"How could I possibly find you a suitable teacher? Even the Earl can't handle everything for you! The amount of money you've estimated for your rifle purchases is unlikely to support such a vast plan."
"You're right, I may have been a bit too optimistic." Tang Mo also felt that expecting a poor officer to manage all these affairs was asking too much.
Even though Lord Earl does have a high reputation in Northern Ridge and strong ruling power, Tang Mo knew that he was in Brunas—Lord Earl's influence couldn't reach that far.
Moreover, for his own considerations, he didn't want to lay all his cards out under Lord Earl's eyes.
Although their current cooperation was indeed stable and pleasant, who knew what it would develop into in the future?
At this thought, Tang Mo realized there were still so many tasks he needed to concern himself with, and many things he had to start preparing for right now.
After all, some things could be expedited, while others had no choice but to rely on time to build.
For example, if Tang Mo wanted to establish a competent intelligence network, he would need to discreetly recruit people and patiently build it bit by bit.
In comparison, building a primary school was a much simpler task for Tang Mo. It didn't require a huge investment; just some wooden houses and a few recruited teachers would suffice.
These days, the pay for elementary school teachers was rather ordinary, and education for commoners wasn't highly valued, so poaching a few teachers to instruct wasn't difficult.
Tang Mo had already made up his mind to build a school because he knew that to make a stand in this world, he needed to nurture a group of people who could understand him!
In his plan, establishing factories required a large number of talents, a vast quantity of literate people capable of evolving themselves into modern industrial talents!
Moreover, it wasn't just about manufacturing talents, but also a multitude of management talents to run his factories and keep up with his thought process.
Plus, intelligence talents to build the information network he needed, and combat talents to protect his industries...
All these talents needed to be nurtured by himself. This wasn't the 21st-century Earth, an era where college graduates were abundant and easily called upon.
So, he could only cultivate these talents himself, carefully nurturing them, patiently watering them, and waiting for these seeds to take root and sprout, eventually growing into towering trees that could weather any storm.
Tang Mo did not wish, years or even decades from now, when he was selling fighter jets, to have to go to the customers himself to serve as a training instructor.
His military empire would continue to develop and at some point, advance rapidly—this world couldn't keep up with his pace of development, so he had to drag the entire world forward in a sprint.
But he couldn't cover everything by himself, so he needed countless people who could act on his behalf, and right now, he didn't have a single one of them!
Whether it was Mathews or Roger, none met Tang Mo's criteria. Such people might become highly loyal subordinates in the future, but like the rest of the world, they couldn't keep pace with Tang Mo's progress.
Most of the Leite Kingdom's Navy was deployed near the larger southern ports, with Brunas serving more as a fishing task force.
The Suthers Kingdom, hostile to the Leite Kingdom, could not attack Brunas from the sea, so the Kingdom didn't station heavy troops there either.
Even from a distance, one could hear the raucous cries from the market: "Flatbreads! Get your cheap flatbreads!" "Apples! Delicious apples!"
These cries were endearing and lent the town a vibrant atmosphere. Leaning in his carriage, Tang Mo closed his eyes and seemed even more peaceful and at ease.
Tagg, atop his warhorse, glanced sideways at the marketplace's lush activity. People hawked their wares under the low stone buildings, not very tall and cobbled together from piles of stone.
Dried salted fish hung from wooden racks, these items coming from the nearby coastal villages. Also visible were traders from distant lands, hawking tropical fruits in their hands.
Some led livestock, others pulled carts; the crowded streets flanked by stone-built buildings—before his transition, Tang Mo had seen these kinds of narrow streets in Western cities, disorganized and antiquated.
A typical city design constructed for the sake of defensive alley fighting, which after years of development, was crammed with many meaningless civilian buildings.
Mainly made of stone, walls and houses had wooden extensions for residences. Some windows were draped with drying furs, and some walls had protruding carvings—simple faces or beast heads, not at all refined.
People crowded together, steps were densely packed and not very practical; sanitary conditions were subpar. The odorous ditches stretching along the walls on either side of the street were enough to spot rats scurrying by swiftly.
As the crowd on the streets saw Tang Mo's procession, the atmosphere seemed to turn heavy.
The cloud of war had been hanging over everyone's heads recently, filling them with fear of the impending conflict.
The sudden appearance of a troop of soldiers in town naturally put the folks on edge. Everyone was on tenterhooks, fearing the soldiers had come to conscript or bring bad news.
The townsfolk curiously watched the striking procession stop in front of the town's most well-appointed greyish-white stone office building.
Called an office building, it was but two stories tall and not overly impressive. The tax office and sheriff's office were crammed in here, and the town mayor handled official business as well.
In fact, there was a jail behind it for temporarily detaining criminals. A corridor connected the jail to the office building, overlooking a T-shaped structure.
When the wolf banner, representing Earl Fisello, stopped at the entrance, the two town guards were clueless about what was happening.
They watched, somewhat bewildered, as Tagg dismounted from his horse and then opened the carriage door, following which they saw a familiar face step out of the carriage.
"Whatever I say later, don't interject, understand?" Tang Mo once again cautioned Tagg.
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Thanks to the potato who likes coffee, thank you for your support!