Chapter 141: The Grain Crisis

The increase in population brought both joy and concern. Fifteen hundred people did not sound like many, yet the daily consumption of grain was considerable. Moreover, at least a thousand of them were young and strong laborers engaged in heavy work. When they ate, it was like pouring grain into their mouths by the cartload.

The newly cultivated farmland could not sustain such a population, and the resources of the hunting grounds were not infinite; exhaustion was inevitable. The hunting parties had to venture farther and farther, but the risks grew greater with each journey. Driving away wolves was no longer just a matter of dealing with bears and saber-toothed tigers; there were far more formidable supernatural beasts. Even the lowest rank of dire wolves were beyond the strength of ordinary hunters.

Río had first encountered Bjorn’s small valley and the wild boar tribes’ lairs in the stony hills, where small camps had already been established. Wild hunters and Riverbend infantry were permanently stationed there. As the hunting parties pushed further out, it became impossible to return prey and injured men to Riverbend promptly. These two small encampments provided food, lodging, and medical aid for the passing hunters, as well as processing meat and pelts.

At present, Riverbend’s main grain supply still depended on trade imports, but the situation in Ironpool was grim, with grain prices rising steadily. Fortunately, iron ingots also served as hard currency during wartime, and their value rose alongside the grain prices. Riverbend’s primary export was high-quality pig iron from the goblin valley and the blacksmith’s forge, and transactions rarely involved the empire’s currency, alleviating concerns over grain price inflation.

However, rising grain prices were a minor worry compared to the risk of supply disruption. Ironpool, located upstream along the Anzerno River, had enjoyed favorable weather in recent years, achieving self-sufficiency and even producing surplus grain sold northward along the World Tree Avenue. Yet, friction between the northern and southern regions hindered the delivery of cheap southern wheat to Ironpool.

If Ironpool’s grain reserves were depleted, or if landlords and grain merchants, sensing crisis or opportunity, hoarded their supplies, Riverbend would face a dire risk of grain shortfall. Olivia, responsible for statistics and management, was deeply troubled.

“Through recent trade, we have stocked five thousand sacks of grain, enough to feed fifteen hundred people for three months. But the next harvest will not be sufficient for self-sufficiency,” she reported.

In the language of the Orlantis Empire, a “sack” was a fixed unit of grain measurement, roughly equivalent to a bushel, weighing between fifty and sixty pounds. Five thousand sacks amounted to at least 250,000 pounds—ample for fifteen hundred people over three months.

The entire second floor of the lord’s manor was filled with grain sacks, and a granary beside the stables was under construction. Moreover, villagers had begun to store grain at home. Although Ulian had not yet allocated land shares to the villagers, their participation in various projects earned them wages, primarily in grain.

Río reassured them, “Don’t worry. There will be bread, there will be milk, everything will be provided.” Olivia’s calculations were based solely on current consumption, but after the autumn harvest, as heavy labor projects declined, grain consumption would gradually decrease. Besides, rural villagers rarely ate wheat daily; cheaper beans, tubers, and wild vegetables, fruits, and other supplementary foods gathered or cultivated made up a large portion of their diet.

Meat resources in Riverbend were also plentiful, with enough rock salt for preservation, ensuring supplies would not dwindle much by winter. Cattle and sheep grazed on the peninsula’s grasslands, beginning to provide dairy products.

All told, wheat consumption might be halved, potentially sustaining the territory for half a year. Although Olivia was a landlord’s daughter, she had endured hunger and hardship herself. Naturally, she wished for as much grain as possible—ideally, more than needed.

Little Mouse was even more like a hamster, hoping to pile grain beneath her bed. Ulian and Río were more composed, considering the current situation excellent, far exceeding their expectations. Regardless of what the future held, Ulian could now say he had fulfilled the goal of leading his people a thousand miles to a better life.

There was food to eat, work to do, no worries about basic needs or safety, and two half-qualified doctors, Freya and Olivia, provided basic medical care. To villagers long suffering from hunger, cold, and war in the northern lands, this was paradise.

For various reasons, Ulian kept the population and strength of Riverbend secret. Outsiders could only move about the peninsula’s markets, unable to cross the river to spy on the well-guarded wildling and refugee camps. Consequently, most outsider descriptions of Riverbend were inaccurate—rumors of mere hundreds of people, or just over a thousand; iron mines; recruiting wildlings; enslaving goblins—only vague hearsay.

The Glaston family, blocked by the Solovy Knights, had made no further moves, removing any immediate pressure on Riverbend to reveal its strength.

It was less that the Glastons or other nobles had relinquished their desires for Riverbend, and more that they had yet to find a way to counter the Solovy Knights.

“The Solovy Knights have arrived,” a guard reported to those chatting outside the lord’s manor. Ulian hurried down the wooden steps to welcome them.

A month earlier, after hearing Río’s words, the Solovy Knights had visited Riverbend to inspect its projects. Upon their first visit, the knights returned to summon the villagers, announcing plans to build walls like those of the Riverbend camp.

When they revealed the blueprints, the elder village leaders turned pale. The design was that of a small permanent legionary fort of the Orlantis Empire—not just a simple gate, watchtower, or drawbridge, but a fortress equipped with defensive devices such as small catapults and ballistae.

The walls consisted of a two-meter-high trapezoidal earthen foundation topped by a three-meter wooden wall. The foundation’s inner layer was rammed earth mixed with gravel, reinforced externally by a one-foot-thick stone wall. The base measured three meters wide, tapering to two meters at the top.

The wooden wall was not a single-faced plank wall but two thick rows of timber set atop the trapezoidal foundation, reinforced with layers of wood and capped by sturdy planks. Between the two rows was a walkway, allowing defenders to move freely and shoot at enemies.

This was the simplest design for a legionary fort’s walls; the next level up would be stone walls.

Riverbend’s initial walls had been single-faced wooden palisades like those of the Solovy Knights’ territory. Once a logging camp was established and refugees and wildlings settled, the encampments’ walls were rebuilt to match the small fort standard.

As Riverbend’s main base, it could not afford to lag behind; as the foremost defense against the wilderness, the walls were promptly rebuilt.

The Solovy Knights’ village elder was a clever man who knew the problem at once and rushed to Riverbend overnight to complain to Ulian. With only a few hundred farmers in the Solovy Knights’ territory, such walls were simply impossible to construct!