"Lord Caesar."
"Mr. Vido." Samwell walked over to Vido, who was directing the craftsmen and wildling laborers as they laid the foundation of the castle. "How's the situation?"
"It's faster than I imagined," Vido said with emotion. "I never thought those savages would work so hard. They're rushing to get it done! Compared to them, the laborers in our Highland City are all lazy!"
Samwell laughed.
"Do you know why?"
"Why?" Vido asked quickly.
Samwell didn't answer directly. Instead, he asked a question in return:
"In Highland City, if someone is lazy at work, what would Viscount Martin do?"
"With a whip, of course."
Samwell shrugged and smiled. "Punishment is certainly one way. But I think rewards can stir people's enthusiasm even more."
Hearing this, Vido immediately thought of the strange "work point system" Samwell had issued.
At the time, he had secretly laughed at this young lord for being too soft-hearted, actually wanting to hand money to a bunch of captives.
But now, it seemed this move might carry a deeper meaning.
Still… it was far too prodigal—wait!
Vido suddenly realized something. Samwell hadn't actually given any money to those wildling captives at all. He had only ensured they were fed. As for the money, it couldn't be exchanged until the castle was completed.
A bait you could see but not eat!
And yet it drove thousands of savages to work for him willingly!
What a brilliant method!
Thinking back to the contract between his lord and this man, Vido felt like he understood something—though not completely.
Just as he was lost in thought, Samwell spoke again:
"Oh, right. The construction of the pier should also be put on the agenda."
Vido froze for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, my lord."
Samwell added, "However, the construction plan you proposed before is too complicated. Let's build a trestle first, just enough for ships to dock and load or unload goods. For now, our main focus is still the castle."
"Yes, my lord." Vido had a feeling this was probably the limit of what this pioneering lord could manage.
He really didn't know what expression his lord would wear when he saw a pier with nothing but a bare trestle bridge a year later…
They chatted for a while longer. After learning about the overall construction progress of the territory, Samwell bid Vido farewell and walked toward the deepest part of the valley.
Near the cliffs on both sides stood several brand-new cabins.
More than a dozen heavily armed soldiers stood hand in hand around the wooden houses. When they saw Samwell, they all lowered their heads and saluted.
This was the most heavily guarded place in the entire valley, storing all kinds of food and supplies for the pioneering team—and, of course, Samwell's own lord's hut.
The only strange thing was that among these buildings, there was actually a blacksmith's workshop.
From the perspective of the townsfolk, it might seem that this lord placed great importance on weapons and equipment.
And now, Samwell walked straight into that blacksmith's shop.
Seeing his arrival, the blacksmiths stopped working and stood up to greet him.
Samwell waved his hand for them to continue, then walked alone toward the innermost room.
That was the workshop belonging exclusively to the blacksmith Buso.
There were even two guards posted at the door, which showed just how seriously Samwell took the security of this place.
As the most outstanding blacksmith in Highland City, Buso had been openly favored by Samwell ever since he joined the pioneering team.
Everyone assumed the lord wanted Buso to custom-make a set of plate armor for him. In reality, however, Buso hadn't touched steel at all these days. Instead, he had been dealing with all kinds of copper pipes.
"My lord, what you asked for is ready," Buso said respectfully, pointing at the strange-looking device in front of him.
Although this thing had been built under the lord's guidance, Buso still had no idea what it was meant to do.
This peculiar device was made up of three copper vessels of different sizes and shapes. The first and second copper pots were connected by a swan-neck copper pipe. After passing through the second pot, the pipe entered the third copper pot, where it coiled into a serpentine spiral.
Samwell looked at the device before him. His eyes were filled with eagerness—and a trace of melancholy, as though he were missing something.
He carefully inspected the apparatus. After confirming everything was correct, he turned to Buso and smiled.
"Excellent! This is exactly what I wanted!"
"It is my honor to serve you."
Samwell looked at the outstanding blacksmith in front of him and suddenly asked, "Buso, if I remember correctly, you have a son?"
"Yes, my lord. Although he's also my apprentice, his heart isn't in blacksmithing. Sigh… there's nothing I can do about him."
"I've heard he prefers wielding blades and spears?"
"Yes. He still wants to become a knight. Daydreaming all the time!"
"How about this," Samwell said. "My guard unit needs to recruit people. You can let him sign up. If he performs well, I can take him in as my attendant in the future. Perhaps one day, I might even personally confer knighthood upon him."
Buso was stunned. He hesitated for a long while before speaking.
"My lord, your grace truly overwhelms me. But… we are citizens of Highland City, after all. In a year, we will leave…"
"Who can say what will happen a year from now?" Samwell said with a smile. "And during this year, you all are serving me. Blacksmithing is service—and so is fighting for me."
Buso fell into deep conflict.
Samwell didn't press him. He simply smiled and said, "Buso, think it over carefully. Not every lord is willing to accept a blacksmith's son as his attendant. You may leave now, and come to me anytime once you've decided."
"Yes, my lord."
After Buso left, Samwell couldn't help reaching out to stroke the strange bronze vessel in front of him. Feeling that familiar yet unfamiliar texture, a faint glimmer appeared in his eyes.
This was, in fact, a Charente pot still.
In his previous life, he had been born into a family of wine merchants. Since his grandfather's generation, they had specialized in producing grape-distilled liquor—brandy—at the foot of Tianmu Mountain.
As far back as he could remember, he had watched amber liquor trickle and flow from this ancient, magical device.
And now, even separated by time and space, standing before this empty copper vessel, Samwell still seemed able to smell the unique aroma of freshly distilled spirits.
It was a memory that ran through his entire childhood.
And it would also become the source of his wealth in this different world.
Exactly so.
Samwell dared to develop in a barren land like the Crimson Mountains and even rejected the pirate route arranged for him by Lady Olenna because this was where his true confidence lay.
There was no noble in this world who didn't drink alcohol. The brewing industry was already highly developed, yet due to the lack of advanced distillation techniques, the alcohol content was generally low.
And that was his opportunity.
Although the land of the Crimson Mountains was barren and unsuitable for growing grain, it was perfect for planting mountain grapes—plants that demanded little of the soil, resisted both drought and flooding, and thrived under abundant sunlight.
In fact, Samwell had already seen wild mountain grapes picked by savages in Huya Village.
The taste of these grapes wasn't very good—insufficiently sweet and slightly sour.
However, this very variety, low in sugar and high in acidity, was ideal for brewing brandy.
Touching the smooth, cold surface of the still, Samwell seemed to see a radiant, golden road stretching out before him.
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
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(End Chapter)