Greg, who had been worried, let out a sigh of relief. Michael continued, "Produce 5,000 spearheads and shields within a month. That should be manageable, right?"
Greg nodded confidently. While quality might have dropped after establishing the production line, the speed of manufacturing had increased dramatically.
"Later, I'll bring in high-quality iron. That's when I'll need you and the master blacksmiths to forge it yourselves," Michael added. "We'll be using those items for our own troops."
Greg's eyes sparkled at the discreet order. Supervising had kept his hands itching for work, so he was more than ready. "Leave it to me. I'm confident we'll do a great job."
Pleased, Michael patted Greg's shoulder and handed him a prepared bonus. Accepting the reward with a broad smile, Greg and the other blacksmiths felt motivated to push production even further.
Michael's mind, however, was teeming with thoughts. There was still so much to do. While the immediate priority was ramping up production of basic weapons for wartime needs, his long-term goal was to shift focus to improved agricultural tools.
Lost in thought, Michael left the forge and headed toward Baron Kensington's residence. He would need the baron's network of connections to achieve his goals.
Baron Kensington followed Michael into the makeshift armory. Inside, stacks of spearheads and shields filled the space, a testament to the recent production efforts. While the quality left much to be desired, the sheer volume overwhelmed the baron.
After a lengthy negotiation, Michael agreed to provide 200 weapons as an introductory commission. In return, Baron Kensington promised to connect him with potential buyers and receive a 1% cut of the sales revenue.
The production cost for each spearhead, excluding the shaft, was about one silver coin, while swords and shields cost six silvers each. Since Michael couldn't personally act as a traveling merchant, and involving regular traders would cut into profits, it was more advantageous to leverage Baron Kensington's influence, even if it meant taking an initial loss.
Baron Kensington, a prominent figure in the northeastern provinces, wasted no time. As soon as the contract was signed, he mounted his griffin and soared away. Not long after, he returned with three nobles in tow.
In the current market, iron weapons sold by merchants were of excellent quality but prohibitively expensive and scarce. This made Michael's lower-quality weapons highly appealing. Even basic iron-tipped spears provided a significant combat advantage to serf soldiers who would otherwise rely on wooden weapons.
With war against the Pamir Empire on the horizon, the demand for affordable weapons was undeniable. The entire stock of arms was sold out in no time. Watching this unfold, Michael resolved to expedite production further. While he had anticipated success, the speed and scale of the sales exceeded his expectations.
Meanwhile, Phillip, now the new lord of the old Crassus estate, entered the territory with a dejected expression. For a moment, he wondered if he had taken a wrong turn. The fertile lands promised by the Crassus family were nowhere to be seen.
Fields that should have been planted long ago were barren, infrastructure was in shambles, wells were clogged with dirt, and houses had crumbling walls. "What on earth is this mess?" he exclaimed in frustration.
Though all the serfs had been relocated, not a single freeman remained. The scene before him resembled the aftermath of a war. "Where is everyone?" he demanded.
One of his attendants hesitated before replying cautiously, "Well, my lord, according to inquiries made along the way, the Crassus family is highly regarded. They offered farmland practically for free, so everyone flocked to their new estate."
Phillip clenched his fists in rage. Selling off the rights to the estate at such a price, leaving not a single freeman behind—it was shameless. "Fine, but why is the village in such a state?"
"Uh, it's… I hate to say this, my lord, but your reputation in the northeastern provinces isn't great. It seems this damage was caused by those harboring grudges against you."
Phillip was at a loss for words. While he had braced for some resistance, this level of destruction was beyond anything he had imagined. "Surely, no matter how angry they are, they could have left the place livable. This is outrageous!"
The attendant suppressed his thoughts. Reaping what you sow, perhaps?
In this era, the fortunes of a noble family rose and fell with its members. The duke's massacre of northeastern nobles and knights had earned him many enemies, and Phillip was now paying the price. Count Charles had been a key instigator of the estate's ruin. While he bore no personal grudge, he sought to prevent the duke's influence from growing in the region.
After the Crassus family's departure, a band of northeastern nobles disguised as bandits destroyed everything they could. Though despicable, their actions were effective. Rebuilding the estate from such devastation would cost hundreds of thousands of gold coins—a burden too great for Phillip, who had already been bled dry by the Crassus family.
Phillip's anger reached a boiling point when he saw the damaged castle gates. "Is this also the work of those holding grudges?"
"That… no, my lord," the attendant stammered. "It appears the Crassus family took the gates with them. They were heirlooms, after all."
Phillip exploded in rage. "They took the gates too? After stealing the people and selling the rights to this wreckage at that price?"
"Removing gates bearing the family crest is the right of the previous lord," the attendant added meekly.
Phillip's furious glare bore down on the unfortunate attendant. "Whose side are you on, exactly?"
The attendant shrank back, silently cursing his loose tongue.
Meanwhile, Michael watched with satisfaction as the iron gates of his former castle melted down in the forge. The gates, painstakingly crafted by his ancestors, had been difficult to dismantle and transport, but the effort was worth it.
He planned to repurpose the iron to produce high-quality weapons for his soldiers. The thought of his troops being armed with gleaming new equipment filled him with pride. Surely, his ancestors would approve of such a decision.