"What? Rob them? Haha, my lord, you have a great sense of humor." Tommy chuckled, but when he saw Henry wasn’t laughing, he quickly shut his mouth.
"I do intend to rob them, but there are far too few. We have a force of over a thousand. This handful of bandits isn’t enough of a fight for anyone."
"Damn it, weren’t they supposed to be crawling all over the place the farther you get from the empire’s heartland?"
Tommy, intimidated by Henry’s fury over the lack of bandits, didn’t dare say a word. He could only stand there obediently, the man in his thirties snapping to attention.
’By all logic, for a landed noble, the fewer bandits and gangs there are within or around your territory, the better. So what’s wrong with my lord?’
’Is he just itching for a fight?’
"My lord, does that an you want to wait a while longer?"
Henry shook his head. "No more waiting. Pick out a New Recruit Team and a team of archers. Let’s give them so practice. As for the Grassland Warriors, they can round up any bandits who try to flee."
Henry quickly set about selecting a New Recruit Team and a team of archers.
The new recruits, having undergone loyalty training, prepared excitedly, eager to fight for Henry. Unless the enemy’s numbers or combat strength were completely overwhelming, their morale was high—you can’t just ask one man to fight several hundred, after all.
The archers checked their bows and arrows to ensure their shots would be true. The Bandits... ah, no, the *Grassland Warriors* grinned with rustic simplicity, placing bets on how many bandits they could snag with their ropes.
The next morning, Lord Henry’s troops set out, passing a farmstead and a pasture along the way.
The serfs from the farms and pastures watched the column from a distance. So stared with numb, lifeless eyes, while others watched with a yearning to join.
Unfortunately, it was very difficult to join a noble’s Private Army. Last month, a few people from their ranks had been chosen to beco soldiers, making the rest of them burn with envy.
Not only could you escape serfdom, but you’d also get food to eat and a salary. Now *that* was a real life. The more timid ones, however, aid for Henry’s other decree: work honestly for two years, then rent a plot of land to beco a tenant farr.
The eighty Grassland Warriors in the column spurred their horses into a gallop, directly surrounding the bandits’ hideout in the valley.
’The bandits’ behavior almost made Henry give them a sarcastic thumbs-up. The vast plains were completely open, and in this entire region, there were only a few small hills and patches of woodland. What was the difference between hiding here and not hiding at all?’
’With this kind of brainpower, they should give up on being bandits. Follow a boss like that and you’ll starve to death in no ti!’
For Bain, who was in charge of reconnaissance, tracking the bandits’ movents was as routine as clocking in for work each day. There was no difficulty whatsoever; it was completely one-sided.
At that mont, even the slowest of the suddenly surrounded robbers and bandits knew they were done for. Running was impossible. Whether they wanted to or not, they had to fight.
This ti, neither Henry nor Bain took to the field to command. Instead, they let the officers of the newly trained teams take charge themselves.
After each round of loyalty training, one "representative" would be promoted from the ranks. This representative would typically beco the future officer of their squad.
’In war, you aren’t afraid of soldiers dying; you’re afraid of having no one to lead them. I have to let these new guys get so experience.’ Vasco was the perfect example.
From a serf to a new recruit, from a single battle to several at-grinder engagents, from fighting bandits to Half-Beastn, Vasco’s ability to command infantry had improved by leaps and bounds.
Now, Vasco hounded Bain daily for literacy lessons, much to Bain’s endless annoyance. Bain would much rather be competing with Boman to see who could eat faster.
The new recruits, each luxuriously outfitted in a suit of Cotton Armor, advanced in formation with their shields raised. After the archers shalessly let loose two quick volleys, the New Recruit Team imdiately launched a valiant charge.
’There’s only a handful of them! If you archers kill them all, who are we supposed to fight? How are we going to earn our extra rations tonight?!’
The raggedly dressed bandits panicked and scattered in all directions, lacking even the courage of a cornered beast fighting for its life.
The Grassland Warriors, who had been waiting nearby, gave chase at once, capturing the fleeing bandits one by one.
The captured bandits wept bitterly. ’Who the hell gave us that false intel? Weren’t they supposed to be rich here, with only one or two hundred soldiers?’
’Liars! They’re all liars!’
If Henry had conducted his training outside the castle walls, perhaps they would have fled long ago. But alas, there are no "what ifs" in life.
Compared to the bandits who didn’t even dare to throw a rock, the robbers were a tougher bunch. At the very least, even after many of them were cut down by arrows, they still had the guts to fire back at the advancing New Recruit Team.
The robbers’ refusal to back down filled the new recruits with glee. At their captain’s command, the soldiers instantly broke into a sprint.
The battle was joined in an instant. The robbers, their faces twisted in savage snarls, swung their dull machetes and crude spears, hacking and slashing wildly.
The new recruits, however, ford small, unbreakable shield walls in groups of two and three. A robber might parry a blade from his left, only to be run through by a sword from his right a second later.
Each precise thrust kept the robbers from getting close.
This ti, the New Recruit Team wiped out all forty-odd robbers. Perhaps so had tried to surrender, but no one was paying attention.
"My lord, what should we do with these bandits?" a Grassland Warrior asked, riding up.
"They’re worse at farming than serfs and worse as soldiers than serfs. It’s not worth the trouble to sell such a small group. Just kill them."
Bain thought for a mont before suggesting, "My lord, back in the Royal Capital, didn’t you ntion wanting to build roads? We can have the Grassland Warriors watch over them as a labor force. They can patrol at the sa ti."
Bain suddenly recalled sothing Henry had told him in the Royal Capital: "If you want to get rich, first you must build roads."
"Hm, good idea. We’ll do that."
It was a minor battle, like shooting fish in a barrel. Henry didn’t give it much thought; he had only co along to enjoy the scenery, having nothing better to do.
However, as news of the decisive victory against the bandits spread throughout the Westwood Laine fief, Lord Henry’s prestige soared—especially with the public display of the pile of severed heads.
The skilled artisans Tommy had cajoled and sweet-talked into coming, along with the self-employed farrs who had used their modest savings to buy small plots of land, were finally able to rest easy.
’This is our ho! I’ll gladly pay taxes to this lord! A lord who can protect his people is a good lord.’
That evening, the soldiers who had fought in the battle were rewarded with extra at for dinner, making those who hadn’t been chosen for the battlefield extrely jealous.
On the third floor of the castle, three n were having dinner together in Henry’s study.
Claude spoke with a hint of awe in his voice, "My lord, perhaps it won’t be long before freen from other regions start coming to join us of their own accord."
Henry shook his head. ’This whole area is empty land. Where are people going to co from? Are they just going to randomly spawn out of thin air?’
"By the way, don’t make the taxes too complicated or the rates too high. Just follow the standards of the royal desne."
"Yes, my lord."
After being enfeoffed, other nobles couldn’t wait to work their subjects to death, but a noble from the Royal Capital Academy would never do such a thing.
Instead, they followed the Dean’s teachings: gradually reduce the tax burden on agriculture and get more money from the rchants!
Go after the ones who have the money!
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