Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 334: Chapter 21: The Blacksmith and the Roast Pig_2

“Don’t say that,” Berlion whispered, his brief words slipping out.

The young blacksmith was quiet and sparing with his words, spending most of his time immersed in his work without a sound. If there wasn’t any work, he would just sit on the chair in the corner, staring at the furnace.

“There is no need to be modest. Excessive modesty is a form of arrogance. With your skills, if you went to Sea Blue, you could have orders lined up until next year,” Winters said casually. “I still don’t know where your hometown is? Berlion.”

“To the north.”

“The Empire?”

“Yes.”

“Where in the Empire?”

The young blacksmith raised his head to meet Winters’s gaze for a moment before quickly lowering it again: “Solingen.”

“You are from Steel Castle? Little Berlion, I had no idea!” exclaimed the old blacksmith, surprised. “No wonder your craftsmanship is so good, coming from the famed blacksmiths of Steel Castle.”

Winters had heard a little about the renown of Steel Castle Solingen. He smiled and asked, “Steel Castle is quite far from here, so how did you end up in Paratu?”

Before the young blacksmith could speak, Old Misha interjected, “The lad is a Protestant; he was not well received in the north.”

Berlion nodded.

“Sigh!” Old Misha slapped his thigh, his voice tinged with sorrow, “Every few years they find an excuse to persecute the Protestants over there. When I was in service of the old emperor, I was also ordered to do such things. Sigh, in those days, I was young and would chop down without distinction, sigh…”

The older blacksmith grew increasingly upset as he spoke. The young blacksmith stopped his work and shook his head gently to signify “it’s alright.”

Winters asked further, “Did any family come with you?”

“My brother.”

“And he’s not a blacksmith?”

“He works as a laborer for the Bunting family.”

No useful information was gleaned from the conversation. But the source of Sofia’s dagger wasn’t of particular concern to Winters. Sea Blue was a world away; what good would it do to find out?

“Please come for your sword tomorrow,” Berlion said.

Winters was somewhat surprised, “Isn’t it almost done? Can’t you finish it today?”

“The guard needs polishing, the balance needs grinding,” the young blacksmith explained briefly. “I will work through the night; you can come collect it tomorrow.”

“Polishing is meticulous work, the fees for polishing can sometimes be more expensive than the armor itself,” the old blacksmith added from the side. “You should head back now; this lad will definitely get it done for you.”

The sky had darkened, and leaving town alongside Winters was Old Misha. The older blacksmith’s home was in Dusa Village, and he rode back and forth on horseback every day. The young blacksmith, meanwhile, lived and slept at the forge and also looked after the shop.

…

When Winters returned to the Mitchell estate, he saw its lights glowing from afar. The normally quiet estate after sunset was bustling with activity tonight.

As the weather grew cooler, it was the last tobacco harvest season for the Mitchell estate.

In the Newly Reclaimed Land, due to climatic reasons, tobacco needed to be harvested in three stages. The first two involved picking only portions of the leaves, while the third harvest involved picking all the remaining leaves.

For the Mitchell estate, tobacco harvest season was the most important time of the year.

Apart from a small portion reserved for growing food crops, the rest of the Mitchell’s more than two hundred hectares of land was devoted to tobacco cultivation.

Taxes, wages, purchasing seeds… the operation of the Mitchell estate relied entirely on tobacco. Therefore, the tobacco yield determined the estate’s income for the entire year.

The harvest of the tobacco leaves was a backbreaking and tiring task, and speed was of the essence.

It was now September, and frost could occur at any time. Once the tobacco was frosted over, the year’s crop would be ruined.

So when the tobacco leaves ripened, harvesters had to work as fast as possible to pick them while they were still perfect.

The picked tobacco also had to be quickly tied, dried, and stored, otherwise the quality would be affected.

That’s why during tobacco harvest season, the Mitchell estate operated around the clock. Everyone, from the owners to the servants to the laborers, men and women alike, had to work in the fields.

Even Pierre, who was usually idle, was dutifully plucking tobacco leaves in the fields.

It wasn’t just Mitchell estate toilers hard at work in the fields; many villagers from the five villages under the jurisdiction of Wolf Town also came to help.

Apart from the Mitchell estate, other tobacco-growing estates also mostly harvested during these days.

To recruit more hands, the estates offered high wages to the helping farmers.

Therefore, tobacco harvest season was a rare opportunity for the farmers of Wolf Town to earn extra money, with men and women, young and old, pouring out from every village.

It was already night, but bonfires burned in the fields as people continued to work.

The division of labor during the entire harvesting process was clear. Those working in the fields would break the tobacco leaves from the plants in one piece, load them onto carts, and transport them to the curing barns.@@novelbin@@

Individual leaves were then tied into bundles with thin twine outside the curing barns and hung on wooden racks. Binding tobacco required even more skill than picking it, and only handy women were up to the task.

Thus, there were virtually no men seen working outside the barns. The speed of the women was incredible, with twine flying between their fingers. Onlookers could not keep up with their movements, as they quickly tied off one row after another.

Neatly hung tobacco leaves were sent into the curing barns to dry, a process in which copious amounts of coal were used without stint.

Inside the curing barns, only men were left working as the heat inside was intense. The workers, nearly naked, climbed up and down the ladders, a sight unfit for women to witness.

Still, even without any clothes, those responsible for curing the tobacco leaves could only stay in the barns for a short while; otherwise, they risked suffocation.

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