Reincarnation of a Hunter

A temporary barracks in front of the administration building with a banner saying

‘Frontier Village Migrant Registration Center’.

 

Whether it’s a hope of a fresh start in a new land or the fact that the bandits have been wiped out and there’s nothing else to do, quite a few people were visiting.

 

As I watched the crowd gather, I was approached by Pascal, the Chief of Civil Affairs.

 “My lord, you don’t have to look at all of this. Why don’t you go inside and rest?” “Why do you keep telling me to rest? Are you trying to spy on me?” 

Pascal laughed awkwardly, as if feeling flustered,

“Of course not, haha!” “Don’t worry, I’ll catch up with you later. I’m just going to watch the registration.” 

We sat down behind the counter and watched the registration process.

 

The junior official at the counter announced the next sequence,

“Number 3, please proceed.” “Yes, sir.” 

A man came to the counter with his family.

 “Let me see. Eight minor children, are they all yours?” “Yes, they are, and they’re all registered.” “Show me the certificates.” 

The man pulled a bundle of certificates out of his arms and handed them to the clerk.

 “Hmm. I see you’re registered.” “So, am I a priority?” “Yes. If you have a lot of minor children, you’re prioritized first.” “Haha, thank you.” 

That’s when I got up from my seat.

 “Wait. Stop.” 

And pointed to the man at the counter.

 “You. Stop right there.” “What?” “What’s your name?” “Hans.” 

‘Leer Morale, Leer, Leer…’

 

I felt all of Hans’s children. They all had different physical characteristics.

 

Maybe being in the same family was a trick.

 

    

➺

Son of farmer Donovan

   

 ➺

Son of László the Blacksmith

   

 ➺

Daughter of Milan the Peasant

 

All eight of them were differently named in this way.

 

‘What is this, an adoption?’

 

Pascal approached, wondering what was going on.

 “My lord, what is it?” “The children have different fathers.” “What? Then he’s a kidnapper!” “No, I didn’t say that.” 

Without even listening, Pascal called a soldier standing by.

 “Arrest him. He could be a kidnapper.” 

Hans panicked and exclaimed,

“Oh, my lord, what do you mean?” “Bastard. My eyes don’t deceive me.” 

Pascal hurried to the children.

 “You’ve been abducted, haven’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” “We’re not kidnapped! Let my dad go!” 

The children shouted in defense, punching and kicking Pascal as the soldiers grabbed Hans. 

 

Bam—  “’Ugh, kids, I’m trying to save you, stop!” 

As I shook my head in disbelief, I turned to Hans.

 “What’s up with all these kids having different fathers?” 

He sighed as if he was on to something and answered,

“My wife often wanders off, and she’s still on the loose.” 

The mood suddenly somber. I gave Pascal a finger flick.

 Snap— “You idiot, this is all because of you.” 

It’s partly my fault, but I decided to put the blame on Pascal here.

 “I’m sorry…” “Apologize to Hans.” 

And then I decided to fix this fiasco.

 “Look, I’m going to give Hans a good fatherly reward, double the land, and no taxes for five, ten years!” “Yes, my lord!” 

All the officials answered in unison.

 

Nobody in the room objected to Hans’s reward.

  

The rough registration process soon went smoothly, and the first round of migrants was sorted out.

 

In a few days we intend to send them to the clearing. I gathered the administrative officials for a progress report.

 “Treasurer, what’s the status of the estates’ budgets?” “At the current rate, the budget will be spent by February next year.” “Even if we run out of money sooner, we must not delay the migration to the clearing. It’ll be harder in the spring.” “But we don’t have any extra income.” 

Diego, the deputy chief of commerce, asked,

“Isn’t there something we can get out of the forest? We’ve only just started going in, so there must be some resources there.” “We’re still talking about open pit mining or gold panning, which is not profitable and takes a long time.” 

In this world, anything that would be costly would always be a loss if it was developed by the state, even if there was some profit left over.

 

This was because slaves in the government would hardly do heavy labor.

 

So the mining industry falls to the private sector, and instead, they invest in equity and receive dividends.

 

And the slaves are used for farming, where they are easier to monitor.

 “Well, let’s start by recruiting private mine developers. And since there are plenty of trees in the great forest, why not do something with them?” “Wood…” 

A few things come to mind, including a medicine that I’m supposed to give Winnie the Witch the recipe for, but at now I’m not sure, so I need to check it out for myself.

 “Diego, come with me to the Great Forest.”  

Diego led a few soldiers and rode into the Great Forest.

 

It was a dense forest close to the newly cleared frontier village and the old settlement of Comansville.

 

Sitting on the horse, I looked around at the trees.

 《Leer Emotion》

➺ Fruit ~ Edible

➺ Wood ~ Quality Item

 

‘They’re all the same. I’ll save that one for later.’

 

But as they surveyed the forest, Diego had a slightly more pessimistic outlook.

 “The trees here have good quality, but they would be hard to transport. Unless there’s a river, but it would be too labor-intensive to haul them overland.” “Not if you’re only using them for lumber and firewood to supply the city.” 

Diego seems to recognize something in my words.

 “I suppose there’s something we can do.” “Not right now. We’re still short on labor.” “Not enough people?” “The more people we have, the better.” 

Diego thought hard. There are only two population growth policies that are useful in the short term.

 

Immigrants from other provinces, and slaves.

 

Beyond that, we need to figure out how to grow the population quickly.

 “I’ll work with Pascal to figure that out.” 

To be honest, I didn’t have high hopes for what the 19- or 20-year-old secretary would come up with.

 

But young people have their unique ideas.

 “Think about it. The future of our estate is in your hands.” “Ugh. You’re putting a lot of pressure on me.” “Call it moderate responsibility.” 

Although I organized a meeting of the chief assistants, they didn’t do much independently. I need to tighten it up a bit, because if I let them loose too much, they might get lazy—

 

And then I stopped thinking about it, and gasped.

 

I thought to myself,

‘This is such a stupid idea, I’m getting old.’

 

After laughing to myself and frowning, Diego looks at me strangely.

 “Hmm, I’m not asking you to bang your head against the wall. I’ll give you an example. If we were to attract a large merchant association from a neighboring country to Marseille, they would bring their employees with them, and I want you to think through the process.” “Off the top of my head, I can think of guilds and magic towers. Ah, we should attract magic towers!” 

In this world, Magic Towers are similar to large corporations in my previous life. Their economic impact has become so great that there are even cities that live solely on them.

 “Magic towers are fine, if we can get them, but there are other religious groups as well. Aachen, the city of the Cardinals, has an entire population dependent on the church’s economy.” “Oh! You’ve got all the right ideas. I’ll take one of them.” 

To which I smirked.

 “If you can do it. Go ahead.” 

Diego’s lips tightened, and his fists clenched, as if the improbable remark had set him on fire.

 

After some discussion, we went deeper into the woods, where I ran a

[Leer Morale]

on a newly discovered tree.

 《Leer Emotion》

➺

Sap is sweet ~ Edible

 “Found it.” 

I grew up in the countryside before. Therefore, I have some knowledge of extracting sap and syrup from the sugar maple.

 

It’s a type of maple tree, and the sap collected and syrup made from it by similar methods to maple syrup.

 

The process would likely be similar in this frontier village as it would in Korea or Canada.

 

Diego questions my delighted expression,

“Isn’t this just a maple tree?” “No, it’s not. It’s a tree species called sugar maple. All maple sap is sweet, but this one is extra sweet.” 

Diego was amazed.

 “You mean you can make sugar from it?” 

But sweetness costs a fortune. This was true in this life as well as in the past.

 

If the sugar could be made, things would quickly improve for the estates. The cities in the southern continent that made sugar from sugarcane were very wealthy.

 “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not sugar, it’s syrup. Sweet, caramelized syrup.” “Sweetness is the taste of the aristocracy. It will always be money.” 

Tearing my gaze away from the system window, I grabbed the reins of my horse and spoke.

 “Let’s start by checking how many more of them are there. Study them carefully and remember what they look like.” 

Diego answered,

“Yes, my lord!”

 

  

A few days later.

 

Early in the morning, the residents of the frontier town of Comansville head to the woods.

 

They found a sugar maple tree, drilled a hole, attached a metal tap like a faucet, and hung a bucket.

 

They would then go back to the trees where they had previously hung the buckets to collect the sap and return to town.

 

In the community center, they set up a large pot and strain the sap through clean linen to remove impurities.

 

Then, over a low fire, they boil the sap to a stiff simmer and collect the slightly caramelized sap in clean, sterilized bottles or jars.

 

When Chief Comansville saw the syrup in the bottle, he asked,

“My lord, this is may-pole syrup.” “Ma-p-le Syrup.” “It’s hard to pronounce. Can you call it something else?” 

The chief struggled with the convoluted pronunciation.

 “Well, choose between ‘Gorosoe’ and ‘Canada’.” 

(T/N:고로쇠: Gorosoe or Maple in English.)

 “Canada is easier.” “Now this syrup will be called Canada.” 

Satisfied with the name, the chief smiled, showing his white teeth.

 

As I inspected the finished,

‘Canada

,’ I said, 

 “Very well done. If you boil it a little less, you can make a syrup of colorless syrup. You can experiment with it.” “Do you mind if I taste it?” “You haven’t tried it yet? Go ahead. I need to know how it tastes before we can sell it.” 

The chief scooped and tasted some on a spoon and was surprised. It was so sweet that he shuddered.

 

Diego brought some bread, dipped it in the syrup, and tried it.

 “I think it would go well with flour. It has a nice flavor.” 

The chief was pleased that the villagers had worked for the winter, and Diego was excited about the tax revenue.

 “Teach the villagers how to cook. Even the newcomers.” “We have plenty of wood, but we need more of those taps and buckets.” “I’ve placed a large order with the blacksmith, just wait a bit. I’ll lend it to you on credit.” 

The decision was made to educate all the villages bordering the boreal forest about the methods of making Canada maple syrup.

 

Making and exporting large quantities would not only improve the livelihood of the estates, but it would also help reduce unemployment among the people of the estates. 

 

After all, we need a steady supply of labor to keep making Canada after the harvest season ends.

 

With Diego and the chief, I returned to the manor.

 “Diego, take us to the spice merchants.” “Let’s go to the general merchandise auction.” 

Arriving at the auction house, we summoned the owners of the spice shops, and I handed them the Canada maple syrup I had brought for tasting and asked them to rate it.

 

They were very pleased and gave us their assessment.

 “This has a great flavor. Subtle wood and caramel nuts. It’s also very sweet.” “Yes, it would go well with bread and sweets, and certainly will satisfy the taste of noblemen.” “It must have been made by boiling down the sap of the tree, which is not a common tree. It must be the specialty of their village.”  “Chief, we’ll keep buying, so get more of those trees. Plant some seedlings, and if you want, we’ll send you a wagon for transportation.” 

These business owners talked a lot just to get a taste. I admired their professionalism and business decisions.

 “This product is to be sold under the emblem and trademark of our estate. Register it with the Spice Guild and apply for protection.” 

With the guild’s protection, Marcel would be the only place on the North Continent where Canada maple syrup could be made and sold.

 

‘There will be no maple trees in the Southern Continent, so it’s a monopoly! How exciting!’

 

The idea of collecting taxes was appealing.

 

The more money in the budget, the better.