Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest-Chapter 346 - 19: River Valley Guardian Makes Promises Happen

Chapter 346: Chapter 19: River Valley Guardian Makes Promises Happen

In the early spring. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Roman’s fifth year in Origin City.

The cruel winter had long passed, the white snow on the earth returning to the yellow soil, and the snowflakes in the sky transformed into a fine mist of rain before they could fall.

The sky over the fields was shrouded in a misty water vapor, resembling a world engulfed in spring rain.

Origin City was raining.

The fine rain did not hinder the labor, but its impact on the land was quite evident.

Wheels couldn’t travel more than a hundred meters on the terrible muddy road before becoming caked with mud, getting thicker and swollen, stuck fast regardless of how the draft horses pulled, with the drivers needing to use sticks to clean them off. However, within a few dozen meters, the process had to be repeated.

Not to mention wheels—even walking barefoot would gradually make one’s feet thick and heavy.

Rugged, winding, and obstructed roads were the true condition of this era.

The basin was humid with abundant rainfall, and the four distinct seasons allowed for crops to be irrigated just by natural rainfall.

The consequence was that the roads in Origin City would be muddy for seven or eight days each month.

But Roman had spent five years building roads to handle just this situation.

Even now, Origin City boasted a robust and developed network of roads, and it wasn’t greatly affected, so work proceeded as usual.

He always embraced one philosophy: where people go, roads should follow.

Nowadays, with the canal navigable, the transportation cost of building materials had become extremely low.

Roman sat on a narrow boat, moving along the canal.

He wore a silver-white cloak, the hood fastened over his head, but it wasn’t very effective against the rain, his dense brown hair hanging in front was dampened by drifting vapor, inhaling felt cool and moist.

"Moor, over there," Roman stood upright at the bow, pointing towards a range of hills, "Yes, I mean there. Have someone reclaim that area."

The low hills were covered with sparse greenery, wild grass grew from the soil, it wasn’t very lush right now.

Roman had explored that land before and knew the soil was suited for cultivation.

But the timing hadn’t been right then, he had made a mental note, and now it was finally time to develop it.

"Your Highness, you have a keen eye. The Agricultural Managers think it’s feasible, but there’s another group that’s opposed, fearing if cultivation fails, the initial investment would be wasted." Agricultural Officer Moor quickly flattered.

Roman disregarded the flattery; he was here to make decisions. These idiots couldn’t get anything done without him.

Roman instructed, "First, arrange for... say, two thousand people. The wind on that hill slope is good for building windmills... Uh, let’s call it Windmill Village."

Moor took out paper and pen, recording Roman’s instructions.

Two servants held up oil cloaks to shield Moor from the rain, preventing the sheets from getting wet—a challenging task in this era without umbrellas.

"Not just for growing wheat, some areas that aren’t suitable for farming could be planted with trees, especially fruit trees—apple trees, pear trees, peach trees, and grapevines. I remember a merchant named Albert brought me mulberry seeds last time. Arrange someone to try planting those." Roman commented on the future plans for that piece of land.

"Alright, Your Highness, I will see to it," Moor wrote a whole page in his notebook.

This canal was only five or six meters wide, quite small, connecting several rivers, leading to Coal Iron Town.

Roman planned to settle over ten thousand people along this route.

This was just the initial plan; as cultivation progressed, the carrying capacity of the land would also improve. After the infrastructure was developed, families could move there and form a sizable community.

Roman had his own strategies for relocating those residents.

On the return trip, he turned to Moor and said, "Reclaim fifty thousand acres this year. You’re the Agricultural Officer of the Ministry of Agriculture, and you’ll oversee this task."

Moor had become accustomed to Roman’s remarkable commands since that spring five years ago.

The stern-faced youth of then was now truly a sovereign.

To this day, when faced with Roman’s gaze, he still didn’t dare to question him.

Moor weakly said, "Your Highness, this year... we lack the manpower, you are still recruiting."

Over ten thousand people were simply not enough to reclaim fifty thousand acres.

Even with canal transport for supplies, it wouldn’t suffice.

Sige Town had taken decades, generations toiling to reclaim thirty to forty thousand acres of farmland—not strictly reclaimed, as most were wasteland, only initially leveled and needing time for gradual transformation, with only a few thousand acres of good land.

Even so, those few thousand acres were still only semi-fertile.

But after Roman’s arrival, the change had been drastic.

Just in well-cultivated land, there were twenty thousand acres; roughly thirty thousand acres of semi-fertile farmland, with more than twenty thousand acres of reclaimed wasteland developed during the last two years. From the marshes, even seven thousand acres of paddy fields had been established.

Thus, the fertile lands near Origin City that were easily reclaimed were long gone.

New easily reclaimed lands had to be found.

"Taking it step-by-step is fine, but if you take too big a step—crack! It’s easy to stretch something you shouldn’t!"

"I’ll provide you with enough manpower," Roman said.

"Moor, just say this to them: whoever cultivates the land, uh, I’m renting it to them. The lease is for fifty years and can be passed down to their sons and grandsons.

"I’ll only take fifty percent of the harvest, the other fifty percent is theirs.

"I’ll provide them with all the logistical resources they need, such as food, animal power, and farming tools, before they harvest...

"The River Valley Guardian’s word is his bond!"

Roman instructed these matters and couldn’t help but secretly anticipate to what extent these cattle and horses could exploit themselves?

...

For an agricultural society, the only stable source of income for farmers was the output of their crops.

In the past, Roman had deprived all farmers of their income, replacing it with free housing, food, and clothing.

The advantage was that it enabled concentrated efforts on big projects and had them do whatever was needed.

But the downside was that without income, farmers weren’t as motivated.

They worked hard all year round, traveling back and forth, exhausted to death, but the food they harvested wasn’t theirs.

Now it’s broken!

The farmers who cultivated the land now had a harvest too.

And a whole fifty percent!

This was not the same as the past fifty percent of the harvest; all farmers saw the land income in Origin City, which had three times the yield per acre than outside.

Such high yield, and only half of it was taken away.

Is this really true?

Is there truly such kindhearted governance?

It shocked the old-time farmers for an entire year!

Plainly speaking.

Those lower-class folks used to work for Roman for free.

Therefore, Roman had to set deadlines for each project.

For example, building a fifty-kilometer road had to be finished within a month.

If the pressure was high enough, it could be done in twenty-five days.

But really, squeezing them too hard before they could develop enough sense of belonging would genuinely make them drop their tools, which would only hinder production.

Sense of belonging is the degree to which an individual identifies with and maintains a collective.

Roman gave farmers houses, so they felt a sense of belonging to the houses but lacked sufficient recognition of Roman.

Farmers worked for their houses and passively maintained Roman’s rule.

But it was passive.

Working was passive, and maintaining Roman’s rule was also passive.

Except for a few who were truly grateful and devoted, most people wouldn’t actively and selflessly work their fingers to the bone.

Thus, lower-class farmers usually tacitly controlled the pace of the projects, dragging them out to the last day of the deadline.

They knew they had spare capacity, but they just wouldn’t exert it.

So disloyal!

But they had their say: just completing the task set by the master was enough.

Once this task was done, the next one was waiting; only a fool would work quickly and volunteer for more.

But having contracted land changed things since they were essentially working for themselves now.

After all, the food produced from the land not only could feed their families but also could be sold to Roman for money.

With money, they could go to the department store they longed for.

To buy what they once couldn’t afford like salt and sugar, soap, meat, iron pots, honeycomb coal, clothes, furniture, etc.

They didn’t need to buy quality seeds since Roman gave them away for free, preventing these fools from choosing other seeds that would decrease the food yield.

Ah, it’s all thanks to Lord Roman’s kindness and generosity that they could buy those practical and affordable goods, with the ability to buy on credit the first year with terrifyingly low interest, only increasing the principal by one-fifth each year.

Wuwuwu, Lord Roman, I want to farm like mad for you! I want to sell all the harvested grain to you! I want to use the money to buy the cheap goods you sell to us!

Wuwuwu, are you really not considering raising the prices, what if you suffer a loss, how will you handle it wah!