Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest
Chapter 119 - 23: Papermaking and Printing

Chapter 119: Chapter 23: Papermaking and Printing

Roman felt a strong aversion to the climate of Sige Town in his first year there.

He never imagined a season could torment him so severely.

Not a breath of wind.

Nothing to be done.

The stifling heat was suffocating.

The land was searing hot to the touch.

Hotter than the hottest summer.

The light twisted in the high temperatures, creating a wavy sensation when looking into the distance.

The newly settled residential area, with its neat rows and the rhythmic pattern of red brick houses, resembled a thoroughly fired brick kiln, with wisps of air undulating above.

The residents there had all fled their brick homes—not that the brick was to blame.

In fact, those thick, sturdy buildings were quite good at insulating and retaining heat—because their previous shanties were far worse.

The thin straw thatched roofs couldn’t stop the heat, with dense straw piles and livestock nearby. Cooking smoke couldn’t escape, and the fermenting scent of dung lingered in the nose—how could one not wish to escape that oppressive and stifling environment?

In years past, the farmers would flee their dwellings in the hottest times, seeking refuge by the river under the shade of trees.

There would be some respite from the coolness, a chance to wash off in the clear river water, and even the opportunity to catch fresh river fish to eat.

But ever since the Lord had come, no one went to catch fish or hunt anymore.

It wasn’t an order but rather a lack of time and energy.

Now they all wore linen shorts and shirts issued by the Lord, said to be special summer clothing.

Some well-informed people knew it came from the linen brought over by trading ships.

Their Lord had summoned dozens of craftsmen skilled in tailoring to work day and night to make these—specifically sewn for them, slaves and freemen alike.

He had given everyone summer clothes, from the eldest to the youngest, all in the same style.

Suddenly, everyone was dressed identically.

The farmers felt this was quite novel, and even the slaves who had just arrived at Sige Town felt a proud puff in their chests seeing themselves in the same clothing as the free people.

What did clothing represent?

Family heritage!

If a farmer fell ill, in the hardest times, selling their clothes could fetch a few pounds of mixed grains. As long as they didn’t freeze to death, stretching out for another ten days wasn’t a problem.

Although this approach was like quenching thirst with poison.

For those living at the bottom, clothes really were considered a tradeable commodity.

To save expenses, they would recycle one or two sets of clothing from spring until fall—and then in winter bring out the treasured woollen sweaters and sheepskin jackets.

A sheepskin jacket and a sufficient woollen sweater would cost five or six copper coins, while clothes made of linen were around one or two.

Many families raised sheep and planted flax, which greatly reduced household expenses.

Now, after finishing their labor, they not only had three free meals to eat but could also receive a piece of clothing per person; it was like living a dream.

Because it was a period of rest, not a time without work—as their Lord had said, meals were still served as usual.

Breakfast was fresh, lunch was from the morning, and dinner was what was left from lunch.

No one objected; having something to eat was already good.

The river quietly flowed by, meandering and winding. Fish flicked their tails on the surface, splashing water before disappearing.

No one cared. They were too exhausted and only wanted to rest.

They sat by the river, leaned against trees, or lay on the grass.

Looking along the riverbank, shadows of trees swayed—some places were crowded, others sparse.

A breeze came from the direction of the winding river, stirring a rustling sound from the leaves.

The weather was still stifling, but everyone’s heart was filled with contentment, wearing comfortable linen summer clothes without having to worry about survival.

No troubles, no idleness, no worries.

No one even spoke.

Everyone silently enjoyed this tranquil and serene moment.

...

The three-day holiday flew by in an instant.

The "Twilight of the Summers" continued to bake the earth, growing more intense.

Roman scoffed at the legends of the All Gods and despised the Church, wishing he could plant a punch on both.

But at that moment, he began to wonder if there really was a reason for this intolerable hot weather.

Roman hadn’t forgotten the scenery of the Grand Duke’s estate. He was born in the Grand Duke’s Split Armor Domain in his lifetime.

The Black Iron Kingdom occupied the best part of the land in the Central Valley, maintaining the order of the Conqueror.

And Split Armor Domain was the richest land in the Black Iron Kingdom.

There, the climate was pleasant, and the wilderness vast. Strange flowers filled the mountains and fields, and juicy pastures covered the plains, only beginning to wither as autumn approached.

The forests were lush, the great rivers magnificent, and the rolling hills picturesque, giving the farmhouses and fields a poetic charm. Windmills were seen everywhere, creating a harmonious and wondrous beauty in the scenery.

It was neither too hot nor too cold, possessing the advantages of all seasons.

He had heard about the severe cold of the Northern Land, the scorching heat of the Desert Royal Court, the eternal spring of the Amber Court...

But he had never expected the climate in Sige Town to be so extreme.

Roman had to extend his vacation time again, to help people get through this difficult period.

All construction work had to stop.

Forcing conscription might result in more laborers dying.

But Roman could not do nothing.

Fortuitously, the craftsmen he had arranged to make paper had succeeded.

After examining it, Roman found the quality to be acceptable.

From this moment on, the cost of education in this land would never be prohibitively high again!

Green and Aaron were unaware of this, Dick and Jet were also unaware, and Gwivelle and Nillie were as well.

Only Seth sensed some kind of hidden and great power within that thin sheet of white paper.

And that sensation, after Roman began writing on the paper, suddenly expanded, swelled, and reached its maximum scope in an instant—there was a pop, and some of his preconceived notions shattered in his mind.

He was busy with many tasks, but he knew that a month ago, Roman had arranged for some people to manufacture something.

He hadn’t had the chance to pay attention, and the miracle was already unfolding before him.

"The battle of Paper," Seth murmured, a tad fearful.

Divine Mysterious also had papermaking skills, but the Church Court forbade sharing them, threatening to send Judgement Knights for extermination if one did.

The fact that Lord Roman had cracked papermaking, for others, might spell doom.

But after all, his surname was Split Armor; it might just lead to a war.

Either the Grand Duke would compromise, or the Church Court would.

The Split Armor Grand Duke might turn a blind eye to witches being burned, but he would never allow his child to be beheaded by a Judgement Knight.

...

The initial batch of paper was not abundant, just a few hundred sheets.

The production could soon be increased.

Roman didn’t care about Divine Mysterious or the Church Court.

What rubbish, once I develop, I will kick you right into the trash heap!

He had no plans to sell it, using it purely for internal purposes, which made it even less likely to be leaked.

In this age of inconvenient transportation, it would take a year or two, with no reason for the Church Court to be aware of this.

Even if they knew, it wouldn’t matter!

A military siege would also require time.

If he couldn’t get past this crisis, he might as well stop farming altogether and just plant sweet potatoes!

He allocated half of the paper to Jimmy, instructing him to create a register of residents, recording the identity information of all the farmers and slaves, and managing them uniformly by their numbers.

The difficulty of spreading books was too great, and writing them presented another problem.

In this era, book content relied entirely on manual copying, a labor-intensive task, with literacy as the essential skill for copyists.

In Sige Town, fewer than twenty people were capable of doing so.

Roman had no books, nor the manpower to do copying work.

He decided to develop something called movable-type printing.

To create it, he needed to make type molds, copper plates engraved with letters, molten lead, ink, and a press—fortunately, the difficulty of making these items wasn’t too high.

Since others were ignorant about movable-type printing, he had to take on the task himself.

The great hall of Origin Manor became Roman’s workshop.

With sharp chisels, he meticulously carved letters and text into copper blocks, letting others help with tasks within their abilities.

They polished the type molds, melted lead and tin into liquid, and poured them into molds.

Roman’s job wasn’t much; he had to carve only dozens of letter molds, including numbers and symbols.

Once a few dozen molds were created, they could be arranged and combined during printing.

Of course, printing books was out of the question; printing a complete book would require tens of thousands of molds, which would be troublesome and labor-intensive.

Roman had no intention of undertaking large-scale printing work either, as output and labor input are closely related.

What he intended to print were just primers for literacy enlightenment.

His initial goal wasn’t high—just one primer for each person in Sige Town would suffice.