Chapter 55 - Laying Foundations (2/2)

Till the land! Sow the crops! How dare he sleep before ten acres of land were tilled? How could he have the shame to declare that he had claimed a territory without planting two vegetable gardens in the backyard? Since ancient times, there was only one standard to ensure expansion and permanency in a territory—that is, to create agricultural land!

Of course, this thought was natural. However, in a world of extraordinary power, Gawain was well aware that he still had a lot to learn.

There was a piece of simple logic to it— after learning that it was possible for the human race in this world to make iron by burning straw with only the power of runes, who could guarantee that a pile of manure could surpass local primitive technology?

What was more, in a situation where he was uncertain about the physics of this world, Gawain could not be certain that the memories and knowledge he gained from his time on Earth was also useful here. What if even the behavior of the microorganisms of this world was not even in accordance with his understanding of the basic laws…

But whatever the intricacies, the basic idea of farming as an indication to settle was always a good one.

Gawain walked over to where the land was being reclaimed. Everything here was still at their initial stages—Rebecca had taken some time to visit the day before and had shot fireballs amongst the weeds and shrubs in this wasteland, creating a perfectly charred piece of land. Today, the farmer serfs were digging deep into the soil, turning the rich ash into the ground as they removed the stones that were buried inside as well.

Gawain was delighted to see the performance of his orders here. A wooden plaque was inserted into the ground of the vast wasteland every hundred paces, dividing the whole reclaimed area into many homogeneous plots. The laborers worked within the boundaries of their plots, while several other groups of people traversed across the plots in preparation to excavate ditches. On the edge of the reclaimed land, a temporary wooden shed had been set up, and this was where Herti and a few others stayed to keep track of work progress and also record the withdrawal and return of tools by the various groups of workers.

Also, a large pot on a stove was in the wooden shed, and the reclaimants ate their lunch nearby.

The laborers were no longer surprised by Gawain’s appearances—this “eccentric aristocratic Lord” was always hanging out in the noisy and rambling construction sites and even making it a point to talk to the mud-covered men. At first, this made many feel uneasy, but now…

Even though they were still anxious, their unease had faded tremendously especially after Gawain had instituted the two promises that “all hardworking laborers will be fed” and “exceptionally hard workers will have meat in their meals” that went into immediate effect. Since then, the commoners and serfs on the land had put their trust in their trustworthy and famed Lord and became quite familiar with him.

Gawain made his way through the busy fields to the wooden shed at the edge of the field. There, Herti was standing with a dark-skinned farmer and the two of them were discussing something seriously while Knight Philip was standing guard beside them.

Gawain, who was almost two meters tall, had plenty of presence. As he approached, Herti looked up and stood. The farmer, whose back was to him, turned around as well. Upon seeing that it was his Lord, he bowed hurriedly. “Your Lordship…”

“Don’t be nervous.” Gawain waved a hand. “I’m only here to see what’s going on.”

He then turned curiously to the man who looked like a farmer, but had been discussing something with Herti. “Are you a farming expert?”

In the language of the Loren Continent, “expert” and “scholar” were the same word. Upon hearing that Gawain had addressed him as such, he shook his hands nervously and fearfully, saying, “I cannot be compared to great learned persons… I am only a farmer…”

“His name is Norris.” Sensing the situation, Herti made the introductions. “He’s a farmer and is skilled in his work. I was looking for someone to answer questions with regards to clearing and farming the land, and found him.”

Gawain looked Norris over. He looked like a typical medieval farmer with his tanned skin, skinny frame, large hands and heavy feet, and a humble expression on his face. He seemed like he was about forty or fifty, or maybe even older, but Gawain was unsure of his real age—every person who labored hard and suffered from malnutrition aged prematurely in spite of the fact that the humans in this world lived longer than Earthlings because they had better health. The aristocrats had an average lifespan of a hundred to a hundred and fifty years old (this was before magic was even used to prolong life), but in reality, more than 90 percent of the population in this world was unhealthy and many laborers looked aged despite only being in their twenties.

The commoners in the Cecil Clan had been at least able to feed and clothe themselves and live a longer life than those of other clans, but premature aging brought on by laboring was still something that was unavoidable.

Norris the farmer rolled his neck nervously under Gawain’s gaze and smiled humbly.

However, it was this humble smile that startled Gawain a little.

How long had it been since had seen such a smile on the faces of the poor in this world?