The Underlying Logic of the Northern Border

The Underlying Logic of the Northern Border

Early the next morning, while the sky was still barely light, Albert took his son out and headed toward the nearby Castle.

His son was also named Albert. He served as the steward of No. 1 Manor in White Bear Territory and was known as Little Albert.

"Father, this new lord seems to know a great deal about farming. He's even going out to inspect the fields today. He doesn't seem very high-handed either. Is he really the earl's son?"

Little Albert had never left White Bear Territory in his life.

In his imagination, Cold Wind Valley, renowned for its wealth, was a place where honey and milk flowed freely.

The serfs there did not have to toil as hard as the serfs of White Bear Territory, working from the beginning of the year to its end just to fill their bellies.

The Cold Wind Earl, who ruled that god-given land, surely lived in far greater extravagance and luxury than an ordinary baron.

Little Albert had also been among yesterday's welcoming party, yet he found that the new lord did not quite match his image of an earl's son.

Setting aside his appearance and bearing, the lord's clothes were no different from those of an ordinary Noble Knight, and his accompanying carriages, horses, and retinue were equally unremarkable.

Especially when the baron personally entered the mud-filled serf village, the image Little Albert had built up in his mind shattered completely.

Managing those filthy, crude, lowly serfs was the duty of manor stewards.

A lord's task was to protect his territory with personal strength and enjoy the serfs' tribute from on high.

If the lord broke the rules and personally managed the serfs, then what was the point of having stewards like them?

"You can complain to me all you like, but don't ever say such things outside." Old Albert's face carried a hint of gloom as well.

In this age, people could broadly be divided into three kinds: those who labored, those who fought, and those who prayed.

They corresponded to farmers, knights, and clergy.

According to White Bear Territory's Ancestral Charter, neither Old Albert nor his son received even a single copper coin in wages each year.

Instead, the lord granted them additional land allotments as payment for serving as stewards.

Generally speaking, a serf family of five could receive sixty mu of land allotment in White Bear Territory, while farming an equal amount of land for the lord as rent.

Their family of seven, however, had been granted a full five hundred mu of land allotment. They did not need to farm for the lord and could even recruit serfs to cultivate the land for them, just as the lord did.

Old Albert and his eldest son worked for the lord, while his wife and remaining children still had to labor in the fields. Their clothing and lodgings were not much different from those of ordinary serfs.

They still wore linen in summer and wool coats in winter. At most, they ate a little better.

Thus, although their family had risen into the territory's middle level of management, they still belonged to the first kind of people.

Old Albert's late father had been the lowest-ranking manager in the territory—a farm manager.

He was responsible for overseeing the serfs in a small farmstead, usually twenty or thirty households.

Incidentally, farm managers were usually elected by the serfs of the farmstead. They had to answer to those above them while also protecting the serfs' rightful interests.

Old Albert inherited his father's work and surpassed him, climbing step by step from farm manager to steward and then Territory Steward, responsible for all the serfs and land in the territory.

In the era of feudal manors, birth was more important than anything. This was the highest achievement a serf could possibly attain.

Yesterday, Old Albert had received the lord's verbal promise that he would most likely remain Territory Steward.

Yet that joy did not even last until the next morning.

The lord protected the territory, the local residents supported the lord, and the farm managers and stewards coordinated between them, striving to satisfy the lord while securing enough room for the serfs below to survive.

This was the underlying logic of White Bear Territory, and indeed the entire Northern Border.

What worried Old Albert was that the new lord might use his authority to forcibly meddle in the territory's agricultural production. He worried even more that the lord might impose heavier taxes on White Bear Territory's serfs in order to sustain his extravagant life in Cold Wind Valley.

Most of the time, a lord who understood farming was more frightening than one who did not.

Because the latter was very easy to fool.

The former, however, knew the output of every field. He could estimate how much grain the serfs needed merely to survive, then use that figure to set harsher tax rates.

In Old Albert's view, the lord only needed to enjoy life and hone his martial skills in the Castle. Stewards and farm managers like them, who were responsible for agricultural production in the territory, had far more to worry about.

At present, thanks to Old Albert's careful management, the serfs of White Bear Territory had only just managed to achieve bare subsistence.

Everything in the territory was steadily improving. There was no need for unknown changes, nor could they bear additional taxes.

But if the lord truly intended to forcibly change the way the territory operated, Old Albert had no way to stop him.

After all, the lord possessed both title and strength.

Five armored knights, along with twenty well-trained knight attendants, were far beyond anything the serfs could resist.

All he could do was pray that the new lord was a kind man.

As soon as the worried Old Albert entered the Castle with his son, he was immediately summoned by the lord.

At daybreak, Lynn had already risen, washed, and changed clothes.

During his years as the leader of the Horse Bandits, he had never relaxed his standards for himself. Whenever there was no mission, he would perform a full set of morning training drills at dawn almost every day, then polish his armor and weapons.

Killing was a Horse Bandit's livelihood. If his movements were clumsy and his blades dull, how could he be a proper Horse Bandit?

Second Brother had risen even earlier than he had.

While Lynn was still rinsing his mouth, Second Brother was already in the courtyard, swinging a greatsword with wind-like speed.

As for Yagna, she was most likely still asleep. She had not shared a bedroom with Lynn the previous night.

White Bear Territory's Castle was quite large, with plenty of rooms—enough to accommodate a heart still wavering in uncertainty.

After Lynn and Second Brother finished their morning training, a plump cook in her thirties promptly brought over steaming barley porridge with diced salted meat, a plate of pickles, several pieces of cheese, and a platter of sliced pork sausages.

These were the most common foods in the Northern Border.

Bread was flashy but impractical, and troublesome to make. In the pragmatic Northern Border, practically no one ate it.

The main ingredient in the pickles was cabbage. They were tart and refreshing, perfect for cutting through grease. Besides going with porridge, they could also be stewed with pork or mutton.

Just as Lynn was enjoying breakfast, Old Albert slowly approached the dining table under the guidance of a maid. He bent at the waist and respectfully called out, "My lord."

Lynn set down his spoon and wiped his mouth with a towel. "You're here? Have you eaten breakfast?"

"Yes, my lord."

Lynn then looked at the young man behind Old Albert and smiled. "This is your son? I think I saw him in the welcoming party yesterday."

Little Albert immediately stepped forward and bowed as well. "My lord, I am Little Albert. I serve as a steward at your manor."

Grumbling in private was one thing, but when standing before the lord who could decide his fate, Little Albert bent even lower than his father.

Today, father and son would serve as Lynn's guides and introduce him to more specific details about No. 1 Manor.

(End of Chapter)