Uprising, Nobles, Salt, Slaves

Romain had prepared himself for the possibility that someone would resist violently, and that he would have to suppress them with violence—he would not stop until he had cut down a hundred or so farmers.

But that was the worst-case scenario.

Resistance was inevitable.

Suppose someone invented Gold Fertilizer and told a modern nation to abandon four-fifths of its farmland, keeping only one-fifth, claiming that with Gold Fertilizer, yields could exceed ten thousand jin per mu.

No one would believe it.

The opposition would rise into towering waves!

This was not something that could be solved with an explanation.

Could those farmers really not see the preparations Romain had made them carry out?

Farming was the one thing they were not foolish about. Of course they knew that plowing with a Heavy Plow could increase yields, or they would not have gasped at its effectiveness.

Some fertile land could naturally yield over a hundred jin of crops, while some barren land produced only thirty or forty jin.

They knew Romain's methods worked, but they had no idea how much yields could actually improve. They needed proof. They needed a way to survive.

The spring plowing season only lasted a little over half a month.

The farmers needed to hurry and resist Romain, force him to compromise, and follow the old farming traditions. Extensive cultivation was far quicker than intensive farming.

And Romain needed to hurry and get the farmers planting. He had to free up the labor force.

Though the conflict was sharp, it did not need to become a fight to the death.

The main issue was what came afterward.

In a modern country with over a billion people, even if only one percent opposed a policy, that would still be more than ten million people.

But the population here was under two thousand!

Under two thousand!

That included the elderly, the weak, women, children, craftsmen, stewards, and guards.

The actual labor force numbered only seven or eight hundred.

There were too few people.

People from great nations could hardly understand the circumstances of a small state with a sparse population.

The methods of ruling the two were worlds apart.

It had to be acknowledged that among these few hundred people, everyone opposed Romain's policy.

However...

Those who opposed it without feeling strongly about it accounted for at least half.

Of those who opposed it strongly, more than half did not dare protest.

Of those who dared protest before the lord, more than half feared death.

So the question was: how many truly did not fear death?

Very few!

Besides, Romain had never driven them into a corner.

When faced with the unrest, he personally made a promise: no one would starve to death.

For those worried about starving, hearing those words was enough to dissolve most of their resistance.

Most farmers had merely been swept along by the will of the leaders. They themselves had no intention of rebelling.

What was true desperation?

When there was no grain at home, no grain in the bowl, and no grain in the belly—that was desperation!

If they did not seize grain from the castles of nobles and landlords, they would starve to death the next day.

The conditions for a peasant uprising were harsh.

In an agrarian civilization, uprisings usually did not erupt while people still had food in their bellies. They erupted only when there was truly no way left to live.

And what had it come to now?

They merely believed they might starve in the future, so they acted on their own to seek survival. That was already quite farsighted, and it was what they should have done.

At most, this was preparing for a rainy day. It was nowhere near a riot.

Romain had generously forgiven them as well, not holding their gathering and causing trouble against them. He had been mentally prepared for it from the start.

But!

Romain promised that no one would starve to death, yet they did not believe him!

He had yielded, but the farmers had not!

So his expression changed on the spot. He rebuked them sternly and firmly demanded their obedience!

This was a serious problem!

This was even more serious than the unrest itself—a blow to and destruction of the aristocratic system.

Romain said this would work: listen to me, and I'll lead you forward.

The farmers said this would not work: Noble Lord, listen to us, we have experience.

And they failed to realize the consequences of those words.

Because the premise behind them was this—Sigg Town had been without a Lord for decades.

For more than fifty years, the Bass Family's Agricultural Officer had been Sigg Town's highest administrator. But Mol did not possess the power of life and death. At most, he could shout a few words about punishing people on behalf of the Noble Lord.

Thus, their understanding of the nobility had become somewhat distorted.

Romain had yet to earn prestige or recognition on this land. The legitimacy of all his actions came entirely from his noble status.

Otherwise, he was merely an ordinary man.

Once the farmer leading them had received his promise, he should have turned around and taken the others home.

I've already made a promise. What more do you want?

He was not the sort to kill people to establish his authority. Sigg Town was short on labor as well, so if he could avoid killing, he would. Killing was the last resort, the worst-case option.

There were many people here now. If there was a problem, they could come speak with him privately. He could even offer a few more promises, promote the man to Agricultural Steward, and give him the same salary and benefits as the other Stewards.

If you wanted better treatment, he would give you better treatment.

If you wanted a way to live, he would give you a way to live.

If they could not reach an agreement, then they could discuss what to do when they could not reach an agreement. In any case, they had to cultivate this land, and they could not delay everyone else's work.

You gathered so many people and opposed me once in public—fine. Opposed me twice—also fine.

But if you openly opposed me again and again, making such a spectacle of it, how was he supposed to bring this to an end?

Was he supposed to kneel before them and say, "Farmer lords, hurry back and work the fields. There are so many of you—I'm so scared."

There was no reasoning with this kind of class confrontation.

They could not understand the meaning behind his words and still clung to that mindset: "Noble Lord, listen to us. Divide the land!"

Most tragically, they were simply farmers. Their starting point was to keep everyone alive, not merely themselves. They had never entertained the slightest thought of becoming scabs.

Romain admitted that he had done something wrong, but in this age, this was far from the only wrong thing!

That was also why he wanted to strengthen the land.

He wanted to establish every order, standard, and model, building that social system according to his own ideas.

From this day onward.

If he said it would work, then it would work even if it did not!

If he said it would not work, then it would not work even if it did!

It was a once-and-for-all solution, just like what Romain was doing now. He had no prestige, no foundation—only his noble status. He would never allow anyone to undermine it.

What could originally have been settled through negotiation had therefore become a matter of bloodshed and sacrifice.

Even though this labor force was precious.

Romain could not cultivate thousands of acres by himself. He still had to rely on them.

Only death could preserve the authority of the nobility.

Seth would only advise him on how to do things.

You dare tell me how to do things?

The facts proved that when other farmers had grain at home, grain in their bowls, and grain in their stomachs, they would never risk their lives fighting Romain.

Even if Romain had taken all their land.

That was the weakness of the peasant class.

Unless they encountered a great famine or disaster, unless dozens or hundreds starved to death, they would never gather together, storm the stockade, and throw the landlords into the pot.

Most people merely wanted to live their lives.

In this era, you could rob them of their property, take away their land, violate their wives and daughters, and behave as wantonly as you pleased.

So long as you did not threaten the basis of their survival and could give them free food.

Three years later, you could be crowned king!

They would not even slack off or cut corners.

Because they could not cultivate any more land. This year's hopes rested on those two thousand acres.

They cared even more than Romain about what those fields would yield.

For now, the free, hearty lunches every day and that promise did not appear to be false.

When Romain could no longer provide lunch, and when he could no longer fulfill his promise.

Only then would the conflict between the exploiting class and the exploited class erupt with unprecedented force.

Everything returned to normal.

Romain resumed his endless tree-felling.

As his Gathering Experience increased, his skill at felling trees became more and more adept, and the time required grew shorter and shorter.

He could now bring down a towering tree in just over half an hour.

On the fourth day of tree-felling, Romain cleared a large open space at the edge of the forest.

That same day, Seth brought a merchant to Origin Manor.

Sigg Town had not had a Lord before, but it did now.

Romain felt it was necessary to meet with these outside merchants who came to Sigg Town along the Bro River.

This concerned Sigg Town's development.

The merchant appeared to be in his early thirties, thin in build, dressed in a dark brown robe, with an eight-shaped mustache and a coin purse hanging from his belt.

Romain asked, "Are you a salt merchant?"

Daken's feelings were complicated.

He had not expected Sigg Town to undergo such a drastic change in such a short time.

His merchant ship had arrived at Sigg Town's docks, and he had intended to do business with the local residents as usual.

Then he learned that there was a new Lord here, one who was extremely overbearing. He had reclaimed all the land belonging to Sigg Town's residents, allowed them to cultivate only two thousand mu of land, and incidentally chopped to death everyone who opposed him.

The Lord here was a madman!

Just as he was about to flee, Sigg Town's guards stopped him.

An Old Steward claimed that the local Lord wished to see him.

And so, he had been brought here.

"I'm not just a salt merchant. My ship also carries wool, wine, medicinal herbs, candles, cheese, and butter..." Daken answered truthfully, concealing nothing.

If things truly went in the worst possible direction, he would likely go bankrupt outright and be saddled with enormous debts.

Those goods did not belong to him alone; there were also the investors behind him.

After that, he could only lodge a complaint with the Royal Court through the merchant guild under the insurance agreement. But considering that the local Lord's surname was Split Armor, the guild's appeal might be delayed indefinitely or simply ignored, never even accepted as a case.

Romain knew nothing of Daken's thoughts. He only knew that this general goods merchant was very nervous.

So Romain adopted a gentle tone. "How much salt do you have on your ship?"

"More than five hundred pounds left."

"What price can it sell for?"

Daken could tell that Romain had no intention of seizing his cargo. Otherwise, there would have been no need to be polite to him; in this barbaric age, there was no such thing as courtesy before force.

"One pound of salt costs one Copper Coin. The farther north you go, the higher the price. If you reach the Northern Lands or Igo Land, one pound of salt can sell for at least two Copper Coins."

To be precise, it should be close to three Copper Coins. It was even possible to trade a pound of salt for half a sheep.

The Northern Lands were famously bitterly cold, second only to Igo, the homeland of the North Ice Pirates.

But if he ventured deeper, the corresponding risks and travel costs would rise sharply.

Daken did not intend to go to the Northern Lands, much less could he cross the sea to Igo. He only sold his goods in scattered stops along the Bro River, and Sigg Town was merely one of them.

He passed through Sigg Town every six months and could sell dozens of pounds of salt here each time. It was not much, but he did not have to pay any Trade Tax.

That alone was enough to make the trip worth the risk.

This salt was among the more valuable goods on his ship. He had once gone to great lengths to secure a supply channel for salt—salt-producing regions had limited output, and not every merchant could become a salt merchant. Most salt sales channels were controlled by certain major merchants, and he could only get a small share.

Though expensive, salt was a necessity. With the market's enormous demand, supply usually fell short, so he never had to worry about being unable to sell it.

This inconspicuous salt-purchasing channel had brought him substantial profits.

The purchase price for one hundred pounds of salt was two Silver Coins, while the selling price was one Gold Coin, making it only slightly cheaper than iron.

Sigg Town could not consume all that salt, and Romain had no intention of buying it all. He had only asked casually.

"What about Slaves? What are the prices for Slaves?"

Daken froze for a moment. Unsure of Romain's purpose, he could only answer, "Ordinary Slaves cost at least one Silver Coin. They only have some Brute Strength. Some Slaves with good physiques or special qualities can fetch between two and five Silver Coins. You know, some Slaves possess exceptional skills, and pricing them in Gold Coins would not be excessive. As for poor-quality Slaves, they cost only eight Copper Coins or even less—such Slaves usually are not worth transporting."

"Is that so..." Romain closed his eyes slightly, then asked, "When can you bring Slaves here?"

"How many Slaves do you need?"

"How many can you bring?"

Daken froze again. "I can bring ten or twenty."

Romain said, "If I give you twenty Gold Coins, how many Slaves can you bring me?"

Daken immediately became solemn.

"I can bring you at least a hundred—no, one hundred and twenty Slaves!"

In theory, 20 Gold Coins could buy two hundred slaves, but transportation was a troublesome matter. Especially given Sigg Town's remote location, they would have to make a considerable detour, naturally adding a premium. A slave worth 1 Silver Coin would have to be raised to at least 1.2 or 1.5 Silver Coins.

But this was a big order. Daken felt he could take it on, and there was profit to be made.

Romain nodded. "How long will it take?"

"At least a month. You know why..."

The biggest problem was transportation.

This was a barbaric age, with war raging year-round and human lives worth less than grass. Slaves were generally cheap, but that did not mean they were everywhere.

Especially on the Black Iron Land, where no large-scale war had broken out for decades. They would need to leave this land and travel elsewhere to purchase slaves.

"I'll pay you 10 Gold Coins in advance. Whether you can get the remaining 10 Gold Coins will depend on how well you do. From now on, your commercial tax in Sigg Town will be one in twenty for all goods. Any objections?"

Daken nodded repeatedly and praised, "Your generous decree will surely resound along the upper and lower reaches of the Bro River."

Commercial taxes were also one of the nobles' sources of income, but their attitude toward merchants determined the scale of commerce in their territories.

And this land had no shortage of such short-sighted people.

One in twenty was truly exceptionally favorable for merchants. It meant that for goods sold for 20 copper coins, he only needed to pay 1 copper coin in commercial tax.

Most nobles maintained a rate of one in ten, while some were as outrageous as one in six.

They practically left merchants no way to survive.

Naturally, commerce and trade would never flourish in such places.

Of course, depending on the goods, the tax rate could also increase or decrease.

Yet most nobles took the same approach to salt taxes: they squeezed them mercilessly.

The rate was basically never lower than one in six, and could reach as high as one in three.

That meant if he sold 10 jin of salt and earned 1 Silver Coin, he would have to pay the local nobles 3.3 copper coins. And that was only one part of the salt tax; procurement tariffs were another expense.

As a salt merchant, one could toil oneself to death and still only earn enough to cover costs, while the Noble Lords took the lion's share.

Yet Sigg Town's new Lord generously demanded only 0.5 copper coins in salt tax, which was already astonishing.

Romain waved a hand, telling Seth to take Daken to collect the money.

He had only met Daken once before throwing 10 Gold Coins at him. That showed considerable sincerity.

Romain was not worried that Daken would take the money and fail to deliver. If he wanted to make a living in this area, he had to do the job well—and do it beautifully.

Only nobles dared take merchants' money without doing anything for them. There had never been a merchant who took a noble's money and refused to work for him.

Besides, he could afford to lose 10 Gold Coins.

Sigg Town also had merchants, but its commercial foundation was weak. They could handle buying and selling grain, but they had no grasp of a large-scale slave transaction like this.

After Daken left, Romain took Gevra back to the northern forest to continue cutting trees.