The next morning, envoys from three villages still arrived at Suleiman's camp, trembling as they pulled more than a dozen carts behind them.
These villages had all suffered violence and bloodshed at the hands of Suleiman's soldiers.
They were brought into Suleiman's tent. The moment they saw Suleiman seated upright at the head, they began to tremble with fear.
Most of them were ragged and sallow-faced, with grief and fear they could not conceal. The representative from Water-Side Village in particular was as pale as death.
Suleiman picked up a pen and parchment and looked at them. "Report your villages' annual harvests, populations, and the taxes demanded by House Terry."
The three farmers stepped forward one after another to give their reports, trembling all the while. Suleiman carefully wrote everything down. Counting the population and annual harvests was necessary for future development.
In truth, he did not intend to take this year's taxes from them. He only needed them to offer tribute, which was equivalent to acknowledging his authority and seeking his protection.
His Gold Dragon reserves could still support him for some time. And if worse came to worst, he could get money from Lady Lorna.
While they were speaking, shouts and curses suddenly came from outside.
"What's all that crying for?! Cry again and I'll cut out your tongue!" A soldier barked roughly, accompanied by the heart-wrenching wails of a child.
Suleiman frowned, set down his pen and paper, and led the others out of the tent.
Outside, a soldier had grabbed a boy of seven or eight by the collar and lifted him off the ground. A dagger lay across the child's neck, and the soldier's face was vicious.
The boy was nothing but skin and bones, his face streaked with tears and mud. He was trembling