The advantage of this approach was that he could manage more people. After all, he lacked the energy to oversee so many individuals himself. It was better to use this opportunity to train a group of administrative talents, preparing for the eventual recovery of his lands.
At the sa ti, Hamlet would not be too overcrowded, and the Serfs would not need to spend a lot of ti traveling the distance from their hos to the fields.
However, the selection of these collective farms required many things to progress simultaneously.
First and foremost was to mix and scatter all the people. In his eyes, there were no locals or outsiders, only Hamlet’s People; otherwise, forming cliques and engaging in internal fighting would be a waste of the territory’s resources and strength, a foolish act.
Then ca the start of military recruitnt. Only with more and stronger soldiers could he strengthen his control and support his confrontation with the Old Ancestor.
Road building was also a very important task; fortunately, he now had a large labor force at his disposal...
Just as he was contemplating this, there was a knock on the door.
"Just put the late-night snack to the side," Lance responded casually, without even lifting his head, still imrsed in his writing.
The door opened, but after a mont of silence, he had no choice but to look up. He saw Tiffany standing sowhat awkwardly at the door.
"Is there sothing?"
"Didn’t you ask to co?" Tiffany asked with a bit of discomfort, a blush involuntarily appearing on her face.
Lance, with his remarkable perception, naturally noticed this. He saw that she had changed back into won’s clothing—a pale-colored long dress.
But when had he called her?
"Co in. It just so happens you can report on the situation at the dock and help organize the data for Hamlet’s fields," he said.
Lance imdiately switched into work mode. He needed to allocate the first batch of fields to appease those people and, at the sa ti, give the refugees confidence.
Walter was responsible for asuring the fields. It would be amusing if any problems were discovered from his work.
Tiffany looked at Lance, engrossed in his work, her expression sowhat strange.
Did I misunderstand sothing?
Was his earlier comnt about a slave a hint towards ?
Previously, Lance had unexpectedly brought up the topic of Slaves. She was well aware of the purpose of those delicate slaves on the third floor. Later, Lance had given her father an opportunity. The shift in circumstances and his attitude had been so drastic that she...
"Hurry, the sooner you finish, the sooner you can go ho and sleep," ca Lance’s urging voice.
Tiffany breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly proceeded to handle the docunts.
Faced with the complex data, she felt a bit of pressure, but this sense of being needed wasn’t bad either...
It had to be said, having soone to help greatly increased efficiency. Delegating data verification to her was much faster than researching it all slowly myself.
"All right, it’s getting late. Go rest. We’ll verify the rest of the old accounts tomorrow," he said.
Tiffany ca back to her senses, realizing they had been working for quite a while without her noticing. She stretched her neck, and her eyes grew sore. Working by the light of a Candle was not an ideal scenario.
Seeing her like this, Lance thought for a mont and then took the initiative to speak.
"There are so things I can’t tell you outright, but I have no intention of deceiving you. It’s too chaotic outside, and only by staying in Hamlet can I protect you. I’ve said I wouldn’t give up on you."
"Mm."
Lance’s sudden words took Tiffany by surprise, leaving her montarily stunned.
By the ti she ca to her senses, she was already on her way ho, which was actually not far, not even a hundred ters away.
"What have you been doing over there for so long?"
"Father!" Tiffany, hearing the familiar voice, then realized that there was soone sitting at the doorway.
Walter’s features were indistinct in the dim light, but the displeasure and anger in his tone were audible.
"Nothing much."
At this mont, she felt like a mouse caught by a cat. Sensing her father’s anger, she unconsciously shrank her neck and added, "Really nothing much, just reporting on the dock situation and checking the accounts."
"n are no good! Never believe what they say," Walter fud, looking as if he wanted to grab a weapon and confront Lance.
Tiffany was sowhat speechless. It seed he had even cursed himself.
"Okay, Father, there really is nothing between him and ," she said, then self-deprecatingly added, "He wouldn’t give a second glance."
Walter sighed, his spirits plumting at her words. When a father can’t protect his children or be their pillar of support, it signifies his own decline. His anger wasn’t directed at others; it was directed at his own inability to protect his family. He blad himself for his shortcomings; otherwise, how could his daughter suffer such humiliation!
"Let’s go ho."
Walter lowered his head and slowly turned around. In that mont, it wasn’t clear whether he had aged or his daughter had grown up...
User Comments
0 comments from readers