The greatest holiday of the Christian cultural sphere, Christmas week, had finally come to an end. As the people dismantled the festive decorations scattered across the settlement, they slowly transitioned back to their daily routines.
Of course, those “daily routines” were hardly taxing; the period stretching from January until the true onset of spring in March was the traditional agricultural off-season.
Even in Europe, where capitalism was supposedly in full swing, the foundational economy still revolved entirely around agriculture. Our community was no exception, affording us a generous abundance of leisure time.
Taking advantage of the lull, I sought out Oitotan—our Agricultural Knight Commander, expert diplomat, and resident salesman. Accompanied by the knights he assigned to me, we hopped into a Porter truck and toured the various farmlands.
“Now that January has arrived and the weather is gradually warming, we have decided to focus entirely on land reclamation for the time being,” Oitotan explained from the passenger seat. “We likely won’t see any serious labor demands until March or April.”
“Hmm… Just how much acreage have we distributed to each resident at this point?” I asked.
“Thanks to the increase in both our knight roster and the sheer number of tractors, the distribution has expanded significantly!” a knight chimed in from the back. “At this rate, the bare minimum…”
Oh.
Ever since I had casually declared that we would distribute twenty-five hectares per person, even literal crawling infants now owned tracts of land several times larger than my own personal farm. Ugh. I couldn’t help but feel a sudden, irrational wave of deprivation.
Naturally, out of our hundred thousand residents, almost no one actually farmed their own land with their own two hands.
Vrooom! Sputter… clunk!
“Aaaaargh! Lord Nemo is out here on an inspection, and the damn tractor stalled!” someone shrieked in the distance.
“What the hell were those mechanics doing during maintenance?!” another yelled.
The vast majority of the actual physical labor was handled exclusively by the Agricultural Knights. The designated landowners simply strolled by on occasion to inspect the crop yields and ensure the knights were doing their jobs properly.
In a way, the knights in our community had taken on the historical role of the original American pioneer farmers. Driven by ambition and a burning desire for wealth, they ventured out to the frontiers to carve out new territories. They were the ones literally feeding our entire civilization.
“For this upcoming season, our stronghold intends to significantly increase the proportion of wheat planted, in accordance with the landowners’ demands,” reported a man holding the rank of Knight Marshal as we arrived at a stronghold near the western border. He bowed deeply before pointing to the charts plastered across the wall, meticulously explaining his plans. “I suspect the other regions will follow suit. The demand for rye has been steadily plummeting, you see…”
Naturally, plotting the overarching agricultural strategy for our community also fell upon the shoulders of these knights, though they fundamentally operated in consultation with the landowners.
“While every stronghold claims they will reduce rye to focus on wheat, the truth is that the Native Americans strongly prefer corn,” the Marshal continued. “Furthermore, with the demand for chili peppers continuously skyrocketing, the actual cultivation ratio of wheat is projected to decrease as well.”
“Besides, now that chemical fertilizers are being distributed in earnest, there is absolutely no reason to hesitate when it comes to planting corn,” Oitotan added.
The reason the internal demand for barley and rye was collapsing across our community was incredibly simple:
They tasted terrible.
We still utilized the lesser grains for livestock feed and foreign exports, so it wasn’t quite dire enough to completely raze the fields, but our people had reached a point where they outright refused to eat anything other than soft, white bread. It was strikingly similar to how modern Koreans, having achieved a comfortable standard of living, would never touch brown rice unless they were strictly dieting for health reasons.
However… as I scrutinized the reports, I noticed a rather baffling discrepancy.
“Did you not just tell me you were reducing the proportion of rye and barley?” I asked.
“Yes, my lord! That is correct!”
“Then why has the projected cultivation acreage for both crops increased?”
They claimed they were reducing the ratio, yet they were planting vastly more of it. It didn’t make any logical sense.
Tilting their heads in mild confusion at my question, the knights simply pointed to a specific column on the edge of the report I was holding.
“Please look at the total cultivated acreage, my lord.”
“…”
Just how many pyeong was this? One pyeong was roughly three square meters, which meant…
…Wait. A thirty percent increase… compared to last year?! As my jaw dropped open upon completing the mental arithmetic, everyone in the room nodded back at me with fiercely proud expressions.
This is pure insanity. A thirty percent increase in a single year? Just how much total land had they actually cleared… “It seems the sheer volume of grain we will be shipping out to England this season will increase quite a bit,” one of them noted casually.
I don’t think “a bit” covers it. Looking at the projected export volumes… if I converted this mass into English pounds, and then converted that massive profit into Othello chips…
“…Indeed, real estate truly is the ultimate investment,” I muttered blankly.
“Pardon? What did you say, my lord?”
“It’s nothing. Never mind.”
I physically shuddered as a massive wave of overwhelming emotion washed over me. The knights shot me odd looks, but they quickly brushed it off, internally concluding, ‘He must be deeply moved by our tremendous achievements!’ Even if some random office worker from Seoul had been transported back in time along with his entire apartment complex, he could never have accomplished this. What could a bunch of clueless city slickers possibly achieve when they didn’t have chemical fertilizers, couldn’t manufacture tractors, and couldn’t even tell the mechanical difference between a tractor and a standard car? You could throw all the educational comic books in the world at guys like that, and they still wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing.
People always claimed that you had to be a history major to travel back in time and change the world.
What absolute bullshit.
A settlement of merely one hundred thousand people was currently producing enough surplus food to effortlessly feed over half a million.
Agriculture… was the true future.
***
There were three massive pillars holding up the towering economy of Virginia.
The first was the astronomical volume of gifts—primarily furs—harvested from across the entire northeastern region of North America. The countless Native American populations deeply intertwined with our community’s vast trade network continuously brought in colossal fortunes from their sprawling territories, delivering overwhelming wealth straight into Virginia’s coffers.
The second largest pillar consisted of staple grains like wheat and rye. The endless fleets of Virginian grain ships bound for Britain rained down like a long-awaited monsoon upon an England suffering from chronic food shortages, effortlessly sustaining hundreds of thousands of lives. While the sheer value-added profit margins of raw crops were inherently lower, agriculture remained the most rock-solid, stable sector for accumulating wealth in Virginia. Its absolute share in our economy was only continuing to expand.
Finally, the third pillar comprised cash crops such as exotic fruits, various luxury goods like high-end wines, and futuristic resources like aluminum sourced directly from Kim Lee-sang’s house. These items boasted the highest value-added margins by an overwhelming margin. In terms of pure physical volume, this sector appeared to be the smallest of the three. However, when one considered how many literal pounds sterling a single cluster of Shine Muscat or Black Sapphire grapes commanded on the European market, their true economic weight could never be underestimated.
To summarize: by monopolizing the entire New World fur trade, single-handedly controlling England’s grain prices, and peddling luxury goods that the entire continent went rabid for, Virginia…
Was likely one of the wealthiest regions on the entire planet right now.
Every winter, the residents of our community draped themselves in lavish fur coats. Every summer, they lounged about like Roman aristocrats, feasting on exotic fruits. Naturally, this absurdly high standard of living turned their collective gaze toward pure luxury. The massive commercial complexes dedicated to buying and selling high-end interior decorations, premium clothing, and imported luxuries were perpetually overflowing with customers. People practically lived in those shopping districts.
“Wait a minute,” someone eventually realized. “Why don’t we just move our houses right in front of the commercial complex?” And just like that, the fundamental layout of the settlements began to systematically restructure itself.
A massive demographic shift swept through the Chesapeake settlements, which had previously been composed of a dozen or so scattered villages harboring three to five thousand people each. People steadily flocked toward the epicenters of commerce, entirely redrawing the map. Taken aback by the sudden, massive migrations of entire populations concentrating into a handful of specific areas, the apostles and I frantically constructed new commercial complexes in the other villages. However, this merely slowed the inevitable tide.
Through this organic urbanization, Virginia gave birth to its very first city boasting a population of over ten thousand. As the commercial hubs subsequently swelled to two or three times their original size, an electric vitality pulsed through the newly formed streets.
And amidst this booming prosperity…
“I need to… expand the business.”
Staring at the towering mountains of Othello chips piled before his eyes, Taron, a Welsh carpenter, gathered his family together to make an announcement.
“With this much capital, I should hire other carpenters and train a proper crew of apprentices,” he declared. “If we keep trying to handle all this demand by ourselves with just one workshop, our bodies are going to crumble to dust.”
Every single member of his family nodded in absolute agreement. In truth, anyone could have pointed out that if the work was too exhausting, they were wealthy enough to simply fold the business and retire. Yet, not a single person uttered such a thought.
The elegant table they were currently seated around was crafted from mahogany imported directly from Asia. The plush carpet spread beneath their feet had been shipped all the way from Persia. The steaming beverage they were casually sipping was premium black tea imported from China.
…There was no way they could ever give up this luxurious lifestyle.
“Let’s build ourselves a sprawling mansion! It’s time we lived like true lords, shouting our orders from the rooftops!” Taron cheered.
“Uh… I really hate to burst your bubble, dear, but a mansion might be a bit difficult,” his wife murmured. “We don’t have anyone to clean a house that large…”
“Hmm? If we just offer a premium wage to hire some maids—”
“Who would possibly show up?” she interrupted gently. “It’s not as if anyone in this town is struggling to feed themselves.”
“…Is that so?”
What a bizarre problem to have. Regardless, the family’s ultimate objective was business expansion. Tilting his head at his wife’s flawless logic, Taron firmly cemented his declaration.
A few days after the family meeting, he posted a lavishly compensated job listing on the bulletin board in the dead center of the shopping district. He relentlessly tapped into his personal networks, spreading the word that he was aggressively hiring. He visited the ‘Chesapeake Port Commercial Complex Management Board’ to inquire about expanding his workshop permits and began preparing for the move. He even went so far as to import high-quality tools from England and France for his soon-to-be-hired apprentices.
And yet.
“…”
“…”
“…”
Months passed, and he couldn’t hire a single soul.
…This is incredibly strange. He knew for an absolute fact that there was no shortage of master carpenters in this region. So why wasn’t anyone applying? Furthermore, he couldn’t even find a novice willing to take on an apprenticeship, despite offering wages several times more generous than anything they could have ever dreamed of back in Wales.
“Tell me about it! We’re dealing with the exact same nonsense! It makes absolutely no sense, right? I hear the kids these days have gotten so lazy they won’t even lift a finger for honest work,” the florist next door complained when Taron brought up his baffling predicament.
When Taron finally tracked down his former carpenter colleagues, their responses were equally infuriating.
“Me? You want me to work with you? Uh… under you? I think I’ll pass.”
“I don’t know, Taron… I’m already volunteering my time to help build the grand cathedral. I’m quite busy.”
“The community is constructing a new assembly hall, so I’ve dedicated my hammer to that project instead.”
Almost everyone he contacted either claimed they were entirely occupied with public works projects, or flat-out refused to work under another man’s authority.
“Look… if we were opening a joint venture as equal partners, that would be one thing. But slaving away as your subordinate? That’s a bit…”
“I’ll pay you a premium wage!” Taron pleaded.
“Who in their right mind works for wages these days?” his friend scoffed.
If you don’t work for wages, what the hell do you work for?! Taron almost screamed.
But just as the thought crossed his mind, his eyes fell upon his friend’s hands. Dangling heavily from the fingers of this supposedly ‘ordinary’ carpenter… were thick, glittering rings of solid gold.
Ah. Right. Who the hell would break their back for petty cash these days?
The money flowed in endlessly even if they sat perfectly still.
***
The ancient sages once decreed that agriculture was the great, unshakable foundation of the world, while commerce was merely a trivial pursuit.
Honoring the profound spirit and souls of my ancestors—actually, never mind, there was no need to honor their souls just yet, seeing as we were currently smack in the middle of King Gwanghae’s reign—I thoroughly inspected the operational status of the Agricultural Knights first.
Only after wrapping up my rural tour did I finally turn my attention to the monolithic trading company operated by Raleigh.
With our multi-level marketing schemes, agricultural sector, and various fledgling industries all experiencing explosive growth, I was absolutely certain the trading company would be recording an astronomical surplus. Exports were likely doubling or even tripling our imports…
“Haaah… We are technically running a surplus, but it certainly doesn’t feel like one,” Raleigh sighed heavily.
“Excuse me?” I blinked.
“Despite producing such staggering volumes of goods, when I calculate the actual balance of trade with Great Britain, this is all that remains.” He slid a ledger across the desk.
“…It’s only this much?”
“Correct. Factoring in our trade with France improves the margins slightly, but the overall picture doesn’t change dramatically.”
Wait, what? Stepping out of Raleigh’s office after our brief meeting, a cold realization washed over me. Something was going terribly, terribly wrong.
Wait… hold on. Our primary exports: Furs, wheat, rye, barley, grapes, wine, aluminum, etc.
Britain and France’s primary exports to us: Thread, textiles, paper, etc.
…We were exclusively exporting raw agricultural products and luxury goods, while relying almost entirely on imports for anything industrially manufactured.
What the hell is this? What is with this horribly underdeveloped, third-world trade structure?!
It made no sense.
Our people were undeniably filthy rich! Why was our macroeconomic structure built like a crumbling colonial state?!
Suddenly seized by a creeping sense of dread, I hurried over to the commercial complexes for the first time in a long while. The moment I arrived, every single shopkeeper desperately grabbed my arms, begging me to help them find clerks to hire.
“You’re telling me there are no carpenters willing to work?” I asked one utterly exasperated man. “But whenever I visit the cathedral construction site or any public works project, the place is swarming with carpenters volunteering their time.”
“I nearly had to cancel my plans to expand my own workshop entirely!” another merchant cried out. “There isn’t a single soul willing to be hired for a wage! I barely managed to fill the slots by begging a few peers to join me as equal partners… and the only ones willing to learn the trade as apprentices are our own damn children!”
…What is going on? If that was the case, who were all those carpenters furiously hammering away at the grand cathedral? They were essentially working pro bono!
More importantly, how had I remained completely blind to this?
…Don’t tell me. “There simply aren’t any workers!” an old man wailed. “I’ve been a stonemason for twenty years, and I’ve never seen a labor drought this severe…!”
Stonemasons? But there are always throngs of volunteers lined up whenever we announce a public project! “My original trade?” another resident shrugged when I questioned him. “I used to be a papermaker, but there’s no one left willing to work the mills with me… so I just live off my land dividends now.”
No one willing to work? Out of the tens of thousands of Europeans living here, you’re the only papermaker left?! Frantically investigating the situation, the horrifying reality laid itself bare. Aside from the food and beverage sectors experiencing explosive, unending demand—like beer and whiskey breweries—and the shipbuilding industry we had personally micromanaged and subsidized, the number of factories operating at any meaningful scale was…
Zero.
“They say I could make a fortune working as a private carpenter… but why should I bother?” one man chuckled.
“Look at this cathedral! If I dedicate myself to building this holy structure, I draw closer to Heaven, and my name will be remembered for generations! Where else could I find such glory?” another boasted.
“They’ve engraved the names of everyone who contributed to building this road right here on the milestone,” a worker beamed proudly. “To be able to dedicate my life to the community… it is a tremendous honor.”
“…”
“…”
“…”
Ah. People have stopped trying to earn money. …I really, really needed to find a copy of Mankiw’s Principles of Economics lying around the house.