Chapter 30 30: settler rush I

------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. ------------------------------- Nachexen-Marktag, 13th,2488 IC Days flew by as I tried to oversee everything that was happening. With so much work to do and so little time to enjoy any peace, I found myself constantly busy—always looking for new ways to generate income and making sure the operations across my domain continued smoothly. My new slav—assistant from Marienburg spent several days waiting to gather enough goods to fill the wagons he had brought. Progress was slower than expected, but we finally managed to load the carts with axes, hoes, shovels, and most importantly, soap. I had started producing mint soap—something I hadn't originally planned, but which, thanks to some observations from my guards, turned into a good opportunity. While exploring the surrounding area, they had found large amounts of wild mint. At first, I wasn't sure what to do with it, but then I thought it might be useful to add fragrance to the soap. The orc camp we had been searching for was already abandoned by the time we found it. There was no trace of the greenskins left, just piles of filth and discarded waste. I wasn't willing to risk ork spores spreading, so I ordered everything burned. I needed to prevent the threat from returning in the future—and for that, I had to act fast. Waiting until next year would mean allowing the orks to grow stronger. I needed to strike when they were at their weakest. Meanwhile, the mint soap was being made by drying and grinding the herb before cooking it with the rendered fat. Though I wasn't entirely sure if the mint's properties actually transferred to the soap by boiling it with the triglycerides from the fat, the scent was subtle, refreshing, and likely to help it sell at a higher price. According to the Marienburger merchant, scented soap fetched a much better price. So over time, we ramped up production and prepared to sell it in nearby towns. As for the blacksmiths, they were producing between 140 and 200 tools a day, depending on what I asked for. Hoes were easier to make than shovels or axes and sold for 6 silver shillings, so they were produced much faster. Though not extremely lucrative, each hoe had a profit margin of around 50%. Axes, on the other hand, were more expensive and required more work, but brought in better returns—8 shillings apiece, with a profit margin of 60% after factoring in material and labor costs. As the days went by, I launched another strong publicity campaign in the village, using the popularity of the free pork meat distribution that had become a regular event. The priestess of Shallya, along with other members of her cult, began handing out bread and soap to the townsfolk. Crowds gathered daily in front of the castle hoping to receive something. Taking advantage of this, I offered 100 lumberjack jobs at a wage of one shilling per day. It was a job that required no real skill—just muscle—so the village youth jumped at the opportunity. Now, instead of struggling to find labor, I could choose the best. Equipped with the freshly made axes, the woodcutters began felling large numbers of trees. By clearing trees near the city and roads, I ensured that if the beastmen ever returned, we wouldn't be as exposed as before. Keeping forests away from trade routes was essential to prevent ambushes. My father had been so efficient in hunting beastmen that they only appeared now when a mutated child was born among the peasants—but even so, I preferred to keep precautions at their highest. The wood we harvested wasn't just used to make charcoal for the iron furnaces—it also went into producing planks. Instead of sending it to a sawmill, I invested in two two-man saws and put the lumberjacks to work processing the timber. Often, they ruined parts of the material, but that wasn't a major problem. Damaged wood could still be turned into charcoal, which remained useful. Besides, the more skilled the lumberjacks became, the better the results over time. Eventually, wood production would increase. If we managed to establish an efficient workflow, we could forge nails and hammers and kick off a wave of construction. But before making any major investments, I needed to ensure we had the funds to support such projects sustainably. As for the timber, I also began considering something potentially very profitable: paper production. Making cellulose paper from wood wasn't complicated, but the real problem was the lignin. This compound left the paper yellowish, which reduced its commercial value and made it far less appealing. The real difficulty lay in the bleaching process, which required chemicals like chlorine—a dangerous and expensive procedure. The risk of inhaling the chemicals was high, and if one of my peasants ever poured chlorinated water into the river, it could contaminate the entire water supply for Reinsfeld. So, for the first time, I chose the more expensive and less efficient route: producing rag paper from linen cloth. This method came with its own difficulties. Obtaining used linen rags wasn't easy. And the issue was how to acquire them without hurting my public image. Asking for old clothes or trying to buy them looked bad. Using new linen was out of the question—it would double or even triple production time. Between soaking the rags, beating them with hammers, pressing, drying, coating them with gelatin, and pressing again, the process would already take around ten days. With new linen, it could take twice as long—or more. So I decided to visit the town carpenter to help me build the presses needed for the paper-making process. I handed him some rough sketches with the specifications, explaining how the presses and the iron mesh frames should be constructed. He accepted the job, though he charged me fifteen crowns to build them—and truthfully, they probably wouldn't work, since even I wasn't entirely sure how a press functioned. I only knew I needed one. On the other hand, I decided to ask a favor of the Temple of Shallya. They had close interaction with the local community, especially through their charitable distributions. I asked them to collect old clothes and used rags whenever they handed out food or aid to the needy. That would allow me to gather enough linen to begin the paper-making process. While I waited, they could collect the rags, and I could start preparing everything else. As I was deep in thought, one of my men-at-arms approached and caught my attention. I noticed how the peasants were beginning to fill baskets with pork and black bread, while leaving old clothing in the empty bins. "My lord..." he whispered. "Speak," I replied, shaking off my thoughts and focusing on him. "We've spotted a large group of people approaching on the road. Many of them are armed," he whispered close to my ear. "Call the guards... but don't raise alarm," I said, standing and quickly grabbing my arquebus. In silence, all available guards prepared for combat. This time, the warning had been delivered calmly—If there are no screams, no one needs to panic.—unlike when someone had yelled about orks and thrown the entire town into chaos. I approached my men and formed a defensive line. I knew the approaching group outnumbered us. The silence among my guards was heavy. The sound of marching feet grew louder—until it stopped. Tension hung thick in the air. I saw an enormous host of armed men, almost like a provincial regiment. I spotted swordsmen, spearmen, and crossbowmen. But just like us, they remained still. My crossbowmen prepared to fire. But then something caught my eye. Among the armed men were women and children, and that changed everything. "Hold... Hold!" I shouted, riding forward and tightening my reins. I stopped, examining the group more closely. We had to be cautious. "Blessings of Sigmar," I said, making the two-tailed comet gesture. "Blessings of Sigmar," replied a man with an eye patch, returning the same gesture. "May I ask, good men of the Empire, what brings you to my lands armed?" I said as I moved my horse, observing the large group—easily over a thousand strong. "Uh... by decree of the Emperor... there are lands here ready for settlement," said the one-eyed man, speaking seriously. "And the weapons?" I asked, eyeing him with some suspicion. "For safety... and well... we're veterans from a state regiment in Talabecland. These are our own arms," he replied, more confident this time and visibly calmer. "Indeed. I am the Baron of Reinsfeld. According to His Imperial Majesty, we have lands prepared for settlement... especially for brave servants who have defended the Empire," I said, watching their faces with a faint smile. "I thought we'd never get here," said the veteran, visibly relieved. "Had a rough journey, soldier?" I asked, dismounting and walking beside him calmly. "No... most of the way was safe, but they say there are beastmen in these parts. That's what kept us on edge," the veteran answered nervously. "Supposedly, there are a few in the deeper forest, but my family does a good job of hunting them down and driving them out completely. The last major beastman sighting was five years ago, and we organize a hunt every year to keep them at bay," I said, trying to put him at ease. "That's good to hear," said the veteran, and soon word spread among the group. They began nodding or muttering similar things, visibly relieved. "May I ask why you chose to come all the way here? It's quite the journey from Talabecland," I asked as we walked together toward my men. "Recently, there was a conflict between noble houses, and several villages were caught in the conflict. The lords we served could no longer afford to pay us. Since the conflict showed no signs of ending soon, we decided to try our luck before spring arrived and risk being trapped in a noble feud," explained the veteran. "Understandable... do you have any idea how many you are?" I asked, preparing to handle the necessary paperwork and record them for future taxes—even if those were ten years away. The veteran returned to the group and came back with a few papers. "The mayor of our village said these would help. It's the Imperial census," said the veteran, handing me the documents. "Excellent... I assume you know how this works? I'll assign each family four hectares of land. For the next ten years, you'll pay no taxes. I'll cover the contributions to the temples of Sigmar, Morr, and Shallya so they can provide aid. But regarding housing... that's your own concern," I explained, waiting for his reaction. "We were told about that, my lord..." he said, clearly nervous. "No need to be nervous, loyal servant of the Empire. In my lands, you are under my protection—and with Sigmar as my witness, I'll do all I can to safeguard you," I said, taking his hand and forearm in both of mine, with a reassuring smile. Judging by their reactions, it seemed I had played the role of the kind and caring noble rather well... fools. ------------------------- If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know. Leave a comment; support is always appreciated. I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see. -------------------------------