Chapter 15: It Should Not Appear on This Land

Roman approached and first checked the meals, finding them quite acceptable.

The dry rations consisted of mixed beans and grains.

The black bread was bran bread.

The oatmeal porridge was also very thick.

A clay pot on the back boiled with clear water.

Deacon Seth had already prepared food for him, just as Roman had said earlier.

Today's lunch was also meant for him.

Roman ate quickly, the black bread tasted very bad, but he swallowed it as if he hadn't chewed it at all.

While other farmers were still enjoying their meals, Roman, accompanied by Moor, arrived at the dung hill and began the composting work.

Moor's face turned pale because the strong stench permeated the air, and the dung water flowed everywhere, nearly bringing him to tears.

Roman, too, furrowed his brows tightly as his stomach clenched, almost vomiting out his recent lunch.

With a robust control over his body, he suppressed his natural disgust and aversion, picked up his tools, and approached the dung hill. After nearly two hours, he finally created a standard flat compost pile and sealed it with wet mud, letting it ferment at a high temperature inside.

If all went smoothly, it would mature in half a month, by then, there would be no foul smell, just a faint ammonia odor as it fully became fertilizer.

But not now, when Roman left the place, his clothes and trouser legs were splattered with feces, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face had turned somewhat purplish.

He immediately took a bath, washing himself thoroughly clean, then changed into a set of clean clothes.

When Roman sniffed his own arm and palm, his eyebrows slightly knitted.

He felt he smelled of the odor.

This scent was probably not going to dissipate anytime soon.

Later, Roman called for Moor and instructed him that all the manure work should follow the standard process he had established.

Any farmer undertaking this work would receive an extra reward of two pounds of wheat.

The process was not complicated, but it was too disgusting, a blow to both the physical and psychological.

Roman thought his mindset was as solid as rock, his spirit as strong as steel, but in the end, even he was defeated by the repulsion.

Moor believed those farmers could do such work even without a reward.

He thought it was because Roman, having never been exposed to such things since childhood, was like someone who suffered terribly on their first experience of motion sickness, while those lower-class farmers were not opposed to this kind of work; they had long since accustomed to such stench, with every household having a few piles of feces.

But Moor, glancing at Roman whose complexion had turned from purple to green, couldn't bring himself to voice this thought.

Roman took this matter very seriously, instructing Moor to implement it as soon as possible.

There was nothing else to say: after such a sacrifice by the Lord, if Moor didn't do well, he could only imagine living a pigsty life in the future.

So, he quickly arranged for it to be done.

Roman then went to attend to other matters.

He first went to the livestock shed to check on the oxen and plowing tools, then called for Sige Town's blacksmith.

This blacksmith, named Lax, quickly appeared before Roman upon being summoned.

A middle-aged man with thick, curly hair and sideburns, a lot of chest hair, wearing an open-necked sweatshirt, he was quite robust, especially his arms, which were like iron bands.

These craftsmen with specialized skills held higher social status and lived in excellent conditions.

"You're Lax."

"Yes, my Lord," Lax replied, stacking his hands respectfully across his abdomen.

Roman treated Lax well, valuing the importance that his profession represented.

Roman then asked, "Did you forge the plowing tools for Sige Town?"

"Some are brought by merchants, some I make myself, but I mostly handle repairs, my Lord."

Roman frowned and squinted his eyes.

He glanced at the iron plows, subconsciously bit his finger, and then, with a displeased look, turned his head and spat.

"How's your business going in Sige Town?"

"Not very well, my Lord," Lax said.

The blacksmith shop's need for iron was self-evident, but lacking the ability to smelt alone, they could only purchase raw materials like iron ingots and blocks from the outside world. Then Lax would forge based on the demands of Sige Town.

However, the economic condition of Sige Town was quite poor. To put it simply, it was too impoverished to afford iron goods, with only a few farmers owning iron farming tools.

This phenomenon was normal.

In that era, steel was a scarce commodity.

Most of the large production was forged into various military equipment, then supplied to the nobles and the royal family for their daily lives, followed by the urgent iron needs of tradespeople and the gentry class. Finally, only a very small portion trickled down to the farmer class.

The Agricultural Officer of Sige Town held a very high status, possessing most of the oxen and the majority of steel agricultural tools. His personal worth was stronger than that of everyone in Sige Town.

Roman asked Lax, "How many iron ingots do you have?"

"Only 200 pounds." Lax was troubled, feeling that Roman might want to confiscate his property.

This was his entire fortune, the only high-level profession's fortune in Sige Town, even more valuable than eight oxen.

Roman pondered for a moment.

Then he squatted down and drew a schematic of an iron plow in the soil.

"Can you forge a plow of this design?"

Lax was extremely surprised, he took a serious look, somewhat uncertain, yet curious.

Roman described to him the specific data of this iron plow.

Lax estimated in his heart based on experience, and was immediately astonished, "This big fellow might consume more than 30 pounds of iron. Moreover, it requires wheels, we need a carpenter."

There were many carpenters in Sige Town, but only carpenter Vic could make wheels.

Roman tried to minimize the materials needed for this heavy plow, and upon hearing this, his brow immediately furrowed.

"I see. You go ahead and forge this thing, I will pay you accordingly."

Lax quickly refused, indicating that it would be enough for Roman to only pay the cost.

He looked at Roman's face, hesitating, "But Lord, the elders of the Church say that all that is, is given by God, to be kept as is. To not change, for Hell lies ahead."

The Church's influence extended far and wide across this land, and even in a remote place like Sige Town, it still wielded immense power.

The meaning of the statement was that any artifact and skill is bestowed by God, and the Human Clan must maintain the status quo, otherwise they will fall into Hell.

It was okay for peasants to pick up manure, after all, no one knew what Roman was doing.

But Lax could tell at a glance that Roman was asking him to forge new-style plows, which violated the Church's doctrine.

Upon hearing this, Roman stood up and said calmly, "Then let their God speak to me in person about it."

Lax was at a loss upon hearing such an arrogant and disrespectful comment, coupled with the subtle irreverence towards the All Gods.

Roman, as if oblivious, was determined to shatter all the notions of the residents of Sige Town so they would obey him without question.

What's the Church? A few good punches would put them in line.

Roman continued, "This thing is very important, it needs to be made as soon as possible. Take me to your shop, and call the carpenter over as well."

Under Roman's urging, Lax could only lead the way.

Roman followed, frowning, he looked back one last time at the iron plow beside the oxen.

It was so strange, indeed very strange.

The peculiarity was in the style of the plow.

Roman had seen the land of the Riptide Family, and he had seen the land of Sige Town.

Though located differently, their soil structures were broadly similar, which is to say, this land was basically in the same ecological environment.

This land had a high water content, too moist, full of clay.

After leveling up his "Planting" skill to level 2, Roman gained a deeper understanding of soils.

To plow, as the name implies, is to turn the topsoil up, making the soil texture loose.

Most crop seeds prefer to be in a softer bed rather than a hard one.

Although the iron plows they were currently using could also turn the soil, the tools were light and could only scratch the surface shallowly; they were not capable of deep cultivation.

That is to say, using it to plow the land actually did little good, at best it could improve yields by fifty percent, which was also the main reason why the productivity per acre was so tragic in this era.

The first step in meticulous cultivation was deep plowing of the soil.

And then the question arose.

Roman was very curious.

If there had been no sudden changes in the natural climate, if soil conditions had not become extremely drastic within a short period, and if there had been no little ice age that brought an abrupt cooling.

Then why did such light plows emerge on this land?

This thing looked more like an alien object, not conforming to objective developmental laws.

It definitely should not have appeared on this land.

There were not the natural conditions for its emergence.

Even without iron plows as agricultural tools, Roman could understand.

But with the capability to create, why didn't the inventor of the light plow just invent the heavy plow instead?