Chapter 50: A Little Willfulness

Deeply absorbed in her work, Lady Adelaide was startled by the suddenly appearing head. Recovering her wits, she reached out and smacked his forehead, scolding: “Why don’t you make a sound when you walk? You scared me.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Baron Kaibuli smiled awkwardly, reaching out to gently pat her back to soothe her: “I just wasn’t paying attention.”

Having calmed down, Lady Adelaide rolled her eyes at him and explained: “Nana asked me to write down my insights on military affairs. She said when the time comes, it can be printed and sold to those who need it.”

“Sigh, I don’t know what Nana is thinking, asking a woman like me to write this. But since she begged me for help, I have no choice. As her mother, I can only bite the bullet and do it.”

Speaking to this point, the corners of Lady Adelaide’s mouth curled up; she could barely suppress her smile.

Hearing Lady Adelaide say this, Baron Kaibuli instantly felt a wave of sour jealousy: “Shouldn’t I be the one writing this?”

“I’ve lived in the military camps since I was a child. Don’t I know more than…” As Lady Adelaide’s gaze gradually turned cold, Baron Kaibuli’s voice grew smaller and smaller.

Once paper production increased and the printing press was established, the very first cheaply priced book issued—no matter what was written in it—would sell immensely well. Paper was still considered relatively precious in this world, and it wouldn’t be surprising if even the illiterate bought a copy.

As for the honor of being the first mass-printed book—something highly likely to be recorded in the annals of history—after much thought, Su Na followed her own selfish desires and gave it to her mother.

Regardless of whether Lady Adelaide was her biological mother or not, Lady Adelaide cared for her feelings, provided her with an excellent environment to grow up in, and allowed Su Na to experience what selfless maternal love truly looked like.

Had she been placed in a noble family environment like the male lead’s, even as a transmigrator, Su Na would have found it exceedingly difficult to accomplish anything before coming of age and gaining independence; that was the restriction of this era.

Therefore, she chose to be a little willful regarding this matter, ignoring how to maximize the value of this “first.”

Furthermore, the military booklet compiled by Lady Adelaide was not a useless item. There was no way a Knight Commander lacked training insights. Even if it were lacking, Su Na could supplement it with the experiences of the masters from her previous life to make it useful, so it wasn’t a waste.

Baron Kaibuli, not wanting to continue facing her death glare, dryly changed the subject: “Where is Nana?”

Lady Adelaide lowered her head again and replied casually: “She’s sleeping. She’s been waking up rather late these past few days.”

Baron Kaibuli relaxed, sprawling on the sofa, and nodded: “It’s normal to sleep in during the holidays.”

“How did the discussions go? Did it proceed smoothly?”

“Hehe, how could it not go smoothly? They have no room to choose.” Baron Kaibuli let out a self-deprecating laugh.

Last night, Su Na had analyzed their current predicament in detail with him. Market saturation was an imminent problem. Unlike the Fafnir territory, other territories used the steam engine for highly single-faceted industries.

Because none of them had experience with a leap in productivity, they could only follow traditional thinking. Their primary strategy was to focus on previously time-consuming and labor-intensive industries to drive down production costs, and then seize the market with lower prices to earn profits.

For example, cheaper and more efficient grain processing, ore smelting, or establishing various new intensive factories using the balanced power output of steam to fight price wars with other territories.

The Fafnir territory had far more room for choice. Not even mentioning previous industries, the scale of textile production formed once the new Spinning Jenny went into operation would basically eliminate the negative effects of market saturation. It was nothing more than transferring a portion of production capacity from the steam engine factories to do something else.

Of course, this was Plan B in the event of failed integration. If possible, forming an alliance would still be far more beneficial to Fafnir’s development.

Merely building larger merchant ships could fundamentally establish a new industrial chain for Fafnir. The future textile industry would also require broader markets to provide raw materials and export finished products.

More merchant ships meant more armaments were needed, and the Holy See could also take a larger share of the pie.

Once the alliance was formed, Fafnir could also subcontract portions of the industrial chain to other territories for mutual benefit. The future profits and consequences of every path were laid out clearly, and Baron Kaibuli truly couldn’t fathom the possibility of other territories refusing.

This was a completely open and aboveboard scheme: either you join in and everyone makes money together, or don’t blame us when we not only exclude you in the future but also squeeze you out of your original market share.

By the time Su Na woke up, the sun was almost setting.

Rubbing her eyes, she struggled up from the soft bed, stretching expansively and yawning: “Ah, that was a great sleep.”

She had slept too late yesterday, and since there was nothing urgent, she decided to relax and slack off. She slept until the sky was dark and the earth spun, re-experiencing the “lay flat” life of her previous world.

Seeing that she had finally woken up, Levi and the maids, who had been waiting outside, filed in and began serving her as she washed and dressed. Su Na narrowed her eyes, allowing a flurry of small hands to roam over her, thoroughly enjoying the corruption and decadence of the privileged class.

Tsk, tsk. Looking at her current life and then thinking of those peers who started off as orphans, alas, she truly wiped a bitter tear for them.

It wasn’t their fault that most of them only thought of themselves after striking it rich. Reborn into a post-apocalyptic world and unearthing supplies that couldn’t be used up in centuries, they hoarded every little benefit for themselves, making enemies relentlessly. And even then, they didn’t dare spend their wealth openly, living their entire lives in cautious fear—they were truly terrified of poverty.

Unlike her. From the moment she arrived in this world, she didn’t know how to spell the word “poor.” Even at her poorest, she had hundreds of cold, hard gold coins stuffed in her pockets. Once the steam engine was developed, she spent however much she wanted, and her parents didn’t even ask a single extra question.

She had truly never experienced the thrilling sensation of looking over her shoulder when spending a bit of pocket change or fearing being robbed. She was intensely envious of them.

Unfortunately, reality did not give Su Na time to continue secretly mocking others. When she received the data on the territory’s working population, it felt as though the sky had fallen.

“Father, are you saying that sixty percent of the population are outsiders, and there is an endless stream of people rushing toward us?”

Baron Kaibuli nodded, looking somewhat puzzled: “Is there a problem? Much of our work doesn’t actually require craftsmen; ordinary people can handle it after a short period of training.”

“Is there a problem? The problem is massive. Craftsmen are craftsmen, and ordinary people are ordinary people. If sixty percent were craftsmen coming here, I wouldn’t see a problem. But such a massive influx of regular population is a huge problem.”

“Where did all these people come from? Did you ask why they came to us?”

Baron Kaibuli sighed slightly: “What else could it be but fleeing famine? This sort of thing actually happens every year. Sigh, speaking of which, the people at the bottom truly live in hardship.”

Su Na opened the registry. Looking at the birthplaces that covered nearly half the kingdom’s territory, her expression became exceptionally grave.

“It’s not that simple. Some people can no longer keep the lid on things.”

The Regent had truly molded an instant-explosion landmine; the tax reforms had caused a catastrophic failure.