Wei Wei had barely returned when Felix greeted her with good news before she could even report on the villa's situation.
"The threshing machine you mentioned earlier—it's done. The craftsmen tested it. It can thresh an acre of wheat—about two thousand pounds—in just two hours."
"It's finished already? That's impressive!" Wei Wei was pleasantly surprised, but she quickly sighed with regret. "If only it had been done a little earlier."
Had it been ready just a bit sooner, it could've been used during this year's wheat harvest. Unfortunately, the harvest had just ended, making the timing feel a bit bittersweet.
After wheat is harvested, separating the grain from the husk takes an enormous amount of time. Even after Wei Wei had taught them to use flails last year, it still took five days to thresh a single acre.
That's why she had long planned to make a threshing machine. Last year, she had just arrived and needed to keep a low profile. This year, she didn't have that concern anymore.
So when she returned from the royal capital, she assigned the task to the blacksmiths.
The threshing machine was originally invented in the 18th century by Scottish inventor James Meikle and his son Andrew. Though it was close to the Industrial Revolution era, the earliest models were horse-powered, only later evolving into water- and steam-powered machines.
Wei Wei had combed through a number of historical resources and based her design on the earliest version, modifying it into a horse-powered threshing machine. She firmly believed that even if steam engines were beyond current capabilities, a horse-powered version was certainly achievable.
The structure of a threshing machine was fairly simple. To conserve iron, the prototype used a wooden casing. A funnel-shaped input sat at the top, and it had two exits: one at the front and one below. Inside was a long drum fitted with rotating shafts, which were connected to an axle that could be powered by a horse via narrow leather belts. Once the horse moved in place, the rotation began. The drum's motion created airflow that blew out the chaff and straw from the front horn-like vent, while clean grain slid down a chute at the bottom, thus completing the separation of husk and grain.
With this machine, even the highest-yield fields only took two hours to process per acre—and lower-yield fields could be done even faster.
Of course, this type of threshing machine only separated the grain from the husk; it didn't remove the bran. The flour still needed to be milled and sifted to achieve refined white flour.
Even so, this machine sparked a wave of creativity among the craftsmen. Felix told her that the blacksmiths he'd recruited from outside were now experimenting with ways to automate flour sifting using animal or water power. One idea was to create an oversized sieve, dump freshly milled flour on top, and have a horse walk in circles to shake it back and forth—automating the process.
It sounded simple, but it was quite a challenge for craftsmen who had no formal education. Still, Felix was highly supportive. He even promised rewards similar to those given for making the threshing machine—likely the real reason why the craftsmen were so motivated.
"It's not too late. Even if we missed the wheat, we'll have barley ready next month," Felix added.
Barley, like wheat, needed threshing. This machine could even be adapted for rye, oats, or—with slight modifications—rice, making it a truly multi-purpose tool.
"That's true," Wei Wei nodded. "But a single machine won't be enough. Can they make more by next month?"
Felix smiled. "The design is simple. I asked already. The blacksmith responsible says he can make at least five more within a month. If we put everyone on it, we could make a hundred."
Felix had a sizable team of blacksmiths. His estate already had a few skilled smiths who mainly made weapons and armor but occasionally did farm tools. Each knight under his command had at least one blacksmith in their fief. Felix had long since "borrowed" the best ones, and even poached a few from other noble lands. In total, he now had over fifty smiths capable of forging weapons and armor. Most of them brought apprentices—who, while not yet masters, had been training for years and could handle small tools. That number effectively tripled the manpower.
Of course, because Felix always had endless projects for them, only a handful of his best smiths—those who normally didn't bother with farm tools—were assigned to this.
"A hundred machines? You already told them to start making that many?" Wei Wei quickly realized from his tone that the decision had already been made.
Even though Sardinson had a large population and plenty of farmland, threshing machines weren't something every household needed. One machine per village would already be extravagant. There weren't even fifty villages in the entire county. A hundred machines were overkill.
But then it hit her. "You plan to sell the extras?"
Felix nodded in approval. "The design is simple. Anyone who sees one will be able to copy it. Better to sell them quickly and recover the costs."
He was starting to sound more and more like a businessman. Wei Wei couldn't help but be a little impressed.
Even with wooden components wherever possible, each machine still required enough iron to make three to five lightweight swords. Just the raw materials cost three silver coins. Factoring in labor and time, commoners could never afford it.
And since Sardinson had no local mineral resources, all iron had to be imported—from merchants or other nobles. While iron sales weren't restricted in Europe, prices were always high. For a commoner to become a knight, they had to buy a full set of armor, weapons, and a horse—something even moderately wealthy families struggled to afford.
Felix could afford to outfit the territory with these machines, but if others were willing to foot the bill, why not?
"How do you plan to sell them?"
"Barter. Trade them for iron," Felix replied without hesitation.
Three times the iron used in one machine would get you a new one. For those wanting to pay in coins, it'd be one gold piece per machine.
Wei Wei raised an eyebrow. "You won't be able to pull that off. Like you said, it's a simple structure. People can just buy one and make copies."
"But they still need to buy the first one, don't they?" Felix grinned. "Even if they just buy one, that's profit. If we wait, they'll just reverse-engineer it, and we'll lose everything."
Once the machines were in villagers' hands, there was no stopping them from taking them apart to see how they worked. The design couldn't be kept secret, and any blacksmith who saw one could replicate it. The only differences would be the craftsmanship and time it took.
So better to recoup the investment early.
"And barley's about to be harvested. Merchants might not bite, but nobles probably will."
Nobles, despite exploiting their peasants, weren't stupid. Tools that increased productivity were highly desirable—especially for those with vast lands and few laborers. They'd gladly spend money on machines that helped speed up harvest and get crops to market early when prices were high. Wait too long, and prices drop when surplus floods the market—or merchants might not buy at all.
Wei Wei thought it over and smiled. "Then find some smooth talkers and send them out with the machines. Stir up a bit of excitement—you might sell a few more."
Salespeople in the modern world did just that—talked up the product until even the dead would want to buy it. A good pitch could open a buyer's wallet faster than any demo.
Felix considered her advice and quickly thought of several candidates for the job.
"I'll get on it tomorrow. Dingle has a lot of outsiders lately—the perfect spot for advertising."
With the threshing machine matter settled, Felix brought up another topic.
He pulled out a blueprint—Pierre's city planning design.
This new city, meant to serve both Sardinson and Slot, was designed on a small scale at first. The combined population of both counties didn't even reach fifty thousand, most of whom would never leave their home villages. Building a big city from the start would just be a waste. Better to grow gradually.
"The initial plan is for a city that can house about ten thousand people. No walls—for future expansion."
Though it was a small city, its layout fully reflected Wei Wei's vision. It included a hospital, bank, school, park, and small shopping area—Pierre had carefully selected locations for each. The bank was in the future commercial district. The school and hospital were placed between noble and commoner residential zones. Parks were split too—one on each side. Nobles got a large park with a riding track. Commoners got a mid-sized lawn with benches and flowers—open and unfenced, with multiple walking paths for free access.
Police stations (more like garrison posts with sheriffs) and fire stations were included on both sides as well, under the future city hall's jurisdiction—even if that organization didn't exist yet.
And though not mentioned outright, Pierre had of course left room for a future church.
All public buildings were marked as blank spaces on the map—Wei Wei had promised to design their appearances. Pierre just had to assign locations, design housing styles for nobles and commoners, allocate land, and create the city hall—his biggest challenge.
But Wei Wei's preferences were easy to follow: symmetrical, orderly, and structured. So his map was neat grids labeled with building names and a few representative icons—far simpler than most of his past work.
"This is the city's layout. These are the designs for the city hall, noble and commoner houses," Felix said, handing her more blueprints.
The city hall was a massive Gothic-style building—three stories tall with twelve pointed arch entrances flanking a central tower. The tower itself was five stories high and featured a clock face near the top, marking it as a clock tower.
"He probably got the idea from that grandfather clock in the study," Felix said, pointing at it. "He even asked Raymond if a clock mechanism could be built."
With what would be the first clock tower in the world, the building was sure to become famous. Pierre, skilled in church design, had given it the grandeur and intricacy of a Gothic cathedral—ribbed vaults, flying buttresses, pointed arches. Inspired by the villa's arched windows, he added curved balconies. The result was a work of art—something that, if preserved, could one day be a cultural heritage site.
Wei Wei examined the interior design next. Pierre had not followed her suggestion to make the entire first floor a public gathering space—instead, it was laid out with various administrative departments. However, the front of the city hall featured a plaza, and the back had a garden, so a dedicated gathering space wasn't really necessary. The hallways also had benches for people waiting to conduct business—very practical for residents.
The second floor was designed as a banquet hall, clearly reflecting Pierre's understanding of the nobility's love for hosting parties. Even if the building was meant for official use, no noble would forgo the chance to hold events. Supporting facilities like kitchens and resting rooms were also included, fully equipped.
The third floor was designated as the offices of senior officials. Much like the first floor, the rooms were divided by size only; the specific allocations would be decided later.
After all, not even Wei Wei herself had finalized how government departments would be structured yet.
Wei Wei was extremely satisfied with the city hall. She had always loved Gothic-style architecture, and Pierre's design perfectly hit all the marks—it was impeccable.
In contrast, the blueprints for the noble residential area felt a bit lackluster—almost like an afterthought. They were modeled after Wei Wei's villa, with some stylistic tweaks to better suit noble tastes.
"That just means he likes your villa," Felix chuckled. "I do too, honestly. It's the most comfortable place I've ever lived—not even the royal palace compares."
When it came to opulence, her villa was relatively plain. But in terms of comfort, it outclassed most noble estates. Her design emphasized livability and the décor leaned toward a homey aesthetic rather than ostentatious luxury. It made perfect sense that Felix would find it pleasant.
The commoner district, on the other hand, was much simpler: two-story houses with triangular roofs, small windows, and gray stone walls—solid, but far from beautiful. Wei Wei imagined rows of such drab houses lining the streets. They might be neat and uniform, but for a brand-new city, it felt old and uninviting. The stone sizes varied slightly too, making the buildings look even less refined.
"Why not use bricks instead of stone? Red walls look way nicer than gray ones," she suggested.
"But bricks cost more than stone. If we use bricks, commoners might not be able to afford them," Felix replied.
Stone was already expensive to quarry, but bricks were even more costly. Despite being easy to make, the prep work was time-consuming, and firing them consumed large amounts of wood. The price reflected that.
Wei Wei nodded. "Then let's put more effort into the decorations."
She picked up a pen and began sketching on the designs—flower boxes under windows, potted plants at doors, adding greenery to soften the starkness.
"We can also widen the streets. Have carriage lanes in the center, then greenery on both sides and sidewalks beyond that. It'll look prettier and help separate traffic from pedestrians—fewer accidents."
Felix watched her sketch, mentally adding colors to the image. With gray houses, green plants, and bright flowers, the scene was much more appealing than just stone buildings and dull streets.
"Go tell Pierre yourself," he said. "Have him implement this across the whole city."
Wei Wei looked a little embarrassed. "I was supposed to draw the other public buildings too... but I haven't even started. Let me finish those first, then I'll talk to him."
"It's not urgent. Those buildings won't go up right away anyway. Especially places like the bank—we just need to leave space for now."
Wei Wei blinked in surprise. "Wait, you're not planning to run the bank yourself?"
Now it was Felix's turn to be caught off guard. He hadn't thought about it.
But banking was highly profitable, and this was Sardinson—his territory. If he didn't control the flow of money, who would? Letting someone else run the local bank didn't sit right.
Felix rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're right. I should think about this."
Wei Wei nodded and teased, "Exactly. A state-owned bank is the most trustworthy. You're the lord here. Only a bank run by you will put everyone at ease. Imagine if an outsider took their money and skipped town?"
While outright theft was unlikely, trusting outsiders with local wealth carried real risks. Plus, whoever ran the bank would get a clear look at Felix's finances—that alone was unsettling.
"But even if we open our bank, the locals might trust it, but merchants probably won't. Once other banks move in, we might not be able to compete."
Banks mostly served merchants. If they didn't deposit their money, the whole effort would be wasted.
"Besides," he continued, "existing banks work together. That's why their bills of exchange are accepted across the country—even overseas. If we jump in uninvited, they might not welcome us."
Wei Wei pointed downstairs. "Didn't you say most banks have church backing? Well, there's a bishop sitting right here in the castle. Don't they want to work with us? Use that connection to get in."
Felix thought she had a point. Maybe the Pope wouldn't help, but Bishop Umberto? Worth a try.
"You really should give it serious thought," Wei Wei said. "It's important to keep control over your territory's economy. Don't worry about the rest—I'll put together a summary of the banking systems from my hometown and give it to you."
Even if it meant staying up all night to compile notes and references, she'd do it. She was used to being busy anyway.
Felix, moved by her dedication, agreed. He'd talk to the church.
And he did.
He approached Bishop Umberto with the idea of opening a bank—one tied to the church. Even though it was still just a concept, the bishop was delighted.
"Don't worry. I'll write a letter and get the arrangements in motion. You may think our faction is weak, but we still influence within the Church."
Compared to the Hawks, the doves might seem less dominant, but they were still formidable. After all, if the Church could back the Templar Knights' banking business, why not support Felix? Especially since he was proposing a local bank in his territory—it wouldn't even compete with the big cities.
If the Church tried to block him, they'd only shoot themselves in the foot. Felix was a major client for all the big banks in the capital. His monthly transactions could support entire departments. If they angered him and he withdrew his funds, they'd be the ones to suffer.
Bishop Umberto understood this clearly. He realized Felix wasn't reluctant—he just hadn't considered the implications. In reality, this was an easy win for their faction. By bringing Felix into the banking circle, the profits tied to the Church would now belong to them, the doves.
Felix was very pleased with the bishop's response. He smiled warmly and hinted that this cooperation could lead to even more shared ventures.
He went so far as to invite him: "We've just developed a new threshing machine in the county. It's quite effective for wheat. Would Your Excellency be interested in seeing a demonstration?"
Of course, the bishop agreed. "I'd be delighted."
Felix then took him to see the machine in action and explained it was a brand-new invention. There was only one for now, but once more were made, he'd send one as a gift to the bishop—a gesture of thanks.
"It'll be ready before your group leaves."
To Bishop Umberto, that gift was more than welcome. It didn't matter if it was just one machine—if it could be copied, he could sell it in Italy. Not locally, of course—he wasn't about to compete with Felix. But overseas? That was an entirely different market.