novelraw Chapter 316: Town
Chapter 316: Town
On his way to take up his post, Fridleif recalled the relevant information:
Thanks to a massive influx of immigrants, the population of Lundinium County had grown to ninety thousand, with sixty-five thousand spread across the countryside and governed by eight towns. Luton Town had a population of eight thousand. Given its flat terrain and absence of threats from bandits or pirates, the post was expected to be a breeze.
At noon the following day, a small settlement came into view down the road. It consisted of about one hundred and thirty houses surrounded by oak palisades to ward off wild beasts and occasional bandit attacks.
Upon entering the fenced perimeter, the local residents curiously studied the red cloaks of the Royal Guard and the tall, sturdy mounts beneath them.
At this moment, a balding middle-aged man hurried out from the crowd and dropped to one knee before the Crown Prince. Unaware of the young man's identity, the rest of the townsfolk simply followed suit and fell to their knees.
"Who are you?" Fridleif leaned forward slightly from horseback. Upon learning that the man was the former town mayor, Sanchez, he ordered him to lead the way to the official residence.
"Your Highness, how is it that you are taking over this position?"
"It is my father's will. I only received the notice two days ago myself."
Fridleif dismounted and led his horse by the reins, following the former mayor's back. After only a few steps, his tunic was already splattered with mud. Having experienced the marches through Ireland, Fridleif was well accustomed to such soft, muddy dirt roads and was not one to make a fuss over it.
The two entered a courtyard. Directly facing them was a Viking longhouse, used for the mayor's daily administration and rest. Flanking it on the left and right were rows of wooden plank cabins capable of accommodating over thirty people.'Where would the rest of the Royal Guard stay?'
Setting the question aside for the moment, Fridleif asked Sanchez to begin the handover. The latter did not dilly-dally, retrieving over a dozen bound volumes from a locked wooden chest.
First were the storehouse's account books, which recorded the grain submitted by all the town's residents and the fees collected for using the mill.
Fridleif asked, "According to the rules, my first task upon taking office is to take inventory?"
Sanchez nodded. "Yes. But there is no need for that. I would never dare deceive the Crown Prince."
Fridleif ran a hand through his hair and decided to go by the book. The two walked out the back door of the longhouse. A few dozen meters away stood a tall, spacious stone barn with a steeply pitched roof covered in numerous terracotta tiles.
The barn's arched entrance was four meters wide, large enough to accommodate a heavily loaded wagon. Fridleif stepped inside. Towering oak pillars and thick beams supported the roof, while mountains of wheat, oats, and other grain were piled high.
Narrow ventilation holes lined the side walls, promoting air circulation to prevent the grain from rotting. A gray cat was taking a midday nap near one of these openings.
After spending quite some time roughly estimating the inventory of the various grains, Fridleif asked, "Is the summer agricultural tax all here?"
Sanchez flipped to a specific page in the account books. "The villagers are in arrears for nine hundred bushels of wheat and three hundred bushels of oats. Here is the information on the tax evaders. The most egregious offender is this Lawrence. Relying on his status as a knight, he constantly delays his tax payments and loves to make up the numbers with inferior grain."
Seizing this rare opportunity, Sanchez aggressively slandered the old knight. Having achieved excellent assessment grades during his tenure, he was about to be transferred to Londinium and could not care less about any potential retaliation.
Fridleif interrupted, "A knight's fief is exempt from the agricultural tax. Does he own additional land?"
"Yes. Aside from the one thousand acres he was granted, he has been steadily purchasing real estate in recent years. He has amassed seven hundred acres of farmland and two hundred acres of pasture, nearly doubling his holdings."
Once finished, the two returned to the lord's longhouse. Fridleif flipped through the remaining books, which contained the demographic and property records for the various villages.
Currently, Luton Town oversaw fourteen settlements, holding eight thousand three hundred people across one thousand two hundred households. Over half of these families owned more than thirty acres of arable land. According to the newly issued decree, such households were required to provide one adult male to participate in militia training.
"Organizing a training camp for six hundred men... this is going to be troublesome." Thinking about the lodging and food expenses during the training period, Fridleif felt a massive headache coming on. He felt his father's policies were a bit too rushed.
Today, the Royal Fleet held absolute naval supremacy over the Baltic Sea, the North Sea, and the English Channel. Looking across the entire Atlantic Ocean, the navy had no rivals. The Minister of Naval Affairs was also preparing to form a Southern Fleet to be stationed in the Canary Islands, with future plans to sail into the western Mediterranean Sea and expand the Kingdom's sphere of influence.
Since the Kingdom held absolute maritime hegemony, there was no need to worry about foreign invasions. Even if Charles the Bald mobilized an army of thirty or even fifty thousand men, he would never be able to set foot on the shores of Britain.
Fridleif's mind raced.
'Rather than expending massive amounts of manpower and resources organizing militia training, it would be better to pour all our resources into the navy, smash into the western Mediterranean Sea, and seize one of the Balearic Islands to serve as a base for the Mediterranean Fleet.'
Even though Fridleif had spent his teenage years at the Army Academy, for some reason, he aligned more with the navy's philosophies. This was especially true regarding a statement published in the newspaper by a certain teacher from the Naval Academy—to control the seas meant to control trade; to control trade equated to controlling the entire world.
'Perhaps I should write a letter and urge Father to allocate more resources to the navy...'
After a long while, the rumbling of his stomach snapped Fridleif out of his thoughts. His attendants had already prepared a table full of food and wine. He and Sanchez ate lunch before continuing the handover.
By evening, the two signed the handover documents, officially marking Fridleif as the mayor of Luton Town.
Early the next morning, a clamor awakened Fridleif from his sleep. He stepped out of the lord's longhouse to find the backyard packed with horse-drawn wagons transporting grain. An old knight in chainmail was leaning against the barn, dozing off. Alerted by his attendants, the old knight quickly rushed up to Fridleif and bowed.
"Your Highness, this is the tax I owe. Please inspect it."
Fridleif walked over to the wagons. The wheat in the sacks was plump and golden, completely free of any mixed-in grass, leaves, or twigs. Having finished his inspection, Fridleif yawned, unlocked the doors, and had the men store the grain in the warehouse.
Seeing his name crossed off the ledger, the knight Lawrence anxiously asked, "Your Highness, did the former mayor spread any rumors about me?"
Fridleif did not reply. Realizing the situation looked grim, Lawrence quickly brought up his past deeds. He claimed to have become the King's shield-bearer in 845 AD, surviving countless battles before finally being knighted in 858 AD. He had continued to serve the Royal Family ever since, and his two sons also held positions in the military...
This was exactly the problem. The man was an old brother-in-arms who had followed his father for twenty years. It would be very difficult for Fridleif to penalize him over a "trivial matter" like delayed tax payments. If the matter blew up, it could easily lower the Royal Family's standing among the nobles.
"Sir Knight, I have never doubted your loyalty."
Forcing a smile, the Crown Prince invited Lawrence inside for a drink. He got the man dead drunk, then had the guards carry him into his carriage and send him back to his manor.
Watching the retreating carriage, Fridleif's newlywed wife complained. "He fought for twenty years and was only knighted. After conquering Ireland, His Majesty created forty barons, and then a second batch followed. This man boasts of a rich background, yet he can't even compare to the latecomers. He's an absolute freeloader."
Fridleif shot her a glance. "Say no more. This kind of thing is beyond my authority to handle. What's the point of bringing it up?"
Suddenly, the whinnying of draft horses rang out outside the courtyard again. Fridleif went to check and found several other tax-evading gentry and farmers arriving. The grain they handed over was of premium quality. Clearly, while these people were greedy, they weren't foolish enough to offend the Crown Prince.