Chapter 211: Light Industry
Carter’s report was thorough, methodical—and lately, something in the man’s face had changed. Roland noticed it before he reached the second page. The iceberg was thawing. In the space where Carter’s features had once held that particular knight’s blankness—trained, professional, useful—there was something warmer now. Something that looked a lot like anticipation.
The Star of the West, Roland thought. Naturally.
He had heard about the stroll. Everyone had. Carter moving through the streets of Border Town with May at his side was not the kind of sight that passed unremarked; she carried the attention of every man in a room without seeming to notice it, and on those streets, she had done the same. His guards had passed along the news within hours. Roland hadn’t minded then and didn’t mind now. Carter was two or three years older than him, and unmarried—which, by the standards of the Western Territory, was oddly late. If the Star of the West made him less useful, Roland would have cause for concern. So far, she only seemed to make him more alert.
He turned back to the numbers.
Two hundred revolving rifles equipped; close to a dozen more completed each day. If raw materials allowed, Anna’s output could be doubled—tripled—but Anna was also refining pig iron into steel, manufacturing the steam engine, and doing half a dozen other things Roland didn’t dare let anyone else attempt. The bottleneck wasn’t her speed. The bottleneck was that she was singular and irreplaceable, and he was still learning how to pace her without asking too much.
At current rates, six weeks would arm the entire First Army. Good. The Second Army was already in disciplinary training—new recruits from Longsong Stronghold, learning the patterns that turned a crowd of men into something that held formation. Ideological education each evening: you are the protectors of the Western Territory. Your loved ones’ safety rests with you. Simple. Clean. It worked.
“The training is progressing well,” Carter concluded. “Shooting practice should begin in a week. By that time, there will be enough replaced weapons to put a flintlock in every hand.”
Roland nodded. This was the advantage of guns—a cold-weapon soldier needed a year. A knight needed five or six. A rifleman needed a month, and the longer the fight lasted, the wider the margin grew. Pulling a trigger was, in the end, much safer than closing with a sword.
“During shooting practice,” Roland said, “keep strict count of the weapons. Every gun that goes out comes back. Same for powder—veterans of the First Army supervise distribution.”
“Yes.”
“Good. That’s all.” He waved Carter off. “You have plenty to return to.”
Carter rose—then hesitated. “Your Highness… the last time, you mentioned that the perfume in the soap was made from sugarcane. Is that true?”
“It is.” Roland sat back. “What of it?”
“That sugarcane—is it expensive?”
“No. Common enough. Why?”
Carter scratched his head, the expression of a man doing arithmetic he finds slightly embarrassing. “I’ve heard that a thumb-sized bottle of perfume sells for five gold royals in King’s City.”
“Five—” Roland stopped.
He turned it over. Five gold royals for a bottle the size of a thumb. He had never thought about perfume as a commodity—in his former life, the fourth prince had barely thought about it at all. It was a woman’s interest, something that arrived in baskets at the palace and disappeared again without touching his budget. His reason for making perfumed soap had been simpler: running water without soap was half a luxury, and he had missed the sensation of a proper lather. Nothing more philosophical than that.
But five gold royals per bottle, with sugarcane the primary input, and sugarcane almost free?
He laughed before he meant to. “That’s not a bad idea at all. I’ll think on it.”
Carter’s face did something it rarely did: it brightened. “Your Highness—the sugarcane, growing on the wall in the backyard—could I take some?”
Roland looked at him. The calculation was obvious enough. The Western Territory had no Port of Clearwater; Fjord crops were a rarity here. A sprig of sugarcane, offered as a gift to a particular actress, would say something without saying anything.
“Help yourself,” Roland said. “Pick what you need.”
Carter saluted with more feeling than the occasion perhaps demanded, and left.
Roland called for Barov.
The title assistant minister had slipped loose over the months, quietly, the way things do when reality outgrows formality. Barov ran City Hall now. Everyone understood that his actual rank was something closer to Premier Minister, and everyone pretended otherwise, which was a comfortable arrangement for all parties.
Roland described the perfume plan in rough terms. Barov’s eyebrows rose steadily as he listened.
“You’re certain perfume is made from these crops, Your Highness?”
“You use the perfumed soap. The fragrance comes from perfume I mixed in. The raw materials are cheap—I simply never thought to ask how much the end product sells for until Carter brought it up.”
Barov leaned forward, his expression shifting into the focused pleasure of a man who loves markets. “Far more than five royals, Your Highness. The King’s City Alchemist Workshop makes perhaps a thousand bottles a year. A controlled supply—carefully controlled. Domestically, they fix the price; merchants who try to profit on differentials are cut out. But selling to the Fjords or other kingdoms? The price almost doubles. To block arbitrage, the Association assigns its own merchants.” He folded his hands. “If you could produce perfume in volume—even selling only to Redwater City or Fallen Dragon Ridge—the return would be substantial.”
Twenty years serving a Finance Minister, Roland thought. Not wasted.
The plan assembled itself in his mind with the ease of things that had been waiting for an excuse. Extraction was simple: mash the petals or herbs, soak them in alcohol, filter out the solids, dilute. The alcohol came from fermented sugarcane juice; the aromatics from roses, rosemary, or vanilla—whatever was available. But for genuine scale, the cleanest route was Leaves: if she could guide a plant to secrete fragrant oil directly, volume would no longer be the limiting constraint.
And alongside perfume: white sugar, liquor. Lower margins, but necessary. Sold cheap to townsfolk, they enriched the diet—a quiet welfare advance that cost relatively little and built the kind of loyalty that nothing else bought quite as well.
Roland’s light industry had developed slowly because the workforce was thin and small-scale consumer goods were rarely worth the effort. The resources went further in heavy industry. That calculus hadn’t changed—but perfume was different. Perfume was lightweight, storable, extraordinarily high-margin, and required almost nothing from the land.
If a single crop could produce something that sold at five gold royals per thumb-sized bottle, perhaps the workforce shortage finally had a workaround.
He picked up his pen and began to write.
Chapter 211 Light Industry
Roland sat at his desk and was reading with great interest through the recent report of the First Army from his Chief Knight.
Compared to his meticulous appearance from several months ago, nowadays Carter’s iceberg like face often carried some other emotions, letting him appear much less calm, and instead giving him an aura of expectation and eagerness.
Most probably this has something to do with the Star of the West, Roland thought.
About the event of Carter’s and May’s recent stroll, Roland had also heard about it. After all, as one of the top members of the First Army, he also represented the Army, so every movement would naturally be noticed. Not to mention May, the woman walking at his side, belonged to the kind that would draw the attention of all men to herself.
When they had appeared side by side on the streets of Border Town for the first time, his guards had immediately passed along the news to his ears.
Regarding this kind of matter, Roland didn’t really mind it. Carter was roughly two to three years older than he was. So it was reasonable to say that it was a strange that he still wasn’t married. And if he could actually find his other half in the Western Territory it wasn’t that bad, as long as it didn’t interfere with his work.
According to the Knight’s report, the First Army had been equipped with about 200 revolving rifles, adding almost a dozen with every day – in fact, if the raw materials were sufficient, Anna’s production capacity could be increased by several times. But at the same time she was also in charge of the refining pig iron into steel and manufacturing the steam engine, which was slowing her down.
However, this speed was still acceptable. After all, the First Army was only 600 people strong, so another one and a half month would be enough to entirely replace all their weapons. Furthermore, before the next expansion of the population, the military’s size couldn’t be further expanded anyway.
Another point of the report was the formation of the Second Army.
In order to make the training convenient as well as maintain their secrecy, Roland had the people recruited from Longsong Stronghold all incorporated into the second army. Currently, they were all undergoing disciplinary training, which followed the same pattern as the military’s training. Then it would be time for ideological education in the evening, in the attempt to let these people as soon as possible think of themselves at the protector of the Western Territory, implanting in them the believe that their loved ones’ safety needed to be protected by them.
“At present, the training of the Second Army is progressing well; the current estimation is that they should be ready to start with the shooting practice in a week. By that time, enough weapons should have been replaced making it possible to have a flintlock to match every hand.” Carter concluded.
This was the advantage of guns, to train a cold weapon soldier, at least one year’s time was needed; to teach a knight, five or six years had to be spent on training; while soldiers equipped with guns could already be dispatched on military missions after only a month of training. Furthermore, the longer a battle lasted, the bigger advantage of firearms became – after all, pulling a trigger was much safer than fighting with a sword.
“During the shooting practice, the supervisors have to pay attention to the number of guns, how many have been given away and how many of them come back. The same applied to the gunpowder, when it was distributed for the training, the veterans of the First Arm would be responsible for its supervision.
“Yes,” he nodded.
“Very well,” Roland dismissed him with a wave. “That was all; you must be busy now as well.”
“Uh, Your Highness…” Carter hesitated. “Last time you said that the perfume mixed with the soap was made out of sugar cane, was that true?”
“Yes,” the Prince said, sitting up in his chair. “What’s the matter?
“That sugarcane, is it expensive?”
“No… they are just some common crops.”
“I’ve heard people say that a thumb-sized bottle of perfume could be sold for five gold royals in King’s City,” Carter scratched his head, “If this is the case, shouldn’t manufacturing the sugarcane perfume bring a huge income to the town?”
“Five gold royals?” Roland got startled; he had never considered this point. Recalling the previous life in the palace, the 4th Prince had never cared about the price of commodities, it was even more the case with perfume, something with which he had less contact ─only women would prefer a trinket that only delivered a nice fragrance.
His initial motivation to make perfume was his wish for fine perfumed soap. Otherwise, by only having running water and no bathroom soap, it felt like there was something that was missing. Ah, the sensation of having his whole body covered with bubbles.
If a small bottle of perfume could be sold for several gold royals, it was indeed a pretty good business idea. Unlike coated mirrors, the raw material of sugar cane and flowers were much cheaper than crystal glass was.
Thinking it through, Roland laughed, “This idea isn’t bad, I will consider it.”
“His Royal Highness, the… sugar cane, can I take one out of the castle with me?” asked the Knight with a look full of expectation.
“It won’t hurt,” hearing him speak in this manner, Roland could immediately guessed as to what he wanted to do with it. After all, this was the Western Border, unlike the Port of Clearwater, the crops of the Fjord’s relatively rare
here. So it was a good choice as a gift when asking a lady from the West out, “They are growing on a wall in the backyard, just pick some for yourself.”
“Thank you, Your Highness!” Carter saluted.
Afterward, Roland called for Barov – still calling him assistant minister wasn’t quite appropriate anymore. As City Hall’s number one figure, he was already regarded as Border Town’s Premier Minister.
After Barov took his place, Roland roughly described the perfume business plan, “Do you think this could be something we can earn large sums of gold with?”
He did not reply immediately, but later asked with wide open eyes, “Your Highness, are you sure that perfume is produced out of the sweet crops?”
“Don’t you also use the perfumed soap? The reason for it fragrance is that I had mixed the perfume inside,” Roland spread his hands out, “It is indeed true that these raw materials are of little value. But I never knew that the perfume in King’s City was so expensive until Carter brought it up.”
“Far more than that, your Highness!” Barov said excitedly, “Perfume is King’s City Alchemist Workshop’s top-secret product, every year there are approximately one thousand bottles, only a small part of it is sold in King’s City. The rest is sold to the others cities in Graycastle, there they can raise the price by twenty to thirty percent, but in case they sell it to the Fjords or other Kingdoms, the price would almost be doubled. To prevent the merchants from making a profit out of the difference in prices, the association not only firmly controls the perfume prices in other places; they even assign all the merchants by themselves. So in case you can could produce perfume, even if you only sold it to Redwater City or Fallen Dragon Ridge, you would definitely obtain a generous payback.”
“So, that’s how it was.”
Your twenty years serving as an assistant of the Finance Minister wasn’t for nothing, Roland thought, regarding the commodity prices and current market
situation, Barov is indeed magnificent. With this information, Roland formed a preliminary plan in his mind.
There were many ways to make perfume, the simplest method was to mash the petals or herbs with unique flavors and let them soak inside alcohol, letting the alcohol dissolve the plants, and leaving an aromatic oil remaining. Lastly, the remaining remnants will be filtered out and diluted with water.
The alcohol came from the juice of the sugar cane; while for the aromatic oil they could use roses, or the more commonly rosemary and vanilla. However, since it was necessary to achieve mass production, the best choice would be to let Leaves use her magic to transform a plant to directly secreting this fragrant oil.
In addition to perfume, the industry could also produce white sugar and liquor. Also, a lot of consumables would be needed, and their profit would be less than what was gained from the perfume, but if sold to the town’s people at a low price, it would enrich their diet, which could be regarded as a significant step forward for the people’s welfare.
Roland’s main reason for the slow development of the light industry was due to the shortage of a workforce, and the difficult to earn high profits with a small-scale production of daily necessities. Because of this, a limited population investing into heavy industry production, would be the most costeffective approach.
Since the manufacture of perfume was incredibly profitable, maybe he could take advantage of this opportunity to make up for the shortcoming in environment.