Hakon stumbled from Arthur's kick, nearly falling to the ground, as he clutched his backside.
His face, however, no longer showed its usual dullness, but rather a look of sudden enlightenment.
"I understand! Lord Arthur! I understand! I understand everything!"
He scrambled out of the tent, a sight that made Lucien laugh. But before he could laugh for long, he too was knocked down by an identical kick from Arthur.
"Hakon, wait for me!" He quickly got up and chased after him.
Arthur watched Hakon and Lucien's retreating figures. He used to find them pleasant, but now the more he looked, the more displeased he became, sighing softly.
He still needed to find some people with a bit of knowledge, because once he had a firm foothold, he would need to survey the land, count the population, and serve as tax collector.
Previously, Dreadfort was sparsely populated, and the lord could personally collect taxes from house to house. But as the population grew, a tax system had to be established. An organized system was better than none, and order was superior to chaos.
On this point, he and the ruling class of Westeros held different views. He planned that after taking this land, he would gather the population, form large villages, and build some defensive structures, making it convenient for tax officials appointed by him to govern.
Arthur walked out of the tent and looked at the crowd. People, organized by family, were picking up simple tools and heading to their assigned plots to cultivate the land.
Arthur felt emotional inside. While Lucien and Hakon were indeed quite foolish when it came to minor tasks, they had one good quality: once they received clear orders, they executed them very quickly.
Over the next few days, villagers from various villages in the territory successively sent their village's flour. Arthur didn't want their flour; he simply wanted their attitude—an acknowledgment of Arthur's rule over them.
Arthur accepted the flour in front of everyone, and then, in front of everyone, announced that he accepted their plea for protection.
The land and villages were starting to rally around him. Now, he just needed to wait for time to develop.
It wasn't until the third day that Knight Terry's envoy finally arrived. When Arthur received the news, he sighed, thinking, 'He finally can't sit still. He has such patience; I'm almost out of it.'
His territory was constantly being encroached upon, and his people were continuously flocking to Arthur. If he didn't resist, it was merely a matter of time.
Arthur met him outside the camp, not allowing him to enter.
The envoy was a middle-aged man in simple leather armor, with his chin held high.
He began by showering Arthur with a torrent of praise, expressing admiration for Arthur's achievements, as if it wasn't his master who had previously humiliated Arthur.
Arthur interrupted the endless flattery, and the envoy awkwardly got to the point.
"Lord Arthur," he bowed slightly, his attitude quite respectful, "I come on behalf of Knight Terry."
"Of course, I know whose envoy you are." Arthur looked at him as if he were an idiot.
The envoy cleared his throat: "Knight Terry is willing to swear fealty to you."
"He hopes you can lead your people away from this land and cultivate the plains to the east, which are also 'unclaimed'."
"Knight Terry is willing to pay you ten years of taxes for your use in cultivating the land and for your living expenses."
Arthur stared at him silently. The envoy became increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze and began to panic.
In reality, Arthur was merely shocked by the Terry Family's wealth, paying ten years of taxes at once.
The envoy, utterly uncomfortable under the gaze, could only bite the bullet and utter the words he was specifically instructed to say: "Lord Arthur, this place is, after all, the traditional territory of my Terry Family."
Arthur looked at the envoy and smiled, slowly speaking:
"Go back and tell your master that this is my land, not his family's traditional territory. This is the last time I will summon him; let him come here and swear fealty."
"I will reserve three villages for his family as a fief, and he will become a Knight of my family. I will absolutely not treat him unfairly."
"As my family motto states, 'Grace Everlasting,' his family will forever enjoy my protection and grace."
Sweat beaded on the envoy's forehead, but he still bit the bullet and said, "My Lord, this is my master's greatest sincerity."
Arthur's smile vanished: "This is also my greatest sincerity. This is the last time I will summon your master to come and swear fealty to me."
"I can reserve three villages for him as a fief."
"May the Old and New Gods bear witness, as long as he swears fealty and keeps his oath, I will protect his family to prosper for generations."
"This is his last chance!"
The envoy's face changed, clearly not expecting Arthur to be so unyielding, even leaving no room for negotiation. The scene fell silent.
"Why?" He paused for a moment, seemingly organizing his thoughts, and finally couldn't help but ask, "Lord Arthur... why... why us, the Terry Family?"
"Because you are easier to control," Arthur stated calmly and directly, his tone as flat as if he were stating a fact.
"Wh... what?" The envoy seemed not to have heard clearly, or perhaps dared not believe his ears, shocked by Arthur's bluntness. He could only ask again in astonishment, leaning slightly forward.
The smile completely vanished from Arthur's face, replaced by an extreme calmness and frankness: "I said, because your master, this orange, is softer, that's why I want to squeeze it."
With that, Arthur no longer looked at him, turning directly and walking away.
The envoy was greatly alarmed and tried to step forward to argue a few more words, but Lucien beside him suddenly drew half of his longsword with a 'clang'.
The cold blade flashed with a chilling gleam in the sunlight, a white light streaking across the envoy's cheek.
The envoy instantly felt as if his throat had been seized, all words stuck in his gullet. His legs gave way, and he slumped to the ground, cold sweat instantly drenching his back.
He sat frozen in place, watching Arthur's figure disappear through the doorway, and eventually left dejectedly.
Arthur read the scout's report. Knight Terry ultimately did not come; he chose another path.
He began forcibly conscripting farmers within his territory, attempting to piece together an army capable of fighting a desperate battle.
Arthur could understand that the resolve of property owners to protect their assets was incredibly strong. This was also why he wanted to implement private land reform. Those with permanent property have permanent resolve, let alone nobles under the feudal system.
The news of war spread like wind through the surrounding villages and across his territory.
With it came countless emaciated farmers, dragging their families, who crossed the fields, refused conscription, fled from under Knight Terry's rule, and flocked to Arthur's camp, which was the direction of public sentiment.
The Terry Family's rule was not benevolent; taxes were heavy, and the people had long been resentful. Arthur's policy of benevolence had taken effect, and people chose to trust this new, young lord.
"This is called the ebb and flow of public support," Arthur said to Lucien, watching the ragged farmers who had come to seek refuge, crowded together with their families. "If you don't treat your people well in ordinary times, then in times of crisis, no one will come to your aid."
Arthur knew the time had come, and the soldiers were assembled.
He stood on the high slope of the camp, looking at the ragged refugees and his proudly standing soldiers.
He drew his longsword and finally declared: "Knight Terry has refused my benevolence."
"He wants war! I will give him war!"
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