Chapter 1039: Decisions on Incoming Letters
“Your Majesty, this is the week’s financial report.” Barov set the papers on the desk with the barely-suppressed delight of a man delivering a gift he knows will land well. “In brief: the figures show better growth than projected. A dramatic spike, actually. In the past, we would have called this a miracle.”
“Yes. Well done.” Roland leaned back in his chair.
His own expression was considerably calmer than Barov’s, because he understood the mechanism. Population had grown during the Months of Demons this year. So had economic output. Winter, which had historically suppressed both — which had, within living memory, emptied Border Town entirely — had failed to slow Neverwinter down at all. For anyone raised in this era, the report would feel like a violation of the natural order. Cold was supposed to mean death and stillness. The idea that an economy could grow in winter was the kind of claim that got a man laughed out of any council room in the kingdom.
Yet here it was, in the columns.
The reason was simple: humans were not obligated to accommodate their environment. They had been changing their environments for as long as they had been human. Concrete boats ran regardless of wind direction and did not tire. Heating systems maintained temperatures that allowed sustained productivity. Hospitals meant illness cost less time. Factories ran in bad weather. As these tools accumulated, the old compromises — hibernation, reduced output, the long inward waiting of winter — lost their necessity. The miracle was just engineering.
The coronation and the establishment of a new capital had also played their role. People always flowed toward concentrated life — it was a pattern that had not changed in thousands of years. The wide breadth of the Redwater River was beginning to feel crowded, with more than five hundred concrete boats in service, some modified for rapid cargo loading, some with two levels for combined passenger and freight use. The Chamber of Commerce had found the design well-suited to their needs. Population migration was rare enough that most of the boats they had purchased were being used for other purposes, but their presence in city docks across Graycastle was notable.
Since the coronation announcement, five or six hundred new people were arriving at Neverwinter each day. A year ago, Barov had thought reaching a population of a hundred thousand was ambitious. The Western Region now held close to two hundred thousand — ninety percent of them in Neverwinter itself.
The city had no grand walls. No inner city, no outer city — just expanding rings of streets pushing outward toward the suburbs, a forest of similar construction that critics found monotonous. Roland did not find it monotonous. He found it exactly correct. No walled, embellished city could absorb two hundred thousand people in a few years. The cathedrals and bell towers and palace gates of traditional design required decades and could not be expanded quickly. The rows of chimneys, producing, seemed to Roland more beautiful than any of it.
Next year’s growth would be more striking. The news of coronation traveled slowly.
“Keep at it,” Roland said. “The reward will follow.”
“Being Hand of the King is reward enough,” Barov said, stroking his beard with the pleased expression of a man who has said precisely what he means. “Your wisdom has made the difference. What I’ve done is merely follow your direction.”
Roland shook his head, amused. “Anything else?”
“Ah — yes, Your Majesty.” The old chief produced two letters. “These arrived at the Administrative Office. Both require your final decision.”
Roland took them. The name on the first was familiar. “Kajen Fels?”
“A well-regarded dramatist from the old king’s city. He brought his troupe to Neverwinter hoping to perform a new play at the coronation. You declined at the time,” Barov said carefully.
He recalled it immediately. He had first heard the name from the merchant Margaret — and when asked who he knew best in the capital, he had answered the Magic Hand Yorko, which had produced a silence he still thought about occasionally. The City Hall had received the troupe’s application before the coronation, reviewed the scripts, and Roland had rejected it. The magic film starring Lorgar had been planned too long to be displaced by what the script had described: a bland imperial love story with no particular reason for existing.
“Mr. Kajen sent this before leaving Neverwinter.” Barov’s voice grew careful. “I don’t mean to trouble you with something minor — but he is quite prestigious, and I wondered whether you might…”
Roland read the implication. Barov had held the letter for a week. He had, clearly, spent that week worrying about the right moment to present it — concerned both that Roland would find the matter irritating, and that ignoring a man of Kajen’s reputation would be a mistake. The hesitation was a form of advocacy.
Everyone Roland had encountered from the old capital — Margaret, Barov, even the Chief Knight — spoke well of Kajen Fels.
He unfolded the letter and read.
It was not a complaint. It was not a petition to reverse the decision.
It was an inquiry about the magic film.
Kajen had gone first to the Star Flower Troupe; May had told him the troupe handled performance only, that the Witch Union was responsible for converting it to mirage. As that might be confidential, she couldn’t explain further. He had then written directly to the Witch Union, and his letter had been returned — the Castle District, it turned out, did not accept unsolicited correspondence. He had come back to the City Hall as the only remaining avenue, and framed his question as a request for assistance.
What the letter contained was not frustration. It was something Roland had not expected: genuine enthusiasm. A man whose entire career had been built on a particular form of storytelling, encountering something that might remake it, and choosing curiosity instead of defensiveness.
“I’ll write back personally,” Roland said.
The magic film was, like traditional drama, a vehicle for influence — a way to shape what Neverwinter’s residents believed and felt and remembered. He had no time for the imperial love story Kajen had originally proposed. But he had no reason to leave the man without an answer.
Barov exhaled noticeably. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“The second letter?”
Roland unfolded it. “Victor Lothar. Did he stop asking about the trade in packaging and popcorn?”
Barov laughed. “Yes. This time he wants cotton.”
“Cotton.” Roland’s hands slowed. “Neverwinter doesn’t grow it.”
“He wants a custom variety. Specifically — he wants Miss Leaf to cultivate it for him.”
Chapter 1039: Decisions On Incoming Letters
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
“Your Majesty, this is the finance for this week,” said Barov in exhilaration as he presented the report. “In short, the figures show a better uptrend than we’ve expected. As a matter of fact, they’ve spiked. In the past, this would have been a miracle!”
“Yes. Well done,” said Roland as he leaned back in his chair. His expression was a lot calmer than Barov because he knew how the miracle had occurred. Both the population and economy had increased during the Months of Demons this year compared to summer and autumn, the busy seasons. This meant that the Months of Demons now had very little impact on Neverwinter. The turn of events was so dramatic, it was as if the snow outside the window was not real. For the people in this era, this report would completely reshape their common sense.
After all, when the cold winter came, people tended to consume more energy than being productive. It was as if they started to hibernate. Thus, an economic slump was commonly seen in winter. In the past, the entire border town was abandoned in winter. Hence, how could the production and trade continue without people?
However, Roland was aware that the people’s choice of “hibernation” was nothing but a temporary compromise to deal with the harsh environment. Humans beings had the ability to change their environment. This allowed them to top thousands of creatures on earth throughout history. The concrete boat was immune to the wind direction and could work tirelessly, making heavy snow no longer a barrier; the heating system helped people keep warm; the hospital provided medical insurance; the plants were able to run
even in bad weather. As human beings became more adaptive to the environment, the “miracle” would sooner or later come.
In addition, the enthronement and the establishment of the new capital also played a role in surging these figures as people were always apt to gather in bustling places. This was a custom that has not changed for thousands of years.
Nowadays, the wide Redwater River seemed to be a bit crowded with so many concrete boats coming and going. At the end of the last year, the total number of the concrete boats manufactured in Neverwinter had exceeded 500. They had been designed for multiple purposes. Some of them had holes for quick loading and unloading; some had two stories where the lower story was for cargo while the upper story was for passengers. Its versatile design had been favored by many in the Chamber of Commerce. Since large scale of population migration could be a rare niche, the cement boats they had purchased now could be seen in many cities’ docks.
Since news of the enthronement had spread, there were 500 or 600 people arriving at Neverwinter each day. One year ago, Barov had thought it was impossible to reach the population of 100,000, but the Western Region now had a total population of near 200,000, and 90% of them lived in Neverwinter.
Furthermore, it was a fact that the new capital was completely different to the traditional cities. It had neither grand walls nor division of the inner and the outer city. Instead, it was divided by circles of streets, which enlargened towards the suburbs. The city looked as if the city was a forest of houses.
Many people had criticized Neverwinter for its similar constructures and lack of ornate architecture.
But to Roland, those criticisms were another kind of compliment.
How could Neverwinter bear the rapidly increasing population if there were not so many houses to accommodate them? 200,000 people were almost equal to the combined total residents in the rest of Graycastle’s cities. If Neverwinter had to be walled and embellished with exquisite buildings such
as the grand cathedrals, bell towers, and a palace, it would take him decades to complete.
Population was the basis of industrialization, they guaranteed the expansion of plants and provided the prerequisite for economic prosperity. The beauty of the city was the last thing he would care about.
Perhaps in his eyes, rows of chimneys discharging hot smokes were more beautiful than a magnificent palace.
Considering the time lag in spreading news, next year would see a more shocking growth.
“Stick to it, you’ll get the reward you deserve,” said Roland.
“Being the Hand of the King is the best reward I could ever have. It’s your wise decision that makes such a difference. What I did is nothing but to follow your order,” said Barov as he stroked his beard proudly.
Roland shook his head with amusement. “Do you have anything else to report?”
“Ah…Yes, Your Majesty,” The old chief pulled out two letters. “These two letters were sent to the Administrative Office, but I think it requires your final decision.”
“Oh?” Roland took the letter. The sender’s name on the first letter looked familiar to Roland. “Kajen Fels?”
“Mr. Kajen is a great dramatist in the old king’s city. He brought his troupe to Neverwinter and asked for a chance to perform a new play for you in the enthronement, but you didn’t agree at the time,” Barov reminded Roland.
Roland recalled it immediately. The first time he heard of this name was from the businesswoman Margaret. Back then, when he was asked about who he knew best in the capital, he blurted out the Magic Hand Yorko, which was really awkward. The City Hall officials had reported their application for a performance before the enthronement and also handed in the scripts, but he
rejected the application after he quickly ran through the script. He had planned the magic movie staring Lorgar for a long time, and there was no way to cancel it for a drowsy play of a bland imperial love story.
“Mr. Kajen sent this letter before he left Neverwinter. I don’t think you should be bothered with this trivia… but he was very prestigious. Are you…” The old chief’s voice lowered as he said these words while looking hesitant.
Roland comprehended the implications of his statement.
According to the date on the letter, it had been a week since Barov received the letter. Barov seemed to have given much thought to this thing. He had known that his king was not good at appreciating the traditional dramas. As he saw Roland rashly deny Mr. Kajen application, the impression became deeper. Barov might be afraid of annoying Roland so he did not present the letter right after he received it. He had now hoped that Roland would spend some time reading the dramatist’s letter.
As of far, he could see that Barov placed high praise on Kajen Fels.
Not only him, but also Margaret and the Chief Knight. Anyone from the old capital seemed to have a good impression of this dramatist.
If so, he may as well take a look at the letter.
Roland shrugged, unfolded the letter, and scanned through it quickly.
It was actually an inquiry about how to make the magic movie.
As Kajen had said in the letter, at first, he had asked the Star Flower Troupe about it, but May told him that the troupe was only responsible for the performance and the Witch Union was the one who turned it into a mirage. As it may be confidential, she could not give him a detailed answer. Following this, he wrote an enquiry letter to the Witch Union, but the letter was returned soon after it was sent. It was explained that the Castle District does not accept any directly-sent letters. So he had no choice but to ask the City Hall again, in the hopes that they could ask the question for him.
Generally, the leader of an industry was most hurt when something overthrew their original thought. However, in this letter, Roland read none of the frustration but the man’s eagerness for the magic movie.
“I see.” Roland paused thoughtfully for a moment and said, “I’ll write back personally.”
He had treated both the drama and the magic movie as a way to propagate for Neverwinter. He had neither time nor the energy to shoot an old imperial love story, so he might as well explain it to Kajen directly and make him desist once and for all.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said Barov as he let out a sigh of relief.
“What about the other letter?” Roland asked as he unfolded the letter. Since it was sent to the Administrative Office, Barov must have screened the letter beforehand.
“It was from a merchant called Victor Lothar.”
“Did he finally stop asking for a trade in package and popcorn?” Roland laughed.
“Yes, he wants to buy cotton.” Barov nodded.
“Cotton?” Roland’s hands paused. “Neverwinter doesn’t grow it.”
“He wants a customization of it,” Barov replied. “He wants Miss Leaf of the Witch Union to customize it for him.”