This was the so-called invisible restriction of production capability. Roland feared it would be difficult for Barov to imagine, that after the mechanization of farming, just one person’s output was enough to support tens of thousands of people. And that Border Town, in the absence of developing and spreading of agricultural technology, was still able to acquire this kind of bumper harvest, was mainly accredit to Leaves’ magically transformed “Golden Ones”.
To employ as few farmers as possible for feeding as many people as possible. Liberating the human resources from simply cultivating land to move onto the industrial production was the strategy that Roland had decided on from the beginning. Now after the Ministry of Agriculture had obtained the best planting process, coupled with the iron farming tools and machines to help with the farming coming next year, the per capita production was bound to become higher and higher.
…
In the evening, Roland once again held a bonfire speech at the shore of the Redwater River — it seems to be a return to the time from four months ago, it was evening, there was a roaring fire in the background, the crowd formed a dense mass, and the last rays of twilight fell over everyone’s face. The only difference to that day was the expression on each person’s face, compared to the beginning of when they had arrived and were feeling both terrified and uneasy, their faces on this day were all brimming with joy at the bumper harvest and couldn’t conceal the expectation in their eyes.
Roland stretched out his hand and moved it downwards, the scene around him quieting down immediately. Everyone was holding his breath, waiting for the Prince to fulfill his promise.
“I know what you want to hear,” he did not follow his usual practice of first announcing his name, and instead came straight to the matter, “— I can tell you without a doubt, that the previously announced rules of promotion are still valid and will hold!”
Just this sentence was enough to detonate the atmosphere of the scene, not one person there could restrain themselves from shouting out loud, many people fell on their knees and praised the Prince’s kindness. “Long live the Lord!” “Long live His Royal Highness!”
“After the end of the grain weighing, the promotion list will be announced,” the moment the shouts had subsided a little, Roland continued, “The City Hall will be responsible for your promotion to a freed person. At that time you can choose to either continue farming or come find a new job in Border Town.”
“Also, starting from next year, if your harvest next year is the same as those promoted this year, even if the output is not on the forefront, you will still be freed. In other words, as long as you work hard, you will be able to rid yourself of your status as serfs — as I said, ‘labor creates wealth, labor changes destiny’.” He paused for a moment, looked around and then continued, “I hope that in the coming days, there will be no longer any serfs in Border Town, and everyone will be my real subject.”
The moment Roland’s voice faded, the people’s cheers unceasingly resonated throughout the sky above the Redwater River.
Chapter 265 The Last Enemy
Timothy entered the Lord of the Port of Clear Water’s circular room located at the top of the tower.
Different from the more commonly seen castle’s, this tower was both higher and narrower. Apart from dealing with government or for observing the outside, he was afraid that even gathering all of his cabinet ministers here to hold a council meeting was already impossible.
None of the furnishings in the room had been moved, it was as if the owner had just left and would soon return. Facing the entrance was a reddish-brown square table, books were neatly and tidily arranged on it. And in the middle were several unfinished manuscripts and a quill that was inserted into an ink bottle; as if just waiting for someone to come and complete the files.
Taking one step at a time, Timothy walked to the table and sat in the large chair. The seat was covered with a cooling mat that was sewn out of bamboo sticks. Something that was quite suitable for easing the sizzling heat of the final month of summer. A bucket of water had been placed next to the chair, it was evidently used to hold ice, also serving to dispel the room’s heat and lower the temperature. However, today’s weather was a bit gloomy, there were dark clouds over the sea, which lowered the temperature, and made the room appear to be less stiflingly hot.
Timothy leaned forward, placed his face close to the surface of the tabletop and gently smelled it, filling up his nostrils with a faint and sweet scent — this was Garcia’s most loved bluish green sunflower fragrance. It was produced at the Cold Wind Mountain Ridge, and when compared with rugosa rose and rosemary it had a more unique and refreshing feeling, as if it contained some of the ice from the north.
Only after using something for a long time, would it take over one’s smell. There was no doubt that his sister enjoyed sitting on this chair, her hands on this table, either listening to a report or busy writing a decree.
Thinking about this, Timothy couldn’t stop himself from laughing.
“Haha…ha…haha…hahahaha —” In the end, Timothy simply leaned against the back of the chair, raised his head and started to laugh at the top of his voice.
He had finally won!
Garcia had given up Port of Clear Water, and given up the Southern Territory, that was tantamount to giving up the throne of Graycastle.
After receiving news that the Black Sail Fleet was sailing north, he immediately summoned the troops under his command and drove more than five thousand slaves, rats and criminals to the southern border and attacked Garcia’s nest at the Port of Clear Water. The only resistance he encountered came from the Sandpeople from the extreme south. Timothy didn’t know what kind promise they had agreed on, but they attacked him one after another, having no fear for their own lives. Moreover, the troublesome point was that they were also in possession of the Berserker Pill.
The battle lasted for nearly half a month, but by exploiting his superior numbers, and repeatedly disrupting his enemy’s counterattack, Timothy was able to slowly erode the Sandpeople’s defense line. Nearly three thousand of his people had died in this battle of attrition, and if his men hadn’t received the support of the pills, Timothy was afraid that his mob wouldn’t have dared to set even a single foot on this battlefield. Not to mention ever dare fight against the fierce and barbaric Sandpeople here who had fought to their death.
The final result of the battle was that he had to cross over a layer of corpses to be able to enter Port of Clear Water’s Lord Tower.
The title “Queen of Clear Water” was history, the South of Graycastle had finally come back under his control.
“Your Majesty?” Probably from hearing his carefree laughter, the Knight keeping guard outside, pushed open the door and entered the room.
“No harm,” Timothy answered and got up. He pointed to the knight and then over to himself, instructing him to follow, and then went through a side door to step on the balcony.
He was immediately hit by the slightly salty sea breeze, which made his gown flutter. It seemed there was a storm approaching from looking at the dark clouds standing overhead that were growing thicker and thicker.
That’s truly unfortunately, Timothy thought, I was planning to see my third sister’s port, piers, and the Lords Tower all fall victim to the flames, but now it seems this will be impossible.
The last half year he had constantly been on the battlefield alongside his soldiers, there was hardly one month were he had stayed within King’s city. He had entrusted his Imperial Prime Minister to take care of all the government’s affairs — although Marquis Wyke had seemed to be very loyal, but loyalty didn’t mean that the other was able to forever lock their doorway and resist temptation, Gerald Wimbledon being the best example of this.