Chapter 100: 101 Busy Days

Chapter 100: 101. A Busy Day

The banquet at Mountain Forest Keep was simple—nothing but eating and drinking, unlike the noble houses where music and dance filled the air. Here, there were only men, too rough for dancing, so they poured all their energy into feasting and boasting.

To this end, Roning provided one pig, six sheep, a dozen chickens and ducks, not to mention countless fish.

Fortunately, the militiamen merely took their allotted grain and returned home; had they joined the feast, Roning would have been bankrupted.

Oh, by the way, Chahar had complained more than once about the castle’s wine supply. Several barrels of sour beer had already been drained, and the mid-grade beer now dwindled to fewer than a hundred bottles.

The domain urgently needed a brewer. Otherwise, with just a few more visitors or banquets, the castle would have to buy wine from outside.

Faced with Chahar’s complaints, Roning could only agree—but he himself had little interest in alcohol, or else he would have remembered this matter during his last trip to Pasture City.

After the banquet ended, Roning luxuriously soaked in several tubs of hot water. It had been over a fortnight since he’d left Mountain Forest Town, and this was the first time he’d truly washed himself—how blissful it felt.

Dressed in soft, loose garments, Roning returned to his study to find Elin seated on a nearby chair, deeply absorbed in a book she held in her lap.

Roning glanced at the title and hurried over in three strides, snatching the book shut—startling Elin, who had been utterly engrossed.

But when she saw who it was, her face lit up with delight. “Brother Roning, you’re done?”

“Yes, finished.”

Roning smiled in reply, subtly slipping the book into his hand and returning it to the shelf. “This book isn’t suitable for you. I’ll pick you something better.”

The novel, *The Secret Garden of Princess Fina*, had a decent plot, but the protagonists constantly kissed—described in rather intimate detail—and was far too unsuitable for a young girl.

From the shelf, Roning selected a history book and handed it to her. “Read this—*A Brief History of the Empire*. It will broaden your mind.”

*The Brief History of the Empire* chronicled the affairs of the Orland Empire, but unlike traditional histories, it mostly recorded the trivial gossip of royalty and nobility—even the quarrels between two great lords were documented.

Though it held little valuable information, it was at least far more appropriate than the knightly romance she’d just been reading.

Elin took the book skeptically, her thoughts still clinging to the previous one.

She asked, puzzled, “Why isn’t that book suitable for me? Sir Evan is dueling for Princess Fina—will he win?”

“He will, of course,” Roning teased, spoiling the ending. “And in the end, he lives happily ever after with the princess.”

“Alright, Elin,” he added, “Bella has prepared your room. She’s waiting outside. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Elin’s attention finally tore itself from the book. “Alright then, goodnight, brother.”

She hurried out.

Roning sighed helplessly, then turned to the pile of documents submitted by Chahar and Wilson.

They contained reports on each team’s production, the autumn harvests from each village, and the grain statistics for Mountain Forest Town.

He focused especially on the latter two.

This year’s barley harvest totaled roughly 830,000 catties—similar to previous years.

After reserving seed for next year, and assuming each person consumed one catty of staple grain per day, the supply would sustain Mountain Forest Town for nearly ten and a half months.

In reality, however, the serfs rarely consumed a full catty daily; they often mixed in other “black-tech” ingredients—wild greens were even considered a luxury.

Thus, this much barley could easily carry the town through until next year’s wheat and barley harvests—no problem surviving the year.

With fertilizer next year, improved farming techniques, and newly reclaimed fields, grain shortages would be a thing of the past.

The next morning, after breakfast, Roning mounted his Stepping Cloud Steed and set out on his inspection tour.

With his achievements exhausted and the attribute points accumulated from recent check-ins fully spent, he had now ascended to the Third Rank of the Supernatural.

[Level]: 3—Senior Knight (30/300); 3—Senior Mage (0/400)

Within Mountain Forest Town, his strength ranked among the top three. He no longer needed guards on his travels—merely Chahar, in charge of the manure team, Galen, the errand-runner, and Elin, who insisted on tagging along to tour the domain.

His first stop was the fertilizer depot.

This site had been planned since Roning established the manure team: located in the northwest woods near the pastures, far from the villagers’ dwellings and away from water sources.

Over the past days, the construction team had erected a crude shed here—rough, yes, but it kept off the rain and didn’t interfere with the organic matter fermenting beneath.

Facing their lord’s sudden visit, the ten slaves turning the piles stood nervously aside, offering only a timid greeting before falling silent.

Galen, however, kept urging Roning to leave quickly. “My lord, a nobleman like yourself shouldn’t sully himself in this stinking place—it’s beneath your dignity.”

Elin had already pinched her nose shut. Had Roning not stayed, she would’ve fled long ago.

The stench was unbearable—so much manure collected over days, all piled here. If he could’ve avoided it, Roning would’ve gladly done so.

But composting was still in its infancy. He had to come himself to guide it.

“Lord,” Chahar reported respectfully, “as you instructed, we’ve mixed useless dry grass, leaves, and straw with the manure. We turn the piles every three days.”

He disliked this work too, but he carried out Roning’s orders without fail.

Roning nodded as he surveyed the dozen fermenting piles. “Remember to cover the tops with dry grass to retain moisture.”

Normally, they’d use mats or cloth—but those were too precious to waste here. Dry grass would suffice for now.

He approached one pile, extending his hand slightly—still quite warm. The fermentation was active.

Without accelerants, this natural process would take longer—perhaps one to three months.

Only when the temperature stabilized and the stench faded would the fertilizer be ready for use.

Roning then conversed with Chahar and the manure team about their difficulties. Most slaves dared not speak; only one female slave, named Maxin, ventured a few questions.

From Chahar, Roning learned she was diligent, detail-oriented, and as strong as any man.

So he appointed her second-in-command of the depot, reporting directly to Chahar—lightening the steward’s burden.

After all, the castle already demanded immense effort managing grain storage alone, and soon he’d need to coordinate grain distribution with three outlying villages.

Men like Chahar—who could read and calculate—must be utilized to their fullest potential.

After inspecting the fertilizer depot, Roning visited William’s Ironwood Workshop and Carles’s forge, checking on the production of ironwood armor and the crafting of the curved-plow shafts.

Returning from Gray Earth Village, Roning had brought back two carpenter slaves. The more skilled, Mutal, was assigned to the Ironwood Workshop to focus on ironwood scale armor.

The less skilled was sent to assist Carles and his son in building the plow bodies, aiming to produce more curved plows for each village before spring planting.

In the following days, Roning inspected each production team while instructing Administrator Wilson to organize idle villagers to fell trees in the north, clearing a road to Bamboo Village as soon as possible.

Roning didn’t pay them for their labor, but unlike before, to motivate them, he allowed them to take half the timber home—to repair houses or stockpile firewood for winter. He wouldn’t let a single villager freeze to death.

Additionally, Roning made a special trip to Tom’s mother Liya’s tailor shop, observing her spinning wheel and loom. He sketched a modified design and ordered Pierce to build a small spinning wheel for silk extraction.

As for looms, most here used waist looms.

Roning intended to build a foot-treadle loom, but it required detailed design and experimentation. He merely explained the principle and sketched a basic structure for William, Pierce, and their slave Mutal, urging them to experiment first.

There were countless other petty matters: disputes between villagers requiring mediation or judgment; young men and women seeking marriage, needing Roning’s approval—and a marriage tax.

Roning abolished the marriage tax outright—it hindered population growth—and replaced it with one day of free labor.

After days of relentless work, he finally completed all arrangements.

On October 8th, Roning, lightly armed with a few guards, rode out beneath the morning sun, embarking once more on the journey back to Wushan Keep.

(End of Chapter)