novelraw Chapter 270: Monarch and Commander
Chapter 270: Monarch and Commander
With the situation in Ireland stabilized, Wigg ordered the conscripted militia to stay behind and construct a wooden fort. The following day, he led the standing army and the Royal Guard toward Dyfflin.
Worried that West Francia might invade at any moment, Wigg did not linger in Dyfflin. He immediately boarded a ship for Liverpool, returning to his loyal island of Britain.
Upon disembarking, Wigg sought out Fridleif. "How does it feel, experiencing the first war of your life?"
"The vast majority of our energy was spent on marching and making camp," Fridleif replied. "The actual clash between the two armies lasted for a very short time; it ended in the blink of an eye. Overall, the army's rules are strict and overly complicated. I felt like I was stuck in a room with no windows—dull and suffocating."
Wigg said, "In large-scale military operations, military discipline is paramount. From the lowest soldier to the supreme commander, everyone must fulfill their duties. Take the recent Siege of Magdeburg, for example. Niels relaxed his guard for just a moment, and Carloman immediately seized upon that flaw. Over the course of a single night, the fruits of twenty years of his hard work vanished into thin air."
Sighing over his old friend's misfortune, Wigg's mood dipped slightly. He gazed out at the vast sea of sails dotting the River Mersey and posed a crucial question:
"You are the crown prince, and one day you will be the king. After experiencing all of this, do you know how to be a good king?"
"To be just?" Fridleif guessed.
Wigg shook his head. "Everyone stands in a different position and has a different definition of justice. What you consider to be just might be viewed as pure tyranny by others."
Fridleif hesitated before offering, "Strong command ability?""Yes, but also no," Wigg replied. "As the founding monarch, I naturally cannot avoid fighting wars. But as a successor, you can choose to take the battlefield yourself, or you can appoint a commander to lead the expedition. The prerequisite, however, is being able to accurately judge their abilities and loyalty.
I do not expect you to become a top-tier general, but you must at least be familiar with the flow of war and be capable of selecting outstanding commanders. As for whether they are loyal, that relies entirely on your observation and judgment. As a king, you cannot handle every single matter personally. The key lies in observing carefully, thinking diligently, and placing the right people in the right positions."
Upon returning to Londinium, Heregyth caught sight of the exhausted, emaciated figure trailing behind Wigg. She froze for a few seconds before realizing it was her eldest son.
In that moment, she finally understood how Breda must have felt when welcoming Leif back. She threw her arms around her eldest son and wept for a while, before ordering the servants to prepare a lavish feast.
Faced with dishes he had not tasted in three months, Fridleif did not hesitate. He immediately went for the roasted goose sitting closest to him. The skin was perfectly crisp, and the moment his knife and fork sliced open the bird's belly, the secret sauce stuffed inside released a rich, mouthwatering aroma. He tore off a large chunk of the meat and chewed vigorously, quickly following it up with lamprey and goat cheese—all his absolute favorites.
The only annoyance was his younger brother Frede pestering him relentlessly, repeatedly asking for details of the battles and occasionally demanding a gift. This prompted the third son, Greger, to clap his tiny hands and mumble the word "gift" over and over.
"First of all, I didn't actually charge into battle to hack people down," Fridleif explained. "Second, my wages and combat allowances added together amount to a pitiful ten silver pennies. What could I possibly buy with that little money?"
After explaining for a long time, Fridleif suddenly had a stroke of inspiration. He fished two uniquely patterned conch shells out of his pocket to fool the boys.
"Alright, these are Druidic holy relics I found in some ruins on the western coast. They are said to contain a kind of lost nature magic. One for each of you."
At the head of the table, Wigg finished the lamprey meat in his bowl and stood up to leave. "Take your time eating. I need to get back to work."
Returning to his office, he found a dozen crates of documents piled in the corner. During his absence, the Queen and the Cabinet had taken charge of state affairs. Although they hadn't caused any messes, Wigg felt it was necessary to review everything himself. "Personnel affairs, financial status, regional security, construction progress..."
Scanning the labels on each crate, Wigg singled out the one dedicated to technological breakthroughs. Inside lay five reports. The two most important ones came from Londinium University, detailing the formulation of a new dye and the creation of a treadwheel crane.
He pulled out the first report and read it carefully. According to the students' experiments, applying the substance extracted from madder roots directly yielded a pale yellow hue. However, by treating it with various mordants, they could achieve crimson, brownish-red, purplish-red, orange-red, and other shades, enabling the production of high-end red fabrics.
Over the following five pages, the students meticulously recorded the step-by-step dyeing process. They also listed the exorbitant market prices for red fabrics, demonstrating the immense potential profitability of this technique.
Unfortunately, the Minister of Agriculture and Education, Kemi Wildfire, noted a significant drawback at the end of the report. He had attempted to cultivate madder early on, but the plant was completely unsuited to the Kingdom's climate. The only option was to import dried madder roots from the Mediterranean Sea.
'The Mediterranean region?'
Wigg's thoughts drifted to the Canary Islands, which possessed a similar climate. However, the locals there were busy growing sugarcane, with grapes and citrus fruits taking second priority. He doubted they could spare the manpower or land to cultivate madder.
After pondering for a moment, he decided to have the university contact the major textile workshops and the Canary Islands. He would let the three parties negotiate a collaboration. Whether they could turn a profit in the future would depend entirely on their own capabilities.
Wigg retrieved another report regarding the textile industry from a different crate. Over the course of their prolonged conflicts, his privateers had captured a total of ten dyers from Flandre. By acquiring these "scarce" talents, the textile workshops had seen a significant improvement in their color-mixing and dyeing techniques, enabling them to produce mid-tier blue and yellow fabrics.
In the first half of the year alone, the patent royalties and taxes generated by the textile industry had exceeded two thousand five hundred pounds, and the industry's scale was still expanding rapidly...
Stifling a yawn, Wigg pulled out the file on the treadwheel crane. Flipping to the end, he noted the students' claim that they had constructed a working prototype at the southern docks, and that it was functioning perfectly.
'A crane?'
He rushed to the site personally and found a wooden crane standing about twelve meters tall at the docks. At its base was a massive treadwheel, roughly five meters in diameter, fitted with internal steps and driven by the walking motion of two workers.
"It looks a bit like a pet hamster wheel from later generations," Wigg muttered.
Wigg chose a spot with a good vantage point. At that moment, a Knarr ship was unloading its cargo. On the deck, workers used iron hooks to secure a large net, which held roughly two tons of goods inside.
Soon after, the treadwheel began to turn at a steady pace, slowly hauling the net upward. Once it reached a certain height, the horizontal jib swung around, transferring the suspended net directly over a rail cart.
"The position is off, bring it closer to my side! Good, right there. Drop it!"
Upon receiving the foreman's signal, the treadwheel reversed its rotation, slowly paying out the cable and settling the cargo securely into the carriage of the rail cart.
Pulled by two draft horses, the loaded rail cart departed the unloading zone. Immediately after, another empty rail cart arrived in its place, waiting to receive the next batch of cargo.
"A fine invention. It seems my investments in education have been well worth it." In excellent spirits, Wigg decided to promote the treadwheel crane at the bustling ports of Teyne Town and Edinburgh. Once people witnessed its efficiency, it wouldn't be long before Dover, Southampton, Mancunium, and Dyfflin requested permission to use it as well.