Suleiman's eyes fell on the parchment again, or rather, the writing on the paper.
Olivier, the former butler of a small noble, Suleiman suspects that his identity is not what he said at all. People with this level should only be those who serve the big nobles.
The handwriting is neat and smooth, with an almost irresistible sense of magnificence. Every turn and finish is full of confidence, as if the writer has long been accustomed to signing important documents.
This seemed incompatible with his background of serving a small rural aristocrat.
Suleiman's fingertips touched the paper lightly. This person was either lying, or the "little noble" he once served was not small at all. Suleiman sighed, I am afraid there will be trouble.
"Duh, duh, duh."
At this moment, there was a slight, almost respectful knock on the door.
The voice was very soft, completely different from the Lushen and Roslyn that he was used to, as well as the careless knocking style of the soldiers.
Suleiman guessed the identity of the person who came, Olivier, the former butler of a small noble.
"Come in." Suleiman's voice was calm.
The door was gently pushed open, and the middle-aged clerk who called himself Olivier stood at the door with a bow. The dim light in the corridor outlined his humble outline. Suleiman was a little surprised. He was indeed a man who had served as a butler for a nobleman.
"Master Suleiman." Olivier walked in and bent down deeply, keeping his posture very low, "I'm extremely sorry for disturbing you late at night."
"I have someone to recommend to you, she said "Yes!" His words were interrupted by Suleiman. "Bring him in!"
Olivier was a little surprised by Suleiman's cheerfulness. He bowed respectfully and slowly withdrew.
When he came in again, there was a person behind him.
A man who was wrapped tightly in a dark burqa and a wide hood, whose figure and face were completely unclear.
Suleiman looked closely, and even though the other party concealed it very well, he still keenly noticed some details from the uneven outline and the standing posture.
That was not a man, but a woman with a very good figure, much better than Mrs. Lorna. Suleiman suddenly realized that this was so weird, why did she start to study her figure.
Suleiman did not speak, but raised his chin to signal Levi to speak.
But Suleiman's eyes never left the silent man behind Olivier.
"This is... my daughter." Olivier thought about the words and lowered his voice. "She can also read and write, and she knows a lot. Maybe she can help you, sir."
In words, he highly praised his daughter.
"Daughter?" The corner of Suleiman's mouth raised a playful arc. He stood up and walked towards the mysterious person, face to face.
Looking directly into her eyes, "Why doesn't your daughter dare to show her true colors?"
The mysterious man lowered his eyes.
Olivier's forehead showed slight beads of sweat under the candlelight. "Master Suleiman, she...::... she has her own difficulties, but her ability, Seven, is the proof, and I am willing to guarantee it with my life."
Suleiman sat back, leaned on the back of the chair, and crossed his hands on the table, forming a scrutinizing posture.
"Since your father has vouched for you, I will listen to your opinion."
"In my territory, there are soldiers who follow me in the war, and there are also villagers who have been farming here for generations. The soldiers need land as a reward, and the villagers rely on the land for their livelihood."
"How should I distribute it so that the soldiers are satisfied without making the villagers hateful and angry?"
There was silence in the room.
Olivier looked at the masked man nervously, his palms all sweaty.
After a while, a voice came from under the burqa. The voice was pleasant, but extremely clear and steady:
"Why must it be distributed?"
Suleiman frowned and said nothing.
"The ownership of the land belongs to you, sir." The female voice continued, without hesitation: "What the soldiers obtain is the "right to use" and "right to profit" of the land, not the ownership. You can set the number of years."
"For example, in one hundred or two hundred years, the boundaries will be clearly defined and the land deeds will be issued. The land deeds will recognize their "permanent tenant rights" to the land. They can cultivate it for generations and pass it on."
"The same goes for peasants, who only cultivate the land for the lord."
"Land is a right given to the nobility by Seven!"
Suleiman frowned more and more. This person must have been born into a noble family and followed the rules of the Westeros nobles. But if he was an ordinary Westeros lord, this plan would be a good one.
"Rights have no priority, only boundaries." The woman answered surprisingly quickly, as if the answer had already been in her mind, "You need to promulgate a code, a code that everyone must abide by."
"The core of the code is not to decide who is right and who is wrong, but to clarify the "contract"."
"The land use contracts between soldiers and peasants are contracts."
"Anyone who violates the contract will be punished, whether he is a soldier or a peasant."
"Code?" Suleiman repeated, this is what he wants to do and what he wants to do.
"Yes, a simple, clear and open code." The female voice's tone revealed a calming power. "Post it in every village to let everyone know what can be done and what cannot be done."
"Order comes from clear rules, not the temporary ruling of the lord."
Suleiman raised a second question, "Taxation, I need money to support the army and build the territory, but the people here are very poor, what should I do?"
The woman answered immediately as if she knew it by heart:
"Your territory is close to the river, has forests, and has clay. You can build lumber camps, fishing fleets, and brick kilns that you control. These industries are directly controlled by you, and your women and children can work here as farmers for free."
"If you want to make money, another one is the "transaction tax". Any transaction that occurs in the market, whether it is selling a basket of eggs or a piece of cloth, a small part is taken as a tax. People will not be able to live just because they pay a little tax on selling things.
But when the money is put together, it will be a considerable amount of income."
Suleiman:":
...: "He was not very satisfied with her answer, but in Westeros, you can't force others to look at problems outside of the times. She is indeed a Maxima.
"Boom!" Suleiman punched the table and stood up suddenly. She is a noble.
Olivier Seeing this, he quickly stepped forward and wanted to say something, but was stopped by the masked man's imperceptible look.
Suleiman stared at the two of them closely. They didn't look like father and daughter. Olivier looked nervous and protective.
Rather like a master and a servant.
"Who are you?" Suleiman's tone turned cold. "Where are you from? Why are you here?"
"I need talents." He said word by word, his voice was calm, but with a majesty that could not be rejected. "But I hate unnecessary trouble. I need to know your identity."
Suleiman stood up and walked to the masked man. The distance between them was only one step away:
"At least, I need to know who the person who works for me is and what he looks like."
"Madam! Please take off your burqa!!!"
The air in the room was extremely tense, Olivier's face turned pale, and he seemed to want to rush forward to stop him.
But in the end, he still froze in place, just looking at Suleiman with an almost pleading look.
The masked woman was silent for a long time, so long that Suleiman thought she would refuse or turn away, but in the end she just sighed slightly and slowly raised her hand.
Her hands were steady, and she first untied the hood. The wide hood slipped off, revealing a face covered with dust and mud, and her hair was messy and tangled.
It looked like he had gone through a long and arduous journey, but Suleiman could tell that it was deliberately disguised to avoid the eyes of others.
Then, she unbuttoned the burqa, and the thick dark burqa slipped from her shoulders and fell to the ground with a soft sound.
Under the burqa is a simple but well-tailored linen dress, which outlines a tall and curvy figure.
Suleiman frowned, turned around and ordered the guard at the door, "Get a basin of water and a clean towel.
3
Soon, the basin was brought in, and Suleiman signaled.
The woman did not hesitate, walked to the basin, filled up the water, and began to wash away the dirt on her face.
The dirt and dust melted in the water and faded away little by little.
When she raised her head again, Suleiman's breathing stopped.
The light of the candle seemed to be taken away by that face in an instant.
Her long golden hair, as bright as molten gold, even though it was wet, could not hide its thrilling color, falling on her tall and straight front.
A clear pair of eyes, like two sapphires, is breathtaking.
Her facial features are exquisite, her figure is tall, her nose is high and straight, her lips have an elegant and soft curve, they are straight where they should be straight and concave where they should be.
She looks to be around twenty-six or seventeen years old, with a hint of weather-beaten maturity and lingering melancholy amidst her beauty.
Suleiman was completely stunned. In Suleiman's eyes, her beauty had gone beyond being simply pleasing to the eye and far surpassed Mrs. Rona's. It had become something that brought trouble.
The woman faced his shocked gaze, but her expression remained calm, even with a hint of alienation and vigilance, as if this peerless appearance was not a gift to her, but a heavy burden.
Suleiman Thoughts were racing in his mind. He urgently needed her wisdom and ability, but her identity was a huge unknown. Accepting them would probably cause trouble.
"You can stay." Suleiman finally spoke, his voice calming down. "Olivier, you are my clerk, as for you...
His eyes fell on the woman and he paused.