The next morning, Lynn did not leave the road-building camp right away. Instead, after breakfast, he gathered all the serfs once more.
Standing atop the temporary earthen platform built the day before, he called out, "Who is willing to become my soldier?"
Silence filled the space below.
A light breeze passed through, and only the corpses of the serfs hanging from the gallows swayed gently in the wind.
Lynn had long been prepared for the serfs' indifferent reaction.
As the saying went, good men did not become soldiers, and good iron was not made into nails.
The serfs of White Bear Territory actually lived fairly decent lives. They did not lack farmland or livestock, and the annual yield from sixty mu of allotment land was barely enough to support a family.
Everyone knew that being a soldier came with risks.
Without extraordinary benefits or being driven to the brink, most serfs had no motivation whatsoever to enlist.
"Those chosen as soldiers will automatically become contract farmers. You will be granted one hundred and twenty mu of allotment land and exempted from all taxes and corvée labor! Furthermore, this contract may be inherited by your descendants!
"Not only that, soldiers will have the right to share in spoils of war in the future. Those who fight bravely may even have the chance to be promoted to knight attendants, or even full knights!"
After speaking, Lynn fell silent and merely looked over the thousand-odd serfs below the platform.
He believed that as long as the benefits were sufficient, there was nothing he could not buy.
Including lives.
After a brief silence, a voice suddenly rang out from the crowd.
"I'm willing!"
As soon as the words fell, a sturdily built red-haired young serf in his twenties stood up. Raising his arm excitedly,