In the past, wheat in Sardinson County typically matured in mid to late June, with some late fields not ready until July. This timeline was consistent with other regions along the same latitude in Europe. For the Pradi Empire, differences in harvest times across regions were minimal.
But this year was different. Thanks to new agricultural knowledge and the proper use of fertilizers, crops across the board not only grew better but also matured earlier than usual.
At Sardinson Castle, when Wei Wei made the decision to harvest the earlier-ripening fields to replant with oats, they discovered that nearly all the fields on the estate had matured ahead of schedule. Some fields had already entered the ideal soft dough stage (known as the wax ripeness phase), while others were still in the milky stage, requiring a bit more time.
And this was still only early June.
The serfs hadn't expected the wheat to grow this fast. Most had been judging ripeness based on the previous year's timeline, not realizing that the increased use of fertilizer had accelerated growth to the point where the wheat would start losing yield if left unharvested.
This issue mostly affected Felix's private lands, where management and fertilizer use were far more meticulous than on the rented plots of the serfs. However, the serfs naturally paid more attention to their land, checking it daily for signs of ripening, while barely sparing a glance at the fields owned by the Count. With this year's wheat already visibly thriving, the serfs were more focused on guessing their yields and largely neglected the state of the lord's fields. As a result, when the wheat in the private lands quietly progressed from milky to wax ripeness, no one noticed.
The wax ripeness stage lasts only about 3 to 5 days. If not harvested in time, wheat enters the final ripeness stage, where the grains harden and turn yellow. Moisture loss increases, and due to plant respiration, many organic nutrients are consumed. Additionally, the risk of shattering—grains falling from the head—increases, reducing overall yield. Thus, the optimal time to harvest is within those few days of the wax ripeness stage.
Traditionally, however, people relied on visual cues and waited until the wheat turned completely yellow before harvesting. They didn't understand the nutritional implications. Fully yellow wheat was seen as more "ready" and required less drying after harvesting. If some grains fell off during harvest? No problem—the children could go around the field collecting them in sacks. So, green-tinted wheat still in the wax ripeness stage was, in their eyes, "not ready."
But what they didn't know, Wei Wei did.
When she impulsively decided to harvest early, she ordered the stewards to inspect the fields. She explained that if the stalks were yellow on top and bottom with a green stripe in the middle, the wheat was ready for harvest.
They had, by sheer coincidence, caught the perfect window—the wax ripeness stage. This was a good ten days earlier than last year.
Upon further inspection, they found that all the wheat on the estate was ripening earlier than usual. The harvest would need to begin earlier across the board.
As always, the first fields harvested were the lord's private lands. The serfs had long been accustomed to the nobility harvesting first. But this year, since Wei Wei insisted on harvesting before the wheat fully turned yellow, many serfs were unhappy.
"The weather's been great lately. No rain at all. Why rush the harvest? Let it sun-dry a bit more in the field—it's better that way."
"Exactly! It might even grow a bit more."
"If we don't leave it out in the field to dry, where are we supposed to dry all this wheat? Didn't we build pigpens and houses on all the open ground in the village?"
"That's true…"
Whispers and complaints were passed around in secret. No one dared voice them to the Countess, of course. Thankfully, it was only the lord's fields being harvested first, so many serfs were secretly relieved that their wheat could stay in the field a little longer.
Only a few whose fields had also ripened early were frustrated. As they reluctantly began harvesting, they felt like they were losing out.
But then, the numbers came in.
The stewards responsible for weighing the wheat started calling out staggering yields, and everything changed.
Harvesting early hadn't reduced the yield—it had boosted it. The wheat was plump, full, and large-grained. When you peeled one open and chewed it, the taste was rich and fully mature—even better than usual.
Such wheat was top-quality, fetching the highest prices on the market.
Wei Wei took the opportunity to explain to the gathered serfs why the wax ripeness stage was the best time to harvest, and why waiting until full maturity would only hurt their yields.
Given her past successes—and the incredible harvests right in front of them—her words carried real authority.
"The Countess does know what she's talking about when it comes to farming."
"I told you—she'd never ask us to do something pointless. If she says to harvest early, it's because we'll get more food that way."
"From now on, I'm doing whatever she says."
It took just one day to turn grumbling into praise.
Word of the early harvest and amazing yields spread like wildfire. Sardinson Castle entered full harvest mode. All serfs and free tenants dropped their other tasks and threw themselves into the hard work of harvesting wheat. Wei Wei once again sent Kama and a team of slaves to gather herbs and brew cooling herbal tea for the workers.
Her teachings, meanwhile, traveled by word of mouth through the serfs, to the free tenants in the manor, and then out to the surrounding lands.
Those who heard her advice immediately checked their fields for signs of the wax ripeness stage. If it wasn't there yet, they waited anxiously. If it was, they scrambled to gather family and start harvesting before it was too late.
And indeed, harvesting during this window greatly reduced grain loss. Gone were the days when harvested fields were littered with dropped grains. In the past, children had to follow behind the adults picking up what they could before the birds, mice—or other kids from rival households—got to them.
It was hard to blame those "other kids"—everyone did it.
Now, as the adults harvested, the kids followed close behind, picking up grains right away. While some still got taken by animals, at least they weren't losing out to other families anymore.
As Sardinson County entered an early harvest, construction projects across the region had to pause. This year, people had planted more land than ever before, and manpower was stretched thin. To avoid grain loss, some residents with too many fields to manage on their own started hiring migrant laborers.
These laborers were people without their land or tenancy. During harvest season, they didn't need to return home to help with farming, and they had been working in Sardinson on other jobs. Now that road construction had paused on the Count's orders, these young and strong workers didn't want to sit idle—they went looking for harvest work instead.
At the same time, traveling merchants were watching the fields with interest.
Not because they hoped to buy the grain—with the Count's pasta factory in operation, no one was selling wheat—but out of curiosity. Was the rumored yield per acre as high as people claimed?
Most people simply couldn't believe it—over 2,000 pounds per acre?
That sounded like something out of a divine miracle.
To the merchants, even the best land typically produced around 1,500 pounds per acre, which was already considered an extraordinary yield worth boasting about. But 2,200 pounds? That was the kind of result you'd expect from God's field.
What's more, the rumors didn't just mention a single lucky field. The word was that the entire estate of Sardinson Castle, including all land owned by the Count, was averaging around 2,000 pounds per acre. Even the fields rented by serfs and freemen, though slightly lower, were still producing about 1,700 pounds per acre on average. And that number was only being dragged down by some poorly maintained lower-grade plots—otherwise, it could have been even higher.
Naturally, there was plenty of skepticism, especially from the outsiders. Most of these were merchants who didn't know much about farming. They understood the basics—how much wheat a field should produce—but not much beyond that. Grain merchants might have had more knowledge, but they weren't around. Everyone knew that Sardinson wasn't selling wheat this season. Grain buyers had long since gone elsewhere.
Curious but clueless, the visiting merchants wandered into nearby fields to inspect unharvested wheat. It was obvious the wheat looked healthy: plump grains, no empty husks, and heads so heavy they bowed the stalks. But without experience, they had no way of estimating actual yield.
Still, their curiosity was piqued. So they waited eagerly to see how much grain the locals would bring in after threshing and weighing.
Not every village had standardized scales, but Dingel Town did. It was also where most of the outsiders had gathered. Unsurprisingly, they were all eager to see the locals weigh their grain.
Weighing time was also tax time. So the tax officers arrived as well.
In the past, some unscrupulous tax officers would tamper with their scales, tricking villagers into overpaying their taxes and pocketing the excess grain. But not this year.
Or rather—they couldn't, even if they wanted to.
Last year, during grain collection, Wei Wei had discovered something suspicious. As she watched a tax officer weighing grain using a balance scale, she suddenly recalled those news reports from her world—stories about shady merchants using rigged scales to cheat customers.
Acting on instinct, she had approached to inspect the weights—and sure enough, they were not standard.
She didn't react on the spot, but quietly informed Felix, who launched a surprise inspection of every tax officer's balance. The result? Nearly every single one had tampered weights.
Had word gotten out, it would've caused an uprising. So they kept it quiet—but every crooked tax officer was fired, and their homes were raided. Large amounts of illicit wealth and stolen grain were found, and the perpetrators were thrown into prison, their assets confiscated.
Though officially kept under wraps, rumors still spread. The new tax officers who replaced them were thoroughly warned—and none dared pull the same tricks again.
Besides, they had no opportunity anymore. The scales used for weighing grain were now stored centrally in the castle warehouse and only issued when needed. All measurements were monitored, and once the grain was weighed, it was immediately taken away by soldiers, bypassing the tax officers entirely.
This setup was temporary but effective, and further reforms were underway.
Now, with a crowd of onlookers, one of the new tax officers, who had only been on the job since last year, was sweating bullets from the pressure.
The weighing took place in the town square, the same spot where public notices were usually posted. The town mayor organized the weighing for locals, while the tax officer recorded the numbers and calculated how much each household owed. After the locals weighed their grain using town-inspected scales, the tax portion was weighed again using the official balance the tax officer had brought.
In villages without standardized scales, only the official scales would be used from start to finish.
Still, the villagers weren't dumb. Most already knew roughly how much grain their fields had produced. In the past, many had suspected tampering but didn't dare confront officials. As long as the theft wasn't too blatant, they'd grit their teeth and endure it.
So by the time the tax officer arrived, most households already had a pretty good idea of their yields. But they didn't know how they compared to others—and now, just like the curious merchants, they were all listening intently as each total was called out.
The process was slow—every household had a fair bit of land, and grain had to be brought in on carts. There was only one scale, which could weigh a maximum of 500 jin (approx. 250 kg) at a time, so things moved at a crawl.
Luckily, Dingel wasn't a farming-heavy town.
The townspeople weren't full-time farmers. Most had much smaller plots than those in the countryside. For instance, serfs on the estate usually rented 15 acres, of which a third had to lie fallow—so about 10 acres were planted per year. This year, many returned fallow land to the Count. Only larger families kept all their land.
Sardinson had also abandoned the old three-field system. The land was no longer left fallow. If you couldn't plant it, you gave it up. As a result, most people now farmed less land.
In Dingel, many people were now shopkeepers or factory workers, with fewer willing to focus entirely on farming. As a result, household fields were significantly smaller.
"John's household—two acres of medium land, 3,053 jin; three acres of lower-grade land, 3,845 jin."
"Whoa?!"
"Joel's household—three acres of top-grade land, 5,015 jin; six acres of medium land, 8,974 jin."
"Good heavens!!"
"Tommy's household—ten acres of low-grade land, 12,970 jin."
"Wait—that's low-grade land?!"
The young tax officer finally couldn't take it anymore. He turned and barked at the gasping crowd behind him, "Can you all quiet down?! What's so shocking about this?"
This tax officer had been working inside Sardinson Castle before this and had seen far more astounding numbers from the Count's private fields. To him, this was nothing.
But to outsiders who had dismissed the rumors, these figures were mind-blowing.
Even merchants with basic knowledge of farming knew that 1,200 jin per acre was considered a good harvest. The numbers they were hearing far exceeded that—yet they hadn't even noticed the most shocking part.
That detail had been picked up by a different group: itinerant freefolk from other territories working seasonal jobs.
These people knew agriculture better than merchants. What stunned them wasn't just the yield—it was that even medium and low-grade land was producing numbers typically only seen from top-tier plots. Many were outperforming what they considered a great harvest for even the best fields.
Was this reality? Or a dream?
One man slapped himself hard. The sting of pain confirmed it—this was real.
In truth, these so-called medium and low-grade fields were only poor because they lacked nutrients. With the right fertilization, they could become high-grade land again. Even the current top-tier fields still had plenty of room for improvement. Compared to the standards of Huaxia (China), these weren't top-tier—they were average at best.
As the weighing continued, more unbelievable numbers were shouted out. Even people who had already heard their totals couldn't help but smile ear to ear. Not even the fact that over half of it was taken as tax could wipe the grins from their faces.
There was just so. Much. Grain.
Even after tax, they had enough to eat for a long time. And they still had other crops growing. With wheat being the hardest crop, the success here made them optimistic about everything else.
And it was all thanks to following the Count and Countess's guidance—fertilizing the fields, watering diligently, managing pests and diseases, weeding regularly… all of it.
Not one person complained about the taxes. They'd gladly pay more if this was the kind of yield they could expect every year.
They weren't upset about the taxes owed to the Count—they were more annoyed about the tithe paid to the Church.
After all, the Church had nothing to do with this harvest.
They grumbled inwardly but didn't dare speak out loud. Many had their children enrolled in the Church's classes. If the priests overheard, the kids might be kicked out.
As for whether the Count would pass along the tithe? That wasn't their concern. They'd already paid. Where it went afterward didn't matter.
"Honestly, I hope the Count keeps more of it for himself. You've seen how much construction is happening around Sardinson—he must be pouring in tons of money."
"Exactly. Ever since he took over, life's just gotten better and better. That road alone—my mom's village used to take a day to walk to. Now, for a couple of copper coins, I can ride a wagon and get there in two hours."
"We're eating well, dressing warm, and even have some spare money. Our pantry's overflowing—anything extra we just sell to the granary. We can finally afford a cow!"
"And don't forget the head tax—my two little ones are under seven, so they don't pay. Even the older kids only pay half. That's a huge saving."
"Too bad we don't live in the manor—otherwise our kids could go to school for free."
"Maybe someday they will. The Count and Countess aren't stingy. Everything good started from the manor, then gradually spread to the rest of us."
"You're right, you're right!"
As the townsfolk waited to weigh their grain, all anyone could talk about was how Sardinson had changed. The more they talked, the more grateful they felt toward their lord and lady. Their lives were improving in ways they'd never dared imagine. And surely, even better days were ahead.
But soon, a worrying question began circulating in hushed whispers:
"With all these generous policies… is the Count running out of money?"
Would such a good lord end up spending everything for the sake of his people?
If the merchants who did business with Felix Williams heard this, they'd probably burst out laughing. The Count might spend freely, but he earned even more.
Many believed that if Count Williams weren't pouring so much into development, he'd already be the wealthiest noble in the Pradi Empire.