The successful trials of homemade fire bombs, simple flamethrowers, and the initial prototype of a coal furnace lifted Kent's spirits immensely.
From the perspective of territorial development and construction, the Spear Valley was a heaven-sent land. Deep within the valley lay rich mineral veins, a resource more than sufficient to initiate Kent's plans for an early stage industrial upgrade.
The most urgent need was to recruit militiamen and craftsmen, including blacksmiths, miners, stonemasons, and potters.
Soon, several large sheets of expensive parchment were displayed in the square.
Kent arranged for posts to be set up along the edge of an open space, with a thick wooden board nailed between two stakes. On it, three large words were written in the common language, though most of the native inhabitants couldn't read a single character.
"Pro…clamation…board?"
A ten-year-old girl with dark red hair looked up and loudly read the few words she knew.
"Pro…clamation? What does that mean, Udodo?" asked an older man nearby.
Udodo shrugged, signaling she didn't know either.
"What's written on the parchment?" asked another elderly woman, poking Udodo.
"Re…cruit…ment notice—oh, I know what that means." Udodo stretched her neck to read aloud, "The Spear Territory is establishing a manufacturing workshop and recruiting for multiple positions, including…"
Reading the slightly formal language, Udodo couldn't help but be impressed. The new lord really was someone of importance from the highlands; even the announcements he wrote sounded unique.
"Mining overseer, male, with experience. Responsible for leading a mining team to complete mining tasks. Daily pay: five copper coins."
"General miner, male, no experience needed, physically strong. Daily pay: two copper coins."
"Blacksmith overseer, male, with experience. Responsible for leading a forging team to complete tasks. Daily pay: ten copper coins."
"General blacksmith, male, no experience needed, physically strong. Daily pay: two copper coins."
"Stonemason overseer, male, with experience. Responsible for overseeing new leader's construction projects. Daily pay: five copper coins."
"General stonemason, male, no experience needed, physically strong. Daily pay: two copper coins."
"Hunting team leader, male, with experience. Responsible for leading hunting teams. Daily pay: eight copper coins."
"General hunter, male, no experience needed, physically strong. Daily pay: two copper coins."
"Men and women for general labor, including river clearing and land reclamation. Daily pay: one copper coin."
"All territory residents over the age of fifteen must participate in militia training on a rotating basis every three days."
The announcement completed, the natives gathered around excitedly discussing the news.
"Is the mine opening up? You get paid to mine? Overseers could earn three silver coins a month!"
"That much? Could it be a scam?"
"This is a notice from Lord Kent!"
"They're recruiting for a hunting team? I could sign up for that."
"Hunting is riskier than mining; you might run into wild animals."
"Even if you don't know anything, you can still do general labor."
"Right, I'll sign up."
"Me too."
The most discussed part was the clause about militia training.
"What's militia training?"
"Not militia collection; it's militia training."
"One word more or less; I don't get it. Do you understand?"
"I only know the word 'soldier.'"
"Is Lord Kent recruiting an army? Going to war?"
"With our numbers, who'd we fight?"
"Anyway, as long as you're fifteen, you have to join."
"We'll find out when the time comes."
"…"
The lively discussions and recruitment screenings were left to the guard squad and the gray-bearded man.
Meanwhile, Kent was engaged in another crucial task.
He piled up some tree bark and dry grass on the ground, then asked a few sturdy young locals—now officially called his subjects—to help him grind the materials with a stone pestle.
"Watch closely. Place it in the mortar, add a bit of water, and grind like this…"
He raised the pestle and smashed it down.
Thud…
"Got it?" he asked, putting the pestle down.
"Got it, Lord!" the young men replied enthusiastically.
Thud, thud, thud…
Kent felt a little awkward watching them grind away at the mortar as if it were a game, moving quickly and with precision.
They didn't even need him to teach them; they seemed born for this…
Thud, thud, thud…
By midday, the materials in the mortar had been ground to a paste. Kent halted them, tested the texture with his fingers, nodded with satisfaction, then took a stone bowl filled with thick plant juice nearby.
He poured the juice into the mortar and instructed them to continue grinding.
Splitting Blade swallowed, hesitating a few times before finally restraining his curiosity.
"What's the matter, Splitting Blade?" Kent, watching the materials in the mortar, noticed his expression.
"Heh, boss, I can't help but ask…what are we doing?"
Splitting Blade was bewildered. Back in the highlands, Kent seemed just as familiar, yet he hadn't shown this many strange ideas before.
"Oh, this? Paper-making," Kent replied.
"Paper…making?" Splitting Blade's head spun. He'd heard of parchment, but he'd never heard of making parchment from scraps.
Kent ignored him, instead squatting by the mortar, testing the pulp, and nodding.
"It's ready." He motioned, then took the mortar and walked to a stone slab prepared earlier. He poured the pulp onto the slab, using a piece of wood to spread it thinly.
After drying it for most of the day, Kent carefully lifted a sheet, grinning with satisfaction as he held it up to inspect.
Splitting Blade's eyes widened. Those scraps, when processed, looked like parchment! Though it was a bit off-colored, greenish-yellow—it was an impressive feat.
Was this grass-paper? Kent was truly…a genius.
As for Kent, he was nearly moved to tears.
In this world, primitive barbecue as a daily meal was tolerable, even something he could treat as a back-to-basics experience. But the lack of toilet paper was simply…unbearable.
Without lime, he could temporarily make soft grass-paper through this crude process as a short-term solution.
Without a sieve, he spread the pulp on a stone slab, dried it in the sun just enough to retain moisture. This paper was just right for wiping.
He grabbed several sheets and hurried to a grove near the stream.
There, he'd set up a primitive toilet—a fenced area with a trench sloping down to the stream.
While it would have been practical to use water, he simply wasn't accustomed to it.
Splitting Blade was baffled. Such a brilliant invention, only to be taken…there? Was it meant to wrap dung?
Could it be another weapon, like the fire bombs?
In his tribe, hunters sometimes used the sap of snake grass on arrowheads, as it contained a paralyzing agent for hunting.
But to fight with…dung-wrapped weapons? Was Kent truly a genius?
Kent returned from the grove with a relaxed expression, ignoring Splitting Blade's questioning look.
In his mind, he was enjoying the small accomplishment of making grass-paper. In this world, it could perhaps become a luxury. For now, though, his next goal was to build public restrooms. The open air was a bit cold, and such valuable fertilizer was going to waste in the creek. Eventually, he might focus on agriculture or saltpeter extraction.
For today, he'd achieved a small triumph in crafting the simplest grass-paper, and now, it was time to think about mass production.
Ancient paper-making used bamboo as the main material, with a six-step process: first, soaking bamboo in ponds for a hundred days, then pounding and washing to remove the outer skin and soften the fibers. After boiling with lime for eight days, the glue and resin dissolved, and repeated rinsing left pure bamboo fibers.
Then, it was a matter of grinding the fibers into a slurry, and when poured over a fine bamboo screen, a thin sheet of paper would form, which could be dried.
For now, he hadn't seen bamboo in this world, but he'd noticed the locals chopping wood with dense fibers that could make fine-quality paper. Lime was also readily available from rocks with calcium carbonate, which he'd have to mine from the mountains.
And as for kilns for lime burning…
As the lord, he could just have the blacksmiths make a few.