"But, Hakon, you don't have much time."
Arthur's gaze returned to Hakon's face, like two sharp knives.
"Olivier has a more important mission and will soon depart to procure urgently needed food and breeding stock for us."
"Therefore, you must, in this short period, desperately learn how to be a mayor."
He held up three fingers.
"Right now, you have three most important tasks."
"First, supervise the completion of the town and the implementation of the Three-Chiefs system. Our wartime mobilization will soon end, and the soldiers will need to return to their fields. Before that, Cross Town must have a rudimentary form where refugees can settle down."
"Second, collect road tolls from passing merchant caravans for me, and maintain the security of this section of Kings Road. This is the fundamental source of Cross Town's future income."
He retracted two fingers, leaving only one.
"The third task, and the most difficult, is for you to learn how to make money."
"Make me make money?" Hakon repeated the phrase blankly, finding it even more unbelievable than being asked to slay a dragon.
Arthur saw his confusion.
"Kings Road is our gold mine. We cannot just watch gold flow past our doorstep and not get a single coin."
He gestured for Hakon to approach the map.
"I'll give you an idea, listen carefully. This idea is called 'plucking the feathers from a passing goose'."
"From today, within a ten-league radius centered on Cross Town, all passing merchant caravans are strictly forbidden from camping in the wild. Their self-carried dry rations and water are also prohibited from being consumed within our territory."
Olivier listened, stunned. This rule was unheard of; although overly harsh, it was indeed a good way to make money.
Arthur's finger drew a circle on the map, encompassing the future Cross Town.
"All caravans must stay at the town's inn. We provide safe accommodation, and they pay for it."
"Their food and ale must be purchased from our tavern in town."
"At the town's stable, their horses need fodder and water, their horseshoes might need replacing, their wagon wheels might be broken and need repair. All these services will be charged."
"Even using the town's warehouse, they must use our warehouse and pay storage fees."
Olivier was dumbfounded. No wonder it was called 'plucking the feathers from a passing goose'... It had to be the Lord.
And Hakon, with each point Arthur made, his eyes widened a bit more. He felt his meager understanding being completely overturned by the Lord in a brutal manner.
"In the future, we can even build bathhouses, brothels, gambling houses... We want every person who passes through here, whether merchant or traveler, to have their feathers plucked and left in Cross Town."
"And then into my hands!!!"
Silence filled the tent, broken only by Hakon's heavy breathing. Olivier looked at Arthur, this Lord so much younger than him. In his eyes now, Arthur's image was no longer that of a Lord who didn't care about money, but one who both spent and earned money. This was how it should be, right?
Arthur patted Hakon's shoulder, the weight causing Hakon's body to sink slightly.
"Do you understand?"
"You may not be a perfect mayor, but you are definitely a mayor who can execute my orders without fail."
"Go and do it."
"You have my support."
Hakon took a deep breath of the cold air. The chill rushed into his lungs, but it cleared his muddled mind considerably.
He knew he had no retreat; such an important entrustment, how could he disappoint his Lord? He stepped back, solemnly knelt on one knee, and clenched his right fist, placing it against his chest.
"As you command, Lord Arthur! I, Hakon! will never betray your trust!"
Arthur rolled up the parchment map depicting the future of Cross Town and placed it in Hakon's hand.
The planning map for Cross Town was so light, yet in Hakon's hand, he felt as if it weighed as much as mountains.
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