Chapter 199

Chapter 199: I’ll Keep Him Around for a Long Time (2)

As befitting the largest iron ore producer in the North, Count Cabaldi’s territory had far more forges and smithies than other estates.

However, that wasn’t nearly enough for Ghislain. He needed even more forges and smithies.

Ghislain spread out a map of the Cabaldi region, marking various locations with his finger as he spoke.

“Build forges and smithies at every one of these locations. We’re essentially establishing several large-scale industrial complexes. Even if one of them encounters an issue, the productivity of the entire territory must remain unaffected.”

His vassals were startled by his declaration. The number of sites he had marked was far too excessive.

Judging by the sheer scale, it seemed as though he intended for their territory alone to handle the production capacity of the entire North.

One of the vassals cautiously raised a question.

“Um... isn’t this far too much? Is there a particular reason we need to go to such lengths?”

“Because that’s the only way I’ll get the output I want,” Ghislain replied.

Claude, standing nearby, nodded in agreement.

“Count Cabaldi only produced in proportion to his forces’ needs. It was sheer idiocy.”

Count Cabaldi had limited his production to the amount his forces could consume, selling off the rest as raw iron ore.

While this had amassed enormous wealth for the estate, it also meant no further growth or progress could be achieved.

Since the Count had focused solely on arming his forces, the majority of the estate’s commoners were still using wooden tools.

Ghislain intended to overhaul this entirely.

“From now on, this place will serve as the primary production center for iron equipment and tools. We have more than enough iron ore now, so we’re going to increase our production to the point where not only our estate but also the Ferdium estate’s commoners will all be properly equipped.”

The vassals were stunned. There wasn’t a single estate on the entire continent where commoners—let alone soldiers—were fully equipped with iron tools and weapons.

“Are you really planning to produce that much?” one of them asked, wide-eyed.

“Of course. And not just weapons and armor. We’ll replace every tool we can with iron ones to improve the standard of living, even if just a little. A strong territory comes from prosperous commoners.”

All the vassals nodded in agreement. Though this would drastically reduce the amount of iron ore they could sell, everyone knew their lord wasn’t focused on personal wealth.

Instead of hoarding riches for himself, he was determined to develop the estate, increase its production capacity, and prepare for the wars to come.

Another vassal raised a different question.

“Then, what about the Fenris region?”

“We’ll build only as much as is absolutely necessary there. The remaining land will be converted into farmland. While we won’t completely forgo other facilities, our primary goal will be to specialize each region in specific goods. Once that’s done, we’ll connect the regions together to create an organic system of growth and development.”

The people nodded as they listened to Ghislain’s reasoning. As long as they didn’t lose control of their resources, specializing in local products would enable far greater productivity and efficiency.

“Well then, you all know what to do now, right? Let’s move immediately to enable large-scale production.”

“Yes, sir!”

The vassals nodded with eager expressions.

Until now, Fenris had been constrained in its ability to take on large-scale projects. With the exception of food, every other resource had been extremely limited.

However, now that they had an abundance of iron ore, they felt reassured.

Soon, the administrators began gathering workers from across the territory.

“Join the construction efforts for forges and smithies, and we’ll pay you in food! Don’t worry; we’ll give you enough to fill your stomachs, so sign up without hesitation!”

At the mention of being paid in food, a fair number of people gathered. However, it still wasn’t enough to construct the large-scale facilities as quickly as needed.

After several days of recruitment, when the turnout still didn’t meet expectations, Ghislain frowned and asked Claude.

“What’s going on? Aren’t there plenty of people sitting idle due to bad conditions? Why is recruitment so slow? I’ve told you countless times that I hate delays.”

“Well... it seems they lack trust,” Claude replied hesitantly.

“What? Trust? What kind of trust?”

“Trust in you, my lord.”

Ghislain’s expression turned incredulous at Claude’s answer.

“Am I a goddess now? If they need faith, they should go to a temple, not me.”

“...We’ve distributed food and stabilized public sentiment a little, but people still don’t believe they’ll actually be paid fairly during times like these.”

“So, in other words, I look like I’m broke?”

“Not exactly broke, but they don’t think you have enough food. Which, I suppose, is... similar.”

“Unbelievable.”

Ghislain clicked his tongue, leaning back in his chair with an exasperated sigh.

He understood where they were coming from. After living under relentless exploitation for so long, it wasn’t easy for the people to open their hearts, even when food was distributed freely.

But still, how could they doubt the so-called ‘Food King’ of the North?

On top of that, the runestone and cosmetics businesses were thriving! Did they have any idea how much wealth he had amassed?

As Ghislain stewed in his frustration, Claude cautiously spoke up.

“Should we go with the method you’ve used before, my lord? Forced conscription?”

Even if they resorted to forced labor, unlike other lords, Ghislain wouldn’t leave them unpaid.

Once they started receiving abundant compensation, any complaints would likely dissipate quickly.

“S-secret weapon? What’s that...?”

Alfoi frowned and asked, while Ghislain turned around and gestured for someone.

A man, who had been hesitating a few steps behind, let out a deep sigh and trudged forward.

When Alfoi saw him, he tilted his head in confusion.

“A new priest? How is that a secret weapon?”

Piote, after being captured by Ghislain, had been treating the estate’s injured and ill during his time there.

With a shortage of doctors, he had been forced to care for a significant number of patients.

It had been truly exhausting, but as a devout priest, he worked diligently with a single-minded focus on bestowing the goddess’s grace.

However, as soon as Piote had somewhat acclimated to tending patients, Ghislain dragged him straight to the construction site.

Alfoi, who had been glaring intently at the priest’s pink hair, asked in a trembling voice.

“Y-You’re not... You wouldn’t be planning to use divine power on us, would you...?”

Without a word, Ghislain nodded with a benevolent smile. Alfoi frantically waved his hands in protest.

“D-Don’t do it! Just let us rest! Stop forcing us to recover!”

“Let’s get started, my friend.”

At Ghislain’s words, Piote walked toward the mages with a sullen, dark expression.

He had been overusing his divine power lately and desperately wanted to rest. Yet, just as he began to feel slightly recharged, he would be called somewhere else, making him feel like death itself would be a relief.

By nature, Piote was gentle and timid, making it impossible for him to refuse Ghislain’s demands. He was constantly being dragged from one task to the next.

Fwoosh!

Soon, radiant light spread from Piote’s hands.

The true effect of divine power was to enhance regeneration and vitality. Through it, one could heal external wounds and grant strength to overcome illnesses.

Moreover, the increase in regeneration and vitality was highly effective in relieving fatigue.

As soon as Alfoi received the divine treatment, he leapt up and shouted.

“Arghhhh! Back to life like a damn slave! What the hell?! Don’t use divine power for this kind of nonsense!”

It wasn’t much different from a necromancer raising the dead.

The power a priest wielded was divine, and the individuals revived by it were not corpses but slaves teetering on the edge of death. That was the only small distinction.

This scene repeated itself all over the estate.

The dwarves, grinding their teeth, would rise again, as did other key officials and technicians, all meeting the same fate.

With Piote under his command, Ghislain was able to handle more administrative tasks with the existing workforce and significantly reduce construction time.

What could anyone do when even the fallen were forced to rise back to work?

Of course, all the repercussions of this fell onto a single individual.

“My lord... If this keeps up, I’m going to die...”

Piote, overworked and drained from excessive use of his divine power under Ghislain’s orders, would frequently collapse, nosebleeds trickling down his face.

As a low-ranking priest, his divine power was inherently limited.

“Oh dear, we can’t have our precious little priest dying! Take him to the recovery room at once!”

At Ghislain’s exaggerated concern, the staff carried Piote off to the most luxurious recovery room available.

This room had been meticulously crafted by Vanessa and the mages, all for the sake of one man: Piote.

While the effects weren’t as potent as divine power, the room was outfitted with recovery spells, temperature control magic, and enchantments to stabilize both the mind and spirit. Any magic rumored to be beneficial was implemented.

In addition, every meal was prepared using the finest ingredients, infused with top-quality medicinal herbs.

Piote, more than even the lord of the estate, received the most extravagant care.

Initially, the retainers had opposed such an exorbitant use of funds and runestones. However, Ghislain dismissed their concerns with a single sentence.

― “This saves time and earns us more money. This priest will become incredibly important to us in the future.”

They couldn’t provide such luxuries to every manager and technician on the estate, but accommodating one individual was feasible.

And that one person endlessly rejuvenated the others.

“Endless labor, huh? Honestly, it’s extraordinary.”

If miracles existed, wasn’t this exactly what they looked like? This was the goddess’s miracle in action.

This had been Ghislain’s plan ever since he first acquired Piote.

No matter how much wealth one had, priests couldn’t be treated in this manner. The church operated independently from the estates, and it was impossible to acquire an exclusive priest.

Yet a remarkably naive, low-ranking priest had walked into their hands by sheer luck.

“Hm, I suppose I’ll need to send the church a gift soon. I should come up with a proper excuse to keep him here.”

Ghislain had no intention of letting him go. Piote was now the most critical driving force behind the estate’s development.

Without him, they wouldn’t be able to maintain their current pace of progress.

“I’ll make sure to keep him around for as long as possible.”

Ghislain grinned in satisfaction.