Chapter 69: Whose Noose?

“Milord, in the past, we lived in the mountains of the Chebman family’s domain, relying on hunting for our livelihood. We would trade animal hides and medicinal herbs with the villages of the Chebman family for daily necessities.”

“Three years ago, as more and more freemen poured into the Chebman domain, we took in some of them as well. Eventually, the Chebman family expelled us, and we had no choice but to drift into your lands.”

In the barracks of the Hill Camp, an old highlander answered Victor’s questions with the utmost respect.

As soon as the matter at the temporary settlement was resolved, Victor returned to the barracks at the Hill Camp, accompanied by Lilia, Linda, and several village heads, and summoned this old highlander named Quint.

“When the Chebman family’s guards drove you out, had you started clearing land in the mountains?” Victor asked Quint. This question was crucial.

“Yes, milord. The number of people we took in grew, and hunting alone could no longer feed everyone. So, the newcomers began to farm,” the old highlander replied, a little surprised.

Victor nodded. Clearing land to farm was indeed why the Chebman family expelled the mountain folk.

It was easy to imagine: the mountains were treacherous, filled with wild beasts, and human survival was hard. Yet, the mountains also yielded abundant resources—fine pelts, game, valuable herbs, delicious mushrooms. The mountain folk traded these precious goods with the Chebman family for cheap necessities, earning the family vast profits. Thus, the Chebmans tolerated these hardy folk living in the mountains.

But once the mountain folk began to farm, it was no longer acceptable. Grain was the Chebman family’s means of control. If these people became self-sufficient, the Chebmans would lose their grip on the mountains, and the mountain folk would grow strong—something no lord could tolerate.

Originally, the mountain folk, though fierce, did not know how to farm. Now, clearly, they had learned. So, the Chebman family simply drove them all out, rather than risk them becoming a future scourge.

To a lord, any uncontrolled force within the domain is a threat. Victor now faced such a threat himself!

“Quint, when you return to the settlement, tell the mountain folk there that I intend to form a hunting party, tasked with culling the wild boars overrunning the domain. The hunters will be you mountain folk. So, you need not worry about being pushed out. You may return now.”

Wild boars had become a plague upon the land. These ravenous beasts would devour anything, not only eating the purple cane but even rooting up and consuming its roots—an outrage Victor could not tolerate!

“Yes, milord. I’ll return at once.” The old highlander smiled with relief. They weren’t much for farmwork, but hunting was their true skill.

After Quint left, Lilia looked at Victor in confusion. “Milord, why did you drive out all those able-bodied mountain folk today?”

Linda and several village heads also turned to Victor, curiosity in their eyes.

“There’s too great a gulf between the mountain folk and the ordinary farmers. Keeping them would only create trouble at the settlement. It’s simpler to send them away,” Victor replied with a smile.

The difference was clear: the mountain folk were few but defiant; the farmers were many and obedient. Victor naturally chose the latter.

“But those mountain folk are strong and fierce. With training, they could make fine guards. Isn’t it a waste to send them away?” Lilia, herself a former mercenary, valued their strength.

“True, they’re stronger than the farmers. But why have other lords never recruited these mountain folk, and instead chosen soldiers from among the farmers?”

Without waiting for Lilia’s reply, Victor explained, “Because the mountain folk are too wild, too little in awe of their lord. No matter how strong such men are, they cannot serve as soldiers!”

“For a soldier, loyalty, obedience, and unity matter most—personal prowess is secondary. Are even the strongest soldiers a match for a squire? You saw it yourselves today: those three mountain folk were no match for the big man. The farmers may be weaker and more timid, but those are traits that can be trained away. What use are disobedient mountain folk to us?”

Victor’s words brought broad smiles to the village heads—after all, they were all honest, proper farmers.

“No wonder, in our Bear Mercenary Company, the mountain folk we recruited always died most in battle. The survivors were the obedient ones,” Lilia said, suddenly enlightened.

“Milord, will those mountain folk you drove out become a problem for us? Or might they join Lakeside Village?” Linda asked, worry creasing her brow. She knew well that the savage wolves were only a ruse of Victor’s.

“Don’t worry. Those mountain folk can’t escape my grasp. As for them joining Lakeside Village, let them go—I have my plans,” Victor replied confidently. The savage wolves were indeed for show, but the alchemical warhounds at his command were not.

As for Lakeside Village, it could no longer threaten Victor. He now had six alchemical militia, each the equal of a squire, five warhounds, and Nelson. With this force, he could easily overrun Lakeside Village—but he had no intention to destroy it. He meant to swallow it whole.

Lilia glanced at Victor’s hands—long, fair, perfectly proportioned, the finest she had ever seen—yet she saw no sign of the mountain folk trapped within his palms!

Victor didn’t notice her puzzlement. He addressed the gathered group: “As for the mountain folk who have left, I’ll deal with them in due course. The freemen who remain are mostly farmers by birth. They know the affairs of the domain and are loyal to their lord—an indispensable force for us. For now, under threat from the savage wolves, they won’t dare leave our protection, but we all know that’s just a bluff.”

At this, everyone laughed.

“Our domain is vast. A single Hill Camp cannot control it all. We need villages, and villages need honest farmers. They can farm, fell timber, and mine. With training, they can become militia—even guards. How to win their loyalty is your responsibility.”

Victor’s serious tone wiped the smiles from every face. His dissatisfaction was clear.

He turned to Linda. “Linda, how do you punish freemen who break the rules?”

“Milord, we whip them. The instigator in a fight gets ten lashes, the responder three. Thieves get twenty, robbers thirty, those who bully women forty. Murderers are hanged. Oh, and the murderer today was killed on the spot.” Linda spoke with force.

“From now on, for such offenders, give them one lash a day until the sentence is complete,” Victor instructed.

“May I ask why, milord?” Linda’s voice was tinged with reluctance; her childhood experiences had left her with a deep hatred for evildoers.

“It’s humane. Or, let me put it another way: if someone is lashed twenty times at once for theft, might they not die outright? If not, could they still work? They’d be unable to work, and someone would have to care for them—free food and board, yes? And after the pain subsides, would they not repeat their crime?”

Victor’s barrage of questions left everyone’s heads spinning.

“So, a lash a day means they feel the pain daily and remember their lesson, but must still work to support themselves. Do you understand?”

Everyone nodded vigorously, thinking their lord truly wise—no need to feed criminals for nothing.

“For those who refuse to learn, lashes and shackles both. If they still do not change, hang or exile them,” Victor said coldly.

Everyone in society fears being despised by the group. Shackles were, at heart, a psychological punishment. If even that failed, Victor would resort to traditional methods.

“As you wish, milord,” Linda now answered with genuine respect.

“When you lead the freemen in their work, do you think they’re pulling their weight?” Victor asked the village heads.

“Milord, they work better than the mountain folk, but not as well as us,” one head replied, and the others agreed—it was a common issue.

“That’s to be expected. When all share equally, effort wanes. They need private property.”

The freemen at the temporary camp received food and protection from the camp, motivated only by the hope of becoming full subjects. But Victor had no intention of increasing the monthly quota of twenty new subjects; lowering the threshold would only cause more trouble.

“Milord, should we pay them wages?” Morin asked cautiously.

“I have no money.”

Victor’s face was stern. He had less than three thousand gold sols left—a true pauper-lord.

“We’ll pay them with meat!”

“With... meat?”

The thought of the shantytown hanging with stinking wild boar meat brought quite the expression to everyone’s faces.

Victor reached under the table and produced a box, from which he took a handful of wooden tokens, each with a number and a different color.

“These wooden tokens represent meat. Those freemen who work hard are to be rewarded with them. They can be exchanged at the canteen for meat, and in future for clothing, boots, furs, even purple cane wine,” Victor said, full of pride. Such a closed system of incentives would bind the freemen to him. He’d been inspired by the points systems on Earth.

“Also, starting today, the free supply of meat at the temporary camp will be reduced.” To increase their desire for meat, Victor shamelessly added.

“Furthermore, I’ll have the deputy village heads listen to the freemen’s complaints during their monthly rotations, and all grievances will be relayed to me. So, for the sake of your positions as village heads, don’t let me down,” Victor warned, giving the heads a sidelong glance.

Implementing the token system would greatly increase the heads' power—Victor knew he had to keep them in line.

“Milord, I will not let you down,” the heads replied, sobered.

“Go and see to your duties,” Victor waved them off.

Everyone left, except for Lilia, who lingered. Victor was a little surprised. “Lilia, do you have something to say?”

Lilia pursed her rosy lips, blinked her large, limpid eyes, and said mischievously, “Victor, may I see your palm?”

Slightly baffled, Victor held out his hand. Lilia took it, inspecting it carefully, stroking it with her small hands, and finally said, rather disappointed, “I don’t see anything special. How is it that the mountain folk can’t escape your palm?”

Victor was momentarily embarrassed, but seeing Lilia’s adorably puzzled face, his heart melted. He suddenly drew her into his arms, kissed her twice on her tender cheek, and declared, “You can’t escape my palm either!”

Then he strode out of the barracks, leaving Lilia, cheeks flushed, stamping her foot in the empty room.

——————————————————

“Majesty, I’ve devised a plan to annex Lakeside Village. Would you analyze it for me and see if it’s feasible?” Victor asked the tower spirit in the Alchemical Tower.

“According to reconnaissance by the alchemical crows, I have confirmed that Baier and Dick have reached a compromise. While they continue to pay tribute to you, they are also sheltering the scattered freemen.”

“So, I plan to use the alchemical warhounds to seal off their camp, restricting their movement. Soon, they’ll face food shortages. They will either seek my aid or fail to pay tribute. At that point, they will be at my mercy.”

Presently, Lakeside Village, as subjects, paid tribute on time. Victor had no pretext for action against them. But should they fail to pay, he could act. He had no intention of slaughtering them—he meant to absorb them entirely. If Baier was wise, Victor would even consider keeping him.

“Milord, the Chebman family camp has a seventy percent chance of supporting Lakeside Village,” the tower spirit informed him.

“Why? I’ve already given up the eastern lands for now—what reason do they have to interfere in my internal affairs?”

“Because, by embroiling you in internal troubles, you’ll have no time or energy to address external threats. This serves the Chebman family’s interests,” the tower spirit replied.

Victor fell silent. The spirit’s analysis was sound; perhaps Chebman’s agents had already infiltrated Lakeside Village. Remembering the old highlander, an idea suddenly struck him.

“If the Chebman family wants trouble for me, I’ll make trouble for myself!”

“I can establish another freemen’s camp near the eastern border, recruiting those mountain folk I drove away. The Chebman family would surely turn to support that camp, as they’re familiar with those people.”

“But they’d never guess the camp is actually under my control!”

“At the same time, I’ll use the alchemical warhounds to restrict the villagers of Lakeside, causing food shortages, then use grain to control them. Such a gentle method won’t provoke a backlash from the Chebman family. In the end, Lakeside Village will be mine. Ha, this is a trick I learned from the Chebmans themselves—grain truly is a fine noose.”

Victor clenched his fist, elated at having found a solution so quickly.

“Milord, how do you plan to control those mountain folk? The alchemical humanoids are strong, but their intelligence is too low to manage a camp,” the tower spirit asked.

“Of course, alchemical militia alone won’t do. But I have two good candidates to lead the camp. The militia need only assist them,” Victor replied confidently.

“One more thing, milord: do you have enough grain?”

Ah, do I have any grain? Victor felt suddenly lost, as if he could see a noose tightening around his own neck...