity, high-mortality diseases like the Bubonic Plague or Cholera—at least not yet.

Allicin had a strong antibacterial capacity that could lower the mortality rate of those minor illnesses.

Yet, treating the sick was just the beginning.

The once recovering Origin City was again bustling with activity.

They really had bitten off more than they could chew.

And with that came the corresponding sharp increase in food consumption.

Roman was compelled to implement a rationing system.

Origin City originally operated a canteen system, which was rather loose in management. Some people, after finishing their share, could have a bit more if there were leftover ingredients.

Because Roman believed that the value they produced far outweighed their consumption.

He still believed this—however, they hadn’t even begun to produce yet; it was pure consumption, and anyone in his place would not have been able to withstand it.

With such a large population, sticking to the old ways would definitely lead to a food crisis.

It was time to institute ration control.

Each person’s ration was precisely distributed, with no extra helpings for those who hadn’t eaten their full.

Adult laborers received seven slices of bread (approximately seventy grams) daily, two jin of tofu, two jin of vegetables, meat soup with 20 grams of meat, and an unlimited supply of plain water.

The rest—women, teenagers, and the elderly—received eighty percent of this basic allotment. Children had a separate calculation, while the military maintained the same rations.

New slaves received seventy percent of the basic allotment.

In other words, while others had three meals a day, the new slaves only had two, and their work efficiency could not be lower than that of others.

With the arrival of these new people, Roman implemented a rationing system in the originally well-fed Origin City.

If the treatment for everyone remained the same, it wouldn’t make sense no matter what.

The only advantage brought by the new slaves was probably the great abundance of manpower.

Seth, leading a group of freshly graduated students, completed the registration of identities in five days and then quickly assigned them their roles.

Brick and tile handling, stone lifting and road paving, and transporting various types of building materials—all required a large amount of basic labor force.

Without any subsequent worries, this allowed the construction team to fully focus on developing the pasture.

It was a design completely referencing the residential layout of Origin City.

Only, the high temperatures of summer greatly impacted their work.

They had to start early and work late, avoiding the scorching heat of midday.

The pressure this year was too great, with various construction tasks needing to be accelerated to avoid delaying next year’s output.

They used to start work at six in the morning, but Roman had no option but to start at five now.

Meaning, they had to wake up to eat and start work at four in the morning.

Evenings were the same, extending from the past seven o’clock to eight, walking home under the starlight.

The additional two hours of labor time could barely make up for the loss brought by the summer heat.

By late June, half of the meadow pasture was built.

Then Origin City was hit by another torrential rainstorm.

Roman’s heart stopped for an instant.

But fortunately, the heavy rain only lasted intermittently for two days before it ended.

Thank goodness...

At this time, news came from the rice fields—The first batch of rice planted by Roman at the beginning of March had matured!

He placed great emphasis on this crop because the yield per acre of rice was far higher than that of wheat.

A piece of arable land could produce wheat only once a year, either by planting spring wheat in early spring or winter wheat in the fall.

But rice was different; it could produce two harvests a year, and with excellent climate conditions, even three—equivalent to planting three rounds of wheat in one year.

In Roman’s case, however, he could only manage two harvests.

The early rice was planted in March, and the late rice in June or July.

That is to say, with swift action, the freshly harvested land could be used to plant another round of rice.

Although the first batch of rice was planted on only one hundred acres,

it still drew Roman’s utmost attention.

He braved the scorching sun to inspect it personally, and even Gwivelle unusually ceased giving blessings and followed him to the paddy fields.

The Ministry of Agriculture selected several hundred robust old farmers, who worked up a sweat cutting the rice in the fields.

The next day, the result of the hundred-acre rice harvest lay before Roman.

The first batch of rice yielded about a hundred pounds per acre, totaling just over ten thousand pounds of rice grains, which amounted to only six thousand pounds of rice after husking—far less impressive than wheat.

And maintaining a paddy field was costly and required much more effort.

Yet Roman was filled with joy.

This was a good sign!

To celebrate, Roman steamed a huge pot of rice and sent it to the cadres of all the important departments in Origin City to taste.

He himself tried the very first bite and could only say that the texture was slightly off, a bit loose and grainy, and tasted somewhat undercooked.

But this was food, with yield as the priority and taste secondary!

If given the choice, Roman would not hesitate to choose feeding the slaves chocolate that tasted like crap.

Ugly as it may be, it truly filled the stomach.

After the rice field was harvested, the order to urgently plant the second round of rice had already been given.

"Roman," Gwivelle called to him, "the rice tastes really good."

Holding her bowl, she ate with relish. While Roman found the texture unsatisfactory, she could taste some of its fragrance. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

"It will taste even better in the future," Roman said, always feeling that Gwivelle had a talent for enjoying both meat and vegetarian food, relishing whatever she ate.

"Mmm, I’ll definitely make it taste better!" Gwivelle nodded vigorously.

Roman paused for a moment and said, "That won’t be necessary. Your job now is to improve the yield."

One has to work within limits; you can’t just abandon yield for flavor.

"Pfft!" She suddenly laughed, and Roman realized she was just joking.

The little witch wasn’t foolish; how could she make such a stubborn decision.

She approached Roman, reached out her little hand, removed a leftover grain of rice from the corner of his mouth, then popped it into hers and chewed gently, her eyes curving like crescent moons. She whispered, "This is so good, I want to let my mother taste it, too, Roman, may I?"

Her family benefited from her status, but the world of mortals was not ultimately hers; this estate was her future home, yet she still harbored this thought.

"My princess, you misspoke, it’s not just your mother, but all the people of Origin City, who will have more choices. They will be able to fill a bowl with soft and flavorful rice, steaming hot, topped with a plump slice of pork. We’ll pour over a spoonful of rich and savory meat sauce; the aroma of the meat blending with the rice is a truly delicious taste of humanity—I will bestow it upon everyone. Those who are loyal to me will receive my grace; they will never go hungry again—only, such a world will need us to forge ahead and create it by our own hands. We’re just starting out now, but someday, we will see such a vision at the end of the road, the day when no one on this land will suffer from hunger and cold again."

His voice echoed in her ears.

Unwittingly, Gwivelle followed his words to imagine such a world, a future as beautiful as paradise.

She harbored no grand aspirations; all she did was to make him happy. Now, she was moved, feeling that such a world would be wonderful indeed.

A bowl of steaming hot rice, a slice of marbled pork, a spoonful of thick and flavorful broth... it would certainly taste much better than the hard, cold peas from the deep mountains.