Chapter 157: Taming the Great Plains

Chapter 157: Taming the Great Plains

Taming the Great Plains

Lansius

Although Lansius had arrived in Korelia two years ago, his mindset was still largely influenced by the perspectives of his own time. There were many things he didn't bother to question, including the carnivores that prowled outside the city limits.

As an avid reader, he encountered texts that mentioned wolves, wild dogs, and other large carnivores. However, these records depicted them as almost mythical—elusive, fearsome, and associated with dread—as if these creatures were orcs or goblins. Thus, he regarded them as nothing more than medieval superstitions.

After all, if these records were accurate, there would be significant casualties, yet he had never heard of such incidents, which led him to disregard them entirely. This mindset went largely unchallenged until he met Tia in the spring of last year.

The little girl’s story compelled Lansius to peruse the city documents and question city officials about the records. What he found was nothing less than staggering. In Korelia, it was common for a shepherd with 100 sheep to lose two dozen or more each year to wild beasts. These beasts were also unafraid of humans and known to terrorize the surrounding villages and manors during droughts.

His findings was further confirmed when he measured a wolf pelt at the castle, discovering that they were almost as large as tigers. This made him realize about his errors.

In his world, wolves had been largely hunted to near extinction. Some countries had even waged century-long campaigns to poison, hunt, and trap wolves until they were virtually extinct, leaving newer generations unaware of the threats these beasts posed.

It was then that Lansius remembered a story he had long forgotten about the man-eating tigers of Nepal and Bengal, which had killed more than 400 victims. Somehow he had forgotten that in past eras, carnivorous beasts were a significant menace.

He delved deeper and discovered several instances in Korelia where villages were abandoned due to persistent wolf attacks, trade routes were disrupted by beast attacks, or shepherds and their flocks went missing—all attributed to these predators. t was clear that for Korelian shepherds, survival was a battle fought in blood.

Lansius even found reports of wolf scares during military marches that had failed to reach his desk because the people of this era treated wolves as a secondary threat.

All this while, he had thought that wolves were just a larger version of a Siberian Husky.

Ever since learning this, Lansius had tried to address the issue by sending patrols of cavalry to help alleviate the people’s plight. However, these predators remained elusive, able to hunt in the dead of night.

Despite some precautions, dozens of recorded cases of deaths and numerous reports of crippling injuries continued to occur, seemingly without any resolution.

However, this situation was about to change with the impending introduction of barbed wire.

The simple barbed wire, was a prime example of a perfect invention and naturally it was also disruptive. It transformed fence making and maintenance from an expensive, material- and labor-intensive process using stone or wood into a much simpler and more affordable one, making it accessible to a broader population.

The new invention was superior in every way and significantly cheaper. With an abundance of leftover, charred, rusted, and mangled armor parts and weapons, Lansius had amassed a massive stockpile of unwanted iron. For the cost of importing cheap charcoal, he transformed these scraps of old, broken armor and swords into an economical investment.

With just five suits of unwanted ringmail and seven bundles of rusty swords and trinkets, he could protect ten acres of land with three strands of barbed wire. For 500 suits of charred ringmail and armor pieces recovered from the last battle's burnt plains, along with 700 bundles of rusty weapons, Lansius could easily protect 1,000 acres.

Combined with his city walls and the river, Lansius was set to cover the best swath of pastoral land for animal husbandry without requiring much manpower. This setup would net him a significant food surplus, which Korelia sorely needed for growth.

Moreover, after several years, once the windbreak trees had matured, the fenced land would likely yield rich soil, ready for planting crops, enriched by the manure. When that happened, he could even reuse his barbed wire fences and move them to another area.

The only thing barbed wire couldn’t do was fence in ducks. These wild and majestic creatures could fly somewhat. However, there was little need as the ducks in this world weren’t afraid of predators.

For the average landowner and shepherd in Korelia, while they didn’t have suits of old or unwanted ringmail and weapons, barbed wire was still the most economical option. For the cost of wooden fences, they could fence in four times as much land with three strands of barbed wire and far less demand for maintenance.

Lansius believed this would open up numerous opportunities for livestock owners to expand or even start a new one. With just a dozen sheep and barbed wire to cover an acre as a pen, an aspiring shepherd could begin their trade.

The dream of expanding into the wilderness had now become reality. Previously, only nomadic tribesmen could utilize the vast steppe grass of the Great Lowlandia plains as productive ground for growing large herds. Now, any ambitious Lowlandian had the opportunity to tame it.

The new fence would help aspiring livestock owners protect their flocks from wolves, wild dogs, or carnivorous cats. It offered better defense than merely a club and a spear. Moreover, it allowed them to expand without the need to compete for expensive pastoral land near the city—not to mention freed them from the costly traditional fencing and maintenance.

In this matter, the barbed wire was a great equalizer.

Lansius hoped the new fence would allow shepherds to protect themselves and give them a chance to thrive. And with their thriving, he would reap benefits from the land permits and increased trade. Similarly, he also hoped to attract the wealthy to buy permits for swaths of land to graze horses or cattle, further enriching Korelia.

While there was a risk of overgrazing that could deprive the land of water and grass, eventually ruining the soil, such a scenario would require millions of cows—an impossible number for medieval herders. Lansius would be happy if Korelia had five hundred cows, just like Lord Robert had in White Lake.

He needed milk and cheese so his lactose-tolerant army and future recruits could grow taller, stronger, and hopefully smarter, which would help address the lack of talent in Korelia.

The new invention would have been perfect if not for one dangerous drawback.

"Tomorrow, I'll send a summons to Batu to set a barbed wire trial," Lansius announced to Calub as the two were sharing a carriage to the castle.

"A trial for the nomads?" Calub said, his brow furrowing. He quickly added, "I don't quite understand, My Lord. How does this new fence relate to them?"

"Not involvement, more like a warning," Lansius clarified.

"A warning?" Calub couldn’t help but raise his voice.

Lansius nodded firmly, his expression serious. "I want the nomadic communities to see the new fence and use it first. I hope they'll understand the benefits of this new invention and embrace it, rather than despising it."

Calub looked doubtful. "My Lord, as I understand it, you’re worried that the nomads will see the wires as a threat, or am I misunderstanding something?"

Lansius let out a smile. "Indeed. I’m concerned that Batu will view the new invention as a threat to their way of life. Not immediately, but eventually the barbed wire will pit our population against the nomadic community. With cheap and reliable fencing, there will be no obstruction for anyone wealthy and ambitious enough to set up acres of fences and let their livestock graze freely wherever the grass is greenest on the Great Plains.

"And all without fear of wolves, wild dogs, or other predators..." Calub now looked bewildered, as he began to understand the deeper implications of the simple barbed wire.

Lansius continued, "The adoption of barbed wire in a hundred years or so will eventually enclose much of the land and restrict movements on the Great Plains. Worse, it'll bar people from its resources. Imagine the nomads slowly finding it hard to access water and grassland. It will eventually cause wars."

Calub exhaled deeply and glanced at Lansius. "I can't help but feel that this is not mere precognition," he speculated. "My Lord, has something bad happened at your birthplace due to the usage of barbed wire?"

"Something like that," Lansius admitted without going into details. After a pause, he added, "I want the nomads as allies, not potential enemies. So, I hope, with them using it first, I could empower them instead of robbing them of their future."

"So this is what you mean by precaution," Calub recalled their past conversation, nodding. "So, what have you planned? I can see that you'll keep water and other resources open to all."

"Indeed. There'll be no chaos on my watch," Lansius stated firmly. "And even if I lose against the guild, I'll still control the land and the legislation."

There was a pause until Calub said, "Still, iron fences are expensive." He gazed at Lansius with newfound doubt. "Right now we got lucky we had plenty of metal scraps from battle, but in the future we'll need to buy iron, and that would be expensive."

"Wanna bet?" Lansius chuckled and reached into his inside pocket for his coin pouch, from which he fished out several coins. He then picked one and held it up to Calub.

"Iron coins," Calub was pleasantly surprised. "You've thought this over, haven't you?"

Lansius chuckled while playing with the coin in his hand. From a long time ago, Lansius realized that iron was grossly undervalued in this world. A copper coin was worth fourteen iron coins. And a silver worth 168 iron coins, or more depending on the iron coin's condition.

The chamber erupted in laughter.

Disregarding them, Lansius chuckled heartily as if he found it seriously funny before pointing out, "Guildsman, the airship is literally made there."

His simple words quickly changed the atmosphere. It was a lie, but in Korelia, only Lansius and the airship crew knew about Lord Avery.

Lansius caught Omin’s eager gaze. With a strategic nod, he invited him to take the floor, confident in his intellect and manipulative skills.

"Dear maesters, I understand that Midlandians and other near-capital provinces view the southern provinces as backwaters. As they say, 'Nothing good comes from the south,'" Omin began, and the guildsmen responded receptively. He continued, "The southern men might be a bit uncultured, living on the fringe, constantly fighting beastmen, and dwelling in obscurity, far from the light of the Ageless. However, that also drives their continual progress. In the South, you don't survive by merely making a profit and living easily."

His words garnered nods from the guildsmen.

"It's the same in Lowlandia," Omin continued, while Lansius approached Sir Justin and patted his shoulder. "I'll leave this to you two," he whispered to Justin and Michael.

The two nodded lightly. They understood that it would take time for Omin to soften up the guildsmen and prepare them for Lansius' grand plan.

With a hand gesture, Lansius signaled that he wished his departure not to be announced and quietly left the chamber. In his second year of rulership, he had become accustomed to delegating even matters of importance to his staff, as he had grown to respect time as a precious commodity.

As a lord, he had many areas to oversee, yet the day offered so little time. If he strolled incognito through the castle, he might discover moldy spots, perhaps the kitchen needed more maintenance, the roofs might be leaky, or the heating inadequate.

Korelia Castle was old, and the city was just beginning to build. There were many areas he could improve, but Lansius couldn't manage them all as even supervising would consume too much time. Not to mention the personnel issues, which he relegated to Audrey and the staff.

Thus, he chose to focus on the big picture and left the finer details to his staff or the growing educated class in society.

He hoped that his efforts were enough to kindle a spark among them, encouraging entrepreneurs to helm more changes in Korelia. With that in mind, Lansius entered his study where Carla was standing, waiting.

"You can sit down and still be able to draw your sword if anyone intrudes," Lansius said as he sat down.

"Gratitude, My Lord. I'll sit when needed," came the calm reply, as usual.

As he leaned back, Lansius felt a tightness in his chest, a remnant of the half-beast's rampage. It led him to ask, "How's your injury from the half-beast?"

Carla's expression turned sharp. "Nothing serious," she began. "It won't affect my performance, and the Lady has tested it herself."

"Test? She actually sparred with you?" Lansius frowned.

Carla licked her lips; she obviously had said too much.

Lansius waved it off, deciding he needn't dig into this at the moment. Without wasting more time, as he needed to return to the Eastern Mansion before supper, he dove into his records and notes. The smell of ink, coarse paper, and vellum welcomed his nostrils.

Since a week ago, he had been studying notes from the guilds as he wanted to build an underground water pipe to create a fountain in the market that would be useful to his people. It would provide health benefits and, hopefully, also make him more popular.

However, the primary intention for the pipe was to serve the upcoming noble area. He planned to shock the Lord's families with amenities. Not only for vanity, Lansius also planned for a dedicated firemen service, which was crucial for Korelia, and a wastewater management system to reduce the risk of disease.

Furthermore, he wanted a place to exchange ideas, knowing it would be the foundation of progress. Thus, Lansius began to outline his plan for the future.

***

West Tiberia, Capital, Beneath the Lake

Beneath the outskirts of the Capital, Sagarius, the daughter of the recently deceased Ageless One, continued the monotonous routine of marching and resting, which she repeated for several days. Before leaving, she had used transformation magic to change the color of every strand of her hair. Now, the hair closer to her scalp had turned brunette.

The third day also marked the disappearance of the maze. The maintenance shafts were gone, as this marked the extent of the subterranean world. From there, only a single straight, upward-inclined path stretched before her. Sagarius stood gazing at the path, took a step forward, but couldn't resist looking back, uncertain of what to expect.

For the past several days, she had been meditating on her purpose in life now that her father was gone. Her mind told her she was truly free, but she felt conflicted. Would she just live out the rest of her life to her heart's content, shifting from one alter identity to the next until her time came? Or would she actively assist those humans she deemed worthy?

Yet, it also felt wrong. Could her help be justified after she had rejected her father's pleas to take over the Imperium?

Sagarius sighed, realizing her mistake. "In principle, I don't want to get involved too deeply," she mumbled to herself. There was nobody near her, not even a golem.

She continued in her mind that she had her own life and was content to live a mundane life while being an observer of human civilization.

Having sorted out her thoughts, she proceeded to ascend, her boots lightly pounding the stone floor.

From that point on, there were no unused chambers or junctions to rest, and she spent her third and fourth nights sleeping on one side of the pathway. The air was the hottest at this point, almost suffocating, as the subterranean world was far behind, while the world above ground was still sealed shut.

Sagarius constantly maintained her bubble of air, drawing magic from her reliable source. She continued her monotonous climb and on the morning of the fifth day, reached the end of the pathway.

A large chamber secured by stone doors greeted her. Once inside, she took her time to observe the series of levers she needed to operate to power the hydraulic pumps. While it could be powered by gemstones, the maker had decided that manual operation was more suitable for this place.

Sagarius noticed a little rust and took a sealed metal vial. She removed the cork, put several drops of the black liquid on the rusted metal parts, and then tried to operate the lever. After several hard pumps, it began to smoothen out and felt easier to operate.

After a dozen or so back-and-forth motions, the camouflaged door sealing the world above creaked open. A burst of fresh air entered, and the scent immediately changed to that of a rocky cave. Sagarius dropped her bubble of air and felt enveloped by the mossy and earthen smell.

It was a natural cave near Lake Tiber. From there, the Capital was only a short distance away. The area was neither too close to risk being built over nor too far to make travel dangerous. It was located near a main road to the Capital, so traveling in groups wouldn't seem out of place.

By now, Sagarius' hair had darkened to a full, rich brunette. Using her heightened senses, she detected no human presence and securely locked the camouflage door behind her. She navigated the moss-covered cave, following a thin ray of light that guided her toward the exit.

At long last, stepping out from the shadows, she felt the sun’s warmth on her pale skin for the first time. The light didn’t startle her eyes; instead, they soaked in the view of Lake Tiber in its midday splendor. The water shimmered under the sun’s caress, a sight she had seen often yet never failed to make her smile.

After checking her bags and belongings, Sagarius approached the road, expecting the usual bustle of travelers and merchants. Instead, she found silence—an unnerving emptiness that stretched in both directions. "Why is it so deserted?" she whispered.

It dawned on her—the Capital must be caught in some kind of struggle. "Pestilence, power struggle, or a siege?" she muttered. Driven by a sense of urgency, she returned to the lake's edge, gazing across the water at the distant silhouette of the Capital. No boats were in sight, yet she needed none.

With determined strides, Sagarius walked into the blue lake. A coat of air completely enveloped her body and limbs, protecting her from the water without causing buoyancy issues. Her boots, worn yet sturdy, made confident contact with the muddy bottom.

Little bubbles periodically floated down from the above, acting like an umbilical cord, replenishing her oxygen and expelling the spent air.

Though she couldn't explain why—as she knew the Imperium’s fate hung by a thread without her succession—Sagarius chose to trust her instincts. With resolute purpose, she surged toward the beleaguered Capital.

***