Chapter 41

As we transitioned from Rome to the Middle Ages, many technologies regressed.

For instance, methods for paving roads, constructing sewage and water supply systems, building techniques, and so on…

Among these, there is a technology that played quite a significant role in history but has surprisingly vanished from common knowledge: the technology for producing long-lasting food supplies.

At that time, the Roman army supplied soldiers with a type of ‘American-style hardtack’ that was somewhat similar to what we produce today.

As it was improved upon during the Age of Exploration, it transformed into what we know as the wicked brick-like ‘ship biscuit,’ distributed to soldiers…

But in this world, there is still no ‘hardtack.’

So now, I am at the baking guild, trying to create hardtack with the Master of the baking guild…

“Your Excellency, it’s baked.”

“Good, you’ve worked hard. Now, place it down on the floor on the tray.”

Hesitating at those words, the apprentice of the baking guild set the tray down.

I lifted a heavy hammer, likely to injure my wrist, ready to bring it down onto the hardtack.

The Master of the baking guild and the apprentice watched me with eyes full of tension.

I had already told them several times to create ‘bread that doesn’t break when hit with a hammer after being baked at a low temperature for a long time,’ and as I continued to fail, I was reluctantly hitting the hardtack with the hammer.

“Why is this breaking? Go bake it again! You aren’t stealing firewood, are you?”

I suppose my insistence might have been the cause…

But those guys who keep failing to bake it correctly after just putting it in the oven at a low temperature for about an hour or two are also a problem.

In any case, to check if the hardtack was properly completed, I shouted loudly while swinging the hammer.

“Hammer away!!”

This time, whether it was made properly or not, despite smashing down with all my strength, I didn’t hear the sound of it cracking.

So I passed the hammer to the nearby apprentice and checked the hardtack, which had only crumbled slightly but was mostly intact.

I raised my finger to signal that I had succeeded to the apprentice and the Master, who were both watching with tense eyes.

Then the Master of the baking guild embraced the apprentice, forgetting our social differences.

“Finally succeeded!! Well done, Rouli!! I’ll give you a huge bonus!! Thanks to you, we won’t have to face as much scorn from the Noble!”

“T-Thank you, Master…”

“Why the formality between us? You’re the most capable apprentice I have! It can’t be helped. Today, I’ll take you out for a drink…”

“M-Master… The Noble next to us…”

Seeing that, a thought crossed my mind: had I been too hard on those guys?

It was understandable since, no matter how important ‘hardtack’ is, it’s like a city mayor directly overseeing a corporate president hammering down at joints.

I had also visited here for three days straight, checking the hardtack for hours each day.

So I sighed and spoke to them.

“I haven’t heard anything, so it’s settled. Congratulations on your success. Starting tomorrow, deliver the supplies, but how much can you provide?”

“If we start production tomorrow, we can initially supply about 300 kilos a day. As we gradually expand our facilities, we can increase the amount to a maximum of about 5 tons.”

Currently, our army consumes about 1.8 tons of hardtack daily, and even if we consider storing extra supplies for when we go to war… 5 tons should be sufficient.

Of course, the hardtack, which possesses tremendous preservation qualities, will likely be sought after by ‘merchants,’ ‘travelers,’ and even ‘hunters’ once it starts being sold…

Right now, it has almost no moisture, meaning it can last at least 2 months to a maximum of 2 years…

So I seriously grabbed the shoulder of the Master of the baking guild and said.

“This is an order. Make sure to produce up to 10 tons, or even 15 tons. If you lack funds for the equipment upgrades, come to me for a loan. I’ll lend it to you at a low interest rate of 10%. Additionally, I’ll sell all the grains needed for producing hardtack at 10% to 20% lower than the guild.”

Upon hearing that, the Master of the baking guild still looked morose, possibly thinking about the immense costs involved in rapidly enhancing their facilities.

I pretended not to see that and quickly left, handing a pouch containing 5 gold coins to the soldier who opened the door for me.

“Use 2 for the guild master and the guild officers’ company dinner, and the remaining 3 are for you guys when you have a company dinner.”

With that, I patted him on the shoulder and swiftly made my exit.

**

Three days after the announcement indicating that the bread supplied for our daily meals would be changed from rye bread to ‘hardtack’…

At last, hardtack appeared on my serving tray.

Today’s lunch consisted of salted fish, hardtack, preserved meat, and a mug of beer.

Still, the words of Master Mark indicated that this bread had more wheat and barley than the usual bread, making it taste richer…

Though it looked strange, perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad once I tried it?

With that thought, I took a seat at the mess hall set up in the barracks, and my squad leader, Corporal Charlotte, sitting next to me, said.

“Hey, Private Chris. You did well during training today. Thanks to you, the squad leader seems to be in a good mood right now.”

Today was a fortunate day from the beginning.

Living by the motto, “Though I am a commoner, I am a Noble. Thus, I must always be strict, solemn, and serious” in front of the soldiers, he always showed a serious demeanor…

If he felt this happy, could I also be promoted to corporal next year if I continue like this?

“Thank you!”

“You did well… So, do you want to try and woo the squad leader with me today?”

“Try? What do you mean?”

Then the Corporal signaled for me to lend her my ear, and I leaned in to listen.

The Corporal then began to speak brilliantly.

“Come on, our squad leader is a man of loyalty who, despite being the epitome of ‘strict, solemn, and serious’, if he’s in a good mood will treat us to drinks and meat, and if we do well, perhaps he’ll take us to a good place too, right? He earns a gold coin every month. And he doesn’t have a lady he likes.”

Hearing this, I felt my eyes go wide.

Now that I think about it, hadn’t the squad leader mentioned previously that he had to gain merit to prepare for his promotion to lieutenant so the soldiers had to follow him well?

This meant that if our squad performed well in training, then if I and the Corporal went and said, “Squad leader, we did well in our training today, could we have a day out?”…

The chances are abundant; after all, the corporal must have a different level of expertise given their years as a mercenary…

“Impressive, Corporal.”

“Right, you and I are surviving on things like this too. Now, let’s eat first. We have a city marching drill after lunch.”

Marching drills, they seem terrible just to think about, but there’s no choice. Even if I’m set to become a regular soldier wearing an infantry rank and spending decades with hopes of being promoted to ‘second lieutenant’ later, I still have to participate in training.

“I’ll eat well.”

“Sure, you too.”

Finally, I picked up the unidentified object on my plate, which was hardtack.

As soon as I held it, true to its name as bread made by dehydration, it felt incredibly hard.

But surely it wouldn’t be so hard that I couldn’t chew it, right?

And so I opened my mouth to bite into the hardtack.

Crunch, huh?

Why is it that despite biting into it, there’s not even a scratch on the hardtack I’m eating?

And why is my tooth hurting?

I took the hardtack out of my mouth to check it.

As a result, there were no bite marks on the hardtack at all.

“What the hell is this!! How are we supposed to eat something like this!! Who is today’s cook!!!”

As I shouted, the other soldiers started to echo similar complaints.

“No, why on earth did they give us something like this to eat?”

“Should we be chewing on rocks? I mean, no matter what, the Noble should really…”

“Exactly!! Even if we are soldiers from poor backgrounds, this is not acceptable!!”

“Is this what they call military rations!!”

As our outcry continued, the cook, Sergeant Sulk, a wounded veteran who wore the ‘sergeant’ insignia, yelled at us from the mess hall.

“Quiet!! Haven’t any of you read the notice posted a few days ago!! You are soldiers!!”

At that, one soldier, lacking awareness of the situation, questioned back.

“What do you mean? Shouldn’t we be able to read…?”

“Hasn’t it been a long time since you were taught how to read? Why can’t you read it? Ha! You will report to me once training ends today.”

Upon hearing that, the clueless and conceptually disabled soldier began to tremble in fear at the thought of ‘reporting to the sergeant.’

Ignoring all of that, Sergeant Sulk, with a furious expression, swung the mace clipped to his waist around.

“Did you not see the notice saying to bring a mace to smash and eat it? Didn’t it say you wouldn’t be able to eat otherwise?”

“….”

Upon hearing that, we fell into silence.

And quietly returned to our barracks to fetch the mace and smashed the hardtack.

With each strike, cracks began to form…

After delivering dozens of blows, the hardtack was finally split into a bit of powder and some edible chunks.

To eat that, I reached out, grabbed a piece of hardtack and put it in my mouth to chew.

The now finely broken hardtack was tolerable to eat.

Perhaps it was due to the mixture of beans, wheat, and barley, it had a very rich flavor.

And when the chewiness set in, it paired relatively well with the beer… no, it was quite delicious.

Yeah, it’s not unfair to swing a mace for five minutes just to eat a single piece of bread…

However, beginning that day, whenever I and the soldiers ate hardtack, we felt an inexplicable salted taste.

It was definitely not a flavor of tears shed over the unfairness of having to break it.