Kingdombuilding: All My Inventions Are Novelty

Chapter 162: Almost Time

Twenty fire lances were laid neatly on the ground.

After assigning the logistics to Baldwin, Simon turned his gaze toward the line of bronze tubes. Unlike the heavy cannons he’d developed, these fire lances were narrow at both ends and bulbous in the middle, primitive firearms, more like oversized metal muskets than true artillery.

The bore was tiny, and their effective range? Not worth mentioning.

Clearly, the recent insult from the reaver envoys had stung Emperor Alaric; he’d been furious enough, actually, to send these over. But to Simon, the yellow-gold sheen of these fire lances didn’t say ’weapon.’ It said ’coinage.’

No wonder some emperors in history had melted them down into currency.

"My Lord." Baldwin asked, "What should we do with these? Should we send them to Dunmere?"

Simon smiled. "No need. Twenty fire lances... That’s enough raw brass to cast a real cannon. Send them to the machinery department instead."

"As you command," Baldwin replied.

He was never one to argue about matters he didn’t fully understand. Simon was rather pleased with how the emperor had handled things this time. He’d expected a drawn-out affair, letters scolding Prince Gal, delays, more letters and endless waiting.

But to his surprise, Alaric had acted swiftly, resolving the crisis first and dealing with Prince Gal later. Apparently, getting humiliated by the reavers really does light a fire under people.

Having inspected the newly arrived supplies, Simon and Baldwin made their way outside the city.

For now, gunpowder and cannon production would be left to Fjord and James. There was no point in hovering. But the grain fields, those were a different story.

It wasn’t just the peasants’ crops that needed harvesting. The government-run estate farms had fields too. Simon had once promised Lancelot that all the yield from those lands would go directly to the Brambleford Army.

Now it was time to make good on that promise.

By the Ford River, Simon and Baldwin paused to take in the view. Across the river lay the army’s farmland, an ocean of golden wheat that swayed in the breeze like waves on a sea of gold.

Looking at the ripening grain, Simon felt even more joy than when he’d cast his first cannon.

"Food is the foundation of the people. Agriculture is the backbone of the nation." If the people had enough to eat, they’d be content. If soldiers had food, they’d fight without fear. But if all a ruler did was wage war, the only thing he’d harvest was rebellion.

Because the harvest was close, Lancelot had already posted guards to patrol the army fields to prevent theft.

Most people were honest. But there were always a few who tried to cut corners.

Three days ago, someone had sneaked in at night and cut down a small corner of the crop. Lancelot had gone ballistic. To him, the estate fields were more important than his own life; he and the soldiers had tilled the soil and pulled the weeds with their own hands.

He immediately dispatched guards to watch day and night, then went to the magistrate himself to demand a full investigation.

It took only two days for the thief to be caught. Lancelot gave the man a good beating himself.

But even so, petty theft from farmland was still fairly common in the people’s own fields.

"After this harvest," Baldwin said with a smile. "The people should finally have some breathing room."

Until now, Simon’s industrial zones had mostly benefited merchants. The peasants, not so much.

After all, the factories were just a small pilot project in Brambleford City. The other five cities hadn’t seen much benefit yet.

"That’s the idea," Simon said with a smile. "Three years of tax exemption, this harvest, the government won’t take a single grain. The people should finally have surplus grain at home."

And when the people have grain to spare, they start selling.

With extra income, they start to spend. And once money starts circulating, economic activity across all six cities would pick up.

"Still," Baldwin said with a chuckle. "It’ll fall to Your Highness to keep doing business and filling the treasury."

Everything Simon had done these past months, Baldwin had seen it all. He knew that no other vassal in the Eldorian Empire cared for the people quite like Prince Simon.

And the more time he spent with Simon, the more he sensed that this prince had ideas and values unlike anyone else. Ideas he couldn’t even fully understand.

"Truth is, I just don’t want to die a miserable death here."

That was Simon’s private thought.

Of course, he wanted to live like a proper prince, enjoy a life of luxury. But just like farming, if you want a harvest, you’ve got to work the land. That was the only reason he toiled over agriculture and industry.

After all, in this world, all he had was technology. He didn’t have a powerful birth family like other princes.

And he was no schemer either; he was raised in the modern world, where he was taught that ’love makes the world go round.’

So his path was clear from the beginning: win hearts, push tech, grow the economy.

Just then, hoofbeats echoed in the distance. Benjamin rode up with Lancelot and Liam in tow. All three looked relaxed and content.

"My Lord!" Benjamin called out cheerfully. "What a coincidence! You’re out here, too?"

Lancelot added. "The general wanted to see the army’s estate farms. So I brought him over."

"We were just talking about the same thing," Simon said. "The harvest is close. You can’t afford to get careless. Make sure it’s brought in before the rains hit."

"Yes, Your Highness. That’s why we’re here." Lancelot replied.

Benjamin looked over the fields and nodded approvingly. "My Lord, not many rulers would give up their own land to feed the army. I’m impressed. Truly impressed."

"You flatter me, General," Simon said modestly. "I had little choice. Brambleford is strapped for resources. At least this way, the troops won’t go hungry. Plus, farming in the off-season and training in the slow season doesn’t interfere with their drills."

Benjamin nodded. He understood the logic perfectly. Throughout history, border armies farming their own land was standard practice.

They crossed the stone bridge and walked into the wheat fields.

Benjamin knelt, picked a stalk, rolled it between his fingers, then bit a kernel.

"Still a bit damp." He said. "Give it two more days of sun. Then mobilise a thousand men, you’ll get it all in."

Simon’s estate covered one hundred acres, or ten thousand plots of land. In the Eldorian Empire, each plot yielded roughly three bags of grain.

With the harvests from other estate farms as well, this season alone would bring in about 300,000 bags.

The Brambleford Army only numbered 20,000 troops. That was enough grain to feed them for over a year.

And that wasn’t even counting the second harvest later in the year, or the newly cultivated fields in other areas.

Which meant one thing: the army’s food problem was officially solved.