The sun rose over the keep, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold. Ronan did not watch the sunrise. He was watching a blue progress bar fill up in the corner of his vision.
[Daily Calculation Complete]
[Industrial CP Generated: 4.8]
[Total CP Available: 5.2]
He had enough.
Ronan sat up in his bed, the rough wool blanket scratching his skin. He didn't feel the itch. He felt the rush of dopamine that came with spending resources. He mentally focused on the glowing icon in his peripheral vision: [Heavy Mouldboard Plow].
Current unlock time: 17 days.
Cost to Rush: 5 CP per 24 hours.
"Spend it," Ronan whispered to the empty room. "Dump five points into the Research Tree."
The blue light flared. A sound like a bag of coins hitting a table chimed in his mind.
[Investment Confirmed]
[Research Accelerated]
[Time to Unlock: 12 Days]
It wasn't enough. Twelve days was still too long to wait for a tool that would define whether his people starved or thrived come winter. He needed to bridge the gap between the theory in the system and the reality of the materials. He had the iron blade from Kennos. Now, he needed the wood.
Ronan dressed quickly, skipping the formal tunic of a Lord in favor of a simple linen shirt and trousers. He moved with a purpose that startled the castle servants, sweeping past the dining hall and out into the courtyard.
The smithy was already ringing. The rhythm he had established yesterday was holding. Clang, clang, hiss. The sound of efficiency.
But Ronan walked past the forge, heading for the open shed near the stables. The smell changed from sulfur to sawdust.
Inside, a man with graying hair and a permanent stoop was carving a complex floral pattern into the leg of a high-backed chair. This was Oren, the keep's master carpenter.
Ronan watched him for a moment. The work was exquisite. It was also, in the current context of survival, useless.
"Oren," Ronan said.
The carpenter jumped, his chisel slipping and gouging a small line into the wood. He looked up, fear flashing in his eyes when he saw the Lord. "My Lord! I... I didn't hear you approach. The chair is nearly done. The pattern represents the—"
"Burn it," Ronan said.
Oren blinked. "My Lord?"
"The chair. We don't need chairs. We need leverage." Ronan stepped into the shed, kicking a pile of sawdust. He looked around at the stacks of seasoned oak and ash. "I need you to stop everything you are doing. I need timber. Strong, heavy beams. Ash for the handle, oak for the frame."
Ronan crouched down and picked up a piece of charcoal from a nearby brazier. He found a clean plank of wood and began to draw.
He didn't draw a picture; he drew a schematic.
"Look here," Ronan commanded.
Oren hesitated, then leaned in. He squinted at the charcoal lines. "It looks like a plow, my Lord. But... it's wrong. It's too heavy. It has wheels? A plow doesn't have wheels. You'd need two men just to keep it upright."
"Not if the geometry is correct," Ronan said, sketching the angle of the coulter—the vertical blade that would cut the sod. "The wheels support the weight of the frame. The coulter cuts the roots. The iron share lifts the earth, and this..." He tapped the curved board he had drawn behind the blade. "...this mouldboard turns the soil over."
Ronan looked up, locking eyes with the carpenter. "The soil in the North is wet and heavy clay. The scratch-plows you use now just tickle the surface. We need to cut it deep and flip it to bury the weeds and bring up the nutrients."
Oren rubbed his chin, his craftsman's eye tracing the logic of the drawing. "The stress on that joint..." He pointed to the connection between the beam and the wheels. "...would be immense. If the plow hits a rock, the wood will shatter."
"Not if we reinforce it with iron bands," Ronan countered. "Kennos is already making the fittings. I need you to make the skeleton."
[Skill Check: Engineering]
[Result: Success]
[Oren's Opinion: Skeptical -> Intrigued]
"Kennos is working on this?" Oren asked.
"Kennos is forging the heart of it. You need to build the ribs." Ronan stood up and dusted the charcoal from his hands. "I want a prototype by sunset."
"Sunset?" Oren sputtered. "My Lord, to plane the wood, to join it..."
"Use the rough timber. I don't care if it's ugly. I care if it works." Ronan turned to leave. "Do not fail me, Oren. The harvest depends on it."
By mid-afternoon, the courtyard had become an assembly line of two.
Kennos had brought over the heavy iron fixtures—the coulter and the plowshare—still warm to the touch. Oren had constructed a hulking, ugly frame of unpolished oak. It looked like a siege weapon, not a farming tool.
A small crowd of servants and stable hands had gathered to watch. Among them was Varrick, the castle steward. Varrick was a man who loved ledgers and hated surprises. He looked at the machine with open disdain.
"My Lord," Varrick said, wringing his hands. "The peasants are asking for the seed grain. It is planting time. We cannot delay because you are playing with... inventions."
"If they plant now, with the old plows, we get a yield of three-to-one," Ronan said, not looking away from the machine. "We will starve by mid-winter. If we use this, we get a yield of seven-to-one."
"Seven?" Varrick scoffed. "Impossible. The land is the land."
"The land is a variable," Ronan muttered. "Technology is the multiplier."
He turned to the two craftsmen. "Connect it."
Kennos lifted the heavy iron blade. It slotted perfectly into the groove Oren had chiseled. The carpenter hammered in the wooden pins to lock it in place.
[System Notification]
[Synergy Achieved: Smithing + Carpentry]
[Prototype Assembled: Heavy Mouldboard Plow (Quality: Crude)]
[Research Bonus: +25%]
[Time to Unlock: 0 Days]
The air seemed to shimmer. The blue notification box expanded in Ronan's vision, golden text scrolling rapidly.
[TECHNOLOGY UNLOCKED: HEAVY MOULDBOARD PLOW]
• Effect: Deep tillage enabled.
• Bonus: +20% Crop Yield in Heavy Soil.
• Bonus: Weed population reduced by 50%.
• New Construction Available: Ox Yoke (Heavy).
Ronan felt the rush of the unlock, a physical sensation like a cool breeze on a hot day. He walked up to the machine and grabbed the handles. They were rough and gave him a splinter, but the balance was surprisingly good. The wheels took the weight.
"Hitch the oxen," Ronan ordered.
"My Lord," Varrick protested. "The oxen are tired. They have been hauling timber for the—"
"Hitch them!" Ronan roared.
Two terrified stable hands scrambled to bring a pair of oxen. They struggled to attach the beasts to the heavy wooden beam of the plow using the old leather ropes.
"To the garden," Ronan said.
They dragged the contraption out the back gate to the Lord's private vegetable garden, a patch of land that had gone fallow and was choked with thick weeds and hard-packed mud.
"Drive them," Ronan told the stable hand.
The boy whipped the oxen. The beasts groaned and leaned into the harness. The plow creaked. The wood groaned under the tension.
Then, the iron bit down.
There was a tearing sound, visceral and loud, like fabric ripping. The vertical coulter sliced through the mat of weeds. The plowshare dove under the hard crust. And then, the mouldboard did its work.
As the plow moved forward, a thick ribbon of dark, damp earth was lifted up and curled over, burying the green weeds underneath and exposing the rich, black soil to the air.
It wasn't just scratching the dirt. It was turning the world upside down.
Ronan watched the furrow lengthen. It was a scar of potential in the earth.
He turned to Varrick. The steward's mouth was hanging open. He had been managing this estate for forty years, and he had never seen the earth open up like that.
"Varrick," Ronan said, his voice calm.
"Yes... My Lord?"
"Cancel the seed distribution."
"My Lord?"
"We don't plant today," Ronan said, looking at the black soil. "We build ten more of these. We plow every acre of the domain deep. Then we plant."
He looked at the interface hovering over the freshly turned soil.
[Soil Quality: High]
[Projected Yield Increase: +200%]
"We aren't just farming anymore, Varrick," Ronan said, a small, cold smile touching his lips. "We are manufacturing food."
[Quest Updated: The Hunger of the Soil]
[Objective: Plow 500 Acres before the Rains.]
[Reward: Civilian Population Growth +10%]
Ronan looked at his hands. He had the iron. He had the wood. Now, he just needed to beat the weather.
"Get back to work," Ronan told the stunned craftsmen. "We are just getting started."