Suleiman raised his hand and pointed into the distance, to an unknown location.
"I will build two new towns and give you a new home."
He paused, letting the words echo in people's minds.
"All the Smith, carpenters, stonemasons, leatherworkers, anyone who knows their craft and skills."
His voice rose a little higher.
"You, six hundred people in total, will go to Kingsroad and build a new town there. I call it Crossroads Town."
"I provide tools, materials, and even Gold Dragon."
"Above Kingsroad, business travel."
"Your skills will buy you your own wealth."
In the crowd, some crouched men suddenly raised their heads, and for the first time, something other than fear flashed in his eyes.
Suleiman's arm turned in another direction, pointing towards the river of peas.
"Anyone who knows boating, fishing, and knows the same craftsmanship and skills as Crossroads Town."
"You, also six hundred people, will go to Green Fork and build a new town. I call it Riverbank Town."
"That's Green Fork. There are also business travelers on the river, and the river is plentiful. Your hard work will be rewarded with a warehouse full of money and catches."
More people raised their heads and their breathing became rapid:
Suleiman's hand moved again, pointing to the outline of the mountains in the distance.
"There are still 600 people. You are divided into two teams."
"Every three hundred people, go to the edge of the High Mountains and build two large livestock farms."
He took back his hand and looked below.
"The remaining people will stay where they are for the time being, waiting for follow-up arrangements."
"Sir Olivier, we will start the specific allocation work in these two days."
The refugees were completely stunned. Their brains could not process this huge amount of information. A moment ago, they were trembling in the bloody massacre, thinking that they were lambs to be slaughtered.
The next moment, the lord began to create a grand and specific future blueprint for them, and it was just thrown in front of them.
Especially when they have lost everything, they are now in a dirty and chaotic refugee camp, a new town, a new village, and a new life.
This sounds like a distant dream.
But the tone of the young man on the rock seemed not to be false at all. The crowd began to whisper, and fear was replaced by a vague hope.
At this moment, a trembling voice sounded, "Suleiman... Master.
The crowd fell silent instantly, and all eyes turned to the source of the sound. An old man with gray hair squeezed out of the crowd,
He looks like a farmer.
He knelt on the ground with a thud, his forehead pressed to the ground. "I am a carpenter, Mr. Suleiman."
"You saved us and gave us food."
"We thank you for your kindness.:::
His voice was trembling violently, with a cry in it. Carpenter was only his part-time job, while farmer was his true calling.
"But... but we don't have our own land... how... how can we pay taxes to you?"
This question is like a huge stone, hitting everyone's heart.
The joyful mood suddenly disappeared. Yes, taxes. In Westeros, even commoners without land had to pay an excruciatingly heavy head tax and various complicated taxes to the lord as a reward for being protected.
No matter you are a craftsman or a farmer, as long as you live, you must pay taxes to the lord. The flame of hope that was just ignited was instantly poured out by this basin of cold water.
Everyone held their breath, their hearts in their throats. They looked at Suleiman nervously, afraid of hearing the familiar, desperate answer from his mouth.
They were afraid that this new lord would, like the vast majority of Westeros lords, use exorbitant taxes and miscellaneous taxes to completely extinguish the little light they had just seen.
Suleiman looked at the old farmer kneeling on the ground, sleeping on a pillow, and a faint smile appeared on his face, "You asked a good question."
He was about to talk about things in this direction. After statistics, not counting the land stolen by Mountains of the Moon, he only had 10,000 acres of cultivated land, which was 40,000 Suleiman Acre. It was definitely not enough to be distributed to everyone, especially since he did not want to touch the public land of the people in the old territory and the land that was about to be rewarded for military merit.
Suleiman turned to Olivier beside him.
Olivier understood immediately, took a step forward, took out a roll of parchment from his arms, and read aloud.
"After counting, there are currently arable lands under Lord Suleiman's rule, totaling forty-two thousand Suleiman Acre!"
This number made everyone take a breath of cold air. Forty-two thousand acres sounds like a lot, but a lot of it has been allocated. There is definitely not much now, and there are 2,000 people and nearly 600 families here.
This little bit of land was simply not enough. The hopes that had just risen among the crowd sank again, and disappointment spread like mist.
Suleiman had a panoramic view of all this, and he waited until the disappointment reached its peak, because what he said next would be shocking, and then Olivier would be struck by thunder, making him want to jump to his death.
His voice sounded again, this time like thunder. "I know! There is not enough land to give to every family!"
"So!"
He emphasized his tone, and every word hit people's heads like a hammer.
"On my land! There will only be one tax for now!"
He held out a finger.
"Acre tax!"
The crowd was at a loss; they had never heard of this word.
"It means! Tax! Follow the fields! Don't follow the people!"
"Everyone who is assigned a field! No matter how much you harvest! Every acre of field! I only collect one-tenth of your harvest!"
"One out of ten!"
"Everyone who hasn't been assigned a field! Whether it's craftsmen! Herdsmen! Or anyone else!"
His voice echoed throughout the camp.
"No need to pay me any taxes for the time being!"
There was dead silence for several seconds, as if time had stopped, and then the crowd exploded.
"What?"
"One out of ten? Did I hear correctly?"
"If you don't have land... you don't have to pay taxes?"
"Seven is on top! Is this true?"
The unbelievable noise gathered into a huge sound, rising into the sky, and the entire refugee camp was completely boiling. This kind of tax rate, let alone hearing it, they didn't even dare to think about it!
Even the most benevolent lord Westeros still has to take away 30% or 40% of the harvest, not to mention the many and varied poll taxes, property taxes, inheritance taxes, marriage taxes, road taxes...
And now, this new lord has not only provided an incredibly low land tax, but has even directly exempted all landless people from paying taxes!
This is not mercy, this is Seven coming to the world, no, this is a bit treasonous, Suleiman is simply the Son of God coming to the world1
The way they looked at Suleiman changed.
Only Olivier closed his eyes tightly, trembling all over, wishing he could jump off the boulder and kill himself.
Suleiman slowly raised his hand, and the noisy crowd miraculously became quiet again. Everyone looked at him with fanatical and hot eyes.
"One last thing."
"Those things we brought back from the House Legg land, those farm tools, those livestock...:
"I said I would assign it to you."
His voice was sonorous and powerful, full of unquestionable power.
"I will definitely do it!"
"Olivier will distribute these things fairly to each family based on your future destination and family needs!"
He took one last look at the crowd below and spoke word by word.
"I! Suleiman! Keep your word!"
The crowd could no longer suppress their emotions, and countless people cried with joy. They knelt on the ground, kowtowed to the figure on the rock, prayed for the boy, and vented their excitement and gratitude in the most primitive and pious way.
The sun penetrated the clouds and shone on Suleiman's body. In the eyes of the refugees, it seemed as if he was covered with a golden glow.
"Long live Lord Suleiman!"
I don't know who was the first to shout.
Immediately afterwards, the roar of mountains and tsunami-like shouts resounded through the sky and lasted for a long time.
"Long live Lord Suleiman!"
"Long live!"