I looked down at Parsi, gesturing for him to explain. Like the other villagers, Parsi was prostrated on the ground, though he kept his head slightly raised—ready to respond to my actions.
This guy... he really does have political instincts. For someone who looks exactly like a bulldog, of all things.
*'If only he'd learn to read, he'd actually be useful.'*
What a waste. I'd even seriously considered sending him off to study abroad. Parsi was the same age as Laura—seventeen. He was young, yet at the same time, it was borderline whether it was too late to start learning. Well, they say you're never too old to pick up something new before thirty. I'd think it over.
Parsi rose to his feet.
"Allow me to escort you inside first."
"Very well. Lead the way."
I was led to a nearby wooden house. It was the village chief's residence—quite humble for the dwelling of the most powerful man in the village. It meant he wasn't the type to indulge in unnecessary luxury. Hmm. I liked him even more.
"Now then. Let's hear it."
I said as I settled down onto the floor. Parsi sat cross-legged in a relaxed posture, then let out deep, heavy sighs. He looked like someone who didn't know the first thing about etiquette. And yet, it was oddly comfortable, and nothing about him grated on my eyes.
*If you wish, I will gladly grovel. But we both know there's no sincerity behind it. I want to deal with you in earnest—because you have the worth to receive my genuine regard.*—That was the impression Parsi's every gesture gave off.
"Things have gotten tangled up, they have."
"It doesn't look like the adventurers caused trouble again."
"Other villages banded together and started farming your land, sir."
Parsi wore a grave expression.
Unfortunately, I couldn't understand what the problem was.
"My land? Don't tell me you're referring to the Demon Lord's Castle."
"I mean the villages that fell after getting caught up with the adventurers last time. They had rice paddies and fields they were cultivating, didn't they? The folks from other villages have been creeping in and eating away at those."
"Hmm."
I rested my chin on my hand. I weighed the gravity of the situation.
I had thoroughly plundered the villages that sided with the adventuring party. The food I seized was distributed appropriately among the villages under my banner. That settled the matter of rewards and punishments. All other unmentioned property was naturally mine. In other words, the villagers had been encroaching upon my property without permission…
"As long as the perpetrators are punished, that settles it. Besides, it looks like the villagers here didn't participate in the crime. Hmm. The apology does seem excessively large relative to the offense, though…"
"Darn it. If only a few of them had been sneaking around stealing, that'd be great enough. The village chiefs themselves led the charge, encouraging folks to till your land. The chiefs even collected tributes as if it were their own land."
Ugh.
My expression turned cold.
"Are they out of their minds?"
"Absolutely insane, they are."
Parsi nodded. Only then did I realize the conversation had turned serious.
I broke from my formal sitting posture and stretched my legs out comfortably. If my mind was going to be troubled, at least my body should be comfortable. That was the idea.
"What was the tribute ratio?"
"Seven to three of the harvest."
"Unbelievable… they really had gone mad."
To think they skimmed seventy percent of the income as tribute—these weren't your run-of-the-mill thieves. Of course, in this era, seizing seventy percent of the harvest was quite common. You could even call it ordinary. Taking just fifty percent in taxes would earn you praises like "Our lord is an angel sent by God!"
The problem was that such tyranny was reserved solely for the landowner. The village chiefs had been playing lord with land that belonged to me. In short, it was the crime of impersonating a feudal lord. A crime of treason.
I clicked my tongue.
"Tch. It wasn't just one or two villagers. Hundreds of them wouldn't have conspired together to deceive me. Could the village chiefs have been lying to you in between?"
Parsi's eyes went wide as frog's eyes.
"How did you know? Wow. You'd make a fortune even running a fortune-telling parlor, my lord."
"Forget that. Just explain."
"The village heads were collecting taxes while telling the folks they were delivering them to you, sir."
Forging official documents too? This was beyond absurd.
All the mountain villages had already submitted to me. They were obligated to report which lands they had reclaimed. This was called a land reclamation report.
In the medieval era, there existed the principle that all land was the king's domain. You couldn't just freely reclaim land simply because there was open territory in your fief. Where and how much you reclaimed, when you reclaimed it, who reclaimed it — all of it had to be reported in detail.
In this age, how much farmland a fief held was synonymous with its national power. If you launched reclamation projects without filing reports, no one could fault you for being suspected of "planning a rebellion, aren't you?" There was a reason the position of village head existed. The one who kept the financial ledger and filed the reclamation reports to the lord was precisely the village head.
And yet these so-called village heads had brazenly ignored the reclamation reports. They had even pocketed the annual tribute that was supposed to be delivered to the lord. If there were any brains inside those skulls, they would never have dared such a thing.
Needless to say, it was a death sentence.
"So they really did think I was a pushover."
A chill crept into one corner of my heart.
The ringleaders were confirmed to be the village heads. But that wasn't the problem. This situation could snowball without limit.
Just the charges that immediately came to mind numbered two.
When the neighboring village heads were committing treason, what were you doing? Even if the village heads lied, the villagers must have cooperated, knowingly or not. How should those villagers be punished? Should the entire village be punished?... This was no joke. If handled carelessly, every single mountain village could end up liable under guilt by association, regardless of status.
In short, that meant fewer hands to work.
Currently, I had a total of five villages under my domain. If even one village's worth of people were punished, one-fifth of total revenue would evaporate.
All this time I'd been running around fighting wars. The moment I finally sat down to manage the fief after being nagged by Laura about it, this kind of incident broke out. Talk about a bolt from the blue.
If I applied guilt by association, the workforce would shrink. But if I only punished the village heads, my authority as lord would be undermined. The lord was the law of the fief. The lord's authority was the authority of the law. A territory where the law was not upheld could never develop strength... What was the best course of action?
While I was agonizing over it, Parsi spoke up cautiously.
"For now, we've already cut off all those village heads' heads."
"What? Good work!"
I clapped my hands together.
To free them from guilt by association, a justification was needed. Looking at all the circumstances, what was required was an excuse — that these people were not in cahoots together. Parsi had executed the village heads who committed crimes. He had personally dealt with the traitors. So now, what kind of political resolution was possible?
Executing the traitors was the right thing to do. But carrying out punishment without the lord's approval was the wrong thing to do. With both merit and fault at play, how to deal with Parsi now fell to me — both lord and judge.
I couldn't praise Parsi here. If I did, it would amount to handing over judicial authority to a subject. At times like this, I had to punish Parsi without exception.
Though it would only be punishment on the surface, with the crime forgiven in reality.
I said with a smirk.
"I shall order you to exercise restraint from now on."
"Your humble servant bows a hundred times in gratitude for your lordship's generous forgiveness."
Parsi grinned as well.
"To ensure a situation like this never occurs again, I need to emphasize the lord's authority. You scheming bastard! Come on, won't you confess honestly? I'm sure you've already discussed among yourselves what you'll offer."
"I'll hand over the irrigation rights."
Parsi said coolly.
Irrigation rights were the privilege of using waterways — such as those from reservoirs — for farming purposes. To farmers, these were more precious than life itself. Say, for example, there happened to be a famine. At times like that, farmers had no choice but to cling to the lord or priest who held the irrigation rights.
The lord or priest, in exchange for granting access to the waterway, would demand a 20 percent increase in taxes the following year. Farmers had to survive the current year first, so they had no choice but to agree reluctantly. Simply owning a river could make one wealthy overnight.
To hand over something as important as irrigation rights to me — at first glance, it seemed like an extraordinary show of loyalty…
"Where even is there a reservoir around here? How utterly shameless."
Naturally, the area surrounding my Demon Lord's Castle was a poor mountain region with no infrastructure whatsoever — not a single reservoir. Only a few tiny streams flowed through.
Even if I came to own those streams, I would still have to implicitly leave them for the villagers to sort out among themselves. If I tried to tax the streams, a rebellion would break out immediately. At best, I could only serve as a mediator when farmers fought over whose turn it was to use the stream.
A beautiful wild apricot, that offer — all show, no substance.
"Wouldn't it make the perfect excuse? Heh heh."
Parsi smiled slyly. I probably wore the same expression.
They weren't directly involved in the treason, but they stood by and let it happen. Under normal circumstances, they'd be bound by guilt by association and the entire clan should be exterminated. But I moved quickly to execute the actual traitors. As the lord, the sensible approach was to hand down a measured punishment.
I order them to serve a term of house arrest. Every one of them submits, grateful for the lenient sentence. They swear their loyalty once more and, as a tribute for my clemency, offer up their repair rights. I accept, and promise that no further punishment will be handed down regarding this incident.
Parsi and the domain's people keep their lives. I preserve the authority of the lord. A win-win.
"I have an additional good idea, though."
"Oh? Do tell, my lord."
"Those farmlands left behind by the destroyed villages — what if I hand them over to you on the condition of a 7:3 revenue share going forward? You village chiefs can decide among yourselves who gets what."
Parsi was impressed.
"Wow. You'd go out of your way to look after us when our standing might already be damaged by the house arrest?"
"Of course, on paper it'll look like you're the ones distributing the land. You have to divide it fairly and properly. But even so, that alone will save face for all of you."
"On top of that, your lordship's reputation for opening up private lands to the common folk will reach the heavens. We benefit by farming the land, and your lordship benefits from increased taxes. It's a case of the wife being happy and the brother-in-law being happy. Now I understand why they call you the Demon Lord, my lord."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"What? Something like this is just basic."
"But there's still one problem left. If we can wrap things up this way for the villages that didn't join the treason, what about the villages that did? The village chiefs there lost their heads, but that still feels like an insufficient punishment."
"Hmm."
That was something I'd been wrestling with too. What should I do?
"Heh. I do have a good idea of my own."
"I'm intrigued. Let's hear it."
"To be honest, your lordship has only done one thing as lord — promised to defend against Goblin invasions. That's it. Since they broke the promise they made to you, this time your lordship could break your promise to them, couldn't you?"
I gasped.
"All we'd need to do is have the Goblins attack the villages!"
"That's the way of it. Just don't go at them too hard — heh heh. Keep it moderate. Let them play along and they'll pick up on the mood on their own. 'Oh, Your Majesty the Demon Lord, we were wrong, please spare us just this once!' — that's what they'll do, prostrating themselves flat on the ground."
"Right. You just need to go over there and magnanimously pardon them. Raise the taxes by a tenth, assign a bit more labor duty, and that'll be the end of it."
From the villagers' point of view, they'd be getting their treason charges pardoned. They'd think they got off cheap. In the end, all we'd really need to do is lop off the heads of those village chiefs, and with no one caught up in collective punishment, every problem would be solved.
"That's brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! You — you've really got a head for this!"
"Heh heh. You're too kind. How could I possibly measure up to Your Majesty the Demon Lord?"
"Heh heh heh."
Two grown men, huddled together in some cramped room, snickering with devious grins. Anyone who saw us would probably call us perverts, but we were in spectacular spirits. After all, this is precisely the taste that makes politics worth doing. Wouldn't you agree?
============================ Author's Afterword ============================