Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

"Let someone else deliver the message!" Anglu said, somewhat anxiously, "I'll stay here to help you!"

Bard sighed, "You have to go. If it weren't for the circumstances, I would go myself!"

"Alright! I'll go!" Anglu nodded emphatically.

"You will deliver a verbal message."

"What?"

"Find your Centurion," Bard said seriously, "and demand things from him!"

Anglu was stunned; his Centurion was Winters Montagne.

"Demand what?" Anglu whispered.

Bard gestured for Anglu to sit down and said with a bitter smile, "Demand whatever we need! The old farming tools are far from enough; we must make new ones. Tell that guy to stop focusing on throwing banquets and come help me out instead!"

Anglu didn't dare to speak and just nodded frantically.

The more Bard spoke, the more helpless he became. He instructed the young groom, "Remember to tell your Centurion—no more making ploughs! We have enough ploughs; any cleared land can be worked with wooden ploughs. Does he only know ploughs? Make other agricultural tools instead! Even sending me some axes would be good! What am I to do with a pile of ploughs when I don't have the draft animals? Am I expected to pull the ploughs with people? Is a heavy plough something humans can pull?"

Anglu had never seen Lieutenant Bard complain like this before; these grievances were new to his ears.

He faintly felt that Lieutenant Bard was treating him as though he were Centurion Montagne himself, hence pouring out all his grievances.

"Have Forging Village make more small farming tools," Bard continued, "Don't make them purely of iron! It's wasteful! Make iron-clad ones! Make do for now, consider durability later."

Only Forging Village in Iron Peak County could make heavy ploughs; other villages and towns obtained their iron goods from there.

For example, Misha, the old blacksmith from Wolf Town, whose physical condition no longer allowed him to do heavy work, only repaired tools, not manufactured them, occasionally making small ironware.

After Winters took over Forging Village, he ordered the blacksmiths to focus solely on making ploughs.

In his view, what else was needed for farming if not ploughs?

But the reality was—in the refugee camp, there were more ploughs than livestock.

Heavy ploughs were for use with horses, requiring two or even three horses to be able to pull them.

If relying solely on human power, the lighter the plough, the better; such heavy ploughs were completely unnecessary.

Without Bard, even though some might realize the flaw in Winters' orders, no one dared to correct him.

The mistake thus perpetuated.

Meanwhile, Winters was still pleased with himself, believing he had done something right and good.

"Also, after the war is over, don't focus the use of horses," Bard rambled on, "Whether warhorses or nags, farming is the top priority now! Distribute the horses, which would also save on fodder. Andre will surely disagree; leave him a few more horses, and he'll come around in a few days..."

Bard had a lot of instructions, all things he had wanted to tell Winters but hadn't been able to get through to him.

"Did you get all that?" Bard asked Anglu.

Anglu nodded vigorously, then shook his head just as vigorously.

"What did I say?"

"Ploughs!" Anglu swallowed hard, "And horses!"

"Not the ploughs! We need the horses!" Bard sighed deeply, "Alright, off you go."

...

The lives of the refugees had begun a new chapter.

The officer who had them swear loyalty under the Saint Ados Emblem actually distributed land, farming tools, and houses to them.

They were no longer "refugees" but had regained the status of "farmers."

Just this was something they had never dared imagine in the past.

Yet, their mode of production was different from that of ordinary tenant farmers and serfs.

Instead of the common [landlord and tenant] or [government and self-cultivating farmer] models, their much talked-about "new government" adopted a brand-new yet outdated system.

The new government didn't allocate land per capita. Instead, they collectively farmed a large tract of land called a "farm," using shared tools, draft animals, and seeds in units of "camps."

This system was considered outdated because it was an outright copy of the feudal manorial system.

Noble estates were just like the farms of today, where the lord's and the tenants' or serfs' lands were intermingled without clear boundaries marked by ditches and ridges.

Tenant farmers and serfs had to cultivate both their own allocated land and the lord's land.

In this respect, the relationship between the new farmers and the new government closely resembled that of lords and serfs.

The new farmers' rights were restricted; whether they liked it or not, they had to labor.

The land was not divided; it was cultivated as a whole.

Many elders still remembered working on noble estates, so they readily accepted the new status quo—it was still working the land for the lord, after all.

But this system was also unprecedentedly novel:

It meant that a regime had bypassed intermediaries and reached a "deal" directly with the lowest class of farmers.

There were no lords, no tax farmers, no masters, nor masters' masters.

Just as there is only one sun in the sky, although the farmers were still working for the "lord," they were working for the largest and only lord—the new government of Iron Peak County.

Bard was not unaware of the concept that "only when land is distributed to households will farmers be motivated."

He also knew very well that "refugees will work hard this year not because they are diligent, but because they are scared of hunger. Once they can eat their fill, the collective farming model will make them lazy."

But his decision to use this method was also well-considered.

There was no choice; the refugee camp did not have the conditions to "distribute land to families."

Resources were too scarce; they had to be used collectively.