Roslyn staggered from Suleiman's kick and nearly fell flat on his face, clutching his backside.
The foolish look had finally vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden air of enlightenment.
"I understand! Lord Suleiman! I understand! I understand it all!!!"
He scrambled out of the tent, looking so ridiculous that Lushen burst out laughing. But before he could laugh more than a few times, Suleiman knocked him over with an identical kick.
"Roslyn, wait for me!" He hurriedly scrambled to his feet and chased after him.
Suleiman watched Roslyn and Lushen's retreating backs. They had once seemed pleasing enough to him, but now the more he looked at them, the more irritating they became. He let out a soft sigh.
He still needed to find people with at least a little knowledge. Once he had gained a firm foothold, he would need them to survey the land, count the population, and serve as tax officers.
Foulkeep had been sparsely populated before, so the lord collecting taxes could go door to door himself. Once the population grew, however, a taxation system would have to be established. Organization was better than none, and order was better than disorder.
His view differed somewhat from that of Westeros's ruling class. Once he took this land, he planned to gather the population into large villages, build defensive works, and make them easier to govern through tax officers appointed by himself.
Suleiman stepped out of the tent and looked over the crowd. Families were picking up crude tools and heading to their allotted plots to till the fields.
Suleiman felt a swell of emotion. Though Lushen and Roslyn were indeed incredibly foolish when it came to minor details, they did have one virtue: once they received clear orders, they carried them out with remarkable speed.