Death of the King

"Forty more kilometers? My Lord, this, this..."

Old Albert instinctively wanted to object, but he could not bring himself to say it.

He was indeed loyal to his Lord, but he did not want the serfs of White Bear Territory to die from endless, grueling labor.

What did it mean to build sixty kilometers of road through a primeval forest dense with vegetation, towering trees, and swamps?

Even if it were just a narrow dirt path capable of accommodating only a single-wheeled cart, it would still be considered a massive engineering project.

And it had to be finished within this year?

The three thousand serfs of White Bear Territory would have to abandon everything else this year and bury their heads in road construction; perhaps, with a slim chance, they could finish before winter arrived.

But what about the autumn harvest?

Who would harvest, dry, and store the grain from over thirty thousand mu of farmland?

Would the irrigation projects still be built?

Would the fields be planted next year?

Old Albert thought to himself, This is how a feudal manor works; the Lord only needs to know how to command the serfs, but the Territory Steward has to consider so many things.

"Don't be so quick to object. What if I told you that at the end of this road, there is a salt mine?"

Lynn saw Old Albert's anxiety and timely dangled the massive bait of the salt mine.

Salt. A salt mine?

When he learned there was a salt mine in the territory, Old Albert's first reaction was not excitement, but suspicion, and even terror.

He almost fell right off his horse.

It was Second Brother, following behind Lynn, who reached out to steady him, allowing him to grip the saddle again without incident.

After sitting firmly, Old Albert lowered his voice as much as possible and asked, "My Lord, you must be joking, right? That has to be it, right?"

Lynn asked back with a serious expression, "No, I am not joking, and is this something to joke about? If there were no salt mine, why would I bother building these extra forty kilometers of road?"

"My Lord, are you truly going to mine this salt?"

Old Albert's reaction was the exact opposite of Second Brother and the other horse bandits; his expression revealed nothing but worry about mining the salt.

Although he was only a Manor Steward, he understood the simple truth that a man commits no crime, but his wealth makes him a target.

Possession itself was a sin.

With White Bear Territory's current strength, what right did they have to touch the salt trade of the Northern Kingdom?

Even if the Lord's family was the Cold Wind Earl, it was far from enough!

Salt could bring countless gold coins, but it could also bring endless war!

Lynn said impatiently, "Isn't that obvious? I'm building the road to transport salt, and I've already contacted merchants. Once the road is open, we can sell salt to the entire kingdom."

"But, my Lord..." Old Albert still wanted to try to persuade Lynn.

But he was interrupted by Lynn on the spot: "Do not oppose me, Albert! I am going to mine this salt! And I will never enjoy the profits of the salt mine alone!

Once the salt mine is successfully opened, all the local residents of White Bear Territory will enjoy free salt forever. Beyond that, I will reduce their taxes and even consider gifting them the land directly!"

Politics is about making your supporters as numerous as possible and your opponents as few as possible.

Not only that, but one must also manage the distribution of benefits for supporters well.

Countless political groups that succeeded first and failed later mostly collapsed because of the distribution of benefits.

Lynn, planning ahead, had already roughly thought out the profit distribution plan after the salt mine opened.

As the Lord, he would naturally take the lion's share.

Of course, he wouldn't be stupid enough to let this astronomical sum of money rot in a warehouse.

The vast majority of the salt mine's profits had to be spent on the development of the territory and the military.

In turn, the military would be used to protect the interests of the salt mine.

The territory's management would take a smaller share—marrying beauties and building grand mansions as they pleased. The serfs responsible for building the road and mining could not be left out either.

Free salt, lower land taxes, and even direct land distribution to help them shed their status as serfs.

In any case, the benefits had to be substantial to fully ignite the serfs' enthusiasm for labor.

What, you say it will take three thousand people over half a year to finish the road?

Forced labor is naturally inefficient!

But what if they were howling and begging to build the road themselves?

That would be a different story entirely.

In short, as long as the money is there, one shovel per second is not a dream!

Even iron picks could be swung into a blur!

Lynn was not like some prison-bound president who slashed military benefits.

That idiot actually thought he could incite a mutiny with starving soldiers.

Old Albert was shocked upon hearing this: "But, my Lord, then all the serfs in the territory will know about the salt mine. If the secret leaks, the Marsh Duke's army will immediately slaughter their way into White Bear Territory!"

The Lord's lord is not my lord; Old Albert had always been loyal to the Baron of White Bear Territory. Whoever was the Baron, he served.

After all, only the true owner of the territory would put the territory's interests and the lives of the serfs first.

What Old Albert feared now was the Marsh Duke's army.

The quality of armies these days, if not exactly loving the people like their own children, could at least be described as rapacious and cruel.

Thirty years ago, the Marsh Duke's elite troops did indeed repel the Wild People moving south, but they didn't forget to ravage the White Bear Territory and Shallow Beach Territory along the way.

If not for the Duke's restraint of military discipline, these soldier-thugs would have stripped the very clothes off the serfs' backs.

"What are you panicking about? Given the terrain of White Bear Territory, as long as we seal off the news with all our might, the Duke cannot possibly know anything about the territory. By the time he follows the trade route to find White Bear Territory, we will have already forged a powerful army to block all enemies outside our borders!"

Lynn was never afraid of news leaking.

White Bear Territory was located at the northernmost tip of the Marsh Duke's territory. To the west and north lay vast, boundless primeval forests; to the east was the White River and steep cliffs; to the south, it only connected to Shallow Beach Territory.

As long as the wharf and the only southern exit were blocked, the entire territory would become an information black hole.

Would the serfs leak the secret?

What a joke. All the male serfs were building the road in the north, their every word and action watched. Who could leak the news?

The women, children, and elderly left behind in the villages had no way to sneak out of the territory, and given their level of understanding, they didn't even know what private salt meant.

Just handing out a few bags of free salt would be enough to make the serfs the Lord's most loyal beasts of burden.

As for the stewards and farm managers, they had families and had lived in White Bear Territory for generations; their ties were too deep and their weaknesses too many for them to leak the secret voluntarily.

And the only wharf in the territory was right next to the castle, making it the easiest to guard.

More importantly, the Marsh Duke would soon be unable to concern himself with mere private salt.

Lynn had received a secret letter from Three Rivers City stating that the King of the North had passed away, and the entire Northern Kingdom had fallen into a state of having no leader.

An era of great contention was coming, and he could not afford to waste even a single second.

To accelerate progress and mobilize the enthusiasm of all the local residents, he had to—and could only—announce the existence of the salt mine to the entire territory.