Lord of Rot

The sky was somewhat gloomy; it looked like rain was on its way. The weather had been hot enough lately, and a cool-down was definitely needed.

The people of Porcupine Territory were still hard at work.

For two straight days of leisure, Leech had been using his remote vision, controlling nearly-rotted dead birds to watch the war between Wado Eighteen and Longship Castle.

The hot weather had one clear downside: corpses decomposed much faster.

Fortunately, the corpses soaking in Magic Antiseptic within the crypt didn’t face the same problem.

Leech dedicated a portion of his mind to communicating with Corpse Ghost Aina. He would control a corpse to write, teaching Aina how to read. Aina’s intellect was no different from a normal person’s; she was a blank slate and learned incredibly fast.

To Leech’s surprise, the low-intellect Red-haired Corpse Ghost, who always trailed after Aina, had also picked up quite a bit. It could understand simple spoken phrases and had even learned many combat techniques from Aina, no longer relying solely on instinct.

Aina had also expressed a desire to see the outside world, but Leech could only reassure her that it wasn’t time yet. A Corpse Ghost appearing in the world of humans would cause too much trouble.

In the distance, the battle for Hebang Village was still raging.

Wado Eighteen himself had probably never imagined that his grand army of tens of thousands would be unable to conquer a single village like Hebang.

Flying high above, Leech surveyed the scene below.

He could see the layout of Hebang Village. Its geography was quite interesting. It sat on a prominent point of land, with a wide, curving, and turbulent river flowing around its left, right, and rear.

The soldiers and militiamen of Hebang Village only needed to erect defenses at the front. With spearmen and shield-infantry holding the line, and archers and crossbowmen firing from the rear, they were in an almost undefeatable position.

Wado Eighteen’s forces had already launched three major assaults in their attempt to take Hebang Village.

’They might have superior numbers, but how do you fight a battle between well-equipped soldiers and farmers who are just throwing rocks?’

Watching their comrades fall row after row, feeling like nothing more than suicidal human targets, the farmers were paralyzed by fear. Those in the front ranks were finally overwhelmed by terror and fled, triggering a stampede.

More men died trampled under the feet of their own comrades than were killed by arrows.

For the second assault, Wado Eighteen’s men sent in soldiers with shields. The shabby Wood Shields managed to block the arrow fire, allowing them to get closer than ever before, packed shoulder to shoulder. But then the Hebang Village soldiers poured oil, and a massive fire blocked their advance.

So Wado Eighteen’s army decided to attack through the water. The current was swift, and the Hebang Village soldiers had already scuttled all usable boats and even destroyed the small pier. This third probing attack only resulted in drowning some of the farmers. The few who could swim and tried to reach the bank were picked off with unerring accuracy, speared to death one by one.

If the stalemate dragged on, Wado Eighteen might eventually win through sheer numbers, but the soldiers of Hebang Village had fought gloriously.

It was a complete rout, a case of well-trained soldiers crushing farmers who only knew how to till the land.

But more important to Leech than the distant war were the preliminary results from the research into the water-powered trip hammer. He rode to the riverbank, spotting a small water wheel from a distance.

On the riverbank sat a massive ”hammer.”

An aged tree trunk, so thick it would take two men to wrap their arms around it, served as the hammer’s handle. The head was a massive anvil, its striking face currently resting on the ground.

Carpenters weren’t the only ones present; blacksmiths were there too. It seemed that after learning the trip hammer was meant to help them, the carpenters had decided to work with the blacksmiths on the project. After all, it was being built for the blacksmiths, so they would know best how it should work.

Leech was pleased with their cooperative spirit.

”My Lord!” a carpenter announced. ”This is the finished product we’ve built.”

”Let’s see a demonstration,” Leech said.

’It’s a little different from what I described, but that doesn’t matter. As long as it uses water power to forge, it’s good enough.’

”Yes, my Lord!”

The water wheel was engaged with the swift current and began to turn.

As the axle rotated, a series of cams would press down on the tail end of the hammer’s long handle, causing the heavy anvil-head to rise.

Once the cam rotated past, the pressure was released, and the massive hammerhead would crash down with the force of gravity.

THUD!

It smashed a deep crater into the ground.

THUD! THUD! THUD! The rhythm was steady.

”What do you think?” Leech asked the blacksmith.

The blacksmith said with heartfelt admiration, ”Your wisdom, my Lord, is more brilliant than the sun!”

Leech didn’t act humbly. ’Excessive modesty can be mistaken for weakness. Besides,’ he thought, ’I’m proud to have brought the wisdom of Earth to this world.’

”Every person who participated in this project,” Leech announced loudly, ”will be rewarded with five Silver Moons!”

”Praise the Lord!”

”Praise the Lord!”

”Praise the Lord!”

The carpenters’ cheers rose in waves. No one was going to turn their nose up at a reward.

Only a lord like Leech would be so generous with his rewards. After all, stinginess was typically considered a necessary virtue for a ruler.

This was only the initial prototype of the trip hammer. It would still need to be modified according to the blacksmiths’ requirements—adjusting its weight, size, speed, and so on.

Leech had already instructed Gelan to arrange for the construction of a dedicated blacksmithing factory out of red brick. All the blacksmiths would work there, forging weapons and armor with more advanced trip hammers. Of course, this was also to ensure the technology wouldn’t be stolen.

”With this, how long will it take you to forge a set of armor?” he asked the blacksmith.

”Maybe one and a half sets in a month?” The blacksmith was a little unsure. ”Maybe two sets.”

That was already very fast. Before, the most they could manage was half a set per month.

But the problem was that Porcupine Territory only had three to five blacksmiths capable of forging weapons. That meant a maximum of ten sets per month. To equip sixty men would take half a year.

’If the blacksmiths spend half a year making just this equipment, what about all the other iron goods? I need more than just armor and weapons. I can’t have them dedicated solely to making armor.’

’Blacksmiths are essential for so many other things.’

Leech asked, ”Can’t simpler forging tasks be given to apprentices?”

”I’m sorry, my Lord,” the blacksmith said, shaking his head. ”You don’t quite understand smithing. An apprentice might be good at one specific task, like Black Ears here in Porcupine Territory, but they can’t forge the kind of lamellar armor a soldier needs for battle. They just don’t have enough experience.”

’Not enough experience...’

Leech stroked the stubble on his chin. He was prone to growing a full beard, his face covered in a fuzzy layer of whiskers, but he always had his valet trim it neatly for him.

”What if each person was only responsible for one part? That way, they could build up experience in that specific area.”

”I’m sorry?” The blacksmith didn’t understand.

Leech patiently explained, ”For example, when forging a Longsword, one person could be responsible for hammering an Iron Ingot into a bar, another for forging that bar into a sword-blank, another for making the guard, another for the hilt, and yet another just for sharpening the blade.”

’Practice makes perfect. They’d accumulate experience much faster this way.’

”But my Lord, a weapon made by several different people would probably be of lower quality than one forged by a single master blacksmith.”

”And that’s where you come in,” Leech said. ”You’ll only need to supervise and teach, not do the hammering yourselves. You’ll be paid for every finished product.”

The blacksmiths’ spirits lifted the moment they heard they would be paid without having to do the physical labor themselves.

Why had they chosen to come to Porcupine Territory in the first place? It was because they’d heard the pay was high and the workload was light.

That’s right. Leech was planning to run the blacksmith factory like an assembly line.

High efficiency, low cost.

’Assembly lines are inhumane, I’ll admit, but as a lord, this will save me a great deal of time and money.’

’I don’t have master blacksmiths, but if I break the process down into smaller and smaller steps, so small that each person is only responsible for one or two, even an apprentice can easily master it. I may not have skilled artisans, but I don’t lack for laborers. My manpower problem would be solved just like that. And apprentices are far cheaper than master blacksmiths!’

The proposal quickly gained the unanimous approval of the blacksmiths. The apprentices were even more enthusiastic, raising both hands in agreement.

By a strange twist of fate, because Leech had offered them a commission on each item, the master blacksmiths were now eager to take on more ”assembly line” apprentices. The more that was produced, the more they earned, all without having to worry about their personal techniques being stolen. They became even more invested in the idea than Leech himself.

After all, one can’t become a master blacksmith by only knowing how to sharpen a blade or make a sword guard.

Leech carefully calculated the costs.

A full set of lamellar armor for a Porcupine Territory infantryman, including a weapon, was typically priced at 2 Jinri. The material costs for such a set were around 50 to 80 Silver Moons.

The rest was labor cost. Forging one full set took about two months, yielding a profit of 1.5 Jinri. That meant earning 150 Silver Moons over 60 days, an average of just 2.5 Silver Moons per day.

The profit margin seemed staggering. After all, a maid working in the castle earned only 5 copper stars a day, and even the butler, Simon, only made 2 Silver Moons and 100 copper stars a month.

But a man is not a machine. Swinging a hammer nonstop to create everything from the individual lamella plates to the arm guards, swords, boots, and helmets was immensely taxing.

Realistically, two months for a full set of armor was the absolute fastest a blacksmith could work, as they always had other jobs to do. Furthermore, there were very few elite soldiers who wore heavy armor these days, especially in the Linta Bay area, so orders for full sets were almost nonexistent.

For each set of armor produced, Leech would give the supervising blacksmith a 10 Silver Moon commission. They wouldn’t have to swing a hammer; they just had to teach and oversee the work.

If they wished to forge some weapons themselves, Leech would still purchase them at the standard market price.

The blacksmiths could earn a pure profit without having to do any of the manual labor.

With more hands, the work would be faster. The higher the production volume, the higher the total profit.

The apprentices responsible for each step would earn 1 Silver Moon for each completed set, as long as they did their job properly. It was still hard labor, but it paid more than other jobs, so the apprentices had no reason to complain.

The master blacksmiths carefully broke the work down into 20 distinct steps. This meant the total payout for apprentice labor on the assembly line was 20 Silver Moons per set.

Adding together the costs for materials, apprentice labor, fuel like firewood and charcoal, and the master blacksmiths’ commission, Leech’s final cost per set was at most 100 Silver Moons. If he could negotiate a good purchase price for iron ore from Iron Stone City, the cost could be reduced even further, potentially down to 80 or 90 Silver Moons per set.

The cost was slashed from 2 Jinri down to 100 Silver Moons. The blacksmiths and apprentices of Porcupine Territory much preferred this new model, as everyone was earning more money.

Not only did Leech save money, but he also dramatically increased production efficiency.

The quality might be slightly inferior to a set crafted by a single master blacksmith, but that didn’t matter. The cost-effectiveness was simply too high.

Multiple problems solved with one stroke!

Amidst this joyous atmosphere, Porcupine Territory’s assembly-line blacksmithing factory was quickly constructed and began its trial operations.