Chapter 316: Fast!

Birdsong echoed from the woods outside the plantation.

For a full hour, Simon explained the seed cultivation process to Leon and the others.

"Leon, did you understand everything His Highness said? You’ll be in charge of the seed cultivation. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be held responsible." Baldwin warned him.

In Baldwin’s eyes, this was a matter of great importance; it was directly tied to whether the people would have food to eat in the future.

"Y-Yes, Chief S-Secretary... I... I understand." Leon stuttered. He always stammered when he got nervous.

Simon smiled and turned to Baldwin. "You can’t just scare him. Failures must be punished, yes, but successes should be rewarded too. Leon, if you manage this seedling base properly, I’ll not only grant you freedom, I’ll even find you a wife."

Leon’s eyes lit up immediately. He was already middle-aged and had never even touched a woman before. He stammered again. "T-Thank you, Y-Your Highness."

Simon quickly stopped him. "No need for that now. Save your bow for your wedding."

Leon grinned like a fool, while Baldwin shook his head and chuckled helplessly.

With the orders for seed cultivation delivered, Simon and Baldwin made their way back to Brambleford.

Potatoes meant food. Food meant population. And population meant national strength. Baldwin now truly understood this and had become very focused on agriculture.

"My Lord, the disaster in Preston will probably create a huge number of refugees. I was thinking of secretly guiding them into Brambleford, but I worry our food won’t be enough. According to what you said, potatoes can be planted in the fall and harvested in just two months. Do you think we’ll be able to feed the refugees by then?" Baldwin asked.

"There’s no need to do it in secret. We can guide the refugees into Brambleford openly. I’m offering disaster relief, helping to resolve the crisis in Preston; why sneak around?"

Baldwin nodded. "That’s a bold and clever move, Your Highness. I’ll send people to Preston to guide the refugees here. At the same time, I’ll write a memorial to the court to request merit on your behalf."

"Now that’s more like it." Simon smiled. He was starting to feel more and more like a cunning politician.

He had no choice. In this world, even farming required a few tricks up your sleeve.

---

As the two chatted, they returned to the government office. Just as they arrived, someone came walking up to them. It was Richard.

"My Lord, Chief Secretary Baldwin, I was just looking for you. We’ve received word from the grasslands; Fern has learned of the unrest in Preston. He’s organizing troops and may launch an attack while Preston is in chaos."

"That fast?" Baldwin was stunned. Both he and Simon had expected the reavers to seize the opportunity, but they didn’t think Fern would move this quickly.

He was clearly a dangerous opponent.

"Fern is a skilled commander. Of course he wouldn’t let this opportunity slip. If he attacks Dunmere, we at least have natural defenses. But if he strikes Preston, especially now with the power of artillery, Preston may not be able to hold." Simon said, frowning deeply.

After a moment of thought, he said to Richard. "Keep watching the reavers. The unrest in Preston isn’t too serious yet. But if it spreads and Prince Augustus can’t contain it, that might be when the reavers invade. Baldwin, we can’t wait; send people to Preston right away to guide the refugees here. Prevent them from joining the rebels. Also, submit a memorial to the court about it."

Baldwin nodded and went into the office to begin drafting the report.

---

Richard continued. "My Lord, our covert agents have already entered Preston and are gathering intel. This uprising is different; it’s not led by common bandits, but by a scholar. The people of Preston now call him The King. His real name is Michael Allwell. He was a failed scholar. After the drought, his entire family starved to death. In a moment of fury, he led the villagers to attack the government office and open the grain stores. People rallied to his cause, and now he commands over a hundred thousand followers."

"A man of courage," Simon said quietly.

He didn’t feel a shred of sympathy for Prince Augustus; he had brought this on himself. In fact, Simon didn’t like his uncle at all.

To him, Prince Augustus had always seemed like a brute. But according to stories, he was good at fighting. Back when Emperor Alaric suppressed the rebellion in Preston, it was Prince Augustus who led the charge.

That’s why the emperor had later given Preston to him, both to keep the unrest under control and to guard against the reavers.

Richard was briefly stunned. If this had been any other prince, Michael would’ve been labeled a traitor immediately. But Simon’s response was completely different.

"Keep watching him. Report to me immediately if anything changes." Simon ordered.

Richard nodded and quickly disappeared into the streets outside the office.

Simon hesitated for a moment. Maybe it was time to get in touch with his uncle. After all, even a pig-teammate was still a teammate. If Prince Augustus could handle disaster relief properly and pardon the King, maybe the situation could still be salvaged.

So, back at the castle, Simon wrote a letter to Prince Augustus, half persuasion, half probe, to test his current thinking.

He sent someone to deliver the letter to Preston. Then, Simon got back to work writing the Soldier Training Manual, a complete guide for military training, from traditional forces to musket troops.

In the manual, he laid out clear training methods, including physical drills, loyalty exercises, hand-to-hand combat, bayonet practice, and other essential modern skills.

While he had covered some of this in the academy, many officers hadn’t had a chance to study them directly. That’s why he compiled it into a handbook, one copy for each officer, so they could train their units with scientific methods.

---

Just as he was busy writing, Joan came in hesitantly, handing him a leather case.

"My Lord, this is the waterproof flintlock cover made by the textile workshop. What do you think?"

Simon paused. On the desk was a cylindrical leather sleeve, with small openings at certain points.

This was the waterproof leather case he had asked Joan to make, for covering the firing mechanism of the flintlocks. That way, even in the rain, the guns could stay operational.

Of course, it would only work in light to moderate rain. In heavy downpours or storms, it wouldn’t be much help.

"Looks great. Nicely made. Have the textile workshop produce more of them for the Brambleford army."

Joan smiled but didn’t leave. She added. "My Lord, something amusing happened today. A student from the Oxford Academy came to the textile workshop. He said he wanted us to sew a big cloth sack so he could fly into the sky. The guards kicked him out. But before he left, he said he was going to find you."

"A big sack? Fly into the sky? What’s his name?"

"Ethan."