The first wheat crop sown by Border Town has finally reached its harvest season.
Under the blazing sun, serfs cut wheat stalks with sickles, bundled them, and carried them across the river.
Roland knew that the process from wheat ear to wheat grain was extremely tedious. Before the widespread use of mechanical farming tools and combine harvesters, wheat grains required manual separation, cleaning, screening, and sun-drying. Now, he witnessed this process once again.
After the wheat stalks were brought back to the camp, serfs spread them out to dry on the ground. They then used whatever tools were available—wooden sticks, stones, and rakes—to repeatedly strike the stalks and ears, separating the grains from their husks. This process often took three to four days. In Roland's memory, rural areas used oxen or donkeys to pull stone rollers over the threshing floor, which not only saved much effort but also produced a far more uniform dehulling effect than the beating method.
It must be said that the agricultural level of this small town is truly backward.
After the beating, the field is turned over, and the same method is applied: whatever is available is used. If there are no forks, wooden sticks are used as substitutes, or the stalks are directly grasped with both hands and tossed into the air, similar to stir-frying in a pan. After the initial beating, the outer shell of the grain is mostly broken, and this process separates the fruit from the ear.
The threshed wheat straw had multiple uses: it could be ground into fertilizer, used as bedding for livestock, processed into animal feed, or even turned into paper. But Roland, too busy with other matters, couldn't develop green industries. He could only watch as serfs piled the straw by the river and burned it all at once. For days afterward, the town was shrouded in thick, gray smoke that resembled the cement dust pollution of the past.
Meanwhile, the two spindle-shaped islands of Chishui Bridge have been cleared, and the water barrier wall construction is proceeding as planned. The foundation piers were prefabricated using the same method as the main bridge: concrete columns containing steel profiles and rebar were cast in the open space, followed by weight-reduced lifting. The final step involved sinking the piers into the soil by Lian, leaving only half of the steel plates exposed to await connection with the bridge structure.
Throughout this week, Roland has been shuttling between Chishui Bridge and Guchang, his skin getting a good tan.
After the wheat straw is forked out, only a layer of wheat grains and husks remain in the threshing floor.
The serfs would gather the grains into small mounds, then stand atop them. Using shovels, they scooped up the mixture and tossed it onto the open ground ahead. Since the husks were far lighter than the fruits, the wind carried them farther. Thus, the ground beneath their feet was covered with wheat grains, while the distance away lay with empty husks and debris—this was how they gradually collected the grain.
Of course, it's impossible to completely remove the husks, and the process might even mix mud and gravel into the grains. So Roland made up his mind: by next year's harvest, he'd need to prepare a batch of farm machinery—while a combine harvester might be out of the question, a husking machine could be easily built. All it would take is replacing the stone mill with a grinding stone, adding a sieve underneath, and using a blower to separate the broken husks.
As the plump wheat grains were evenly spread across the threshing floor, the entire northern bank of the Chishui River seemed bathed in golden light. Roland felt a surge of pride gazing at these golden fruits. Whether the harvest would feed over ten thousand people or not, this day was a milestone for Border Town.
From today, the food in his territory will gradually shift from being completely dependent on imports to being self-sufficient.
After drying for three days, the wheat enters the bagging and weighing stage.
"Your Highness, this year's harvest is truly exceptional!" Barov rushed into the office that afternoon with beaming enthusiasm. "According to preliminary municipal statistics, each designated farmland has produced at least four times the usual yield per mu, with some areas reaching sixfold. This means this year's harvest will more than suffice for the townspeople's needs." "Indeed," Roland chuckled, "the newly built granary in Castle District finally has a purpose." "Do you realize what this means?" Godqing, the municipal director, appeared even more enthused. "With just two thousand more farmers, our town can meet the food demands of fifty to sixty thousand people! This is nothing short of miraculous. Our town could become Graycastle's largest city—no..." He paused. "The most magnificent city on the continent!" The primary reason urban populations stagnated during this era was low agricultural productivity. A city like the capital, with over twenty thousand residents, already required food supplies from dozens of surrounding villages. Each village had a population of around one to two thousand. If half of them were engaged in farming, the total would be nearly twenty thousand people supporting twenty thousand others. In other words, a farmer's harvest could barely feed themselves and their family, with at most one additional urban resident.
This is precisely the invisible constraint of productivity. Barov could hardly have imagined that mechanized farming would become so widespread that a single person's output could sustain tens of thousands of people. Border Town's remarkable harvest, achieved without extensive agricultural technology promotion, was largely due to the 'Golden No.1' leaf cultivar.
Roland's initial strategy was to feed more people with fewer farmers, freeing up human resources from farmland to redirect them toward industrial production. Now, with the Ministry of Agriculture having mastered optimal farming techniques and iron tools and machinery set to join the next season's cultivation, per capita yields are bound to rise steadily.
...
As dusk fell, Roland lit a bonfire by the Chishui River and delivered a speech—time seemed to rewind to that same twilight four months earlier, with the same roaring flames, the same dense crowd, and the final glow of sunlight on everyone's faces. Yet the only difference was the collective mood: instead of the initial fear and unease, their faces now radiated the joy of harvest and an unmistakable anticipation.
Roland waved his hand downward, and the room fell silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for Prince to fulfill his promise.
"I know exactly what you want to hear," he declared without the customary formalities of naming himself first, "and I can assure you without reservation that the previously announced promotion rules remain valid and will continue to do so!" This statement alone ignited the crowd's fervor. People erupted in cheers, many kneeling in reverence to Prince's benevolence. "Long live the Lord!" "Long live Your Royal Highness!" "The promotion list will be announced after the grain weighing concludes," Roland continued when the cheers subsided. "Municipal authorities will manage arrangements for those granted freedom. You may choose to continue farming or seek alternative employment in the town." "Starting next year, anyone meeting this year's promotion criteria—regardless of yield ranking—will qualify for freedom. In other words, diligent labor alone can free you from serfdom—just as I said, labor creates wealth and transforms destinies." He paused, surveying the gathering. "I hope that one day, Border Town will have no serfs left, and all may become my true subjects." Roland's words were met with thunderous cheers that echoed across the Chishui River, lingering in the air for a long time.