April. Salant Baron Fief.
Spring plowing was underway.
Winter wheat and spring wheat did not mean two harvests a year. Winter wheat was generally sown in early October and harvested from late May to early June of the following year.
Spring wheat was sown in early April and harvested in early August.
Thus, a single field could produce only one wheat crop a year. With enough land, however, both varieties could be planted in separate fields.
And in terms of flavor, flour made from winter wheat tasted better.
As more of the thick fog dispersed, vast stretches of sunlit fields appeared outside the town in the Salant Baron Fief.
Many of Simon Town's former residents had no choice but to work in the fields, reclaiming wasteland and sowing spring seeds.
At the sound of hoofbeats, the farmers hurried fearfully to one side.
Three riders inspected the roads. From a distance, the newly reclaimed fields looked flat and even.
Two of the three wore robes, while the third was a warrior in leather armor.
"Very good. Perhaps we could plant some barley too? It can be used for black bread and brewed into ale," Haboba said with satisfaction.
"My lord, perhaps we could plant a pasture as well. That would let us breed horses, cattle, and sheep," Johnson said.
Bishop Kanrongpa smiled. "My lord, that is your prerogative."
The destruction of their previous city-state had largely stemmed from infighting between religious and secular authority. He did not want to repeat that mistake.
Haboba was even more pleased, but said little about it. Instead, he continued, "The four holy altars have been completed. We still need you to consecrate them and assign priests."
"Consecrating them will be no problem, but we don't have enough priests!" Bishop Kanrongpa looked troubled as he raised