"See, I told you it was true." Haral, the silver-haired stall owner, excitedly threw away the copper coins in his hand and dashed out of his stall. The limping man stood frozen for a moment before reacting and following Haral towards the manor walls. Many others did the same, and even a woman and several children emerged from the beautiful stone house within the manor. Everyone excitedly ran towards the large open space next to the sept. It was spacious enough for a Dragon to rest. That open space was originally prepared for a Silver Blood Army cavalry captain, but that fellow was recently pursuing the daughter of a Dornish noble from House Blackmont and thus gave up the Reach land allocated to him. That land, along with its attached farmland, became vacant. A few days ago, the septon of the Faith even wanted to cultivate this open space to use as the sept's self-cultivated land or turn it into the manor's square.
Unexpectedly, it was put to use today. The brown-robed septon couldn't help but bow his head in prayer, fortunate that the Smith had granted him wisdom. The draft horses that the Dothraki brothers promised to exchange for his brewed wine had not yet arrived, otherwise, the manor would not have had enough space to accommodate a Dragon.
"Septon, have the cattle and draft horses that the short man promised a few days ago arrived?" An elderly Northman rushed to the entrance of the sept. "The Dragon needs food."
The septon shook his head. "Even if they arrived, it would be too late. Go quickly and greet Your Highness." With that, the septon also lifted his mud-stained robe and quickly followed the people surging into the open space. The old man paused, then stomped his foot. "A few young men, come with me to hunt deer!" It seemed this old man still had some prestige in the manor. As soon as he shouted, several young men who were rushing past immediately turned back. After seeing that it was the black-haired old man, they immediately ran back to their homes to fetch bows and arrows, and a young man who ran out of a longhouse led a warhorse.
Among the people gathered were Valyrians with silver hair and purple eyes, as well as Andals, First Men, and some children with silver or golden hair. They had lost some Valyrian features, clearly indicating they were born from marriages after the manor was established. The residents living within the stone walls had very good clothing, but the clothes of those outside the stone walls were not as good, though still acceptable. At least everyone was relatively clean and no one was naked; everyone had at least one or two pieces of clothing.
Star Song's Dragon roar, like singing, came from the sky, startling the people below. "Old Cripple, you retired later than me. Do you know which Dragon's call this is?" Haral, the stall owner, looked puzzled, trying to identify Star Song's voice.
"I don't know." Rick, the old soldier nicknamed "Cripple," also looked puzzled. "Haral, you know, for the last few years of my service, I was stationed with the legion in the Great Desert. I haven't been to Dragon Nest City as many times as you, and I haven't heard this sound either."
The septon tried to watch the black dot in the sky grow larger. "It's a large black Dragon. Is it Prince Ray's Shadow Nightmare?"
"No!" A silver-haired youth who emerged from the stone house shouted loudly. "I heard my father say that Shadow Nightmare is a very fierce, but very thin and terrifying Dragon. Its roar can even kill people directly. It's absolutely impossible for it to sound this pleasant." The youth looked at the sky with longing, as if this would bring him closer to the Dragon of his dreams.
"It really doesn't look like Shadow Nightmare." Haral, the stall owner, had seen Shadow Nightmare with his own eyes. He carefully watched the black Dragon, which was clearly followed by the "mountain" that was Vermithor, and also felt it didn't resemble the Shadow Nightmare he had seen from afar. After all, when Shadow Nightmare flew in the sky, its protruding bone spurs on its emaciated body were very clear, whereas this Dragon looked more and more beautiful the more he looked at it. Not only was its body fuller, but its curves from head to tail were also perfect. Both the length of its neck and the length of its tail were just right, and even the crown-like disc-shaped head crest on its head had grown larger and more prominent over the years, making this black Dragon appear even more majestic. Especially its silver-gold patterns that shimmered in the sunlight, they looked even more like brilliant stars in the night sky.
Star Song "sang" as it circled once in the gaze of the people, and only landed after Vermithor slowly descended onto the open space next to the sept. It proved that Vermithor was indeed too large; it had to coil its tail in front of itself to barely fit into that open space. The dust raised when the Dragon landed almost blinded the people who had gathered around, forcing the crowd to retreat further to avoid being harmed by the Dragon. Star Song was not small either; it carefully circled Vermithor once more before finding a vegetable patch next to a longhouse, which had just been harvested of radishes and not yet sown, to complete its descent.
Lingor nimbly climbed down from Star Song, scurried on his short legs to his father's side, and solemnly looked at the circle of people. The moment they saw Prince Dragonzel climb down from the Dragon's back, they didn't waste a moment, falling to one knee like a tide to greet their Prince.
Prince Dragonzel nodded, and stroked Vermithor's head. The bronze-colored Dragon rumbled a low growl and offered its tail for Prince Dragonzel to sit on.
The people also stood up one after another. They looked at Prince Dragonzel, then at Lingor beside him, as if they understood something. The woman from the stone house bowed slightly. "Your Highness, Prince Lingor, we are already preparing food. Please forgive our transgression; we did not know you would come."
"It's alright." Prince Dragonzel waved his hand. "I just brought my child to see our Silver Blood Army warriors, and what the manor under my rule is like, and to let him see you all."
"This is our honor, Your Highness, Prince." The woman said happily. "I will go now for you and the Prince." She looked at the Dragon with awe. "I saw Uncle William taking the young men to hunt. There are deer and wild boars in the nearby forest. They will take care of the Dragons' food."
"No need." Prince Dragonzel said gently to the people. "Vermithor and Star Song were fully fed before we set off. We are only here to visit everyone and solve your problems. We don't wish to cause you too much trouble." Prince Dragonzel looked at the silver-haired people in the crowd. These Valyrians followed his three brothers across the sea to this place, settling down without complaint. It's worth noting that ten years ago, most of these people didn't even know where Westeros was, yet now they are marrying, having children, and taking root here.
They are an important cornerstone of House Varese's rule, and their existence must be valued. However, they should not be overly valued; they should be allowed to integrate more smoothly into the local community, rather than lording over the local people.
This requires the power of marriage. It appears that the intermarriages here have been quite successful; at least some of the newborn children have inherited some Valyrian characteristics from their father or mother, though mothers are a minority. More often, they have inherited the appearance of their local relatives.
"Everyone can speak freely in front of me." Prince Dragonzel smiled and looked at everyone, extending a hand to pull his neatly dressed son into his arms. "If you have any problems, you can report them directly to me. I am here today to solve your problems." Prince Dragonzel once again brought his court among the common people.
Lingor recalled the political traditions of Westeros that Hofa and his father had introduced. Generally, the political structure of Westeros is: my vassal's vassal is still my vassal. Only knights who directly obtain land from a lord are fundamentally dependent on their lord. Lords must swear fealty to their liege lord and also to the King on the Iron Throne, and the oath to the Iron Throne is even higher than the oath to the liege lord. However, since Aegon's Conquest, the Targaryen Kings on the Iron Throne have rarely bypassed the great lords to directly command their vassals, so everyone has consistently ignored this rule.
However, in the Dance of the Dragons, this became very clear. Before House Tully, the Lords Paramount of the Riverlands, had decided which side to support, the river lords had already begun to fight amongst themselves. Before House Tyrell of the Reach had declared their stance, House Rowan and House Hightower had already started gathering large armies, preparing for battle. Furthermore, House Beesbury, as a vassal of House Hightower, was the first to rise in rebellion against House Hightower, which already illustrates the characteristics of the Westerosi political system.
The way a lord governs his territory is definitely not by idly collecting taxes or exercising the right of the first night, which has been abolished for many years. Instead, it involves holding court in the castle, mediating conflicts within the territory, and listening to the petitions of vassals and smallfolk.
House Varese also used a similar political system, the difference being that in their rule of the Borderlands, House Varese established special courts in larger towns, conducting regular circuits to assist the local lords in their governance.
However, courts where the lord personally attends are very rare, and it is even rarer for a Prince like Dragonzel to descend on a Dragon and actively offer to hear petitions. So, upon hearing Dragonzel utter these words, a stir immediately arose in the crowd, though it quickly subsided.
"Who will speak?" whispered voices emerged from the crowd.
"The septon must go, and Haral, you must go too. You are our manor's biggest merchant."
"You cripple, don't harm me. Why don't you go?"
"I'm just an ordinary old soldier. Your Highness probably hasn't even seen me. There's nothing good for me to say."
"Madam must also go up. Her husband is the manor's administrator."
"Who else?"
"Let young Harry go. Harry will be fifteen next year and will have to serve. He is representative."
"One more, one more."
"Can we from other villages also come?"
"Of course you can. It's not easy for Your Highness to come here."
"Thank you so much."
Just as the crowd was discussing, a sound of hooves approached. Young Harry and several young men, as mentioned by the people, rushed into the open space, surrounding William, the old hunter from the North. The young men unloaded a small wild boar from the back of a warhorse, and behind their warhorses, a stag killed by a single spear was being dragged.
"Your Highness, I have brought food for the Dragons." The old hunter called William looked respectfully at the Dragons, which were closing their eyes and feigning sleep, and handed over the prey.
Dragonzel waved his hand. "You've worked hard, but my Dragons don't feel like eating right now. They'd rather rest well. How about this, for dinner tonight, we'll roast this deer and wild boar and share it amongst us?"
"Long live Prince Dragonzel! Long live Prince Lingor!" The people exploded into a commotion upon hearing that there would be good meat to eat today. The administrator's wife had to exert great effort to persuade everyone not to act impulsively. After all, petitioning Dragonzel was their most important task right now.
"Ah, me?" Harry pointed to himself. In front of him was Ron, the administrator's young son, the silver-haired youth who had emerged from the stone house. "Ron, why don't you go? Your father is a Silver Blood Army cavalry captain." Harry nervously whispered into his friend's ear.
"You're going to serve next year," Ron said somewhat enviously. "I still have two years. Among us, you're the only one who has to serve soon. If you don't go and explain the situation to Your Highness, who will? Oh, right." Ron said mysteriously, "Remember to tell Your Highness about our warhorses. I've been eyeing the horses over at the big tent for a long time."
"They're just too expensive." Harry also coveted the horses raised by the nearby Dothraki settlements, but although those Dothraki don't do business, they give horses as gifts to the House Varese tax collectors, and in return, they receive enough kinmony, wheat, wine, salt, spices, silk, and cloth from the tax collectors. The tax collectors then sell a portion of these horses on the market.
The horses the youths coveted were those sold on the market; even if they weren't the best quality, they were still better than the local horses of the Reach. They were just too expensive, with one horse costing as much as one thousand three hundred Silver Blood coins, nearly five kinmony, a price these young men could not afford.
"I'll say it." Harry nervously watched the administrator's wife introduce the manor's situation to Dragonzel, barely daring to breathe. "Why don't you go, Ron? I get a little scared when I see Your Highness."
Ron helplessly rolled his eyes, no longer bothering with his good friend.
"Your Highness, our manor currently has a total of one hundred and three households, thirty-one of which had their heads of household follow you to this land." The administrator's wife was also a silver-haired Valyrian woman. She and the administrator, who was a Silver Blood Army cavalry officer, had already married and had children before coming to this land. When she was in Volantis, she used to manage accounts for a manor, so she naturally had a good understanding of the manor's situation.
"Among these thirty-one households, only nine had married and had children before you ruled this land; the rest married local people. Of the remaining seventy-two households, nineteen are people who migrated from the Borderlands, twelve are old men and strong adults from the North, and the rest are local people from the Reach. According to your command, my husband and his comrades have allocated land to everyone. Currently, the annual tax we can pay is twelve kinmony. Also, ten carts of wheat, five carts of barley, three carts of rye, three carts of oats, and six carts of vegetables."
Dragonzel nodded, indicating that he understood the current situation of the manor.
"What about those people outside the stone wall?"
Dragonzel knew very well that every Silver Blood Army Manor had a considerable amount of land, and this land could certainly not be cultivated by relying solely on the men and women within the manor. Therefore, tenant farmers would inevitably appear near the Silver Blood Army Manor. Although these people lived by renting land from the manor, they were also Dragonzel's subjects, and Dragonzel also had to inquire about them. Although he also knew that the existence of tenant farmers was not only inevitable, but their exploitation by the landlords was also inevitable.
It was evident from their clothes. A representative of the tenant farmers spoke immediately after the administrator's wife. His statement was simple: this old tenant farmer requested Dragonzel to set a fixed rent. The rent they paid for renting land from the Silver Blood Army Manor had always been determined by the landlord, which led to vicious competition among landlords, resulting in rents that were either extremely high or could never be raised. Dragonzel did not avoid this issue. He gave an example of the Silver Blood Army Manor in the Borderlands. However, the land in the Reach was more fertile and produced more, so both the rent and the normal tax to be levied from the landlords were slightly higher.
"I will have the tax collector of your respective castle set a standard, and you will determine your rent according to it." Dragonzel also knew that this problem was difficult to solve and could only be tackled step by step, or even one place at a time.
However, he had time and a son. Lingor's adherence to established rules reassured Dragonzel on this point; as long as he set the rules, Lingor would definitely enforce them.
"Your Highness." The next speaker was the septon of the Faith. "The Jacaerys Grand Sept in King's Landing has issued a new version of The Seven-Pointed Star to all septons, but we are still using Bishop Kaelrun's version. Do we need to switch to the new version from King's Landing?"
Dragonzel shook his head. "No, the new version from King's Landing is just Bishop Kaelrun's version with an exquisite cover added." Dragonzel looked at the thick oak tree behind the sept, wondering where they got such a good tree.
"Your Highness, that is standing in place of a weirwood." The septon saw Dragonzel's and Lingor's eyes almost simultaneously flicker with doubt, and quickly explained. "There are not many weirwoods left in the Reach, and we can't get any, so we can only use an oak tree instead."
The septon piously closed his eyes. "Bishop Kaelrun told us that the Old Gods were the faith of our ancestors before they received divine revelation. They worshipped nature, and nature is the product of the Seven's great power. Therefore, the Old Gods are also manifestations of the Seven. Our ancestors cut down the weirwoods to correct our First Men brothers' mistaken belief in blood sacrifice, and to bring them back to the true faith."
Lingor listened to the septon's words with a shocked expression.
He remembered that the content about the Faith of the Seven he had read did not include any of this.
How did Bishop Kaelrun come up with this?
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