As Wei Wei had anticipated, the children in the church were all excited when they heard that the Countess had arranged work for them.
These were precocious children who had learned the hardships of life early on. While some might have picked up bad habits they shouldn't have, none of the truly lazy or gluttonous ones would have lived to reach their age.
The girls, having been sold off by their families—some even kicked out the very next day to avoid "wasting" the food they were traded for—could not have been favored at home. They had undoubtedly been doing household chores from a young age.
The few boys among them were no different. Those with families were not pampered, and those without had to fend for themselves. Without effort, they wouldn't have survived this long.
Now, though they were living as serfs in Sardinson County, they were well-fed, warmly clothed, and even given the chance to learn. This life was nothing like what serfs should expect—it was more akin to what children from wealthy families enjoyed.
So they cherished this opportunity. Had they been left idle for too long, some might have grown complacent, taking it for granted. But since they had only arrived a few days ago, they were still uneasy. Having work to do puts their minds at ease.
Following Wei Wei's orders, Qin—who took turns with Father Matthew to teach the children—organized them after lunch and led them to the castle.
Everything there was already prepared. Washing vegetables in winter was no easy task, as the freshly drawn water was bone-chillingly cold. Had it been adults accustomed to such work, Wei Wei might not have paid much attention, perhaps just giving them some hand salve afterward to prevent severe chapping. The cold hands would have been unavoidable. But with children involved, her heart softened. She specifically instructed the kitchen to heat water for them, mixing it with well water to wash the beetroots. Though the temperature wouldn't be high, at least it wouldn't freeze their hands.
Once they realized the water wasn't too cold, the younger children took over the washing, while the older girls handled slicing the beetroots. They weren't required to do it perfectly—just not too coarsely.
The children worked diligently. With over two hundred of them gathered in the open space behind the kitchen, they managed to slice thousands of pounds of beetroots in just an afternoon. However, the number of slaves and cauldrons for boiling sugar was limited, making it impossible to process all the beetroots at once. So after two hours of work, once the day's quota was met, they were allowed to rest.
The children, thinking they would return to the church after finishing, were surprised when Qin emerged from the sugar-boiling room carrying a towering plate.
"Line up, everyone. Come and take one piece each."
The plate held beet sugar cubes—though, unlike the ones to be distributed to the villagers, these were much smaller, about the size of modern milk candies.
The children, well-behaved and used to queuing, quickly formed a line at Qin's instruction.
At the front was a girl around ten years old. She took a dark brown sugar cube as instructed but had no idea what it was. It smelled sweet, like the aroma wafting from bakeries.
Unable to resist, she licked it. Sweetness was a universally beloved taste. Even those who claimed to dislike sweets likely developed that aversion from overindulgence—no one disliked it at first encounter.
With just one lick, the burst of sweetness brought an overwhelming sense of happiness.
The girl couldn't help but smile blissfully. "Teacher Qin, what is this? It's so sweet."
It was sweeter than the ripest berries she'd tasted during harvest season.
"It's sugar. A reward from the Countess. Do you like it?"
"Yes! It's so sweet and delicious! The best thing ever!" The girl nodded vigorously.
The children behind her grew restless upon hearing this. Sugar! They'd never tasted it but had always heard adults speak of its wonders.
The next child eagerly stepped forward, took a piece, and licked it—just as sweet as described!
For children, sweetness was the ultimate temptation. None could resist sugar.
One by one, the children received their share. Some impatient ones popped it straight into their mouths, while others savored it slowly, licking it occasionally to make it last.
The winter weather kept the sugar from melting easily, but Qin still warned them, "These will melt if they get too warm, so if you're not eating them now, keep them away from heat."
Children who had been about to tuck the sugar into their clothes quickly pulled it out.
Qin added, "Don't worry if you finish it today. The Countess said you'll get a piece every day you come to help."
The Countess was so kind.
Remembering the young noblewoman they'd only met once, the children couldn't help but admire and revere her even more.
Meanwhile, the "kind" Countess had felt a pang of guilt earlier when she saw the bustling crowd of children working in the castle's open space.
Child labor was illegal—though no such law existed yet.
After silently observing from upstairs to ensure the children were handling the work well, Wei Wei retreated to Felix's study to help with paperwork.
The backlog of winter affairs was immense, especially with Sardinson County's ongoing development—road construction, factory buildings, production in workshops, and trade with foreign merchants—all requiring Felix's attention.
Moreover, the new planting season in March was approaching, and before that, Felix needed to finalize this year's crop arrangements for the county's farmland.
In previous years, Felix could have simply let the stewards follow tradition. But this year was different. Sardinson's new industries required ample raw materials, and to balance development with ensuring sufficient food reserves, crop adjustments were necessary.
Fortunately, since last year, the use of fertilizer had allowed previously fallow land to remain productive, increasing the cultivable area by a third. More land meant greater harvests in autumn. Additionally, vast stretches of undeveloped wasteland in Sardinson belonged to the Williams family, and reclamation could be encouraged if needed.
Wei Wei assisted Felix specifically with farming-related matters—her expertise surpassed him, especially concerning the new crop varieties she had introduced.
Of course, Wei Wei's seed stock was limited, so adjustments wouldn't be drastic. Wheat would remain the primary crop.
But with more land available, another pressing issue arose:
"We don't have enough people to farm all this land."
Though different crops had varying planting schedules, allowing labor to be staggered, the serfs and free tenants were already working the maximum acreage they could manage.
"The new serfs can take on a bit more, but not much," Wei Wei scribbled calculations. "People from Dingle and the other two towns aren't suitable either—they have their land and jobs in the pasta and meat sauce factories. They can't take on additional fieldwork. So, have there been any migrants from other regions recently?"
"Not yet." Felix, having reviewed migration reports, explained, "The road construction crew brought many laborers, but they're here to earn money, not settle. Merchants are even less likely to farm. If they open shops here in the future, that's one thing, but we can't expect them to till the land."
"So, no way to supplement labor?"
"Not for now," Felix admitted. "Winter hinders communication. Most outsiders probably don't even know we're recruiting. Even if merchants spread the word, migrants wouldn't travel in this season. Any free tenants arriving would likely come after spring."
And even then, it was possible no one would come—spring was planting season, and missing it meant losing a year's harvest. Most landowners would be too busy to relocate.
So it was best not to get their hopes up.
Wei Wei sighed. "If we can't get more workers, we'll have to adjust the crops."
Leaving land fallow was out of the question, but planting low-maintenance crops like fast-growing vegetables or fruit trees was feasible.
Felix added, "It's not entirely hopeless. I've contacted several slave traders—they should bring people in spring."
"Let's not count on uncertain factors. I'll plan based on current manpower." Wei Wei continued writing. "Also, in March, while sowing oats and barley, the winter wheat will enter its regreening phase and need additional fertilizer. The workload will be massive. Could you ask the road crew to pause and help? Pay them the same wages."
Winter wheat requires nitrogen-rich fertilizer. Without synthetic options, the manure collected since last year—now fermented—would suffice, as it contained nitrogen and other essential nutrients.
By now, Sardinson's serfs had fully accepted manure fertilization. Even other nobles and free tenants in the county understood its benefits. Excrement was no longer seen littering roads—any trace was quickly snatched up. Some barons even forbade their serfs from collecting it privately, demanding it be handed over for their fields.
Sardinson was more lenient. Though the Earl's land took priority, they purchased excess manure from serfs and resold the processed fertilizer at fair prices, breaking even while ensuring everyone had access.
"That shouldn't be a problem. I'll talk to Nissen." The workers wouldn't mind—road construction was harder labor anyway.
"But the fertilizer method might leak."
Wei Wei shrugged. "It was never meant to be a secret. If neighboring yields increase, we might even get cheaper wheat in the future. And higher production means more for the pasta factory to buy."
Sardinson's wheat output alone couldn't sustain the factory's demand, so external purchases were inevitable.
Felix nodded, dropping the issue.
To finalize the planting plan, Wei Wei toured their lands the next day by carriage, questioning stewards in each serf village.
The stewards, initially nervous at her sudden appearance, relaxed when they realized she only wanted farming updates.
By the time she finished her rounds, the new plan was nearly complete.
Most fields would follow traditional rotations of beans, barley, and oats. The previously fallow land would now be cultivated—either reassigned to other tenants or reclaimed as demesne.
For demesne land, Wei Wei would decide the crops, but that depended on how much was returned. The priority was resolving the fallow land issue.
The changes were soon posted as notices and serfs were informed by stewards. Most existing tenants chose to return portions of fallow land they couldn't manage, though not all—so overall, each household still farmed more than before.
Unexpectedly, free tenants from other baronies within Sardinson County came to the castle to apply for land.
It seemed that while they hadn't attracted outsiders, they were drawing internal labor.
This made sense. The Williams family had always treated tenants better than other nobles. Previously, with no extra land, free tenants had no choice but to rent from others. Now, with the Earl offering more, they rushed over—even if it meant relocating.
For these landless free tenants, moving wasn't a major hurdle. Building new huts was simple, and being near Sardinson Castle meant off-season work opportunities—far better than other baronies.
Needing laborers, Felix gladly approved their applications, even allocating them non-arable wasteland for housing—free of charge.
This perk, aimed at the first wave of migrants, sparked a frenzy.
Other hesitant free tenants soon flocked to the castle, asking if they too could get free homesteads.
The steward, following Felix's instructions, patiently explained: "Yes, based on family size. Current standards are 70 square meters for three or fewer members, 90 for four, 100 for five, and 110 for six or more."
This system, adapted from modern rural land allocations, was designed to attract labor. Whether it undermined the barons' interests didn't matter—they weren't allies anyway.
The free tenants were stunned. Free land? Even if they didn't own it, the size alone surpassed what most had now—some didn't even have that much.
They'd expected to pay rent or taxes for housing. This was beyond their wildest dreams.
With careful planning, they could even reserve space for vegetable gardens—untaxed, despite the land's classification as wasteland.
Disbelieving at first, they only accepted it after repeated confirmations.
Then came the rush.
"Steward, register me first! My family has six!"
"No, I was here first!"
"Quiet!" The steward banged a stick on the table. "Line up! Anyone causing trouble gets thrown out!"
The registration area, inside the castle gates, soon drew the attention of patrolling knights, who stepped in to maintain order.
Faced with armed soldiers, the free tenants quickly fell in line.
Overwhelmed, the steward asked a knight, "Sir, could you send for Butler Barton? I need more help."
The knight, Sir Kingsley, didn't summon the butler. Instead, he and his squire—both literate—assisted with registrations.
He noticed the steward wasn't using parchment but white paper, bound into ledgers with pre-printed forms. This was the same paper Countess Wei used—reportedly custom-made, more convenient than parchment.
Kingsley wasn't helping out of kindness. He had ulterior motives: his second son, lacking knightly or mercantile talent, needed a livelihood. With free homesteads available, he considered registering himself—perhaps buying slaves to work the land.
By European standards, this was generous. Eldest sons inherited; the rest fended for themselves. A father securing his child's future was already exceptional.