Regarding the assigned work, in the temporary command tent outside the refugee camp, a detailed and exquisite map of the territory was spread on a long table.
Suleiman's fingers traced across the rough parchment, leaving an invisible trail.
He looked at Olivier and said in a calm voice with no emotion, "Olivier, remember one principle when allocating refugees."
"Scatter them all completely."
Olivier's eyes followed Suleiman's finger. The adult's finger, like a knife, seemed to be accurately dividing the marks representing groups of people on the map.
"People from the same village should not be assigned to the same place."
"Especially those who used to be neighbors, friends, relatives, and had their own small groups, they must be taken apart, crushed into pieces, and then spread out."
Olivier's heart shrank slightly. He instantly understood the logic behind this order, which completely shattered the original living environment. It was difficult for anyone to think of this. The lord in front of him was really sophisticated.
He bowed and responded, with a hint of awe in his tone. "I understand, Lord Suleiman."
"I will never let them form an uncontrolled gang force in the distribution and challenge your authority."
This young lord, like a saint one moment, was spreading kindness and hope to the people of his territory, and the next moment he showed his sophisticated ruling skills like a lord.
Especially the perfect fusion of these two completely different faces on him makes people feel indescribably incomprehensible.
Olivier thought for a while, and planned to propose a more complex plan to Lord Suleiman, such as taxation based on the fertility of the land, to ensure the stability of the lord's finances.
He cleared his throat and was about to speak, "Sir, regarding taxes---"
Suleiman interrupted him with a wave of his hand. He knew what Olivier was going to say, but he had a better way, and he had more important things now.
He raised his head, looked across the map, and looked directly at Olivier: "Now, let's talk about the people and equipment."
Olivier was stunned.
"We seized a large amount of weapons and equipment from House Legg's armory, especially cloth armor, cotton armor, and chainmail armor."
Suleiman's tone became a little strange, as if he was talking about a business deal.
"I decided to let the soldiers use their trophies to redeem these equipment from me."
Olivier felt like there was something wrong with his ears. "Redemption?"
"Sir, I...:... I don't understand what you mean. Shouldn't these equipment be distributed directly to them during wartime?"
Suleiman sat down in a chair, leaned on the back of the chair, crossed his hands on the table. "No."
"From now on, in my territory, all families who receive public land are obliged to provide a qualified soldier in time of war."
His voice was not loud, but it was like huge rocks smashing into Olivier's turbulent heart.
"Any family that owns public land must provide its own set of cotton armor or cloth armor, as well as a spear and shield."
"Any family that owns more than forty Suleiman Acre of land must prepare a set of chain mail and a long sword."
"The so-called One-Fief-Full-Armor."
Suleiman stroked his chin. This was something he had thought about deeply. Nowadays, the old territorial residents in the territory have at least five acres, which is more than twenty Suleiman Acre land. With the extremely low tax to relieve the burden, it is not difficult for a family to prepare a set of cloth armor and cotton armor that can be passed down for several generations. It is only a rare channel to purchase.
Especially since they are now very prosperous, and there have been more than fifty residents who own ten acres, which is more than forty Suleiman Acre, and are now used for riders, and they can rent the land to others for farming.
Olivier's breathing stopped.
Suleiman continued to speak, as if he was describing a completed painting in an orderly manner. "The armors we captured are for them."
"They can buy it with the seizures from this war."
"If you don't have enough money, you can keep it on account and we can distribute it, pay it in installments, or use future spoils to pay off your debt."
The tent fell into dead silence. Olivier stood blankly, his brain running wildly, trying to understand the real purpose hidden behind this system. These words collided and reorganized in his mind, and finally formed a picture that made his scalp numb. Land... military service... equipment... redemption...
Olivier took a deep breath and froze. "Sir... you... are you going...
He wanted to say something, but found that his throat was so dry that he could no longer make a sound. He now knew why the Lord wanted to distribute the spoils to each soldier.
This is not a simple attempt to make money from the fat and oily territorial citizens who have returned from the battlefield, but a terror system that completely ties the entire territory and every family assigned to the land to a chariot.
By deeply binding land ownership and military service obligations, Suleiman can mobilize a large number of troops in a very short period of time.
A well-equipped army.
What's even more frightening is that the cost of arming this army is almost entirely borne by the soldiers themselves, and all the lords have to pay is the land and trophies that were already taken from the enemy.
In order to protect their fields and families, as well as what they captured on the battlefield, soldiers will willingly spend their money to buy equipment, and even try their best to maintain and upgrade them.
This is a general mobilization mode that does not require the burden of the lords, is extremely low-cost, and is extremely efficient.
Olivier has lived for half his life and has never heard of or even imagined such a sophisticated and cruel system. He once again thought of the benevolent tax rate of 1 out of 10.
Now he finally understood that it was not kindness at all, it was just a bait. What Suleiman really wanted to "collect" was not the grain.
But "people"!
There are thousands of soldiers who are willing to sacrifice anything for the land and the battlefield!
Just when Olivier was still immersed in huge shock, the curtain of the tent was violently pushed open.
Bryn A thick figure squeezed in. He was holding something in his hand, which looked like a meat ball. He threw it to the ground unceremoniously. When the two of them took a closer look, they realized that it was an astonishingly fat man.
Suleiman was shocked that Bryn could be so brave and throw such a fat ball casually. Olivier was angry that Bryn was so rude. He was indeed a robber.
The fat man was wearing expensive clothes that were once luxurious but were now torn in many places. His face was stained with mud, and his small eyes were full of fear and anxiety.
Bryn started to report angrily, "Suleiman Master!"
"The businessman you asked us to find, we found this guy in the refugee camp."
"He has always been a businessman, not a refugee. He wants us to let him go."
When the fat man saw Suleiman sitting in the main seat, he immediately seemed to have seen a savior.
Using his hands and feet, he rolled and crawled to his knees:
"My lord! My kind lord! My name is Hubbard! Seven! I am really a businessman! I am not a refugee!"