Inheritance Tax

The first floor of the baron's residence was the heart of rule over all Allen Island.

Baron John convened meetings here, held banquets, issued decrees, judged lawsuits, and collected taxes. In this age, a lord's task of governing his domain was not particularly complicated.

The small room inside the first-floor hall served as Baron John's study, reception room, and office.

The capable-looking steward held a parchment filled with writing and briefly explained to Roger the gains from Allen Island's recent campaign.

Sure enough, it was a discussion about the division of spoils.

Allen Island's campaign against the English had ended with feathers scattered and wings broken. More than half the soldiers had been lost, and naturally, not much of the weapons, armor, baggage, and provisions they had brought along or seized could be recovered.

The warhorses, mules, and donkeys they had taken, along with the dozen-odd horses and mules seized on the peninsula, had all been abandoned along the road of escape. Even Baron John's costly tall warhorse had to be left to the enemy because they had fled aboard ship in such panic.

Adding the two seagoing vessels captured by enemy warships and the spoils loaded aboard them, they had come close to losing everything down to the shirt on their backs.

The losses of weapons, armor, ships, and warhorses pained Baron John the most. After all, in Scotland, where the land was poor and human lives cheap, recruiting soldiers was not difficult. But weapons, armor, warhorses, and ships were not things one could obtain easily.

The only fortunate thing was that the largest cog, the Baron, had broken through the tight encirclement of English ships under the desperate cover of the White Sail and the Noel Ship, returning to Allen Island.

The White Sail and the Noel Ship had mainly carried troops, while most of the gold and silverware, furs, cloth, chickens, ducks, livestock, grain, and goods seized on Galloway's western coast, along with the money from smuggling trade south to Ireland, had been aboard the Baron.

Even after offsetting profits against losses, it had still been a crushing defeat. Baron John's mood remained low, and his pale face from the funeral had now flushed slightly red.

"Milkhouse Manor suffered the greatest losses this time. By rights, it should receive a larger share of the spoils."

Words like that were usually followed by a turn.

Baron John coughed lightly several times before voicing the "but." "But the army suffered a disastrous defeat this time. I must stabilize people's hearts and safeguard the Campbell Lineage's rule over Allen Island. Therefore, I will give priority in distributing the spoils to the other knights and sergeants who campaigned with me, ensuring their loyalty and trust in the Campbell Lineage."

"Allen Island belongs to the Campbell Lineage, and you and Louis are members of the Campbell Lineage as well." At this point, Baron John suddenly paused, remembering how only last month he had slapped Roger and driven him from the residence, even declaring that he did not recognize Roger's "Campbell" identity.

Yet Roger's memories of that incident were only fragmented and hazy, and he did not find anything strange about it.

Seeing that Roger had no excessive reaction, Baron John continued, "Milkhouse Manor has fertile land. You will not lack food this year, so you will not receive any of the seized grain."

"The losses of all the lords this time were severe. Compensating soldiers and purchasing warhorses and equipment require large amounts of gold and silver. We seized some gold and silver from Galloway, and those must be distributed to them first as well."

"There were not many weapons and suits of armor seized from the English, and most were lost during the retreat. So I cannot give you any weapons or armor either."

Roger merely listened in silence, without saying a word.

"However, the nine pounds and five shillings in silver that the White Sail earned on its southern voyage are aboard the Baron. I will return all that money to you. In addition, I will give you five plowshares, twenty sets of farm tools, two bags of wool, and ten sheep. That wool alone should be worth seven or eight pounds."

Seven or eight pounds was indeed an enormous sum to ordinary commoners, equivalent to three to five years of income. For Roger personally, it might also count as no small fortune.

But two knights, two sergeants, three farmer-soldiers, nearly all their weapons and armor, three horses, and one seagoing vessel—such enormous losses, exchanged for so little. Roger no longer wished to argue over anything.

Perhaps feeling that he was being treated too unfairly, Baron John's voice was soft and weak as he spoke.

Seeing Roger remain silent, Baron John took it as acquiescence and quickly changed the subject.

"Old One-Arm told me that you killed Ulf and led men to wipe out that band of pirates in the north of the island?"

The corner of Roger's mouth twitched slightly.

"Ulf and that band of pirates under him were my men," Baron John said softly.

Roger could not help raising his eyes.

Baron John nodded calmly. "Why do you think they were able to live for so long? And why do you think Allen Island was able to control these waters off the western coast?"

"But those fellows were no good things either. In recent years, they had become increasingly uncontrollable. Since you wiped them out, then so be it."

Baron John continued, "All the gold and silver taken from the pirates are yours. Keep one suit of armor and three weapons. Send the rest, along with what you took from the storeroom while suppressing the pirates, to my armory."

"As for that pirate ship—"

Baron John caught sight of Roger's increasingly grim expression and sighed. "Your household lost a seagoing vessel. You may keep that pirate ship."

Roger could ignore the spoils taken from Galloway, because they had little to do with him. But everything taken from the pirates had been bought with the lives of him and his men. He could not possibly hand them over so easily, especially weapons and armor that preserved lives in these chaotic times.

Roger was about to refuse when Baron John immediately raised a hand to stop him.

"I will not take your things for nothing. These weapons and armor are the inheritance tax you owe your liege. Once you pay these taxes, you will inherit your father's title of knight and become the new lord of Milkhouse Manor..."

At Stackport's docks, the Baron still drifted alone. Five or six small fishing boats shuttled back and forth, unloading the spoils seized from the English and carrying them to the shores nearest each lord's estate.

Several ox carts and two-wheeled handcarts also traveled along the dockside, carrying wheat seed, food, wine, furs, and other goods toward the baron's castle.

At the end of the wooden pier, Roger stood waiting. Under the direction of Bitter Melon Face and Ma'en, two hired fishermen loaded five plowshares, twenty sets of farm tools, two bags containing a total of seven hundred and twenty-eight pounds of wool, and ten sheep that had crossed the sea to Allen Island onto a somewhat larger Bella.

These were the spoils Baron John had allotted to Milkhouse Manor.

Baron John had handed Roger the money from the southern trade on the spot at the residence. As for the farm tools, wool, and livestock, his original intention had been to have the steward send people to deliver them to Milkhouse Manor.

But Roger believed that only what entered one's stomach truly belonged to oneself. Thus, ignoring Baron John's twisted expression, he resolutely hired a vessel at a high price and, under the steward's personal inspection, removed the goods from the Baron and took them away.

Watching as Ma'en grabbed the last bleating sheep and tossed it onto the Bella, the expressionless steward approached Roger with a parchment in hand and a clerk in tow. "Young Master Roger, everything belonging to Milkhouse Manor has been collected. Please sign the account document."

Roger glanced at the parchment. It was densely covered in English and Latin symbols, and was even presented in the form of a simple table.

The table recorded the categories and quantities of spoils assigned to every lord who had participated in the war, with signature lines at the end. Naturally, most knights and minor lords were illiterate, so they used crosses or circles in place of signatures.

Roger took the parchment seriously, examined it carefully for a moment, then looked up and asked, "Did you make this table?"

The steward did not understand what Roger meant by "table," assuming Roger did not approve of the account document.

Roger was about to inherit a knightly title and a lord's fief, so the steward naturally did not dare offend him. Lowering his head, he asked, "Young Master Roger, is there something wrong? I will correct it immediately."

"Did you make this account?" Roger asked again.

Perhaps Roger's tone was somewhat stiff, or perhaps the impression he had left on everyone was simply too terrible. The steward assumed he intended to use this as an excuse to fly into a rage, and actually lowered his head without answering.

"I asked you who made this account," Roger said, raising his voice.

The young clerk behind the steward hesitantly stepped forward and stammered, "Young Master Roger, I... I made it." Having spoken, he hurriedly lowered his head and waited for Roger's outburst, though he did not know why Young Master Roger had suddenly become angry.

"What is your name?" Roger's tone remained calm, yet it made the clerk even more frightened.

The steward tugged the clerk backward, hiding him behind himself, then stepped half a pace forward with an ingratiating smile. "Young Master Roger, this fellow is called Paul. He is the old clerk's grandson. The old man died at the beginning of the year, and Baron John had him take over his grandfather's duties, helping copy letters and calculate accounts."

"He is too young and has only just become a clerk, so mistakes are unavoidable. Please do not blame him."

Roger did not realize that they feared him so deeply. He merely thought Paul was some bashful pretty boy, and his favorable impression of him plummeted.

Without paying them further attention, Roger took a quill pen from the residence steward, casually signed his name in Latin, and handed the account back to the steward.

Under the two men's puzzled gazes, Roger jumped aboard the Bella laden with goods and sailed out of Stackport, toward Lamlash Bay in the south...