Chapter 229: The Quiet Winter

Fairy Tower in the Lake: +5 to Duchy Order, +5 to Corruption Resistance, +50% to Agricultural Income, +8 to Infantry and Knight Leadership (faction-wide).

A continuous heavy rain has separated autumn from winter, bringing us to November. The climate has become very cold. With the winter wheat gradually sown, the serfs have entered a period of agricultural downtime.

The harvested grain fills the barns. Jasper begins leading the soldiers to collect grain taxes. After deducting the basic food ration, the collection of one-seventh tax pains the serfs who had a good harvest. However, even the greediest serfs understand that this is the mercy of the Grail Knights' lord. In other parts of the kingdom, a one-ninth tax is being collected, and that's truly deadly.

At least many serfs who fled from the Duchy of Brelion say this is the best year they've ever had.

The baron has issued a freedom of movement order within his territory. All serfs with registered identities can move freely within Baron Gene's territory. After more than a year within the territory, Gene Town has undergone earth-shaking changes. In the town's market, people from far away can almost see most of the goods from the Old World, even Dwarves and Wood Elves are not rare.

In every corner of the town's streets, groups of serfs are sitting or squatting. Whenever knights, nobles, or merchants pass by, they always shout as loud as they can: "Sir! Sir! Is there any work? I can work! I'm willing to do anything!"

After some simple bargaining, these people are quickly taken away.

There are job recruitments everywhere. The construction of the wizard tower in the territory, the new textile workshop, the baron's stud farm, and the renovation of half of the town, the serfs have gotten used to working every day. Not only do they get meals, but they also receive a handful of copper coins when they go home at night. Since someone saw a villager from a nearby village returning home with a half-eaten chicken after a full meal, the serfs from Redfish Village have almost all gone to the town to find work recently. Their wives also desperately push them out: "Eat less of our grain at home, earn more money, and have a good Winter Festival."

Brook is such a serf. Under thirty years old, Brook is not tall but strong. He has been working for the baron recently, always bringing back a full bag of copper coins, making the serfs from the same village envious.

After several days of heavy rain, a cloudy day finally arrives. As dawn breaks, Brook gets up. His wife, who is heavily pregnant, desperately pushes him out: "Dad, you've been home for several days. Go out and work! Otherwise, we'll starve when the baby comes!"

"Okay, okay." Brook nods repeatedly, changes into a coarse linen outfit, and then puts on a beast skin cloak. The serf hurries out, carrying a bag, heading towards Gene Town.

Since the arrival of the Grail Knight lord, the serfs' days have improved a lot, at least they can eat and dress warmly. For the serfs, after eating their fill and the sky darkens, there aren't many entertainment activities. So, after several months of effort, his wife's belly has gradually grown.

This is a common sight in the village. The birth rate of children has been very high recently, with almost every household having a new baby.

Therefore, the priests of the Goddess of Mercy Church have become the busiest people in the baron's territory. These compassionate female priests shuttle through Ryan's territory, busy with childbirth and blessing newborns. The baron is generous; he donated three hundred gold crowns to the Church of the Goddess of Mercy in one go. The Sisters of the Lake from the Lady of the Lake also sent some Lake Prophets to help the Church of the Goddess of Mercy, barely managing to make up enough manpower.

Walking along the solid stone road towards Gene Town, there are many serfs entering the city looking for work along the way. Thinking of this, Brook can't help feeling a bit annoyed and hastens his pace.

In the cold weather, the gates of Gene Town have become very tall. Many soldiers are standing guard at the city gate. Brook feels a bit afraid, but he still tries his best to squeeze out of the crowd, trying to enter the town.

At the city gate, there are a few Wood Elves with pointed ears. Obviously, the pointed ears have privileges; they are prioritized to enter the town because their goods are irreplaceably precious and in high demand.

"Hey! Brook! What are you daydreaming about?" Just at that moment, a young voice stops him: "Do you still want to work?!"

"Ah, ah, Mr. Denny! I'll work! Of course, I'll work!" The serf straightens up in fright, realizing a soldier is speaking to him, and hurriedly bows and nods.

"The usual, lunch provided, how much money you can take home at night depends on how much work you do. Don't think about slacking off!" Soldier Denny, dressed in a full set of chain mail and breastplate with arm guards and wearing a surcoat outside, looks truly imposing! At least, that's what Brook thinks.

A surcoat is thrown on the serf's face, which he must wear while working. The serf takes the surcoat, puts it on haphazardly, and goes to work happily. The baron needs a better stud farm, and the serfs will work hard to earn their wages.

"The number of people is about right." A few soldiers, along with a dozen infantrymen, continue to recruit some workers. After that, Denny turns to a soldier beside him and says, "What do you think? Amedei?"

"It's about right." The other soldier replies. So, Denny waves his hand, signaling to stop recruiting workers.

The young soldier attracts the extremely envious gaze of the serfs. A soldier's annual income is about 20-30 gold crowns (total income, pre-tax). They live in the outer castle of the baron's castle, enjoying double the salary and excellent living conditions. Their meals are good, often including white bread and meat, and they can follow the baron on hunting and missions.

Soldiers and knights are almost the ultimate career goal of many serfs. So, whenever they see soldiers proudly wearing chain mail and surcoats patrolling the streets, all the serfs make up their minds to become glorious soldiers.

Denny can feel the envious gaze of the serfs. Thinking about his life recently, he himself feels like he's living in a dream.

Since risking his life to inform Lord Ryan about the rain during the knightly campaign against the orcs, good fortune has been with this hunter's son. After the rainy night battle, he was knighted on the spot by Ryan for his military achievements.

Overjoyed, Denny, with the permission of the Red Dragon Duke, returned to his hometown to share the news with his parents and younger brother. Then, the whole family left the place they had lived for generations to move to Baron Gene's territory.

The family started living a happy life. Denny had two days off every ten days and usually stayed in the castle for duty. His generous salary allowed his family to live a good life. Therefore, the young soldier swore to serve the baron to the death.

Young and especially capable in combat, Denny performed outstandingly during the suppression of bandits. He possessed remarkable longbow skills. As a descendant of Bastonne longbowmen, Denny's longbow could shoot as far as two hundred and eighty meters with notable accuracy. His prowess earned the appreciation of Ryan and his brother, Anglaron, which led to Denny being exceptionally promoted. He is now the captain of the Gene longbowmen unit.

Clutching the hilt of his sword at his waist, Denny could feel the excellence of the Dwarven craftsmanship. After a period of rearming, nearly all the soldiers in the territory had been equipped with full sets of Dwarven fine gear. Everyone was armed with hand crossbows, and the soldiers couldn't stop praising Dwarven weapons.

Denny was one of the few soldiers who didn't like using hand crossbows. He admitted hand crossbows were simpler to operate, but he still preferred to use his longbow. Every time he fully drew his ancestral bow, he felt as though his ancestors' strength was protecting him. He seemed to fight alongside his great-grandfather, his grandfather, and his father. He had been using this longbow since he was eight years old.

"Denny? What's up? Thinking about your wife?" a fellow soldier joked, "Don't worry, even though it's her first child, she's in the hospital with so many priests and Lady Prophets around. There won't be any problems."

The soldiers laughed together, and the infantrymen joined in.

Denny, young and a soldier, quickly found a match introduced by others and married the daughter of a town shopkeeper. Like most people in the territory, his wife soon became pregnant and was now nine months along.

"Ha ha, indeed, sorry, I got a bit distracted." Denny forced a few laughs to ease the awkwardness and continued urging the serfs to work. If necessary, the soldiers would also help.

About four months ago, the baron announced cooperation with the Church of the Goddess of Mercy, the Sisters of the Lake, the Church of Justice, and the Wood Elves to establish a hospital. This hospital had dozens of beds, staffed by several priests from the Church of the Goddess of Mercy, two Lake Prophets, and a Wood Elf doctor. Denny's wife was currently waiting to give birth in the hospital, and he felt relatively assured with them taking care of her.

Elf medical technology was a thousand years or even more advanced than humans'. In the whole of Britannia, probably only Ryan could build such a hospital because only he could import precious medicines from the Elves in large quantities.

Denny knew how difficult it was for serfs in Bastonne to get medical care when sick. The vast majority of serfs couldn't afford treatment, and most had to endure their illnesses. A few who had some savings could take a few days off work to go to the church, where the priests of the Goddess of Mercy would offer them black bread, give them hot water, and then let them pray.

Yes, pray. Praying to the Goddess of Mercy for healing, unrelated to taking medicines or casting divine spells. Medicines' scarcity and value meant they were strictly controlled luxuries for nobles. Divine spells were out of reach, with a first-tier spell that could only alleviate pain within forty-eight hours costing fifteen silver coins. Spells above the fourth tier that could truly cure diseases cost tens to hundreds of gold coins. The sixth-tier spell, Regenerate, which could cure most diseases, had a casting cost of six hundred gold crowns, and that was just the casting cost! A regional bishop could cast it at most three times a month! Since priests also need to eat, the real price would be at least 20% higher.

"Amedei, did a few hundred refugees come from the Kingdom of Paravon again a few days ago?" The establishment of the hospital attracted many refugees who dared to cross the Scriptus Mountains to seek refuge in Baron Gene's territory.

"Yes, a lot. I don't know how they made it, but they were all starving." The fully armed soldiers were chatting. Recently, under the lord's guidance, most soldiers learned some basic mathematics through a few months of intensive training.

"Yeah, when Master Carcassonne gave those refugees porridge, they were like a pack of homeless dogs." Another soldier, Amedei, said with a hint of sympathy on his face, "Master Carcassonne said there would be enough porridge, but they still fought over it, resulting in chaos. I think Master Carcassonne's decision to temporarily withhold their registration was wise. What do you think, Denny?"

"A wise decision. We need to distinguish between real refugees and bandits, identify who is sick to prevent an outbreak of disease." Denny said, not fully understanding the rationale but having heard Carcassonne say it.

Watching the serfs work for a while, the tax officer Jasper appeared. He had completed a round of tax collection with the soldiers.

This year, the three quarters of taxes in Baron Gene's territory neared two thousand gold crowns. Jasper, chanting the name of the Lady of the Lake, felt very happy for the baron. As the tax officer chosen by the Lady, he felt honored.

At the same time, Jasper was concerned about how to deal with the serfs who had fled from other territories. Those capable and daring to flee were naturally quality population, but it was uncertain whether they would obey management or if there were spies from other duchies among them.

Thus, the registration of these new outsiders was temporarily halted. Carcassonne's idea was to employ them first, providing a lower level of treatment, and then consider absorbing them into the baron's territory over one to two years.

This process required stability, so the territory must remain orderly. Several incidents of friction between outsiders and locals were personally handled by the baron. As the champion chosen by the Lady of the Lake, his prestige ensured no objections.

The prosperity of the territory attracted the covetousness of many powers. A few days ago, the baron encountered a group of rogue knights, about twenty to thirty, who are now bruised and locked up in the prison.

Just then, the baron appeared. He was dressed in standard baronial attire, with a white Grail cloak draped behind him. Ryan's face, now adorned with a short beard after months of rest, looked serious: "Jasper, come here."

"My baron?" The tax officer quickly approached Ryan: "What happened?"

"Knight Errant Tristan and his jester Jules visited my territory. He told me a large-scale rebellion has occurred in the Duchy of Brelion. We need to have a meeting, immediately." Ryan spoke softly.

"Yes!"

"Please vote for us!"

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