Lady Roslin wrote him a blank check. Now, Solomon was writing blank checks to his men.
It was fair.
He planned a reform that was radical for Westeros but rooted in history.
In this world, there were no free citizens, only serfs and lords. Serfs had no property rights and fought only when forced.
Solomon intended to break this. He would establish a clear tax system based on land, removing the arbitrary head taxes.
He created three tiers:
Serf : Adult males must leave their parents' home. The lord allocates public land (Gong Tian). They pay 50% tax. The land is not hereditary; it returns to the lord upon death. (50% sounds high, but in Westeros, lords often took 70% plus random fees. This was already mercy.)Yeoman: A serf who earns merit in war. He receives Private Land recognized only by Solomon. He pays only 30% tax. The land is hereditary (Father dies, son inherits).
This was the game-changer. In the minds of Westerosi peasants, owning hereditary land made you practically a noble. This class would form the backbone of his infantry—men who could afford their own gear and fought to protect their own dirt.Landlord: A Yeoman who earns significant merit. He receives more Private Land and pays only 20% tax. He can employ serfs to farm it (paying them 40% of the yield), allowing him to disengage from labor completely.
These men would become his heavy cavalry or officers. They were professional warriors, fully economically supported by their land.
Crucially, Military Land could not be sold. And Yeomen/Landlords could not engage in trade. Land was the only currency of power.
By holding the ultimate title to the land, Solomon ensured that this new military aristocracy depended entirely on him. If Solomon fell, the old lords would return and strip them of everything.
Solomon looked down at the soldiers. He hadn't planned to do this so early, but the "Disputed Land" forced his hand. He needed them to fight like demons to take and hold it.
He raised his voice.
"You followed me from Mirekeep to Deepden. You bled for me. Now, I fulfill my oath."
"From today, every soldier here will own five acres of private military land in our new territory!"
"You will pay only three-tenths of your harvest to me. The rest is yours!"
"And this land... your sons can inherit!"
Silence. Dead silence.
The soldiers stared, mouths open.
Own land? Inherit land? That was a dream for knights, not peasants.
"Lord Solomon..." a soldier stammered, trembling. "You mean... our own land?"
"Yes! Your own land!" Solomon pointed at him.
"This land! You can pass to your children! And your children's children!"
Gasp.
Men fell to their knees, weeping.
It was a blank check for land he didn't even control yet. But to them, it was a promise of freedom.
"Quiet!" Solomon raised his hand.
"Lauchlan!"
Lauchlan brought up two mountain goats.
"Bleed them!"
Slash.
Hot blood poured into a bucket of red paint.
Solomon walked down from the platform. He dipped a quill into the blood-paint mixture. He held up a thin wooden board (parchment was too expensive for now).
"Step forward! Claim your Blood Contract!"
Shaking with emotion, the soldiers lined up.
Solomon wrote each man's name on a board, along with the promise of five acres.
He signed his name: Solomon.
He pressed his thumb into the blood-paint and stamped it on the wood. Then he stamped his seal.
He handed the blood-scented wood to the first soldier.
The soldier took it with trembling hands, crying as if holding the crown jewels.
He knelt and pressed his forehead to the ground.
"In the name of Solomon!!"
The soldier stood up, raising the wooden board high.
"IN THE NAME OF SOLOMON!!!!" three hundred voices roared.
"IN THE NAME OF SOLOMON!!!!!"
The sound shook the earth. They were no longer fighting for a lord. They were fighting for their future.
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