Chapter 18: Reinvestment of Wealth

Across the Arkwright territory, massive granaries were being built at a frantic pace to store the harvested wheat.

The sight was a symbol of the newfound prosperity that had come to the land.
The warehouses filled one after another — and still, sacks of wheat with nowhere to go began to pile up in towering mounds.

For the first time in their lives, the villagers saw what it meant to have too much food — and along with their joy came a vague sense of unease.

“What are we supposed to do with all this wheat?”

“Even if we stuffed ourselves every day till next winter, we’d still have plenty left.”

Such conversations echoed throughout the villages.

That same concern weighed heavily on Marc, the assistant steward.
Standing before the mountain of wheat sacks, he could only sigh.

“Zenon-sama, if there were ever such a thing as a joyful crisis, this would be it. But at this rate, part of the harvest will be eaten by rats or spoiled by moisture.”

Zenon nodded quietly in his study.

“I know. When supply far exceeds demand, value collapses—and rot follows. It’s basic market logic.”

He unfurled a parchment listing the immense quantities of surplus food the harvest had produced:
wheat, barley, and the newly trialed crops—potatoes and turnips.

All of it was now capital of the Arkwright territory. And capital, left idle, was meaningless.
Only when reinvested to generate greater profit did it gain true value.

“Marc. Let me ask you. If you had more meat than you could possibly eat in a year, what would you do?”

“Hmm… I suppose I’d salt or smoke it to make it last longer.”

“Correct,”

Zenon said, nodding in approval.

“And why would you do that?”

“Because… it would be wasteful to let it spoil.”

“Exactly. Wasteful—that is to say, inefficient.”

Zenon rose and walked to the large map of the Arkwright territory.

“The same principle applies to the wealth we’ve gained. If we merely store it, it will lose value over time. We must convert these perishable goods into high-value, long-lasting processed products. That is our next move.”

His finger traced across the map.

“Our surplus wheat will be milled into flour—not only for bread and noodles, but as a base for ale and whisky. Once we establish a malting process, it will become a major industry.”

“Alcohol, my lord?” 

Marc exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes. Alcohol is a noble luxury—and commands high prices. It also preserves well. The perfect investment.”

“The potatoes harvested in the northern villages—those can be distilled into a strong liquor called vodka. Turnips can be made into pickles, which store well, and they serve as good livestock feed.”

“Moreover, the excess grain will feed pigs and chickens. Their meat can be salted, smoked, or dried—turned into jerky, hams, and sausages.”

Each word Zenon spoke left Marc more astonished.

Ordinary crops, under Zenon’s direction, were transformed as if by magic into a cascade of new, valuable products— ale, whisky, vodka, pickles, ham, sausage.

Each of these represented a new source of wealth the domain had never known.

“These will become the Arkwright territory’s specialty goods, to be sold beyond our borders.”

Zenon continued, tracing his finger along the road leading toward the royal capital.

“Our land sits conveniently between the capital and the northern frontier. A perfect position—but one we have yet to take advantage of.”

Marc realized the truth of it.
Until now, the road had simply existed—a mere path.
Few traveling merchants ever stopped in this poor, forgotten territory.

“But what if this land overflowed with goods found nowhere else? Merchants would flock here to buy. And when goods move, money moves. When money moves, people gather. Inns and taverns thrive, new jobs appear. Wealth begets wealth.”

“Commerce… revitalized…” 

Marc murmured, his voice trembling.

To take the wealth born from agricultural reform and reinvest it into trade— to turn the entire domain’s economy into a living, circulating system.

Just how vast were the gears turning inside this man’s mind?

“Marc, your next role is to lead this specialty goods development project. Build processing facilities in each village and provide technical guidance. Coordinate manpower and budgets with Rio. Quality control must be absolute—any substandard goods that might damage our brand are to be destroyed before reaching the market.”

“Yes, my lord! You can count on me!”

Marc’s heart blazed with new purpose.

“And Gray,” 

Zenon said, calling to the attendant standing quietly in the corner.

“Yes, Zenon-sama?”

“Your task is to remove the greatest obstacle to this commercial plan.”

Zenon pointed to a road drawn across the map— the main highway that ran through the territory.

“This road. As it stands, it’s barely maintained. When it rains, it turns into a swamp.
For wagons, it’s a nightmare. At this rate, our entire logistics system is crippled.”

“You’re right, my lord.” 

Gray replied.

“Then repair it. Pave it with stone, build drainage ditches, and make it passable in all weather.
Widen it to twice its current breadth. Logistics are the lifeblood of a nation. If the arteries are clogged, the economy cannot circulate.”

Agriculture had been the first step.
Now came commerce— and next, the infrastructure to sustain it.

Zenon’s reforms advanced like a perfectly engineered machine— each phase flowing seamlessly into the next.

He was no longer merely reforming a failing territory;
he was transforming a collapsing company into a leading enterprise in record time—
a strategist of ruthless precision.

“Wealth has no meaning if it merely sits still,” 

Zenon declared quietly.

“It must flow, be reinvested, and expand. Only then does it become true power.”

He looked at his two subordinates.

“From this moment, we begin real management. Adjust your minds accordingly.”

Those words were the starting gun for a new era—the dawn of the Arkwright territory’s transformation from an agricultural backwater into a thriving hub of commerce and trade.

Zenon’s vision was now far surpassing the boundaries of mere local reform.