The End of Spring Planting

The farming tasks in White Bear Territory were exceptionally heavy this year.

Due to the various new techniques introduced by Lynn, the serfs abandoned the extensive farming methods of the past and turned to intensive cultivation.

They had to compost, plow with heavy plows, select seeds, and sow in rows.

The workload had increased, yet the acreage of the strip fields remained the same, and the labor force had not grown.

In previous years, the serfs could generally finish plowing over thirty thousand mu of farmland in just two weeks.

This year, however, eleven days had already passed since the official start of spring planting, and the serfs had only just finished tending to the lord's eighteen thousand mu of land.

This was only achieved because Old Albert and a group of stewards and farm managers had been driving production hard every single day.

Many serfs, unable to plow their own allotment land, began to slack off and cut corners.

A small handful of bolder serfs even secretly plowed their own allotments ahead of schedule, leaving the assigned public land behind.

Fortunately, Old Albert discovered this in time and whipped a few typical offenders, which barely managed to curb the trend of laziness.

"My Lord, these new techniques are indeed good, but they consume much more time. Right now, the serfs have only just begun to plow their own allotments. If they don't finish before the rainy season, they will have a hard time this winter."

Having finally supervised the serfs in finishing the public land, Old Albert could no longer hold back and ran to the castle to complain to Lynn.

As the bridge between the lord and the serfs, he had to take care of both sides, and naturally, he had to endure grievances from both ends.

He had to do his best to complete the tasks assigned by the lord while also looking out for the survival of the serfs; he didn't even dare to use much force with the whip for fear of ruining the precious labor force.

He had been busy running around these past few days, often missing meal times, and his already thin frame looked even more gaunt.

"Thank you for your hard work."

Lynn patted Old Albert on the shoulder, though in his heart, he was thinking about having Old Albert oversee the road construction.

Who else could it be? He was the only Territory Steward in White Bear Territory.

Some jobs were truly meant for him.

Since he could endure hardship, there was naturally an endless amount of hardship waiting for him.

Having his hard work recognized by the lord, a brilliant smile bloomed on Old Albert's face:

"Working for you, my Lord, is no hardship at all."

Through his observations over these days, Old Albert knew that Lynn was by no means a cruel lord who exploited his people, but a good lord willing to protect his territory and his serfs.

What other lord would inspect the serf villages immediately upon arriving at his territory?

And what other lord would dare to risk his life to fight a giant magic beast in person?

In fact, Lynn had not been idle these days; he personally inspected the territory every day, supervising and guiding the serfs in their labor.

He even specifically ordered Yagna to draw double the amount of salt and sausages from the warehouse to add to the serfs' working lunches, fearing that this excellent labor force would work themselves to death in the fields.

To provide the extra food for the serfs, he had even used up all the sausages in the warehouse, and the salt was nearly bottomed out.

Afterward, Lynn took Old Albert out for another inspection.

Stepping out of the castle, they looked out over the fields.

As far as the eye could see, the dark, level furrows radiated a majestic beauty, and the entire land was pregnant with infinite vitality.

Old Albert was also struck by this beautiful sight, and it was a long while before he couldn't help but exclaim:

"My Lord, this is all thanks to the heavy plows you brought. In previous years, these furrows would definitely be crooked, like a child scribbling with a stick."

Lynn squinted and pondered for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Albert, on the west side of the territory, are there still many uncultivated flatlands?"

"Yes, but those flatlands are not completely abandoned; they serve as public pastures, and we scatter some pasture grass seeds there every year."

As he answered, a sudden, ominous premonition arose in Old Albert's heart.

The lord couldn't be thinking of turning that land into farmland, could he?

Sure enough, Lynn then issued his instructions:

"The heavy plow can be used not only for deep plowing but also for land reclamation. I plan to reclaim the land on the west side next year. I have surveyed it on-site these past few days; there are at least twenty thousand mu of flatland easy to reclaim. If you count the gentle slopes, there are probably seventy or eighty thousand mu. It is too wasteful to just leave that land there."

"My Lord, with the current population of White Bear Territory, we simply cannot afford to farm so much land!" Old Albert's vision went dark. Was White Bear Territory short on land?

It was short on people!

Even if they had another twenty thousand mu of farmland, the serfs of White Bear Territory would work themselves to death and still not finish it!

"Don't worry, there will be people to farm this land." Lynn asked with a smile, "Haven't you wondered why I ordered you to plant the public land entirely with rye?"

In previous years, the main crop on the lord's public land was actually barley.

The main crop on the serfs' allotments, however, was rye.

Barley tasted worse than rye and was generally not used as a staple food, but rather for brewing ale or beer.

Large coastal cities had a very high demand for alcohol, and planting barley made it easier to export and trade for more gold coins.

This year, however, Lynn broke with this convention and ordered the main crop on the public land to be changed to rye, planting only a small amount of barley and oats.

Old Albert had been puzzled these days as to why they were planting rye, which was harder to sell, but now, asked by Lynn, he suddenly realized.

The lord was planning to bring in a large-scale population!

That was why he was planting rye in advance, to feed more serfs!

Serfs who had just moved to a territory could not survive on their own; they had to rely on the lord's relief to live until the next autumn harvest.

But then, Old Albert had another doubt.

In the current environment of the Northern Border, where would they get thousands of people to farm?

Hadn't the wave of immigrants from the Southern Border passed long ago?

Could it be that he intended to seize them?

That was it, he must be planning to seize them; it was impossible to buy them, right?

Serfs were the treasures of every lord; how could one buy a large quantity of serfs?

There were people in Shallow Beach Territory to the south, and the new lord was just a little child.

Given the lord's personality, it was indeed possible that he would make a move against Shallow Beach Territory.

No wonder the lord kept Yagna in the castle; he must be coveting the land and population of Shallow Beach Territory!

It all added up, everything added up!

But wouldn't that mean war?

The more Old Albert thought, the more terrified he became.

He wasn't afraid of war; the lords of the Northern Border often fought at the drop of a hat.

They fought over forests, prey, populations, even wives and lovers. All sorts of reasons for fighting were not strange.

What he feared was not winning, or perhaps inviting sanctions from the Marsh Duke.

"My Lord, if you intend to launch a war, we must prepare early. Since the public land planting is finished, I will have the stewards and farm managers begin training immediately."

As the Territory Steward, Old Albert was naturally responsible for managing the conscripted troops.

The stewards and farm managers were the conscripted soldiers of White Bear Territory.

His son, Little Albert, had never slacked off in his training; he was skilled at riding and could proficiently wield a sword from horseback.

Although he was still far behind a true [Warrior], he could at least play a role on the battlefield.