Allowing them status and the right to govern, a flicker of understanding passed through Evelyn's eyes. She completely grasped Arthur's intention: "Your plan is..."
Arthur took over her sentence: "Exactly!"
"It's perfect; they can find and marry their wives from these newly relocated families."
Evelyn looked at Arthur, her heart skipped a beat. Achieving several goals with one move, what a profound and cunning arrangement this was. Was this young man truly from a minor noble family? Even the children of some great noble families might not possess such foresight.
Firstly, those landless second sons, now with official positions, power, and honor, would become Arthur's most staunch supporters.
Secondly, solving their most pressing personal problem: with status and position, marriage would naturally not be an issue. With a family, people's hearts could truly settle down.
Finally, through marriage, these second sons of the old subjects would be tightly bound to the new subject families who came as refugees.
Through blood and family, they would quickly be integrated into an unbreakable whole.
Arthur didn't know what Evelyn was thinking; he was still talking volubly. Even if he knew, he wouldn't care; this was a basic operation for any educator from the East.
Evelyn spoke cautiously: "The Lord can directly arrange marriages for them; that is your right."
In Westeros, it was perfectly normal for a Lord to arrange compulsory marriages for his unmarried adult subjects.
Arthur, however, shook his head, sitting in his chair, directly rejecting the proposal:
"I have no such intention."
"I am only responsible for creating opportunities for them. As for whether they can seize them, that depends on their own abilities."
This peculiar and strange idea, so different from a Westeros Lord, made Evelyn once again feel the uniqueness of this young man. Just then, a knock sounded on the door of the council chamber.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Brin and Lucien walked in, one after the other, still carrying the smell of sweat from their hurried activities.
Both saluted in unison: "Lord Arthur."
"Lord Arthur."
Brin spoke first, his voice booming: "Lord, all the plate armor we captured has been repaired, and the color has been painted black, representing us."
"Most importantly, we have ground off all the family crests on them, whether it was the House Ryger's weeping willow or other knights' family emblems, and then we drew your Black Lion on them."
"Now, a black male lion, representing you, roars on the chest of every suit of armor."
Then, Lucien stepped forward and began to report: "Lord, I have also finished compiling the information on those fifty-one non-productive families."
"According to your command, their fields have all been handed over to the military town for unified management. Each of their families now owns eighty to one hundred suleiman acres of land."
Arthur nodded, signaling Lucien to continue. One suleiman acres is equivalent to a quarter of an acre, so one hundred mu is twenty-five acres.
Among ordinary people in Westeros, who are almost like serfs, this is a huge property that would make others envious.
Seeing the Lord's signal, Lucien continued to report.
"According to the rules you set,"
"They must pay one-tenth of the harvest from these hundred mu of land as tax to you each year."
"The fields are managed uniformly by the military town. Affairs Officer will hire other subjects to cultivate their land, paying five-tenths of the harvest as remuneration to the subjects who rent their land."
"The remaining four-tenths will be given to them in full as their own harvest."
Arthur nodded with satisfaction. This was like a fiefdom, and everything was under control. Although they only received four-tenths of the harvest per mu of land,
but adding up one hundred mu, this income was enough for their entire family to live a very decent life, completely eliminating the need for hard physical labor.
The soldiers' families acquired land, and the land was still governed by his own bureaucracy. Their livelihood came from the fixed income of the land, and they only needed to provide a strong soldier dedicated to war.
Arthur nodded with satisfaction. This was the core of his envisioned Westeros version of the Fubing system, the Fiefdom system combined with the future military merit nobility system. Land was their military pay.
Most importantly, he didn't even have to pay them a single penny in military pay; he only needed to be responsible for providing the best plate armor, weapons, warhorses, and ample food.
Just then, Brin's expression turned serious: "But, Lord, I've discovered a very serious problem."
"These soldiers, although very brave in combat and have achieved many military merits and gains for you, their physical foundations before were too poor."
"Long-term malnutrition and labor have made their physiques unable to support high-intensity combat in heavy plate armor."
"After moving around for half a day in that iron shell, each of them is as tired as a dead dog."
Arthur sat up straight. This was a very realistic problem that he had somewhat overlooked. Although he believed that in terms of combat bravery and willingness to sacrifice, he didn't think his soldiers were inferior to those noble scions.
However, it must be admitted that there was indeed a world of difference in physical endurance and strength between a farmer and a noble scion who had received knight training since childhood.
But Arthur had long been prepared for this.
Arthur stood up and walked in front of the two: "I understand."
"Therefore, from today onwards, change their training and diet."
His gaze swept over Brin and Lucien.
"Arrange four meals a day. Breakfast is eggs and milk, lunch is bread and roasted meat, an extra meal in the afternoon of eggs with roasted meat, and dinner must include large cuts of roasted meat and rich stew."
"Remember! The meat must be the fattest!"
"Find every way possible to make them eat all our meat and milk, fatten them up!"
This was what he meant by what he needed to bear. He didn't need to pay them a single penny in military pay, but he had to be responsible for providing the best plate armor, weapons, warhorses, and ample food.
Evelyn, Brin, and Lucien were all stunned. Four meals a day? And large quantities of meat?
Most importantly, they, too, would enjoy this treatment. In the past, they couldn't get these things all year round. By the Seven Gods, this was simply a heavenly life.
Arthur's voice was unequivocal: "They have only one task every day: to wear that full plate armor."
"Wear it while practicing sword swings, sprinting, and sparring! Patrolling! Standing guard!"
"Until they treat that iron shell as their second skin!"
Brin and Lucien exchanged glances, swallowing. They both saw shock in each other's eyes.
To cultivate powerful physiques with the most luxurious food, and to integrate man and equipment through the most rigorous training—this was how he would train his first batch of truly heavily armored professional commoner cavalry.
Just as the meeting was about to end, Brin seemed to suddenly remember something.
He hesitated: "Oh, by the way, Lord Arthur."
"There's a man outside who has been waiting at the Lions Den entrance since morning."
"He says his name is Rosso Bren, and he is a knight witnessed by the Seven Gods."
"He says..."
"He has specifically come to swear fealty to you."
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