Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 326 - 32: I am the Farming King! (Alliance Leader bonus - , requesting Monthly Tickets)
Chapter 326: Chapter 32: I am the Farming King! (Alliance Leader bonus Chapter, requesting Monthly Tickets)
The next day.
Roman rode to Coal Iron Town.
Behind him, Origin Manor hung several witches who had been dead drunk the night before and had yet to wake up today.
Hang them for a couple of days before dealing with them.
Hopefully, they would learn their lesson this time.
Now the scale of Coal Iron Town was growing bigger and bigger.
Coal miners, iron transporters, coke refiners, iron smelters, mold casters, blacksmiths, steel rollers—altogether more than six thousand people, not just workers, but also their families cooking and washing for the workforce, formed a complete population structure, qualifying it as a major town.
Roman was concerned with transporting substantial amounts of food every month to this place, and even with a rationing system in place, it didn’t shortchange them.
But the result was that Coal Iron Town was producing more steel farming tools than Origin City and Fertile City could absorb.
No helping it, in an ancient agrarian society, the demand for steel really wasn’t that great, even factoring in the consumption for weapon forging.
Origin City’s infrastructure was becoming increasingly well-established, and the stone road leading to Coal Iron Town had also been built.
In between Origin City and Coal Iron Town, post stations were scattered for transporting convoys to rest.
When Roman arrived at Coal Iron Town, Ruto, accompanied by Lax, came up to greet him.
"Don’t stop the production work, continue to increase it, I’ll get Seth to allocate more hands for you," Roman said.
"Yes, my lord," Ruto replied respectfully.
Roman had always felt confident about Coal Iron Town; the resources he had poured into this place were incalculable, with over forty blue gemstones consumed just for the sake of emergency production recovery.
It didn’t matter if people died—there was no iron refining without fatalities.
But production couldn’t stop; after a few years of continuous production, those who survived would all be elite backbones capable of standing on their own.
Roman stayed here for four or five days.
He conducted a brief inspection, corrected a few production hazards, and then hurried off.
...
The meadow pasture.
The grass seeds had been growing wildly since spring, and were now extremely lush, vibrant and juicy-looking.
These grass seeds had been selected.
So, compared to wild grass, they had an advantage.
Roman had started planting the grass as soon as he had arrived in Sige Town, and now, after years of cultivation, it could be harvested three times per year from just one planting, making it excellent feed.
"Don’t just raise meat sheep; also keep some wool sheep," Roman said.
Meat sheep were the ordinary kind, providing less wool, and it would be decent if one could yield two pounds of wool when slaughtered at adulthood.
But wool sheep were different—they yielded at least four pounds.
If well cared for, they could be sheared twice a year, and keeping them for a few years would result in a continuous supply of spinning materials.
Yaki said, "Lord, our sheep breeds here are not up to scratch, they can’t compare to the highland sheep. I’ve heard that the wool sheep on Ice Island are very good, but..."
There was no way to transport them over.
With Roman’s guidance, Yaki knew the benefits of crossbreeding; a mule was the perfect example.
But even the most skilled wife can’t cook without rice—the lack of genetic resource was the greatest difficulty the meadow pasture faced in attempting crossbreeding.
In the Eastern Plateau and the North Ice Ocean, where wars raged, which merchants would risk their lives to bring sheep for you? No one would think this a profitable deal.
"Leave it to me. I’ll find a way to get them over this year, then you do your job well when the time comes," Roman said, putting an arm around Yaki’s shoulders.
"I will!" Encouraged by Roman, Yaki was excessively excited, as if invigorated with a shot of adrenaline.
Roman was also pleased; finding hardworking and reliable people was no easy task.
After completing his inspection, he left Origin City and returned to the lands of plenty.
...
Origin City continuously supplied various materials towards Fertile City, this time bringing back cotton seeds.
Growing cotton required an immense amount of labor.
But with the spring plowing in Fertile City concluded recently, Roman had no reason to let them slack off.
The best land had been sown with spring wheat, but wasn’t there second-grade land still available?
Continue to reclaim land, continue to plant.
Roman was preparing to experiment with planting a few thousand acres of cotton.
Last year was just a minor endeavor, only a few hundred acres were planted.
But this year, he was getting serious.
Even if the yield per acre was only twenty pounds of seed cotton, that was no small number, with pure cotton amounting to five or six pounds.
In other words, one acre of cotton could satisfy the clothing needs of an adult for a year.
Plant, plant, plant!
I am the Planting King!
Agricultural production must be maximized!
Roman spent the entire month of April overseeing the planting of cotton.
Because there was no land left to plant in Origin City.
Roman also took the opportunity to dispatch a thousand-man construction crew from Origin City to oversee road construction and house building, treating it like a business trip.
It had to be said that the road conditions in Fertile City were atrocious. Half the reason Roman drew the military to increase transport capacity was due to these shitty roads—goddamn it! Take that, two punches for you.
It was at this time that the Black Iron Royal Family sent a reply.
The lengthy court negotiations finally bore fruit.
Trade privileges could be granted.
But the Royal Family required weapons and shields to equip an army of thirty thousand, as well as a million arrows and a promise to summon troops in support of the monarchy.
Roman agreed immediately.
He would deliver those military supplies to Black Castle by the end of the year.
Once he had secured the trade privileges, Roman immediately formed a fleet.
He called over the merchants Morry and Daken.
The latter had worked devotedly for him for two or three years, and his promises were fulfilled.
As for Morry, he was simply restless with idleness.
Though days in Origin City were safe, merchants of this era just couldn’t stay idle.
"I will send troops with you. You will help me sell my goods," Roman casually pulled over a map, pointing north, "You’ll go here first."
Daken looked eagerly at the map, "Master, what goods shall we sell?"
"Salt and agricultural tools," Roman gestured with his hands, "The pirates now occupy the Northern regions, but if they want to settle down, they need to resume production, and they lack steel agricultural tools."
"You’ll take my banner up North, trading tools for farmers... farmers who will plant cotton," he declared confidently.
This was just the beginning. Later, they would need to venture to Ice Island and the Eastern Plateau.
In these turbulent times, sending a caravan North was akin to seeking death, but Roman didn’t care about that.
"This year, you must help me sell at least five million pounds of salt and five hundred thousand iron tools!"
"Ah?" Not only Daken but Morry too was aghast.
"We can’t possibly sell that much."
"Then lower the price!"
Roman knocked on the desk, "Three pounds of salt for one copper coin, one iron pot for five copper coins, one kitchen knife for one copper coin, one sickle for one copper coin, one hoe for three copper coins..."
Both were dumbstruck.
These were bargain prices!
In peaceful times, it was one copper coin per pound of salt. Now in these chaotic times, one could hardly get a pound of salt for one and a half copper coins.
And you’re saying three pounds for one copper coin?
This is outrageous!
"This is too much of a loss..." Daken began instinctively but fell silent upon seeing Roman’s displeased look.
"It’s decided then. I won’t shortchange you. Hmm, consider this an employment, Morry’s annual salary is 150 Gold Coins, and Daken’s is 100 Gold Coins. If you do well, there will be extra bonuses. Any objections?"
Both were completely convinced.
How could they object?
This king before them was incredibly generous. Despite their long acquaintance, they were still stunned by his lavish expenditures.
Providing both ships and manpower, high salaries, along with security and profit guarantees.
Enough said! They would have to brave this journey through hell and high water.
