Chapter 11: Deception is the Nobleman's Passport

This world is full of bloodshed and treachery. Being too kind can lead to an early death, especially for a noble. Field no longer had the patience or kindness to deal with the world's bastards. Better to speak with iron and blood! Deception is the nobleman's passport.

As it turned out, fighting humans was much easier than dealing with zombies; at least humans didn't look terrifying.

A slave let out a roar and lunged at a soldier with a severed arm, using a sickle to stab into his neck. With a fierce yank, he tore the soldier's head off, leaving his horrified expression frozen on his face.

"Well done, it's yours now," Field said with a smile, pulling out a silver coin from his pocket and tossing it to him. "I allow slaves to own property, and the harder you work, the more you earn!"

The surrounding slaves' eyes turned red. A silver coin was no small amount; it could buy a hundred loaves of black bread and keep them alive for a hundred days! Instantly, they were spurred into a frenzy by the promise of money.

With Asheena's giant wolf leading the charge, the slaves had no fear, gripping their weapons and rushing into the fray.

"This is quite a slaughter."

Against The Chosen, a small number of fully armored infantry were a joke. The soldiers in heavy armor were flattened by a swipe of the wolf's paw, their blood pooling from their two-dimensional corpses.

Ignoring the pleas and cries for mercy, Field quickly dealt with the traitorous soldiers. He tiptoed through the gore, carefully entering the dark fort.

"This is... an armory!"

Field couldn't hide his joy as he saw the small mountain of armor before him, smelling of well-maintained tung oil. They were neatly bundled, with racks of standard-issue spears, steel swords, and iron shields nearby. Bows and crossbows hung on the walls, with barrels of arrows for various purposes.

This could easily arm five hundred men to the teeth, with full armor coverage.

No baron could afford such an extensive arsenal. This was supplied by the empire, with each noble contributing a portion of their resources and gold annually to support the border defenses against corrupted monsters and orcs.

"If this small outpost like Kasan Fortress has this much, I can't imagine how rich the larger fortresses are."

"Are we rich?" Asheena asked, picking up a cavalry bow and admiring it.

"We've hit a small jackpot, but this is just the beginning," Field said, elated, waving his hand. "What are you waiting for? Arm yourselves!"

"Yes, sir!" The men eagerly began unbundling the armor, fitting themselves with the protective gear. For the first time, the slaves felt the weight and security of armor. Although the armor was heavy, it filled them with confidence.

The only downside was that the slaves were too small and skinny, wobbling in the oversized armor.

"Heh, serves you right, Richard," Field muttered, calling over the first slave who acted. "What's your name?"

"Sir, I'm Sam," the nervous slave replied.

In an age where knowledge was monopolized, commoners often had simple names. Of course, even if they wanted fancier names, they couldn't risk offending the nobility, or face the guillotine or horse trampling.

"I have a task for you. Let's rehearse it twice," Field said, calling Sam over and explaining his plan in whispers.

Having already stolen Bull Baron's weaponry and equipment, Field didn't mind taking it further.

With Sam leading twenty men away, Field considered the weapons and armor before him.

"Take it all. We must take it all, or I'll feel uneasy," Field muttered, pacing. "Asheena, bring Kaa and everyone else here. Send the equipment down the walls, and we'll pick it up after we leave the pass. It's already Nightfall Domain's equipment."

It's not enough! Field needed more than just weapons and armor to gamble on Nightfall Domain; he had to go all in.

Kasan Fortress had supplies from nobles nationwide, but the villages under its domain still paid full taxes. There were six large villages supplying the fortress, thanks to fertile land, providing a steady stream of cattle, wheat, and tax gold annually.

Crossing the hills and valleys, a well-equipped troop carrying Bull Baron's family flag made their way through withered vines, weeds, and broken walls.

Oxhorn Village was famous for its two tall watchtowers, though they were only four meters high, including the roofs, yet still a village pride. These seemingly simple towers, manned by hunters and protected by a wooden wall and militia, could fend off bandit attacks.

Last night, they shot three zombies, said to have slipped through the outer walls.

God, even the fortress had monsters now. The elders feared it was a sign of orc attacks.

Three or four peasants in hemp clothes sat at the village entrance, chatting and sipping vegetable soup, discussing how long the widow from the east village could fend off the green-skinned orcs, laughing crudely.

"It's the lord's soldiers!" The villagers recognized the flag but were unclear about the soldiers' intentions, looking puzzled.

Soon, Sam and the slave guards came into view.

"Open the gate," Sam barked, his soldiers slamming their spears into the ground, the sound of their armor clinking sharply. Sam mimicked a noble's arrogance, shouting, "You want us to freeze out here? Damn fools."

The villagers snapped to attention, hurriedly opening the gate and bowing low.

"Sir, is this about the zombies? Our village repelled their attack, thank the gods, and of course, thank the baron. We will present our young girls as tribute, to ensure the baron's satisfaction." The village head greeted them with a bright smile, but faltered upon seeing Sam. "I don't recall meeting you, sir."

Sam tensed but remembered Field's instructions: if in doubt, insult them.

"Screw your mother, you sniveling dog's tail. Why so much chatter?" Sam drew his sword. "I'm here to collect taxes, not make friends. Understand? I don't care if you've met me before."

The village head, sprayed with spittle and terrified by Sam's drawn sword, nearly fell over. "Of course, sir. My mistake."

"Farm tax, population tax, household tax, faith tax, land tax, exemption tax, breathing tax... whatever, you know the usual taxes for Bull Baron's domain."

Medieval tax systems were diverse and abundant, always finding a way to tax the peasants.