A bountiful corn harvest was certainly good news, but Wei Wei wasn't nearly as excited as George thought. After all, she had grown used to it. She had already roughly estimated this year's corn yield in her mind.
Still, the fact that yields hadn't decreased was worth celebrating. So she rewarded George for his hard work during this period and agreed to his request by gifting him some corn.
This variety of corn had been cultivated for nearly three years. By now, they no longer needed to cautiously save every ear for seed. When the ears began to ripen and fill out, Wei Wei had people pick a good amount of tender corn and send it to the castle. Over the past few days, their family had eaten it every which way—boiled, steamed, stir-fried, deep-fried, ground into cornmeal for pancakes. Wei Wei had tried every method she could think of, and it gave Felix and the others a deep appreciation for just how versatile this food was.
Since they could finally eat it freely, Wei Wei had no intention of keeping the entire harvest.
"Save some for seed, and sell the rest to make money."
Despite their wealth, the port and new city being built in Sardinson were both money-draining projects, and they wouldn't turn a profit in the short term. That meant they needed to make up the expenses from other sources, so every bit of income counted.
Wei Wei planned to discuss the corn sales with Felix.
The price couldn't be set too high—if it was too expensive, ordinary people wouldn't be able to afford it, which would hinder its adoption among the peasantry. But it also couldn't be too low—if the price started cheap, it would be difficult to raise it later, damaging the crop's commercial value in the long run.
To set a fair price, she would have to consult others.
As for finding buyers, she figured that once word got out about the corn harvest, the business would come to her.
The business came knocking even sooner than she expected. Before Wei Wei even received George's report, quite a few people had already set their sights on buying corn seeds.
These weren't the local peasants who had seen the plentiful harvest, but rather people in the royal capital, led by the king and nobles.
Last year, when Felix went to the capital to pay respects to the king, he brought gifts of 100 pounds each of corn, potatoes, and sweet potatoes. He also distributed smaller portions to other nobles worth befriending, adjusted according to their rank. It might not have been as much as what was given to the king, but each portion was enough to plant an acre or two.
Unlike potatoes and sweet potatoes, which grow underground and hide their yields until harvest, corn grows openly on tall stalks. Although the ears were wrapped in husks, anyone could peel and squeeze them a bit to gauge the quality.
And especially the size—it was immediately obvious how large each ear was.
At first, neither the king nor the nobles paid much attention to these new crops. Even though Felix had emphasized their high yield, most of them just casually instructed their staff to store the seeds until the following spring, without holding much hope for the harvest.
After all, men of their status lacked for nothing, especially food. These new crops didn't even look particularly appetizing—corn, when dried, looked hard and unappealing, and the potatoes and sweet potatoes, unwashed to preserve them, were caked in dirt and looked like nothing more than lumps of earth. Many nobles privately found the gifts unattractive and were unimpressed by Felix's offering. If not for the intention to maintain good relations, they might have tossed them aside.
Though they didn't discard them, they certainly didn't value them. Some nobles, thinking planting them would be a waste of land, simply gifted them to their subordinates.
But the servants took their masters' orders seriously. Come spring, most of the seeds and seed tubers were indeed planted in the fields.
Felix had also thoughtfully included a planting guide. The serfs working noble land were typically experienced, and with their careful tending, these hardy, low-maintenance crops grew remarkably well. Corn in particular thrived. Even before the harvest, the size of the ears was enough for the peasants to alert the stewards, who in turn reported to their lords.
The king had always had a favorable view of Felix. Over the past few years, Felix has brought him many benefits—from insect repellents and manure composting techniques to sugar-making methods. The use of these innovations had greatly increased yields on royal lands, and the sugar production formula had earned the king a significant fortune. This year, he expanded the beet plantations on his lands and even signed contracts with several nobles to purchase their beet harvests. When October came, his sugar refinery would be running full steam, and the king could already imagine the gold piling up in his treasury.
All these profits came thanks to Felix. Naturally, the king appreciated this capable grandson-in-law more and more. He knew Felix was someone who shared his good fortune, and so he began paying closer attention to the seeds he had gifted.
From time to time, he would inquire about the fields. When he heard the corn had grown well, he even made time to go inspect this exotic crop himself.
The king was locked in a tense political struggle with Duke Romanov, and it wasn't until the wheat harvest was complete and the corn was nearly ripe that he found time to visit the fields. He arrived just as the serfs were cutting down the overly tall stalks and peeling back the husks to dry the corn on the stalks in the field. From afar, the fields looked like a sea of green topped with golden spears—it almost resembled some strange and beautiful flower.
Up close, the corn ears were about the length of a palm, packed with plump, golden kernels. The sight left the king speechless for a long moment before he turned to his attendant in disbelief.
"This is corn?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Hearing the confirmation, the king turned back to gaze at the three cornfields. The three acres were bursting with large, plentiful ears of corn—there was no telling how much had grown.
His casual expression turned serious. "How much does this corn yield per acre?"
The attendant couldn't answer. He didn't know much about the corn—this was his first time seeing it as well.
Fortunately, the steward in charge of the fields had already hurried over. Hearing the king's question and seeing no one else respond, he seized the opportunity to make a good impression and bowed respectfully.
"Your Majesty, we don't have exact figures yet, but our rough estimate is no less than 4,000 pounds per acre."
In truth, the royal stewards had privately estimated it to be around 5,000 pounds per acre. But this was only an estimate, not confirmed data. If he overpromised and the actual weight came up short, he risked punishment. So the steward gave a conservative number. That way, if the actual yield was higher, the king would be even more pleased.
Even so, the mention of 4,000 pounds per acre made the king gasp in shock.
As king, his territory was vast. Though much of it was now used for growing beets, he had still left plenty for wheat to ensure his food stores remained stable. Thanks to Felix's generous gifts, wheat yields on his lands had improved over the past two years. This year, average wheat yields had reached 1,800 pounds per acre. It might not match Sardinson's reported figures, but it was far above the national average, especially better than Duke Romanov's—and the king was quite proud of that.
But now, hearing that corn might yield 4,000 pounds per acre nearly gave him a heart attack.
It took him a moment to steady his suddenly racing heart. Then he asked again, just to be sure, "Are you certain?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. That figure is conservative. The actual yield may be slightly higher," the steward replied cautiously.
Hearing that the real yield might exceed 4,000 pounds, the king stared at the corn ears with barely concealed excitement. He was nearly bursting with the urge to harvest them right then and there.
"How much longer until they're ready to harvest?" he asked.
The steward replied, "According to the planting guide, they can already be harvested now. We left them on the stalk to dry so they won't need additional drying after being picked."
In truth, that wasn't the main reason. The corn could just as easily have been picked and sun-dried separately. Leaving it on the stalk risked birds stealing the crop, and they'd had to post guards in the field to chase away pests these past few days.
But the stewards had been notified in advance that the king would be visiting, and they had agreed that leaving the corn on the stalk would make for a more dramatic sight. Of course, if the king hadn't come soon, they would've had to harvest anyway, lest the yield suffer from waiting too long.
The king asked, "So it can be picked right now?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Then what are we waiting for? Start picking!"
He didn't wait for help. The king dismounted and walked to the field's edge, broke off a corn ear himself, then turned to the steward. "Like this, right?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Seeing the king personally picking corn, the steward was terrified and quickly called for the nearby serfs to assist.
Baskets were brought out, and although the stewards and attendants tried to persuade the king to rest, he refused. He was too eager to see the yield for himself and found the act of picking corn to be oddly fun. He even called his knights and attendants over to help.
Naturally, they obeyed.
There were only three acres, and with over forty people—including more than twenty serfs and the king's entourage—working together, the entire field was harvested in under an hour.
The corn was divided into three piles along the field's edge, and the large grain scale was brought out. The king's hands were covered in tiny cuts from the sharp leaves, and his attendants begged him to let them treat his wounds. But the king waved them off, too absorbed in watching the weighing.
With the king watching intently, everyone worked quickly. Soon, the results were in.
The stewards had estimated 4,000 pounds per acre. Privately, they thought it might be 5,000. But the final tally from the agricultural officer came out to 5,300, 5,500, and 5,600 pounds, respectively.
"A total yield of 16,400 pounds."
That number exceeded all previous expectations. Everyone who heard it felt their hearts race with disbelief.
The king, who had just been stunned by the 4,000-pound figure, now discovered that the yield could go even higher. It felt like he had unwrapped a loaf of bread and found it stuffed with jam inside—pure delight.
Amid his excitement, the king quickly recognized just how important corn was. With such a high-yielding crop, would his subjects ever need to worry about food again?
That thought alone spurred the king to immediately write a letter to Felix. He clearly remembered that Felix had said they planned to expand corn planting significantly in Sardinson this year. And since Felix had already been growing it for two years, it was likely that the harvest there would be even better than the one on royal land. The king felt it was crucial to place an order for corn seeds with Felix before anyone else did.
There was no time to waste. He was sure that once others realized corn's potential, many would come running to buy seeds from Felix as well.
And who knew if Sardinson had enough to meet everyone's demand? So naturally, the earlier he ordered, the better. The more, the better—even if he didn't plant all of it himself, he could resell some and still make a profit.
As he was writing, the king suddenly remembered that there were two other new crops from Sardinson—potatoes and sweet potatoes. He hadn't yet seen their yields, but if Felix had grouped them with corn as high-yield crops, then their production likely wouldn't be low either. The king's quill paused. He pulled out the letter he had half-finished and replaced it with a fresh sheet of fragrant Sardinson-made stationery, writing a new letter from scratch. This time, instead of only requesting to purchase corn, he asked for seeds of all three new crops.
The letter was dispatched immediately. And just as the king's message was on its way to Felix, other nobles were also starting to catch on. Their earlier disregard for corn and the other new crops vanished once they saw the yield or tasted it. These nobles also began writing letters addressed to Sardinson.
Of course, no one's message traveled faster than Allen's.
Allen had already taken over Princia. Originally, he had planned to visit Felix for a hunting trip at the first opportunity. But that plan went out the window. He returned to Princia in June, right in the middle of wheat harvest season. Naturally, the estate was at its busiest, and as soon as Allen arrived, he was swept up in the work. He didn't even have time to take a day off, let alone go see Felix. The workload had him completely exhausted.
But he hadn't forgotten the seeds Felix had sent him the previous year. He had them delivered to Princia early and ordered his serfs to plant them that spring. As a result, Allen also witnessed a bountiful corn harvest and immediately wrote to Felix.
Because he used carrier pigeons to deliver the message, the note reached Sardinson in just a day, compared to the several days it would've taken by messenger. So just as Wei Wei was receiving George's report, Felix happened to be reading Allen's letter.
Well, calling it a letter was generous. It was more like a small slip of paper. Carrier pigeons had limited carrying capacity, so Allen didn't bother with pleasantries. He simply wrote:
Request to purchase corn, potatoes, and sweet potatoes. I'll take however much you can spare."
The bluntness made Felix laugh out loud.
So before Wei Wei could come find him, Felix had already come to her. He wanted to discuss how much they could sell to Allen—though more importantly, he wanted to settle on a price.
When he explained his purpose, Wei Wei smiled and said, "What a coincidence, I was just about to talk to you about pricing too."
Felix asked, "What's your idea?"
Wei Wei thought for a moment and replied, "These are rare items right now, and with yields this high, I'm sure a lot of people will want them. If we price them too low, we're shortchanging ourselves. So, how about we sell them at double the price of wheat seed?"
Whether sold as food or seed, the pricing was different. Given that Sardinson was currently the only region producing these crops in large quantities, selling them as seeds made the most financial sense.
But Felix was even bolder than she was. "I think three times the price of wheat seed is fine, especially for corn. It takes much less seed per acre than wheat, and it yields much more. Even if the seed is pricey, ordinary farmers can still afford it."
Indeed, the farmers in Sardinson weren't poor. Compared to peasants in other regions, most of them lived far more comfortably. Those with land of their own were willing to invest in quality seeds. Though most farmers tried to save seeds from their harvest, if their crops had been underperforming, they wouldn't hesitate to spend extra for better seed—it was directly tied to their family's survival.
To plant an acre of wheat, one needed at least 180 pounds of wheat seed. But to plant the same area in corn only required 30 pounds, a sixth of the quantity. And corn produced nearly three times the yield. So, even pricing corn seed at three times that of wheat was still a bargain, and people would buy it.
"Besides," Felix continued, "we're probably only going to make real money off it this year. Once others start planting next year, prices will drop."
And the first buyers would undoubtedly be nobles. Felix had no intention of going easy on them—he'd happily turn a profit to support his territory.
Wei Wei agreed with his reasoning and approved pricing corn seeds at triple the price of wheat seeds. The exact amount would fluctuate with wheat prices. Although Sardinson's wheat prices had remained stable since last year's bumper crop, the value of wheat seeds stayed high. Merchants who bought Sardinson wheat seed could easily resell it elsewhere by claiming it yielded 2,000 pounds per acre, and people would flock to buy it. Sardinson's wheat seeds were highly sought after and sold for up to twice the price of regular seeds in other regions. Within Sardinson itself, prices had stabilized after one spike.
So by selling corn seed at three times the wheat seed price, they'd earn more than expected.
They also settled on the prices for potatoes and sweet potatoes. Felix, now a true "black-hearted" noble businessman, set sweet potatoes at the same price as corn, but priced potatoes even higher. That was partly because potatoes yielded even more per acre, and partly because they still didn't have that many. There simply wasn't enough to sell in large quantities. Supply was limited, and rare goods always commanded higher prices.
Wei Wei hadn't forgotten that, compared to corn and sweet potatoes, potatoes were the Western world's true favorite. Practically a staple in every meal. Once potatoes became widely cultivated, their popularity would surely surpass the other two crops.
After settling the pricing, Felix wrote back to Allen, giving him the quote and informing him that, for now, they could only sell him 3,000 pounds of corn. Potatoes and sweet potatoes would have to wait until after harvest, and even then, not in unlimited quantities. There were other buyers to consider.
Though 3,000 pounds of corn might not sound like much, it was enough to plant 100 acres on Allen's estate. And that was more than enough. After all, they couldn't plant the entire estate with corn. Bread was still their staple food, and wheat was still essential.
Allen wasn't the least bit disappointed. He happily replied and immediately sent someone with money to Sardinson to make the purchase.
At that time, the corn had already been delivered to the castle. Every day, dozens of peasant women sat in the front courtyard shelling corn kernels. Afterward, the kernels were dried again before being bagged and stored in the warehouse. The stripped cobs were collected and used as fuel in the kitchen.
Even the corn stalks in the fields weren't wasted. Wei Wei had recently become interested in artificial mushroom farming. During her research, she found many modern cultivation formulas. Though she had originally wanted to grow shiitake mushrooms, the spores didn't exist in Europe. So she gave up on that idea and instead chose the most common local variety—the white button mushrooms she had used earlier to make mushroom "MSG."
One of the ingredients for cultivating white button mushrooms?
Corn stalks.