Chapter 92 92: future income

------------------------------ 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. ------------------------------- Brauzeit -11-14,2489 IC Enormous mountains of beastman bodies rose throughout the field, as the Ulrican priests began the purification rituals, focusing especially on the armor of the wargors, marked with symbols of Khorne, suggesting that this was their patron god. We had won. It was a costly victory, but a victory nonetheless. The beastmen were defeated, despite the heavy losses we suffered, mainly due to the large number of minotaurs and wargors gathered. Several packs had united to eliminate us, and they ended up being annihilated against our fortifications. As soon as the gigantic beastman left the area, we ventured into the woods to locate where they had gathered. We didn't destroy the herdstone —not yet— but we did enter the main cave. Inside, we found thousands of female beastmen, as well as human women corrupted by Chaos. Some seemed to retain their sanity. But not even the Ulrican priests were willing to take the risk. They opted for the more fanatical path: purge everything before the rot spread. Most of these creatures were pregnant. We had stopped the birth of a new generation of horrors that, if they had grown, would once again ravage the roads and villages. But still, I had made a mistake. I had completely underestimated the total number of these beasts. I thought it would be like in Reikland, where the forests are populated by thousands, not hundreds of thousands, or even millions. Here, even in a small section of the Drakwald, the density of beasts was terrifying. We tried to maintain a daily estimate, as several local nobles offered rewards for each head delivered. But it was impossible to keep an accurate count. We killed so many each day that mountains of corpses were formed, and we couldn't even count them. We ended up burning them with oil and wood because leaving the bodies there only benefited the scavengers... or the beastmen themselves. The Ulricans suffered the most. They insisted on leading the vanguard, and I didn't oppose it. If they wanted to bear the losses, I would just provide the gunpowder and weapons to keep the enemy at bay. With nearly two thousand dead —most of them Ulricans— we had exterminated a concentration of beasts large enough to guarantee years of relative safety in the region... until another pack tries to fill the void. The local lords were euphoric. Their roads and nearby forests were once again passable. They could cut trees, hunt, expand... though with the ever-present risk that the hunters would become prey. But for now, the villages near Carroburg could breathe with some peace, at least for a few months. With the Ulrican priests, we decided not to purify another herdstone. Without my firearms, they would hardly be able to stop another wave like the one we faced last week. I recommended they keep watch, observe the signs, and regroup if more signs of activity appeared. But, in reality, I needed to return to my lands. The harvest season had already passed, and I found myself trapped here because of the appearance of that gigantic beastman pack. If I abandoned the Ulricans now, it wouldn't be any different from what the nobles of Altdorf did when they fled like cowards. And all this campaign, which was supposed to strengthen ties between them and the Sigmarites, would only have served to reinforce their distrust of us by leaving them alone... just like when everyone fled back to the capital. So, I gathered my men, loaded the bodies of our dead, and began the journey back to Reinsfeld. I also sent a messenger to the Cult of Sigmar, with an estimate of how many we had killed, so they could take it into account. On average, we were eliminating four thousand beastmen daily across all forces; that, multiplied by three months of hostilities, represents real damage. But honestly, I think the most important blow was the slaughter of the breeders. Without offspring, there's no war. We passed through Carroburg, where we received a small reward from the local duke. He only paid for exact and confirmed numbers, so he compensated us for a few thousand beastmen... nothing compared to the actual number. No one is going to pay a reward for more than a quarter of a million beasts. That would leave any noble in debt for generations. After that, we descended into Schilderheim, formed ranks, and marched directly to my city. By then, the tax collection should have been starting. We moved along the pacified roads of Reinsfeld without delays, delivered the bodies to the Temple of Morr, and distributed the corresponding portion of the rewards among the soldiers, so they could send their shares to the families of the fallen. With these last ones, there were almost five hundred men who had died under my command since I started taking the war outside of my lands. At least, things had returned to normal. The deadline I had granted to the archlector of Reinsfeld had ended, and with it, the grace period for the witch hunters expired. They tried to impose their fanatical criteria again, but this time they ran into a wall. Those who decided to ignore the limit were severely punished by the Cult of Sigmar itself. This is what happens when the Cult prefers to protect a lord who finances temples, schools, and preachers, rather than lose political influence because of their own fanatics. As soon as I returned, I had to face the heaviest part of the work: the paperwork. Reviewing how much I had collected from the harvests this year... although I didn't really plan to sell food this time. I still had to feed a bunch of Bretonians who were still working on my lands. I had to reorganize the tax reports, add the new citizens to the files, prepare them for the next tax cycle, check what had been paid by merchants and artisans, and calculate how much would actually go into my coffers. Monthly, I had to pay 71,500 crowns to keep my militias and personal army standing, all well-paid and loyal. Additionally, there were another 2,750 crowns in pensions for the families of the fallen. It was a huge expense compared to my initial income, but between the sale of dyes, books, and soaps, I was generating around 120,000 crowns per month. Still, with my workers and the large construction team, I was still in the red, covering the deficits with the Bretonian treasury. I wasn't worried. Even if it took a few years to empty completely, eventually the income from the gunpowder would cover all the expenses. And then, only then, could I relax and enjoy the sweet fruits of hard work. So I let my men rest for a while while I checked on how Merxheim was progressing during my short absence due to the hunt. "So, how's everything going, Otto?" I said while riding, followed by a large escort. "Good... good... too good, actually. But considering we have more than eight thousand workers, it's to be expected," Otto replied as we moved on horseback. "Give me the general report. I still have to go over the tax paperwork, and I've been putting it off because it's too much work," I responded. "Yes, uh... a lot of work..." Otto replied with a doubtful tone. "Hey... what's that?" I asked, pointing to a structure near the river. "Ah... that. It's a water-powered mill. Considering that the population of Reinsfeld and its farmlands have multiplied several times, I figured that your only mill wouldn't be enough. So, before you asked me in a hurry, I commissioned water mills from a craftsman in Altdorf and brought them here to install. That mill should be able to process about twenty or thirty times more grain than yours," Otto said with pride. "Wow... you've done something wonderful. But was this approved in the budget, or did you just assume I'd pay for it?" I asked the architect. "What do you think? Am I going to pay for buildings for you with my personal wealth? Never. Clearly, you paid for it. And don't tell me it's not useful, or you wouldn't be expanding the farmland so aggressively with Bretonian labor... because those guys work as if their lives depended on it," Otto responded. "Alright... a good investment, I suppose. How's my new city going?" I asked, smiling at him. "Well, obviously we didn't reach the goal of housing all the families, but we've worked as hard as we could," Otto said. "That's not what I asked, Otto," I said, looking at him intently. "Currently, the city can house around thirty thousand people properly. Clearly, they'll have to be crowded for a couple of months while we continue building. We still have a month and a half before the snow falls, so we can finish many more houses. The work is fast, but the sheer number of people we need to house is too much... especially because we fell behind a bit on the city's sewer system, the port, and the market," Otto explained. We finally arrived at Merxheim, and I could see everything was built as it should. The houses were spaced perfectly, all the old buildings had been demolished and replaced from scratch. Where there was once just a small stretch of sand by the river, now there was a large river port with ships already docked unloading goods. As I entered the city, I observed the enormous amounts of houses being built simultaneously, with workers from several imperial architects building tirelessly, racing against time. And at the same time, there was a lot of activity in the town market. I could easily see dozens of merchants working or setting up their stalls. Some merchants who clearly worked for Rutger were also present, selling my products in the market. "At the moment, the whole city is almost empty, only the two thousand inhabitants who lived in the city live here, but many artisans make the trip from Reinsfeld to sell products," said Otto. "I see... either way, I need to make sure that, if necessary, all the Bretonians can be housed," I responded, moving on horseback toward the fields that had been set up in record time. The Bretonian peasants had done an impressive job here, probably under Otto's guidance, but all the fields had irrigation channels and were perfectly ready for the next year. Though many of the Bretonian serfs were still working the fields, finishing the threshing of what they had harvested. Given the short time available for planting and harvesting, it seems they planted barley. It didn't have much value on the market, as it was food for the lower classes, unlike wheat, which was food for the armies and the upper classes. Therefore, even though they managed to plant something, it wouldn't have much commercial value, but it would serve to make flour and feed the Bretonians themselves. I immediately noticed that the Bretonians looked much healthier. They had gained weight; they no longer looked skeletal, but some still showed signs of the toll of the lack of food as they slowly recovered from their long life of exhausting work. When they saw me, all the serfs stopped and quickly came towards me, bowing their heads. "You've done a good job, and from what I see, a great harvest?" I said in Bretonian, looking at them. "Thank you, milord," one of them responded in Reikspiel. "Oh... well... what a pleasant surprise," I replied in Reikspiel to the serf who had answered me. "Ah... the... the priest... Sigmar... milord... teaches us Reikspiel..." the serf replied, this time more hesitantly. "I see... I'm glad you're trying to adapt. Well, when you're done with that, take it to the mill and keep two sacks of barley flour each," I said in Bretonian. "Thank you, milord," they almost all replied in Reikspiel. I began to move away to inspect more fields, where Bretonians were working tirelessly, harvesting barley, and deeply grateful. I was seriously considering going to Bretonnia to kidnap more. ------------------------------ 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. -------------------------------