Chapter 95 95: Solution to the food logistics

Today I have many things to do, so there will almost certainly be no second chapter. I was given many new cases to review and I'm almost drowning in work, so at most I'll give one or two short chapters of the ideas I've been asked for, since they were good ideas. ----------------------------- 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. ------------------------------- Kaldezeit 2-27,2489 IC "So they're already functional?" I asked the dawi engineer who was working in one of my greenhouses. "Yes... I managed to do what you asked, though with great difficulty. But the challenge was remarkable—I had to rely on all my experience to get this greenhouse working as you described, keeping the temperature stable. And, according to this thing you brought, it's at the exact temperature you wanted..." said the dawi engineer, pointing to a mercury thermometer inside the greenhouse. Even with all the snow falling outside, the temperature stayed above twenty-five degrees Celsius without any trouble. At last, I had what I wanted most: a greenhouse that could maintain a specific, stable temperature thanks to dwarf runes, with access to water through a simple handle that released flow through a copper pipe marked with an anti-corrosion rune. "Pleasant, isn't it?" I said, noting the huge contrast between the freezing air outside and the warm, steady climate within. "I must admit, dawongi... I don't know how you came up with such an advanced idea for an umgi, but it's remarkable. If this helps end our excessive dependence on imported cotton, it will be worth every effort," said the engineer. "Good... good... we're going to make a lot of gold together, my dear dawi friend. We'll go from planting once a year to planting three or four times any stable-cycle crop... we'll be swimming in gold crowns from selling food. So tell me—how much do I owe you for this? No one ever gave me the bill," I said, looking at the dwarf. "It's all settled from what we owed you for the sale of powder, dawongi. You don't have to worry—just come by to collect the gold that rightfully belongs to you," the engineer replied. "No. I want you to use it all. I need hundreds of these, thousands if necessary. I want the entire plain covered in greenhouses; I don't care how much I have to pay, I want the whole place filled, whether with cotton or wheat," I said with a smile. "We're working on that... but with the payments we're getting from other karaks, the amount of gold that belongs to you, dawongi, far exceeds what we spend on labour and materials," answered the dawi engineer. "For now, let Duran manage it, so that whenever I request something, you can collect immediately. I don't want problems with you over late payments, so I'd rather you hold onto it—and if I need it, I'll come for it. Makes the deals smoother when I want to buy something important," I said with a smile, already thinking about what to plant first. "I think we'll start with wheat before cotton," I said, touching the damp, dark-brown soil. "Why wheat? You have vast farmlands... why use such a valuable place for wheat?" the dwarf engineer asked, clearly intrigued. "Ah... very simple. This is the best laboratory for playing with botany: a controlled space, free of pests and plagues—the ideal place for experimentation. And there's no better way to do that than through the genetic selection of seeds. This would be better discussed in the laboratory, since I'm going to give you a general lesson on genetics and DNA... so it must be far from curious eyes," I told the dawi, who seemed eager to learn more from my basic knowledge of biology. "Of course... let's go," said the dawi, clearly interested in the knowledge. "That'll be another day. For now, I have to get this greenhouse up and running, so I'll teach you what I know soon enough," I replied to the engineer, who bit his lip upon realising he wouldn't get that knowledge immediately. "I understand... I'll keep working on the second one. It shouldn't take too long; this one took more because I had to build several prototypes to achieve the effect you wanted," said the dawi. "Good, get to it. I'm going to gather the workers to put them to use," I said as I stepped out of the greenhouse. The blast of cold air made me shiver. "Oh... damn... it's freezing," I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself. Still trembling from the sudden drop in temperature, I headed to one of the multiple Bretonnian camps. Otto's solution to the overpopulation of Bretonnians who couldn't settle in Merxeim had been the construction of barracks: easy-to-heat structures with several beds for entire families. They lacked privacy and the smell wasn't pleasant, but at least they kept warm thanks to well-sealed walls and chimneys that heated the entire interior. "All right, I need twenty of you for a job. It will be well paid, my serfs," I said to the group of Bretonnians eating their daily rations together with their families. Many stood up at once, eager to present themselves. "Ah, excellent... more than I asked for. Listen, this will be full-time work—possibly your new profession, I hope. That's why I'll pay you well: two shillings should be enough for the type of work you'll have," I said, looking at the volunteers. "Instead of food, will you pay us in coins, milord?" one of the Bretonnian peasants asked. "No. You'll still receive food, until I decide it's time to release you from your contract of servitude. Until you have your own home for your family and farmland, it's better you remain under my legal protection. This will simply be permanent work, and you'll be granted freedom once you have a home," I said calmly. "Thank you very much, milord," the Bretonnian replied. "All right, wrap up warm. It's bitterly cold outside," I warned as the Bretonnians donned the clothes my seamstress had made for them. There were no dyes or luxuries—thick wool inherited from my grandfather, heavy linen, or double layers of both. The Bretonnians followed me, well bundled up, and we crossed the snow-covered fields toward the greenhouses. Upon entering, they seemed nervous about the immense difference in temperature compared to the outside, murmuring among themselves. "Don't worry, this works exactly as planned. This place is designed to be far warmer than outside," I told them, easing their concerns. They calmed down immediately. "All right, the work is simple. In fact, you've done it for most of your lives. I need you to plant these wheat seeds in this soil and these pots, and take care of them," I said, looking at the group. "Just that, milord?" one of the Bretonnians asked, thoughtful. "Yes, just that. You will tend to the seeds until they reach the stage where they produce grain. When that happens, I'll send someone to help you with the harder task—counting the grains on each head of wheat. From there, we'll begin choosing the best seeds and repeating the process as many times as necessary," I explained, also giving them instructions on how to control the water and what to avoid so as not to kill the plants. The Bretonnians got to work straight away, tilling the soil with hoes, preparing the pots, and sowing and watering without much delay. "Before I forget, from time to time you'll need to go outside and clear away any snow that builds up, to stop it from covering everything completely. The sun's rays—few as they are—must still come through, or this place will start to lose heat. So, carefully, clear away any snow that piles up," I told them. "I'll pay you at the end of the month, since for now I doubt you'll have much use for it. Take care, and don't get sick from the change in temperature." The Bretonnians took their leave, and I went straight to my laboratory. I had something in mind to increase food production even further. With what I had on hand, I could make fertiliser easily. Without access to the Haber–Bosch process to produce ammonia in large quantities—or the technical knowledge to make it a reality—I had to settle for another type of fertiliser: one simple to make, mass-producible, and capable of boosting agricultural yields. I already had the perfect formula in mind: potassium nitrate. I literally had everything I needed to make it in large quantities. The saltpetre we already used to produce nitric acid, and the potash used in pigments, only needed to be processed and combined to produce a decent fertiliser. It wouldn't be the best, but given that the most common fertiliser in the region was manure—if one even had the money to keep animals—any chemical fertiliser I could produce would be far superior to organic ones. With the help of the dawi, we began dissolving the saltpetre in hot water along with the potash. Once the mixture had cooled slightly, we filtered it through linen cloth to remove impurities, then left it to rest. When the crystals formed, we dried them completely and stored them. With dawi labour, it took us only hours to produce a full tonne. The fertiliser was stored in sacks and taken directly to the greenhouse, where the Bretonnians began applying it to the soil they were preparing. Rutger would now have to bring in more saltpetre than before, as it was essential for the fertiliser. Although, if I wasn't mistaken, the fertiliser I was producing wasn't ideal for outdoor use—since it dissolved so easily, a single rainfall could wash it away entirely. But inside the greenhouses, that wouldn't be a problem. While the Bretonnians worked all day tending the crops, the dawi laboured outside, raising another greenhouse. If not for the runes that kept the temperature stable, the work would have gone much faster, but even so, within days another structure was finished. I quickly brought in more Bretonnians to work it, this time planting barley, stocking up seed and fertiliser reserves. The process repeated without pause: the dawi would finish another greenhouse, and I would fill it with workers. So it went for an entire month, very efficiently, until almost eight greenhouses were operational, with the serfs working without rest. The seeds would be vital for future harvests. Meanwhile, I ordered Otto to set aside part of the work in Merxheim—where, at the request of many merchants, he had expanded the harbour far too much—and instead focus on building houses for the serfs near the mining town. That would ultimately be the Bretonnians' workplace, both in the iron mines and in the greenhouses. Iron extraction had to remain constant; with three blast furnaces running, output had fallen behind the daily consumption in the forges. The cold days passed peacefully. I helped where I could inside the greenhouses and kept bringing in more workers each time a new one was finished. Then, as I moved through the fields, I sensed something. "Armour... many... from the east... this model... I know it well... Bretonnian," I murmured, detecting the metallic movement several kilometres from my lands. For a moment, I felt the urge to butcher every Bretonnian bold enough to attack my domain. But with the witch hunters here... I could not take the same action as Hieronymus. I didn't have the luxury of vanishing after unleashing a storm of magic upon Bretonnians. So, though it displeased me, I had to summon the militia and my personal army. They weren't enough to warrant an emergency, but their likely aim was to cause chaos and draw attention away from their front. ------------------------------ 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. -------------------------------