A Flat-Chest Believer Reincarnated in a World Where Women with Small Breasts Aren't Treated as Women ~ I Ended Up with a Flat-Chested Harem. - Chapter 63

The carriage passed through the gates and entered the city of Marilba. Surrounded by six mounted guards, the carriage moved slowly along the main thoroughfare.

Risty and I had come to Marilba for an inspection. The purpose was to show Risty the spinning and weaving machines she had been curious about. It had been a while since we traveled alone together in a carriage.

“It’s lively, isn’t it?”

Risty murmured.

Indeed, the main streets of Marilba were bustling. While its total population was smaller than that of Remilba, the city’s compact size gave Marilba a higher population density.

“It used to be a quieter city, moderately prosperous as a logistics hub. But ever since the cotton factories were built, more people have moved in. Look, you can see the church up ahead on the left.”

“The church? Oh, I see it. It’s a pretty plain building.”

The Marilba church had whitewashed walls and a roof of reddish-brown tiles. As Risty pointed out, it was simple in design. While not a crude structure, it stood out somewhat in the bustling city.

“The old Marilba was the kind of town that suited a church like that.”

Even as I said it, I realized how vague and subjective my explanation was.

“Somehow, I feel like I understand.”

Risty nodded, seemingly getting the gist.

Marilba was originally a modest town, but factories had been constructed beyond the city walls, giving the city an odd, protruding shape, like horns. We were heading toward one of these “horns,” the factory district. Enclosed by stone walls, it was connected to the city through a single dedicated gate.

When we arrived at the gate, we were greeted by the magistrate overseeing Marilba’s administration. He was Dand Arschtan, Kudell’s father.

“Lord Folca, Lady Risty, welcome to Marilba.”

“I’ll be counting on you today.”

“Thank you for coming to meet us, Kuu’s father.”

Risty replied casually. While her tone might have been slightly inappropriate for addressing a retainer, this was her way of subtly signaling, “Kudell is getting along well with the princess who married down from the royal family.” Kudell’s father was a capable man, so the message was sure to land.

“I am grateful for the care you’ve shown my unworthy daughter. Now, if you’ll allow me, I’ll guide you through the Marilba factories.”

We headed first to a triangular-roofed building to see the spinning machines.

“Lady Risty, as you may already know, all the factory workers in Marilba are male prisoners. Just a reminder.”

“Yes, I’ve been told. It seems they’re being managed well.”

“Indeed. Lord Folca’s method is functioning as intended. There are no issues.”

As the two discussed, the Marilba factories operated using prisoners as laborers—a measure taken to ensure confidentiality. All the workers were either serving life sentences or were death-row inmates, minimizing the risk of information leaking outside.

While Kolibe was safe as long as no seedlings were smuggled out, Marilba required knowledge containment. We needed workers who wouldn’t leave. Since the prisoners from the Gustique domain alone weren’t enough, we also acquired prisoners from other territories. While the sale of slaves was prohibited in the Kingdom of Rolique, the trade of prisoners between lords was legal.

“The prisoners are categorized into tiers, correct?”

“Yes, they’re color-coded, and their treatment differs accordingly.”

When people think of life or death sentences, they tend to imagine heinous criminals, but that wasn’t always the case. In this world, where human rights ideologies didn’t exist, it was surprisingly easy to receive a death sentence. Since most territories didn’t want to spend resources maintaining prisons, crimes like theft often resulted in a first offense earning flogging and a second offense leading to execution.

As such, many of the prisoners were fundamentally decent people.

“The prisoners wear wooden tags around their necks. White is the top tier, blue is the middle, and gray is the bottom.”

The tags displayed their names and numbers. Initially, I had considered embroidering their names and numbers onto their clothing, but the cost was too high, so we opted for wooden tags instead.

“‘White tags’ are for prisoners who are diligent and have families to support. Their families are relocated to Marilba, and while visits are monitored, they’re allowed to meet. They also receive wages, which their families can live on. In addition to regular work, ‘white tags’ are tasked with overseeing other prisoners.”

I explained further. While this might seem benevolent on the surface, it was essentially a system where their families were used as hostages to ensure compliance. For both the prisoners and their families, survival depended on faithfully and diligently serving the Gustique family.

“‘Blue tags’ are ordinary, well-behaved prisoners. They receive a small stipend—enough for pocket money. Every five days, a shop is set up where they can buy things like alcohol and snacks.”

I didn’t explicitly mention it in front of Risty, but prostitutes were also periodically brought into the factory. While this wasn’t ideal for maintaining confidentiality, measures were in place to mitigate risks. The ‘blue tags’ worked diligently because they looked forward to these visits.

“Lastly, ‘gray tags’ are for unruly or uncooperative prisoners. They’re forced to work under strict control and receive no wages. However, if they behave and work hard, they can be promoted to blue.”

Additionally, both ‘white tags’ and ‘blue tags’ received wage adjustments based on their performance, and evaluations of the ‘blue tags’ were entrusted to the ‘white tags.’ This created a clear hierarchy and division among the prisoners.

Thanks to this system, there had been no major riots so far. While there had been incidents involving ‘gray tags,’ they were quickly subdued by Gustique retainers because the blue and white tags didn’t join in.

We entered the factory. Inside, it was roughly the size of four gymnasiums.

The building was primarily wooden, but areas requiring larger spans for machinery were reinforced with magically treated steel beams. It was quite an impressive structure.

All around, men with wooden tags hanging from their necks were hard at work.

“Look over there, Risty. That’s a spinning machine powered by a waterwheel.”

As the large machine moved, Risty exclaimed in amazement, “That’s incredible.”

Risty was completely absorbed, marveling at the machinery for the first time. Meanwhile, feeling slightly idle, I struck up a conversation with Kudell’s father.

“How are the new guards doing? Are they working properly?”

The recently hired guards had also been deployed here in Marilba. Since they were mostly second and third sons of farmers, who had only ever worked in agriculture, I was curious about their performance.

“Most of them are working diligently. However, there have been a few issues.”

“What kind of issues?”

“The most egregious case was a man who spent his entire advance payment at a brothel on the very night he received it. We sent him back home, but I can’t fathom what he was thinking.”

For young men accustomed to rural life, suddenly being thrust into city living could be overwhelming. While we provided barracks for housing, they still needed various other necessities. Additionally, since they were paid monthly, they needed the advance payment to get by until their first payday.

“How did he plan to survive until his first paycheck? Meals aren’t provided either… No, he probably didn’t think that far.”

“It’s baffling, but likely true. However, as I mentioned, that was an exception. Most are working earnestly. Considering the emphasis placed on avoiding the infiltration of spies, I’d say the recruitment was a success.”

Kudell’s father was careful to also credit those responsible for the hiring process.

“Folca, I’d like to see the weaving machines next.”

Satisfied with what she’d seen, Risty led us to another building.

This one housed weaving machines equipped with flying shuttles. Risty watched with childlike excitement as fabric was produced, practically bouncing on her feet.

Amidst the activity, I spotted a familiar face. He wore a white wooden tag—one of the most capable prisoners.

“Rojam, it’s been a while. How are you?”

When I called out, the man knelt and bowed his head.

“Yes, Lord Folca. Thanks to the Gustique family’s mercy, my family and I are healthy and well.”

Rojam was a prisoner purchased from another territory. His wife and children had also been relocated to Marilba.

Though convicted of murder, it seemed he had been framed, and his guilt was questionable. However, since he had been convicted in another territory, I couldn’t unilaterally declare him innocent. For confidentiality reasons, releasing him was also out of the question, so he remained here.

Rojam was exceptionally capable. Not only did he work diligently, but he also frequently proposed improvements to the operation. He was, without a doubt, a valuable acquisition.

“The Gustique family is very pleased with your work.”

“Your words are too kind. Thank you.”

Apparently, his son was also talented and had been recommended by Kudell’s father as a candidate for education in Remilba. Getting a brilliant child as part of the package was an incredible deal—a true “happy set.”

Rojam bowed deeply.

“Now, return to your work. Take care.”

I sent Rojam back to his work and turned my gaze to Risty, who was watching the weaving machines with sparkling eyes. I couldn’t help but think, “She looks so beautiful.”

After a while, she seemed satisfied and smiled, saying, “That was fun.”