Sword of Dawnbreaker

Chapter 566 - 565: Steel

This seems to be an era of steel.

As if overnight, the familiar world on this land underwent a seismic change.

Just last year, people were living the same unchanging lives for hundreds of years: commoners worked the soil, rising with the sun and resting with its descent; knights rode around the castles, displaying their valor; and noble lords and ladies indulged in never-ending feasts, while the countryside taverns were filled with absurd tales of dark magic, wizards, non-human monsters, and warriors. Everyone lived as they always had, a century ago, two centuries ago, without deviation.

Then, one day, the noble lords rallied their troops and departed. Majestic knights, fully adorned, left their territories, and the noble lords vacated their castles. The mighty army marched forth with collected grains and colorful banners — old men said that everyone encounters such events a few times in their lives; before long, the knights return with troves of gold and silver and swarms of slaves. Yet this time, the knights did not return, and neither did the nobles in the castles.

The old have never witnessed such an event before.

New masters arrived at the castles, and the leaders were abolished, along with the leader’s laws. A new and powerful leader established new rules for the entire southern borders: the Administrative Office replaced the leaders and their advisors, clerks replaced tax collectors and stewards, and the world’s rules were drastically and thrillingly transformed.

Then, the era of steel arrived — that’s how last week’s newspaper described it.

Sam, living in a village surrounding Hosman, found this description fitting, a term truly worthy of a cultured mind’s creation.

The rising sun dispelled the nocturnal mists, and the early summer of the northern regions offered a refreshing morning, with temperatures neither too hot nor too cold, uplifting one’s spirit. Sam emerged from his home, donned in freshly acquired linen clothes from the previous year, a water bottle hanging by his waist, shoes on his feet, and holding a cake meant for breakfast on his way out, he headed toward the "Farm Machinery Administration Office."

There are seventeen Sams in the village. The uneducated rural folks couldn’t think of other names; they were either Sam, Old George, John, or Tom. But since the night school was established last year, most have learned to recognize a few words, and ten Sams changed their names, although this didn’t include him.

He didn’t particularly like his name; he was simply accustomed to it after half a lifetime.

He only changed his son’s name from "Tom" to "Parni." The night school teacher said the term was from the magical industry, meaning "energy" — he felt his son was his energy.

The Farm Machinery Administration Office’s courtyard was just ahead.

Sam quickened his pace, feeling a bit of anticipation.

The agricultural machinery was introduced by the Administrative Office, just like the land allocation and measurement decree, all new initiatives from the new leader. As a farmer who recently learned a few words from night school, Sam didn’t understand the mechanics of these machines, just as he didn’t know why people from remote villages were being moved to Hosman City and surrounding areas, but that didn’t prevent him from understanding one thing: agricultural machines were a good thing.

Those roaring machines were incredibly powerful, comparing to several people and oxen combined. With them, the cheap Druid potions, and the newly measured and reorganized lands, the harvest this year was simply unbelievable.

The doors of the Farm Machinery Administration Office were open, and Sam cautiously entered, glancing from side to side, seeing no one arrived earlier than him; then he saw the steel-constructed machine silently resting in the yard.

It had rigid lines, resembling a large iron box, with rows of wheels on both sides and metal bands wrapping the wheels, and at the front of the machine, was a mechanical device with teeth, chains, and a rolling framework.

A young man was busy around the lead-gray machine, seemingly checking the connection of the mechanism at the back of the machine used for packing and throwing straw. Noticing Sam, he pointed to a small cabin nearby: "Register inside there, I’ll be done soon."

Sam promptly nodded to the young man and quickly stepped into the small cabin in the yard.

A clerk from the Administrative Office, wearing a white shirt, was sitting inside the cabin, flipping through a newspaper. Sam approached the desk, where he saw a headline printed in bold black letters, barely recognizing its content after some effort: "The Pioneer reaches the Carol Region — Citizens Cheering Along the Coast."

In a section beside it, he saw another title in slightly smaller font: "Outlaws at Broken Stone Ridge Quelled, Seven Oathbreaker Knights Accept Peace."

"Recognize words?"

The clerk behind the desk looked up, speaking as he examined the farmer standing before him— a typical farmer, hunched over, with dark skin, rough hands and feet, and early wrinkles on his face, appearing elderly but likely only in middle age.

Sam was startled awake and hurriedly nodded, "Ah, I do, I do... Sorry, sir, I was just..."

"It’s alright, knowing words is a good thing. The more words you know, the more knowledge you’ll find in books," the clerk smiled, "don’t be so nervous, I’m not a noble either — I’m just like you, a commoner."

"Ah," Sam nodded slightly anxiously, the men and women from the Administrative Office were kind people, certainly more approachable than the former tax officials and stewards, yet he instinctively felt a bit tense facing these people, "I’m... I’m here to rent the harvester and tractor, I entered the lineup three days ago."

As he spoke, he took out a note he’d kept close to him. It was the number he received in this yard three days ago; since obtaining it, he hadn’t dared place the note more than a meter away from him for three days: There was only one harvester and one tractor here, transferred recently from Hosman City, and the chance to use these newly emerged machines, as precious as Magic-guided Vehicles... Equally rare.

The clerk managing farm machines from the Administrative Office glanced at the note’s content, compared it with the logbook on hand, and nodded, "Sam, right — your name and resident number checked. Renting for half a day to harvest fields at Sector II in Lucy."

"Yes, yes," Sam nodded repeatedly, "Sector II, Sector II."

"Here’s your voucher, the mechanic is in the courtyard; you should have seen him earlier, just give it directly to him. The tractor went to town for loading and will return shortly, I’ll have the mechanic find you," the clerk, wearing a white shirt, took a card printed with words from beneath the desk and handed it to Sam, "Also, no need for payment, as your family was among the first to actively participate in the land exchange. The mechanic’s fees have been covered by the Administrative Office."

"Thank you, thank you."

Sam took the voucher, repeatedly thanking them, and then quickly left the house.

The clerk in charge of managing agricultural machinery watched the simple farmer leave before finally lowering his head to look at the register in his hand.

Names were listed one after another, making him involuntarily smile.

When the first tractor was shipped to Hosman, the clattering, powerful, and majestic machine scared away half of the onlookers, just like when the first Magic-guided Vehicle entered the city or the first water pump was turned on, causing quite a turmoil.

But in such a short time, so many people have come to borrow harvesters and tractors.

This should be credited to the recent machinery demonstrations organized by the Administrative Office. In front of the public, the office showcased how effective agricultural machinery could be, dispelling everyone’s concerns, because for farmers, being able to harvest more grain is better than anything.

The harvester is a new invention, appearing after the Magic-guided Vehicle. It’s said that the Mage Technicians at Cecil Castle immediately started researching agricultural machinery after creating the Magic-guided Vehicle. From last autumn until this spring, they’ve produced an array of incredible machines.

No matter what new technology product emerges, it is first applied to the military to ensure the safety of the homeland, then used in civilian life to ensure people’s prosperity, with upper-class enjoyment always being the last consideration. This is what sets Cecil apart from other places.

The clerk sorted through a week’s record of harvester rentals, marveling at the rapid development of this magical industry and also at this year’s harvest.

Since the implementation of new policies, Hosman has been the fastest and most thoroughly reformed area. With the efforts of Governor Daidalos, the Administrative Office applied Cecil’s successful experiences to this land, and the facts proved this application to be highly effective, especially in the field of agriculture.

Many farmers from remote villages relocated to the outskirts of cities and several key satellite towns. The land of the old aristocratic estates and knight manors was re-measured and redistributed, becoming the contracted land for new immigrants. By providing seeds, selling Druid potions at low prices, and offering unified agricultural training, coupled with appropriate reward and punishment measures, the previously scattered and disorganized traditional farming quickly transformed into the Cecil-style "planned agriculture." And now, the results of all this are evident to everyone—

A foreseeable harvest.

In the yard, Sam handed the card to the technician responsible for operating the machinery, then climbed onto the seat next to the technician, taking a deep breath to calm his somewhat nervous heart.

He looked down at his shoes, ensuring they weren’t damaged while climbing the tracks and pedals, finally relaxing.

These were his first new pair of shoes in years.

The machine started. Driven by Magic Power, there was the sound of parts operating within its steel-built "belly." As it began to vibrate, Sam instinctively held onto the handrail beside him, feeling his palms sweat, but as the machine smoothly exited the courtyard gate, his racing heart calmed down.

He saw the endless fields outside, land awaiting cultivation, and among them, there was a part that belonged to him.

That quieted him more than anything else could.

Sam sat atop this mechanical monster, watching the technician expertly maneuvering the levers, pedals, and steering wheel, directing this heavy steel creation forward with techniques he couldn’t understand, feeling a hint of envy.

He wondered if he would ever have the chance to touch those levers and pedals himself, thinking it unlikely at his age. He really couldn’t learn such complex things, but Parni...he was still young and might be capable.

That child had learned a lot in school; he was the smartest child in the family’s history. If he keeps learning, he might become a "technician"—a clever person specialized in operating machines.

The steel-built machine headed towards the fields.

The knights who once flaunted their armor and swaggered about the towns were gone, as were the aristocrats who spent days feasting in castles. In the countryside taverns, those who used to talk about black Magic and Wizards now had learned to hold newspapers and discuss loudly, and Sam...

Sam sat in a machine heading towards his own farmland, feeling the vibration and power of the steel beneath him.

This is probably what is meant by the "steel era."

...

At Cecil Castle, within the agricultural machinery workshop of the Mechanical Manufacturing Facility, Gawain gazed at the hulking, rough and simplistic yet power-filled machine in front of him, filled with emotion.

This thing...in the end, it was indeed created in the tractor assembly workshop.

A White Knight from the Church of the Holy Light was blessing this mammoth: "...May the Holy Light bless its load-bearing wheels and tracks, may it never topple, bless its cannon, may it never overheat, bless its engine, may it always be full of strength..."

In the solemn (probably) and earnest (truly) prayers of the White Knight, the young knight Sir Philip stepped forward and knocked on the steel chariot’s shell, feeling the cold and hardness of the metal. The knight turned his head, a slight smile on his face: "My lord, I think I finally understand what you meant by ’steel era’—as you said, it truly is a steel era."