The townspeople crowded around the newly finished sawmill. Three burly men were guiding a log on a carriage across the platform and through the large circular blade. The set up was entirely controlled by how much water was left through the sluice gates. When they increase the amount of water they let through, the large wheel would turn fast, which drove a single set of gears. The large wheel was attached to a large gear, whose teeth interlocked with a much smaller gear mounted to the blade.

It had taken most of the morning for the men to figure out a proper combination of how much water to let through at a time and what speed to roll the log across the blade. The noise had attracted the gathering crowd, who thought it was great fun to laugh every time the man pushed a log through too fast. With a loud shwooomp the blade would get bogged down in the wood, bringing everything to a grinding halt.

There was a growing pile of cut boards at the end of the platform, though, and multiple people had asked when they could start using the boards to build. Jason's smile widened with each log that passed through the blade. Gotta love the smell of sawdust and new technology… and that’s not something I used to be able to say in one sentence, either. But this will make one man be able to do the work of a dozen if not more. If I can multiply our work many more times, I will be so ahead of the game.

“Okay, Alex.” Jason pulled his eyes away from the novel sight. “Time to push things forward again.”

“Yes, my lord,” Alex replied with a greedy gleam on his face. “I wasn’t convinced this was a good priority, my lord. I’ve seen similar setups in the past, with one man on a saw above a platform and one man below, pulling a long saw back and forth through a log, but never did I imagine how fast a log could be sawn when combining it with a mill wheel. Our wage-to-production ratio is so high that we’ll be able to sell these for amazingly low prices. It will make transporting them longer distances worthwhile.”

“Finding the right gear ratio without overcomplicating the mechanics was the key,” Jason responded as he walked back towards the village. “There’s a lot that I left out of the design, but sometimes having a simple finished version is more helpful than a better version that takes longer to make, if it is even possible. We called that avoiding feature-creep in my old job. Besides, this is really a preliminary test for a more important innovation.”

“What’s that, my lord?”

“Enough with the ‘my lord,’ Alex, at least when we’re in private. I’m not used to it. Jason is just fine. And as to the other thing - you’ll have to wait and see. But you’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

---

Tyler was working on simple weapon movements with a small number of bedraggled, sweaty men as Jason and Alex approached.

“Hah!” One of them shouted as he shoved his long stick at the hulk of muscle that was Tyler’s torso. It didn’t get close. As it approached, Tyler swiftly batted it away with the wrought iron rod in his hand and stepped forward, closing the distance to the pseudo-spear wielder. A small, eight-inch stick the size of a knife was pushed against the young man’s neck. They froze in that position for a second before relaxing and retreating to their starting points.

“Got you again, Rip,” the leader of the burgeoning guard force commented. “Do you know why?

“Yes, sir,” he sighed. “Because you’re insanely good at this, and I started last week.”

Tyler barely kept the grin hidden as the rest of the men laughed and gathered around. “You allowed me to play to my strengths instead of yours. What’s the primary benefit of a spear?”

“Distance,” the group chorused as one, and it was clear to Jason, who was hanging back in the shade of a tree, that it wasn’t the first time Tyler had given this talk.

“You know it is. And each of your actions has to take advantage of that and maintain it. How did you lose that here?”

“I over-extended. You were able to get inside of my reach, and at that point, there was nothing I could do.”

“Correct. I’m glad you know what the problem is.” He looked around at their faces with a wicked grin. “Do you know the solution?”

“More sparring,” they all groaned.

“Exactly. Now get to it!” he shouted and walked over to where Jason observed their group.

“How are they?” Jason inquired. “They still don’t seem to know what they’re doing.”

Tyler shook his head as he chugged a large waterskin, splashing his face when he was through and wiping the sweat away. “Surprisingly good, actually. This is never a quick process, but spearmanship is much faster than training with any other weapon, excluding crossbows of course. That’s why we’re starting with it. You also haven’t seen them work together, either. A row of long, pointy sticks is actually pretty intimidating to even a decent swordsman who doesn’t have the reach to touch the spearman.

“They’re improving quickly and recognizing their mistakes almost as soon as they make them. Next month we’ll start teaching them bladework. A month after that, they’ll be relatively versatile, competent fighters, and I’d give them good odds against any bandits or thugs that we might encounter. They’re not going to be anywhere near ready to fight actual soldiers, but that’s about the best you can expect from working with this material.”

“Excellent,” Jason replied. “And that puts us at twelve fighters?”

“An even dozen, sire. Plus me.”

“Thirteen, then.” A mischievous smile formed on his face. “Back where I’m from, they called that a baker’s dozen. We also had the habit of naming our units. Congratulations, Tyler, you now lead the squad called the Doughboys.”

Tyler’s horrified look followed Jason down the street.

---

His Majesty King Reginald Silverguard IV was having an excellent day. After enjoying the company of a lovely young lady that his courtiers had introduced to him, he received his favorite kind of report - one that indicated there would be no obstacles in his path.

“And you’re sure there’s no military presence in the unclaimed lands?”

“Not a bit, your majesty. We scoured the valley and didn’t see more than a guard or two in any of the seven towns we observed.”

The King’s ring-covered hand slapped down on the armrest of his throne as he projected his voice to the nobles seated in viewing boxes of the otherwise cleared-out gallery. “It’s time. My father was content with remaining the ruler of a city-state. I have a larger vision for all of us. Your support in this last month of transition will be of great benefit to you in the upcoming years.”

With that, he stood and swept out of the room, followed by his entourage. “Send a force 120 strong to each village, leaving behind twenty men at each as a garrison to ensure their compliance. That will be enough to burn the buildings to the ground if some farmers decide to fight back. I’d prefer a transition without destroying my new towns, but send a message if you have to.”

“Yes, your majesty,” a commander following close behind acknowledged. We will be ready to travel within two weeks.”

“Make it one,” the king retorted.

“Yes, your highness. I’m sure the unclaimed lands will need a new name shortly,” he responded, then bowed and split off from the main group. No one noticed the flash of frustration as he turned away and calmed his face. Our king hasn’t yet learned that anything worth doing is worth doing properly and with sufficient force, he thought. I hope he doesn’t learn the lesson the same way his father did - the hard way.