This Is My Home! I Want to Pay Taxes to My Lord!

"Ah? Rob them? Haha, my lord, you're so humorous." Tommy smiled, then noticed Henry was not laughing and quickly shut his mouth.

"I really do intend to rob them, but there are too few of them. This batch has over a thousand people—who are this few bandits supposed to fight?

Damn it, didn't they say bandits were everywhere in places far from the Empire's center?"

Tommy looked at Henry, who was angry because there were too few bandits, and was so frightened that he dared not speak. He could only stand obediently to one side, standing at attention despite being over thirty.

Normally, as a noble with an actual fief, the fewer bandit groups there were within or around his territory, the better. What was going on with his lord?

Did he get itchy all over if he did not fight?

"Lord, then do you mean we should wait a little longer?"

Henry shook his head. "No waiting. Pick one New Recruit Squad and one Archer Squad. Let them get some practice first. As for the Grassland Warriors, they can catch the bandits who run away."

Very soon, Henry began selecting a New Recruit Squad and an Archer Squad.

The recruits, having undergone loyalty training, eagerly made preparations. They longed to fight for Henry. Unless the enemy's numbers or combat strength were utterly overwhelming, no one could expect one man to fight hundreds.

The archers checked their bows and arrows to ensure accurate shooting. The Horse Bandits... no, the Grassland Warriors, wore simple, honest smiles as they bet one another on how many bandits they could catch with their ropes.

The following morning, Lord Henry's troops set out, passing a farmstead and a pasture along the way.

The serfs and herding serfs watched the force from afar. Some were numb and lifeless, while others yearned to join.

Unfortunately, becoming a noble's private soldier was difficult. Some people around them had been selected as private soldiers last month, and they had been the envy of everyone.

Not only could they escape their slave status, but they would also have food to eat and wages to receive. That was what a proper life looked like. Some more timid people instead worked toward Henry's other decree: work honestly for two years, then rent a plot of land and become a tenant farmer.

The eighty Grassland Warriors in the force galloped forward on horseback and directly surrounded the bandits' hideout in the valley.

The bandits' choice of hiding place made Henry want to give them a thumbs-up. The vast plains were visible at a glance, and there were only a few hills and patches of woodland in the entire area. How was that any different from not hiding at all?

With brains like that, forget robbery. Follow the boss, and you'd starve nine meals out of ten in three days!

Bain, who was responsible for scouting, recorded the bandits' gatherings every day as if clocking in for work. There was no difficulty at all; it was completely one-sided transparency.

At this moment, the suddenly surrounded brigands and bandits knew they were finished, no matter how slow their reactions were. They could not run even if they wanted to. They had no choice but to fight!

This time, neither Henry nor Bain personally took command. Instead, they let the officers of these newly trained units command on their own.

After every loyalty training session, one "representative" would be promoted, and that representative would basically become the future officer of that squad.

Henry was not afraid of soldiers dying in battle; he was afraid of having no one to command them. He had to feed these newcomers some experience. Vasco was the best example.

From serf to recruit, from one battle to several meat grinders, from bandits to Half-Orcs, Vasco's infantry command abilities had improved by leaps and bounds.

Now Vasco chased after Bain every day to learn writing, pestering Bain to no end. Bain preferred competing with Boman to see who could eat faster.

The recruits lavishly had a full set of Cotton Armor each. Holding shields, they formed ranks and advanced toward the bandits. After the Archer Squad shamelessly unleashed two rapid volleys, the New Recruit Squad immediately charged forward with fierce courage.

There were only this many bandits. If you killed them all, who would we chop up? And how would we get extra meat for dinner tonight?

The ragged bandits were frightened into panic and scattered in every direction. They did not even have the desperate courage of cornered beasts.

The Grassland Warriors waiting nearby swiftly gave chase, capturing every bandit who tried to flee.

The captured bandits wept bitterly. Who the hell had spread false intelligence? Hadn't they said this place was extremely rich and had only one or two hundred soldiers?

Liars! They were all liars!

If Henry had trained his soldiers outside the castle, perhaps they would have fled long ago. Unfortunately, there were no ifs.

Compared to those bandits who did not even dare throw stones, the brigands were much tougher. At the very least, after many of them had been shot dead, they still had the courage to fire at the gradually approaching New Recruit Squad.

The brigands' refusal to retreat delighted the recruits. At the New Recruit captain's command, the warriors instantly accelerated into a sprint.

Battle erupted in an instant. The brigands waved their not-so-sharp machetes and crude spears, their faces twisted as they hacked and killed ferociously.

The recruits formed groups of two and three, using their shields as walls to create impregnable lines of defense. Perhaps a brigand would be guarding against a blade from the left one second, only to be stabbed to death by a sword from the right the next.

Every precise thrust made it impossible for the brigands to get close.

This time, the New Recruit Squad wiped out more than forty brigands. Perhaps some had surrendered, but no one cared.

"Lord, what should we do with these bandits?" A Grassland Warrior rode over and asked.

"They're worse than serfs at farming and worse than serfs at being soldiers. Selling this handful of people isn't worth the trouble. Execute them."

Bain thought for a moment and suggested, "Lord, didn't you say you wanted to build roads when you were in the Capital? The Grassland Warriors can watch them build roads, and patrol at the same time."

Bain suddenly recalled something Henry had told him in the Capital: if you wanted to get rich, build roads first.

"Mm, that works. We'll do that."

This was merely a small battle of closing the door and beating the dog. Henry did not pay much attention to it. He had only come to enjoy the scenery in his spare time.

However, as news of the great success in suppressing the bandits spread throughout West Lyme, Lord Henry's prestige rose dramatically, especially after the severed heads were piled together.

The skilled workers Tommy had coaxed and deceived into coming, along with the self-supporting farmers who had used their modest savings to buy small plots of land, were completely reassured.

This is my damn home! I want to pay taxes to my lord! A lord who can protect his people is a good lord.

That night, the soldiers who had taken part in the battle received an extra serving of meat, making those who had not been chosen for the battlefield extremely jealous.

In Henry's study on the third floor of the castle, three people were having dinner together.

With a trace of admiration in his voice, Claude said, "Lord, perhaps before long, free people from other places will come to join us on their own."

Henry shook his head. The surrounding lands were all empty. Where would people come from? Would they just spawn at random?

"By the way, don't make the taxes too complicated, and don't set them too high. Just follow the standards of the royal domain."

"Yes, Lord."

After receiving their fiefs, other nobles could hardly wait to work their people to death, but nobles from the Royal Knight Academy would not do that.

Instead, they learned from the Dean and gradually reduced agricultural taxes while demanding more money from merchants!

Whoever had money, squeeze them!