Chapter 711.1: Are You A Pig?!

It turned out that shouting a few times actually did help a little.

At the very least, with those two barbarians carrying rifles standing outside in the hallway, the bureaucrats who had long lived pampered lives finally began showing at least a tiny bit of fear and started getting serious.

As for the results, that would depend on the reports to come later.

Of course, Ample Time had not placed all his hopes on these parasites. He was only keeping them around temporarily because there was nobody else available. Firing them all might feel satisfying for a moment, but it would bring no actual benefit.

Ample Time knew very well that although these people acted clueless on the outside, they actually maintained countless hidden connections with grassroots organizations. They had delegated portions of their authority and responsibilities to lower-level civilian groups, permitting those organizations to legally collect all types of fees. Naturally, those groups would have to kick some benefits back to them.

In other words, these people were probably not just taking money without doing work, they were taking money twice without doing work!

Most poor people in Port Gallon had to pay three separate times for the same public service, including payments to those civilian organizations.

Under circumstances like that, it would be a miracle if people could avoid eating dirt and afford clothes!

Most New Alliance settlements also practiced the principle of survivor self-governance, but they had never sold public affairs off to private groups, let alone violent organizations. It was no longer a matter of autonomy. It was simply a rotten government.

If they did not solve the issue of one person paying three separate fees, then no matter what they did in Port Gallon, the lives of the people there would never truly improve.

His first step was to rely on the remaining authority of the old bureaucracy and the Militia Corps’ coercive power to reclaim some of the rights and responsibilities that had been scattered who-knew-where, or simply absorb some of the more capable groups directly into the administration.

The second step was to promote capable grassroots personnel from among the literate citizen class, gradually replacing the old blood that already reeked of decay. Eventually, he hoped to cultivate a qualified city lord, or mayor, to work alongside Port Gallon’s future governor.

Well, he was assuming the administrator intended to appoint one.

...

“... The situation here is even worse than we imagined. It’s like an orange rotting from the inside out. Unless you peel it open, we will never know what’s happening beneath the skin. Bihari was right, if we abolished slavery here immediately, this entire settlement will drown in mountains of shit within a week. Whatever it is, we still have to do it.”

After leaving the Governor’s Office, Ample Time met up with Old White, who had just returned from Rowell Camp, and mentioned the events from earlier along the way.

Before getting off work, he had signed a recruitment order offering a monthly salary of 2,000 Gallons to recruit 200 literate citizens into their newly formed city hall.

After training them for a period of time, he planned to assign them to departments and positions based on the organizational framework previously discussed on the forums. He would also merge and restructure the original departments left behind from Governor Nihark’s era, concentrating the old bastards into a marginal department before gradually eliminating them to complete the final step.

That organizational framework had originally been intended for French Fry Harbor, but the population there was still too small to make use of it. Instead, the survivors of Port Gallon were benefiting first.

Seeing Ample Time constantly shaking his head, Old White grinned. “Do you still remember why we came here in the first place?”

Ample Time paused briefly before replying, “To teach a bunch of clowns a lesson, and maybe free some slaves to work for us afterward... Why?”

“What we’re doing now looks more like kingdom building.” Old White laughed. “Look at how worn out you are. Don’t rush things too much. Some changes can’t happen overnight.”

“I’m not rushing anything. What’s there for me to rush about?” Ample Time sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “And this doesn’t count as kingdom building. These poor bastards simply aren’t worth exploiting in their current state. If we want to extract enough value from this place, we first need the locals to become richer, or at least start living like actual human beings.”

He muttered to himself, “... Literacy rates are a huge problem. We need to start pushing education reform as soon as possible.”

Previously, he had hired a batch of doctors from Silvermoon Bay to treat the injured prisoners. Perhaps they should hire some teachers as well.

Looking at Ample Time who was cooking up some plans, Old White gave him a look that said, “Whatever you say, man,” before smiling and patting his good brother on the shoulder. “Here’s some good news. Our scouting team sent north gathered some information. According to locals, there’s a guerrilla force active in the mountains along the northern bank of the Everflowing River. They haven’t responded to our signals yet, but they’ve probably already noticed what happened in Port Gallon. Someone may come into contact with us soon.”

Ample Time pondered briefly before replying, “Keep searching. Hopefully there are some talents among them that we can use... By the way, do you smell that?”

As he spoke, a faint sweet aroma suddenly drifted into his nose, carried along the street by the sea breeze from the docks.

Strange, it was not the smell of fish.

Seeing the surprised expression on Ample Time’s face, Old White smiled. “That’s the second piece of good news.”

“Tail and the others just arrived.”

...

“WOWOWOWOW! Port Gallon!”

“Even though it’s only been a little over two months, it somehow feels like forever!”

“Yup yup! The changes are super huge, giao!”

Several hours earlier, aboard the deck of the Roro Ship. Standing on tiptoe at the bow, Tail and Roshan excitedly looked toward the harbor, pointing animatedly at the buildings there.

The docks were still the same docks, but the cargo-handling equipment had been upgraded from old wooden cranes to electrically driven metal hoists. The vehicles transporting goods had also changed from ox carts and manual labor to forklifts, handcarts, and light and heavy trucks manufactured in Dawn City and Boulder Town.

The harbor district was piled high with crates and bundles of military supplies. Militiamen with white armbands had replaced soldiers of the Xilande Empire in patrolling the shore.

The only downside was that the place looked somewhat more desolate compared to two months ago. Only a handful of fishing boats were docked at the port.

That was likely due to the shutdown of the slave import-export business and the effects of the war. Cargo ships from the western coast of the Poro Province had almost disappeared, and Wislander merchant ships were nowhere to be seen either.

However, that conveniently freed up docking space for merchant ships arriving from Silvermoon Bay. This time, the Roro Boat had not only brought 1,000 tons of dehydrated corn kernels, it had brought an entire fleet packed with goods!

Earlier, while still in Silvermoon Bay, Sisi had released news through a bank owned by the Order of the White Bear that a ceasefire agreement was about to be signed and that the Xilande Empire had imposed a blockade on Port Gallon. Afterward, she instructed the bank president, Buma, to offer extremely low-interest loans for specific shipping routes and cargo types.

There was no need for deliberate promotion. With market information and financial backing available, merchants active in the ports naturally flocked toward the goods Port Gallon needed like sharks smelling blood.

On the bridge, Sisi skillfully sounded the horn to greet the friends waiting at the docks.

Meanwhile, Sesame Paste stood at the stern directing the Silvermoon Bay sailors as they prepared to dock and unload cargo.

Through everyone’s joint efforts, ship after ship finally docked before sunset. Cargo containers filled with goods were transferred onto the docks by cranes, then carried away by forklifts toward the storage yards.

The area had originally been used for transferring people, and it was also where the Order of the White Bear had once fought.

Ever since the New Alliance arrived, all facilities there had been completely cleared out, with only a tiny area less than 20 square meters preserved as a historical memorial. The rest had been transformed into container storage zones to expand the harbor’s warehouse capacity.

With all port affairs receiving green lights, harbor workers prioritized verifying food cargo manifests and immediately finalized delivery for the goods purchased by the Port Gallon authorities, paying the full amount on the spot.

Soon afterward, more than a dozen trucks drove into the container area.

Under the efforts of shirtless laborers, sack after sack of corn and flour was loaded onto cargo trucks before being transported toward various government-managed construction sites within the city, Rowell Camp, and the labor camp outside the city.

A total of 8,000 tons of dehydrated corn kernels had been sold wholesale at 700 silver per ton!

In addition, nearly 3,000 tons of corn flour had been sold at 900 silver per ton!

In the Sunset Province, especially in the Lion Kingdom, which heavily imported New Alliance-produced fertilizers, pesticides, and high-yield seeds, the production cost of a kilogram of corn was only around 0.2 to 0.3 silver.

Ever since the railway connecting Lion City and Falling Leaf City to Petra Fortress was completed, transportation costs had dropped to less than 50%of production costs.

Even after including maritime shipping costs and deducting all expenses such as sailors’ wages and mercenary fees, the total cost per ton of corn still remained below 600 silver. If they used their own ships and private guards, costs could even be reduced to around 500 silver!

A bulk commodity profit margin of at least 16% was enough to drive every merchant absolutely mad!

And for the Port Gallon authorities currently facing the threat of famine, this shipment of grain worth more than 8,000,000 silver solved an urgent crisis. Even if divided equally among the population, each person could still receive 11 kilograms of carbohydrates.

Of course, the final distribution method would not be so crude and simplistic.

The Port Gallon authorities planned to launch a series of public works projects through work-for-relief programs, including the ongoing reconstruction of Kalaba Market, as well as the construction of major roads and sewer systems.

Through those projects, the government would pay workers and contractors in Gallons. Meanwhile, the imported grain could only be purchased using Gallons.

This not only prevented the wealthy citizen class and former nobility, who still held large amounts of Xilande currency, from panic-buying and hoarding grain, but also gave the enormous labor force of young adults something productive to do.

At the same time, it improved Port Gallon’s infrastructure while precisely directing currency into the hands of those who actually needed it.

It was basically killing four birds with one stone.

As for the foreign exchange used to purchase the grain, officially it had been borrowed from the wealthy Baiyue Strait Development Company. But in the end, it would all be paid for using the reparations extracted from the Xilande Empire anyway.

As for how many times exactly the New Alliance had profited from the campaign, Ample Time could no longer be bothered calculating on behalf of the respected administrator. Either way, he was definitely grabbing onto this opportunity with both hands.

...

Outskirts, in the labor camp.

After who knew how long he remained unconscious, Kapil slowly woke up. The moment he saw the man in a white coat before him, he instinctively opened his mouth and forced a sentence through his burning throat. “Where is this...”

The doctor glanced at him casually. “Port Gallon.”

The accent sounded like someone from the Camel Kingdom, but that was not the important part. Joy appeared on Kapil’s face as he stretched out his stiff right hand and grabbed the sleeve of the man in the white coat. “We won?!”

The doctor froze briefly before smiling at him. “What nonsense are you dreaming about?”

Next, he shouted toward the side. “This guy’s awake, but his brain seems a little broken. I’ll leave the rest to you.”

A voice faintly echoed back from somewhere in the distance. “Fine, as long as he’s awake. Leave the rest to us and go handle the others.”

“Roger.” The doctor lifted the hand holding his pen in acknowledgment, scribbled a few quick notes into a notebook, then left the cramped tent.

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