The Serf's Blessing

Lynn did not stop his pace; he began patrolling the territory again without a moment's rest.

His entourage this time included Second Brother, several horse bandit underlings, and Little Albert, the son of Old Albert.

Old Albert did not accompany them this time; overseeing the construction of heavy plows in White Bear Town was enough to keep him busy.

Although Old Albert had sworn that both the composting and heavy plow projects were proceeding in an orderly fashion, and that the compost production was nearing completion—certainly enough to cover the public land belonging to the Lord—Lynn still felt it necessary to inspect the territory personally.

Who knew if the stewards and farm managers below were slacking off?

All of Lynn's plans were built upon a sufficient supply of grain.

Without enough grain, he could not gather the manpower to build roads or open mines, nor could he settle more outsiders.

Without sufficient funds and population, expanding the army was naturally out of the question.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step; he had to ensure the success of this spring planting.

Leaving the castle, Lynn patrolled south along the leveled main road.

The No. 1 Manor, directly administered by the Lord, occupied over half of the territory's arable land and population.

Within the vast No. 1 Manor, a dozen or so smaller villages were scattered.

The first stop on Lynn's trip was a serf village south of the castle, home to about two hundred people.

He did not send anyone to notify them before entering the village, opting instead for a surprise inspection, which gave the local farm manager quite a scare.

Fortunately, the results of the inspection left Lynn quite satisfied.

Over the past ten days, all the manure in the entire village had been turned into compost, and even the mysterious dirt roads of the village had been scraped clean.

The price for this was that the serfs in the village had been forced to work overtime for ten days, the kind where they worked from dawn until dusk.

Looking at the dense piles of compost, which resembled grave mounds beside the strip fields, Lynn couldn't help but sigh: the serf system was not entirely without its merits.

Although production efficiency was low, this powerful ability to mobilize the grassroots was indeed a major advantage of the serf system.

The most distinctive feature of the serf system was the personal attachment between the serfs and the Lord.

In principle, serfs were the Lord's private property.

Without the Lord's permission, they could not leave the village to which they belonged at will.

During busy farming seasons, they had to work for the Lord at least three days a week in exchange for the right to use their allotment land.

During the slack season, they also had to obey the Lord's arrangements and undertake various heavy corvées.

Not only that, but the birth, aging, illness, death, marriage, and funeral of the serfs were all closely tied to the Lord.

One had to pay a tax to the Lord to register a child's "household status," pay a tax to let a child inherit land, and seek the Lord's consent for a child to marry; even burial upon death required the Lord's approval.

The so-called "right of the first night" was actually a distorted marriage tax; if this tax wasn't paid, the Lord had the right to terminate the marriage.

In fact, any Lord with even a modicum of taste was unlikely to take a fancy to a farm girl who spent her days digging for food in the fields.

It was precisely because of this layer of personal attachment that Lynn only needed to give an order, and the farmers across the entire territory had to collect that foul-smelling manure.

The flaws of the serf system were also very obvious: low production efficiency.

Even in White Bear Territory, where the serfs were relatively well-behaved, the Baron still needed to set up a full management structure to supervise the serfs' labor.

Human laziness was carved into the bone marrow.

Especially when someone was made to do something that had almost nothing to do with their personal interests.

The serfs worked the public land for the Lord and received nothing but a simple lunch; they had to contribute at least three days a week, and even had to provide their own farm tools and draft horses. Under such circumstances, the work efficiency was easy to imagine.

The reason the village Lynn was currently inspecting had managed to collect all the manure within ten days was mainly due to the strict supervision of the stewards and farm managers.

"My Lord, during the week you were away from the territory, I ran to this village every day. These serfs are stupid, lazy, and greedy. If you don't drive them with a whip, they will never obey orders."

Little Albert was eager to show off his work results in front of Lynn, even going so far as to make a male serf take off his shirt on the spot, revealing the dark red whip marks on his back.

Explaining the necessity of making compost to all the serfs with words was an almost impossible task.

Compared to words, the whip was the best teacher.

One lash, and they would understand, whether they wanted to or not.

Moreover, ordinary whipping would not cause the serfs to abandon their homes and run away.

Taking a few lashes wouldn't kill anyone; heavy taxes were the true invisible weapon of death.

In Little Albert's view, the taxes in White Bear Territory were already light enough, at least lighter than those in the neighboring Shallow Beach Territory.

Beyond working the public land, the serfs hardly had to pay any extra taxes, and they could even save a little money each year.

To be able to exchange a few lashes for such superior living conditions was an absolute blessing.

Lynn was noncommittal about Little Albert's work results and continued his patrol to the south.

The situations in the next two villages he inspected were much the same; all the manure that could be found in the villages had been collected and turned into compost.

Lynn even specifically checked the quality of the compost; the sealing of these compost piles was excellent, and the heat generation was obvious.

In addition, the heavy plow had slowly begun to spread throughout White Bear Territory; he had seen traces of the heavy plow in the homes of several serfs.

At noon, Lynn's patrol team took a short rest at the home of a farm manager.

He specifically called Little Albert to his side and praised him: "Well done, you are as excellent as your father."

"My Lord, these are all my duties. It is my honor to serve you."

Little Albert was overjoyed, but he managed to keep a straight face, perfectly inheriting the demeanor of his father, Old Albert.

As the son of the current Territory Steward, Little Albert's biggest dream was to inherit his father's position and continue his family's influence in White Bear Territory.

Lynn greatly appreciated this father and son, who were carved from the same mold, and would continue to employ them in the future.

One could not evaluate people by transcending their era.

In a feudal manor, the Albert family were already very excellent grassroots management talents, and the Lord panel had given them ratings of two stars and one star, respectively.

With their assistance, Lynn could be spared countless troubles.

Seeing that Little Albert had received praise from the Lord, the farm manager present was very envious and jealous. He hurriedly brought out a carefully prepared lunch:

"My Lord, please taste the roast lamb and pea porridge my wife made; her cooking is the best in the village."

To please the Lord, this farm manager had slaughtered the fattest sheep in his house, brought out the dried peas stored last autumn, and even added two spoonfuls of expensive wheat flour to the porridge.

Just as Lynn picked up his spoon and prepared to warm his stomach with the porridge, Old Albert's urgent voice suddenly came from outside the door.

"My Lord, my Lord! Are you inside?"

"I am. What is it?"

"My Lord, it's bad! A magic beast has appeared on the west side of the territory!"