CH268 · Rewrite
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Chapter 268: The First Plenary Session (Part 1)

Roland held Border Town’s first high-level plenary session in the castle’s drawing hall.

The City Hall bore little resemblance to what it had been in the early days — when it had consisted of Barov and ten apprentices and a charitable use of the word “institution.” It was now close to a hundred people: nobles, surrendered knights, squires, and a growing number of native-born townsfolk who had completed the primary education and received their diplomas. The various departments had formed in succession as the population grew, until the whole thing had finally reached a shape Roland could work with. He no longer had to manage everything himself. A policy or program now needed only to be explained in outline — the City Hall distributed the task by department and completed it. The sense of gratification this produced was something he had not expected to feel as strongly as he did.

The participants at the first high-level meeting were all department heads: Minister of Agriculture, Sirius Daly; Minister of Education, Scroll; Minister of Chemical Industry, Kyle Sichi (temporary); Minister of Construction, Karl van Bate; Head of the Army, Iron Axe; and City Hall Premier Minister, Barov Mons. The Ministry of Industry remained Roland’s personal domain — no one else in this world had seen industrialization, and no amount of briefing could substitute for having seen it.

A bucket of ice water had been placed beside each seat, releasing cold in quiet waves. Candle had laid an enchantment on the ice cubes to preserve them through at least the whole morning. Outside, the summer sun was blazing. Inside the castle hall, the air was cool and still.

“Then let’s start with each department reporting its recent situation.” Roland poured himself a cup from the ice bucket. “Ministry of Agriculture, please begin.”

Sirius stood and saluted, then spread out a prepared roll of paper. “At present, we have acquired approximately seventeen thousand hu of grain — sufficient to supply the town through next year’s final month of summer. In addition, per Your Highness’s request, the Ministry has also purchased surplus grain from the serfs at market value. However, this figure is considerably lower than the acquisition total: approximately four thousand five hundred hu.”

The hu was the standard local wheat measure — a deep basket woven from thin bamboo — and Roland still hadn’t worked out a precise conversion to kilograms. It didn’t matter greatly. The essential point was that they had enough food to feed the town, and the second number told him something important.

If the Ministry had taken seven-tenths and the serfs had three-tenths remaining, the total serf surplus should have reached something close to seven thousand hu — but only four and a half thousand had been sold back to the City Hall. The gap was real. Some portion of the grain had been held back.

Roland exhaled quietly. He had anticipated it. Their purpose was obvious enough: speculation. If Border Town suffered a food shortage, or a natural disaster, those hidden stores could be sold at ten times the market price. This was precisely why he had established the City Hall monopoly on grain transactions and required identity cards for all purchases. Without supply restriction, speculators would acquire and hoard food, drive up prices artificially, and destabilize the very market he was trying to build. By eliminating other sales channels and anchoring the price, he could hold the food supply steady.

“Your Highness — why not simply compel the serfs to sell their grain?” Sirius asked, genuinely puzzled. “The law prohibits them from giving it to anyone else anyway.”

“Because the grain is their property,” Roland replied. “How they handle it is their choice. There is no rule prohibiting a serf from keeping their own food. You can think of it this way: anything that is not explicitly prohibited is permitted.”

The phrasing clearly confused Sirius. Most of the others at the table were frowning as well — the only exception was Barov, who held a thoughtful expression. Understanding would come with time. The concept of rule-based governance — that officials operated within prescribed limits rather than at personal discretion — was new to all of them. It could slide toward bureaucratic rigidity in its worst form, but even that was preferable to arbitrary disorder.

“Anything else to report?”

“Yes.” Sirius straightened. “Now that the harvest is in, I don’t know how to organize next year’s fallow and plow rotation.”

“There’s no need for fallow. The land can be cultivated continuously — plant wheat again next year.” Roland waved a hand. “The manure heaps beside the fields were gathered specifically to fertilize before replanting. Over the coming days, have the serfs spread it into the fields, mix it thoroughly into the soil, and clear the space for fresh piles. With the summer heat and humidity, the compost is already well-rotted. By next spring, the soil quality will have improved, and we’ll have a second batch ready as base fertilizer.”

Sirius absorbed this and touched the back of his head. “Also — Your Highness, with this volume of wheat, one or two stone grinding mills won’t be sufficient. I’d like to apply for the construction of a mill near the Redwater River. A steam-powered one, if possible.”

“Good.” That was an interesting development — someone outside himself reaching for the new technology. “Submit your plan to Barov first. Once funding is confirmed, work with the Ministry of Construction on a detailed design.”

“Understood, Your Highness.” Sirius consulted his paper one last time. “The final item concerns the promotion of freed persons. Five hundred and sixteen individuals have met the qualification. Because the grain division and transfer were completed on-site, there have been no disputes. The list has already been submitted to Lord Barov.” He stood, saluted, and sat again. “That concludes my report.”

“Well done.” Roland brought his palms together twice — not much of an ovation, but a signal of genuine approval. The former young knight of the Wolf family had not merely adapted to Border Town; he had acquired something like the institutional manner of a real official. A little presentation work, and he would make a useful model for attracting other knights and minor nobles from Longsong Stronghold.


The second report came from Scroll. She had gathered her long hair back behind her head and worn a clean white shirt with a plain black long skirt — no ornamentation, nothing to distract from the impression of quiet authority. Seeing her this way, it was hard to remember that half a year ago she had been living in hiding, hunted by the Church.

“There are currently two cohorts completing their primary education, totaling eighty-five people. Most studied previously at the college run by Mr. Karl.” She needed no prepared notes — her ability made that unnecessary, a fact Roland found consistently enviable. “Forty-six have chosen to enter City Hall positions. Twenty-one have chosen the bicycle factory. Thirteen have applied to join the First Army.” A brief pause. “Five have applied for posts in the chemical laboratory.”

Five.

Roland looked toward Kyle Sichi. The alchemist’s expression had not improved.

The propaganda effect of the Honor and Award Ceremony fell short. Parts of the three new laboratories were going to stand idle for the foreseeable future.

At least the employment rate is one hundred percent, he told himself, and moved on.

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