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◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 17: The Heretic King (3)

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The village beneath Sternberg Castle had once been home to the people of Sternberg.

Now, it lay shrouded in bleak silence, like one enormous tomb.

The acrid stench of burning stung my nose. Where the flames had passed, only blackened pillars rose like grotesque ribs. Broken bowls without owners and melted farm tools lay buried beneath the ashes that covered the road.

"Oh, what are we supposed to do now...?"

An unnamed woman sat collapsed in stunned despair, and the woman's lament scattered on the wind. The people's eyes held nothing but deep loss and helplessness after losing their homes.

Yet from atop my horse, I saw something entirely different.

'This might actually be for the best.'

It might sound cruel, but it was true.

Medieval villages were the very definition of inefficiency and filth.

Winding alleys spread haphazardly like amoebas, without plan or order. Muddy streets reeking of human and animal waste. Crude wooden houses that could burn to the ground in an instant from a single stray spark.

Now, all of it had vanished in the fire. The old had fallen away, leaving me with the perfect chance to build something new.

There was no better place to draw than a blank canvas.

"Is there anyone here who knows anything about construction? A stonemason, a carpenter, even someone with experience digging wells. Step forward."

Murmurs spread among the people.

After a moment, a bent old man timidly emerged from the crowd.

'Wait, I know that face.'

He was the old man who had asked me about bread and lodging when I declared that I would take responsibility for the refugees after the battle.

"Th-this humble one is called Štěpán. In my youth, I helped build the village well and church. I know a little about working with stone."

The hands he held out were covered in calluses, rough as tree bark from a lifetime of working stone.

I nodded with satisfaction.

"Štěpán, I need your experience from now on."

I took Štěpán and several able-bodied men to the lot that had once been the village center. The people, not knowing what was happening, followed behind us with uneasy eyes.

Scratch, scratch.

Using a long branch I had prepared beforehand, I began scratching at the ash-covered ground.

Black ash gave way to red earth. Before long, a straight, orderly grid began to take shape on the ground.

The people could only stare in confusion as their lord drew a strange picture in the dirt.

"This is what the new Sternberg will look like."

I tapped the largest square at the center of the drawing with the end of my branch.

"This will be the square, where markets will be held and festivals celebrated. From here, broad, straight roads will extend north, south, east, and west, wide enough for two wagons to pass side by side."

"You're... making roads on purpose?"

Confused murmurs broke out everywhere.

To them, a road was simply a trail formed by people walking over the same ground. It was not something to be planned and built.

Ignoring them, I pointed to the narrow lines between the grids.

"Behind every house, we will dig channels. One will be an aqueduct carrying clean water from the spring on the hill. The other will be a sewer, gathering waste from the houses and carrying it out of the village."

"A... a sewer?"

Štěpán's eyes widened.

"You're saying you'll make a separate channel to collect and dispose of waste? We could just dump it on the road or let it flow into the river..."

For an old man who had spent his life scattering excrement across fields and roadsides, it was a world-shaking idea.

I firmly shook my head.

"That is how we keep the village clean and prevent epidemics. Rotten water and waste are the source of all disease. No one in my domain should die because of dirty water again."

The people stirred at my declaration.

Their lord cared about the hygiene of serfs? Yet the real shock came next.

"Every house will be built straight, following this grid. We will no longer make walls from branches and straw. We will build them from hard bricks that resist fire."

The area fell silent, as if doused with cold water.

After a long pause, Pavel the potter rushed forward, his face pale.

"My lord! Bricks? Aren't brick houses for churches and noblemen? How could lowly people like us dare live in such precious homes? And where would we get enough bricks for all of them?"

I let out a small laugh at Pavel's flustered expression.

"Pavel, do you remember the earth you dug out while trying to make Refractory bricks? The mountain of clay you stripped away to get the Kaolin."

Kaolin, a key material for the Blast furnace, lay deep beneath the clay layer. The ordinary clay removed to reach it had been left piled up like a mountain.

Pavel blinked.

"You mean to fire that useless clay? But my lord, do you know how much precious firewood it would take to fire all of it? The cost would outweigh the benefit!"

"The cost would outweigh the benefit, hm?"

Despite Pavel's worried complaint, I deliberately assumed a relaxed smile and turned my gaze toward the thick forest behind the village, dense with dark green foliage.

"Pavel, what do you see over there?"

I pointed toward the ridge. Pavel blinked, not understanding.

"Eh? That is... your forest, my lord."

His voice instinctively grew quieter.

In the Middle Ages, forests belonged to the lord. Anyone who entered without permission to hunt or swing an axe would immediately have their wrist cut off or be hanged. That was the law of the land and common sense.

To them, that forest was not a land of abundance, but an untouchable sanctuary.

I only shrugged.

"Wrong. That is firewood."

"...Pardon?"

"Isn't that mountain covered in trees? It is the finest fuel, a forest so overgrown from centuries of neglect that its wood is rotting away."

The moment Pavel understood my meaning, his face turned white. The people around him also stood with their mouths open in shock.

Štěpán spoke, his deeply wrinkled face trembling.

"M-my lord! Surely you jest! That is the hunting preserve cherished by the previous lords! If people like us dared lay an axe to that sacred forest, heaven's punishment... no, the law of the land would take our heads!"

I clicked my tongue at their trembling. Why should people be so afraid of a few trees?

With a firm expression, I looked them directly in the eye.

"The law of the land? I am the law of this land."

The chilling declaration silenced everyone as though cold water had been thrown over them. It was an undeniable truth.

Within a lord's domain, the lord's word was law. Until now, those words might have been used for exploitation, but that would change from this day forward.

"And Štěpán, you are mistaken about something. My most valuable property is not a few pieces of wood."

Slowly, I looked over the burned village and the people standing atop its ashes.

"Trees can be cut down, and new saplings can be planted next year. In ten years, they will form a forest. In thirty years, they will become great trees. But..."

My gaze met the eyes of the hungry, exhausted people.

"Once people are lost, they never return. No power can bring back those who freeze to death or die from an epidemic."

"Ah..."

A sigh escaped from someone in the crowd.

"So cut them down. All that we need."

I gave the order without hesitation.

"Cut the trees from that forest and fuel the kilns. Use that fire to make bricks, then build the houses you will live in. Rather than see my people sleep shivering in the cold, I would sooner watch Sternberg's forest become a barren mountain. That is my will."

No one spoke. Rather, they could not.

Their faces were full of boundless respect and awe for their lord.

But I was not finished.

"From this point on, every measurement of length in the Sternberg domain will follow this standard."

I raised the birch rod I had been holding. It had been cut to exactly one meter.

"This rod will be called one meter. A thousand of these rods will be one kilometer, and one small division made by dividing this rod into one hundred parts will be called one centimeter."

"Meter, kilometer, centimeter...?"

"Correct. From now on, cut and make every brick and piece of timber according to this standard. Then the materials will all be the same size, no matter who makes them, and houses will go up far faster than they do now."

Units of length in this age differed from place to place and era to era.

With vague standards based on the length of a king's arm, the span of a hand, or an adult's stride, every building depended on a craftsman's rough estimates and instinct.

It was the height of inefficiency.

Štěpán bent down and examined the rod in my hand for a long while.

His eyes studied everything about it, from its length and thickness to the grain of the wood.

"My lord, this old head of mine cannot quite understand... Are you saying that everything will be measured with this single rod?"

"Yes. This rod will become Sternberg's new handspan and new inch."

I looked around at the people.

"Is Jakub here?"

"Yes, my lord."

Jakub the carpenter immediately stepped out from the crowd.

I pointed at a piece of timber lying nearby.

"Measure that log five times with this rod, then cut it."

Jakub tilted his head, then accepted the rod from me and carefully marked the length on the log. He picked up a saw and cut along the mark.

"Now bring the other log beside it and cut it the same way."

Jakub cut the second log in the same manner. I told him to stand the two pieces of timber side by side.

"...!"

Low exclamations rose from the crowd. The two logs were exactly the same length, as though they had come from the same tree.

Normally, a carpenter would have cut them by eye and instinct. Their lengths would have differed slightly, requiring more trimming to fit them together.

"Do you see? We no longer need to compare and shave down timber every time. As long as we measure it with this rod, anyone can make hundreds, even thousands, of pieces of timber the same length, no matter when they cut them."

At my explanation, a faint light appeared in Štěpán's eyes. He had spent his life working stone.

No one understood better than him how much labor it took to trim and fit other stones around a single stone before it could be laid.

"Then... the same would apply to bricks. If every brick were fired to the same size..."

"Yes. Walls will rise much faster than they do now. Even without a skilled stonemason, anyone strong enough to carry bricks will be able to build a straight wall."

A young man raised their hand and asked.

"My lord! Then if I have that rod, can I help with a carpenter's work too?"

"Of course. Anyone can cut, measure, and stack. You only need to trust and follow this rod."

As soon as I finished speaking, a faint energy began to rise across the worksite. A tiny spark had lit in the eyes of people who had been drowning in despair.

I handed the rod I had been holding to Jakub.

"Jakub. This is one meter. It will become the standard for everything, so make dozens of rulers exactly like it and distribute them among the people."

Jakub received the rod with a solemn expression.

"Yes, my lord! This Jakub swears on a carpenter's honor that I will make them without the slightest error!"

Once again, I pointed to the blueprint drawn across the ashes.

"This is not simply rebuilding a village. It is the first step in building a new Sternberg. Štěpán, from today onward, you are in charge of all construction. Manage all materials and assign the workers according to the rod I gave you. I trust your experience."

"Y-yes, my lord! This old man will work with the resolve to bury his bones here!"

Moved by my trust, Štěpán's eyes welled up as he bowed.

Before long, the sound of timber being cut to standard lengths and earth being dug echoed throughout the domain.

Then it happened.

Urgent hoofbeats cut through the noise of the worksite. János Hunyadi rode up in a cloud of dust and sharply pulled the reins before me.

"My lord!"

"What is it?"

János leaped from his horse, panting as he held out a leather case.

"A letter has arrived from Prague!"

The case bore a clear red wax seal, the symbol of Prague City Council.

Footnotes:

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