Chapter 198: Large Expenses

Rowning and Pearson spoke at length—on one hand to better understand the caravan’s operations, on the other to settle the wages and expenses for its members.

In simple terms, Rowning provided all consumables: the packhorses and carts for transport, the rations for men and beasts along the journey.

Pearson and his men were responsible for visiting clients, promoting goods, and securing partnerships.

In this world, there was no such thing as bonuses or commissions; Rowning offered fixed salaries to every member of the caravan.

As manager, Pearson earned twenty copper coins daily; his nine deputies averaged five each.

Compared to Raison’s era, Rowning had raised Pearson’s pay by three copper coins and increased each deputy’s by one.

Such wages were already substantial—recall that Wilson, during his tenure as steward, earned only ten copper coins per day.

Yet their high pay was not without justification: the caravan brought the lordship three to four hundred gold pieces annually, and they had contributed greatly.

“What a wonderful morning!”

Standing on the steps before the castle’s drawbridge, Pearson shed all his earlier anxiety and unease, his spirit restored to its former vigor.

He had never imagined he could so easily earn the new lord’s trust—not only was he allowed to continue managing the caravan in Marshtown, but his salary had been raised, filling him with renewed hope for the days ahead.

“The lord may be young, and kind, but he is nothing like the rumors painted him.”

Clearly, Pearson’s understanding of Rowning still clung to the early version—he knew nothing of the new lord’s recent deeds.

He judged purely by instinct.

During their conversation, he had sensed this young lord was no fool; his kindness was merely a means to inspire deeper devotion and effort.

Should Pearson or his men overstep, punishment would surely follow.

But Pearson knew himself well.

He was but a merchant clinging to the lord’s favor—without the lord’s support, he was nothing.

“Time to gather those young rascals and get to work!”

Without further delay, Pearson strode boldly away from the castle.

His next task, assigned by the lord, was not to sell—but to procure.

First, to prepare for the coming land reclamation, Rowning intended to purchase three thousand jin of wrought iron to forge plowshares and farming tools.

Second, with ten thousand mu of farmland now cultivated across Marshtown, Woodland Town, and several villages, monoculture of barley and wheat was unsustainable—crop diversity was essential.

Thus, Rowning also planned to procure peas, lentils, onions—crops that would diversify the people’s diet and, in the case of legumes, serve as excellent feed for warhorses.

Lastly, and most critically, he needed grain.

Last autumn’s harvest in Woodland Town barely sufficed for its own needs after barely supplying the four northern villages—it could not possibly feed the thousand slaves soon to arrive, let alone support Marshtown.

According to Chahar’s latest tally, before this year’s autumn harvest, Marshtown already faced a deficit of at least three hundred thousand jin of grain.

Though villagers must pay coin or labor to buy from him, the cost of procuring this grain fell entirely on him.

Three hundred thousand jin of grain would consume at least nine hundred gold pieces alone. Add the cost of wrought iron and seeds, and nearly twelve hundred gold pieces vanished in a single stroke.

Calculating thus, Rowning found himself almost admiring Raison—how much effort must it have taken to sustain such a sprawling Marshtown?

Had Rowning not been flush with coin, he would have had no idea where to procure such grain.

Of course, three hundred thousand jin of grain could not simply be bought overnight.

First, storing so much grain here was impractical. Second, he had no intention of handing Pearson a thousand gold coins all at once.

The wrought iron and seeds could be purchased on the spot—grain procurement was merely about establishing reliable channels.

When the time came to buy, Rowning would send several knights accompanied by soldiers—ensuring both the safety of the coin and the grain.

“More people, more expenses.”

Rowning stood atop the tower, gazing down over the town. Though the expansion of his lordship filled him with exhilaration, the urgency to acquire coin grew ever sharper.

“Though the Black Gold Brotherhood and the Polant Bandits plague Wushan Lordship, their mischief is petty—no war has broken out, so grain prices here remain low.”

Barley, wheat, rye—all averaged under four copper coins. Indeed, very low.

But should war erupt, prices would soar—double, triple, even more.

Wushan Lordship had three major grain-producing centers: Wushan City, Lingchuan City, Black Serpent City.

Though Wushan City belonged to the Wushan family, and the Rivis who ruled Lingchuan City stood with Rowning in Wushan Castle, should famine strike all three, Rowning might still not secure enough grain.

Places like Marshtown, with annual deficits of hundreds of thousands of jin, were prone to famine—and death.

Rowning was a merciful lord. He did not wish to see his people starve—each death meant one less laborer.

“Grain must be self-sufficient!”

“And we must build ample reserves!”

While Wushan Lordship remained at peace, Rowning must accelerate land reclamation.

As he stood brimming with resolve, a party of riders appeared in the distance along the road to Marshcastle, drawing his gaze.

“It’s Tom returning.”

Before leaving for Wushan Castle last year, Rowning had purchased forty-four horses from the Ironhoof family’s stables in Pasture City—at an exceptionally favorable price.

But in his haste, he had no one to bring them back, so they remained in Ironhoof’s care.

Now that he had returned to Marshtown, he sent Tom with a detachment of cavalry to retrieve them.

Here, one must note the sheer number of horses Rowning now possessed—immense.

Fine warhorses: 10

Standard warhorses: 29

Riding horses: 93

Packhorses: 27

His abundance stemmed largely from the seized wealth of Marshcastle—he had confiscated sixty-five horses from Raison alone!

Even now, should Wushan North wish to form a second knightly squad, Rowning had no fear of insufficient mounts.

It was a vast, hidden fortune.

“Hmm?”

Rowning studied the party—and noticed two familiar figures among them.

“Rognar and Krami? What are they doing here?”

Outside the castle gate, Tom’s party halted on the road before the drawbridge.

“Raison Baron never imagined the Marshcastle he poured so much effort into would fall into Lord Rowning’s hands,” Krami murmured, studying the castle with furrowed brows. “A fine fortress—but the air here is foul.”

Rognar smiled faintly. “You’ll grow accustomed.”

“Rognar is right,” Tom said, dismounting with a grin. “On my first day, I too found the air unbearable—but after one night’s sleep, the scent of earth had faded.”

“I’ll go inform the lord,” he added.

Rognar dismounted as well, smiling. “Then we thank you.”

He took a deep breath; today, at last, was the day he would act. (End of chapter)