"After inventory, My Lord Arthur currently possesses a total of forty-two thousand suleiman acres of arable land!"
This number made everyone gasp. Forty-two thousand mu sounded like a lot, but much of it had already been allocated, so there couldn't be much left now. And there were two thousand people here, nearly six hundred families.
This amount of land was simply not enough. The hope that had just risen in the crowd sank once again, and a feeling of disappointment spread like a mist.
Arthur took all of this in. He waited until this disappointment reached its peak, because his next words would be shocking, and would make Olivier feel like he was struck by lightning, wishing he could jump off the rock and kill himself.
His voice rang out again, this time like thunder: "I know! There isn't enough land to distribute to every family!"
"Therefore!"
He emphasized his tone, every word like a hammer striking their heads.
"On my land! For now, there will only be one type of tax!"
He extended one finger.
"Land Tax!"
The crowd was bewildered; they had never heard this term before.
"It means! Tax! Follows the land! Not the person!"
"Everyone who receives land! No matter how much you harvest! For every mu of land! I will only collect one-tenth of your harvest!"
"One-tenth levy!"
"Everyone who has not received land! Whether they are artisans! Herders! Or anyone else!"
His voice echoed throughout the camp.
"You temporarily do not need to pay any taxes to me!"
Dead silence, a silence lasting several seconds, as if time itself had stopped. Then, the crowd exploded.
"What?"
"One-tenth levy? I didn't mishear, did I?"
"No land… no tax?"
"By the Seven Gods! Is this true?"
Incredulous shouts merged into a massive wave of sound, rising to the sky. The entire refugee camp completely erupted. This tax rate—they hadn't just never heard of it, they hadn't even dared to imagine it!
Even the most benevolent lord in Westeros would take three or four tenths of the harvest, not to mention the numerous and varied poll taxes, property taxes, inheritance taxes, marriage taxes, road taxes…
And now, this new lord not only offered an unbelievably low land tax, but even directly exempted all landless people from taxes!
This wasn't benevolence; this was the Seven Gods descending to earth. No, that's a bit blasphemous. My Lord Arthur is simply the Son of God come into the world!
The way they looked at Arthur changed.
Only Olivier, with his eyes tightly shut, trembled all over, wishing he could jump off the giant rock and smash his head to death.
Arthur slowly raised his hand, and the noisy crowd miraculously quieted down again. Everyone watched him with fervent, burning gazes.
"There's one last thing."
"Those things we brought back from the House Ryger's land, those farm tools, those livestock…"
"I said I would distribute them to you."
His voice was resonant and powerful, filled with undeniable strength.
"It will definitely be done!"
"Olivier will fairly distribute these items to each family, according to your future destinations and family needs!"
He took one last look at the crowd below, speaking each word distinctly.
"I! Arthur! Keep my word!"
The crowd could no longer suppress their emotions. Countless people wept tears of joy. They knelt on the ground, continuously kowtowing to the figure on the rock, praying for the young man, expressing their excitement and gratitude in the most primal and devout way.
The sunlight pierced through the clouds, falling upon Arthur, and in the eyes of the refugees, it seemed to drape him in a golden radiance.
"Long live My Lord Arthur!"
Someone shouted first, though it's unclear who.
Immediately after, shouts like a mountain roar and a sea surge echoed through the sky, long and ceaselessly.
"Long live My Lord Arthur!"
"Long live!"
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