Arthur lay awake all night on the lord's bed in the new castle; he couldn't sleep.
Lucien and Hakon's bewildered and embarrassed faces kept reappearing before his eyes from the evening. Of course, they were honest and loyal men.
But he had once thought he only needed loyalty, not ability. Now, it seemed he might have been terribly mistaken.
He had won the war and reclaimed the land with his sword and spear, but this land was still in chaos. He still didn't know the population, resources, or geographical features of his own territory.
How could a team that couldn't even count fifty, sixty, or seventy measure, register, and manage their land and people? The feudal system of Westeros, with its decentralized management, truly had deep roots in this land.
He wanted to announce new decrees and laws, but who would record and transmit them? He wanted to establish fair laws, but who would copy and interpret them?
Without precise numbers and without grassroots officials, taxes would be a muddled mess, and decrees would not be able to leave the castle gates. Arthur sat up from his bed. He remembered the stories he had brought with him: buying a horse's bones with a thousand gold pieces, and the trickery of a rooster's crow and a dog's bark.
The next morning, at the first hint of dawn.
Lucien and Hakon were summoned to the castle hall. They hadn't slept all night, fearing that Lord Arthur would pursue the matter of yesterday's statistics, and their expressions were filled with apprehension.
Arthur sat in the main seat, his face calm, showing no emotion.
The two men below stood stiffly.
Arthur looked at the stiff pair and smiled: "Go and announce something in all of our villages throughout my territory."
"Lord Arthur needs talented people."
Then Arthur paused, and slowly spoke again: "If you want to buy the fastest, tallest, and most handsome horse in the world, but no one is willing to sell it to you, what would you do?"
Lucien and Hakon exchanged glances, completely unable to follow Lord Arthur's train of thought. What did horses have to do with talent?
Lucien thought for a long time, then answered in a muffled voice: "Lord Arthur, then... then give more money?"
Arthur retorted: "What if you give a lot of money, but others don't know you genuinely want to buy, or don't believe you have that much money?"
Hakon scratched his head and cautiously guessed: "Then... then seize it?"
Arthur almost burst out laughing. He waved his hand: "No, there's a smarter way."
He leaned slightly forward, his voice lowered, carrying a strange power of persuasion: "You go take one of my weakest warhorses, have a soldier pretend to be a horse seller, and then, in front of everyone, buy this horse for a price several times higher than its worth."
Lucien and Hakon's eyes widened even more, utterly bewildered.
Hakon stammered, "Lord Arthur... why buy the horse at a high price in front of everyone?"
Arthur shook his head. "If people see that I am willing to pay several times the price for a weak warhorse, what will they think?"
Lucien frowned, following this line of thought: "They... they'll think Lord Arthur is a fool?"
Arthur: "
"No!" Arthur shook his head, saying word by word: "They will think, if a person is willing to spend so much money to buy even a weak warhorse, how much would he pay if he encountered a living, fastest, tallest, and most handsome horse?"
"I understand!" Lucien slapped his thigh suddenly. "This way, those who are hiding good horses will all come to you to sell them!"
Arthur had two considerations: one was talent, and the other was that once the news spread, perhaps people would come to sell horses.
"As for talent," Arthur's fingers tapped on the table, "it means anyone with ability! Anyone who can read! Anyone who can count! Even if they only know simple characters! Can do addition and subtraction! They all count!"
"Also, those who know a little about herbs, can treat illnesses, can blacksmith, can forge sharper plowshares, can burn bricks, and can build stronger houses... As long as they have a skill, even if they can mimic a rooster's crow or a dog's bark, bring them back to me."
Arthur stood up and walked in front of the two men:
"You immediately get twenty riders over here. I will dictate the orders, have them memorize them, and then in pairs, go to all the villages and shout them over and over again."
"Remember! Don't put up notices! Shout it! I want every deaf person to hear! Every blind person to know!"
"Shout what?" Lucien asked.
Arthur took a deep breath and issued the command in the simplest, most direct words:
"Just shout! Lord Arthur has commanded! Whoever can read! Will be rewarded with a bag of silver stags! And granted land! Whoever can count! Will be rewarded with a bag of silver stags! And granted land! Whoever has special skills! Will be greatly rewarded!"
"Just shout that! Shout it repeatedly!"
"Once someone steps forward, immediately verify them. As long as they genuinely know a few characters, or can calculate numbers on the spot, no matter who they are, whether a beggar or a son, immediately give the reward money to their family in front of everyone, and then bring the person back to the castle!"
Arthur's orders were swiftly executed by Lucien and Hakon. Twenty riders quickly took their positions, surrounding Arthur like students, repeating and memorizing those simple yet direct words over and over.
Then, they were dispatched. Hooves kicked up dust, carrying Arthur's will to every village where smoke rose from chimneys.
In Riverbend Village, on a dusty dirt road, a shabbily dressed man was curled up against a wall, avoiding the midday sun.
His name was Bana. He used to be a small merchant, but his business failed, and he lost everything. His wife ran away, and he no longer had the ambition to start over. Now, he could only survive by wandering and begging.
The arrival of two mounted soldiers made the entire village tense. People gathered, awaiting instructions.
The leading soldier reined in his horse, cleared his throat, and shouted with all his might:
"Lord Arthur has commanded! Whoever can read! Will be rewarded with a bag of silver stags! And granted land!"
"Whoever can count! Will be rewarded with a bag of silver stags! And granted land!"
The gathered villagers watched the two riders with awe and curiosity, whispering among themselves.
"Is it true or false? Just for being able to count, you get money and land?"
"They must be lying. There's no such good thing."
The soldiers ignored the chatter, mechanically repeating their loud recitation of the command, not a word more, not a word less.
Hiding in the shadows, Bana's heart pounded. Counting, he could do that. It was the skill his former livelihood depended on.
Will there really be money? Why would they give money? Hunger and hope outweighed fear. He scrambled up from the corner of the wall and shouted at the soldiers: "I... I can count!"
Everyone's gaze focused on him. The leading soldier dismounted and walked up to him, his eyes suspicious: "What did you say?"
"I... I can count." Bana's voice trembled with nervousness. Were there really silver stags? But he still mustered his courage. "My lord, you... you can test me."
Next to the rider, another rider dismounted. He looked up and down at the emaciated beggar.
"You calculate this." He pointed to a flock of chickens by the roadside. "Go and count the number of chickens in the village now, and then if each chicken eats two handfuls of grain a day, how many handfuls will they eat in ten days?"
The other rider looked at the soldier who had asked the question in shock. Was he serious? Why ask such a difficult question?
But for Bana, it was almost instinct. He quickly went to count the chickens in the village and blurted out: "Six hundred and forty handfuls."
The rider who hadn't asked the question was stunned. He didn't know if the answer was correct, but he was surprised by the speed. He turned to the rider who had asked the question beside him: "Is that the answer?"
The rider who had asked the question: "That's right! That's the number!"
The rider who hadn't asked the question widened his eyes: "You can count too?!"
The rider who had asked the question turned to him: "He answered so confidently and so quickly, and neither of us can count. Since that's the case, let's give him a difficult problem. If he can answer it, it must be true!"
The rider who hadn't asked the question: "Huh?"
Without further hesitation, the two riders immediately stepped forward, each grabbing Bana by an arm and pulling him onto a horse.
Bana was scared out of his wits: "My Lord! My Lord! Did I... did I miscalculate?"
"That's right! It's you!" The rider's voice held a hint of excitement. "Lord Arthur wants to see you! What's your name? Do you have any family left?"
"I... my name is Bana. I have no family left..." Bana struggled and resisted with all his might.
"Good! From today onwards, you are Lord Arthur's man!"
The same scene unfolded in another village, where a white-haired old man was drawing crudely on the ground with a stick, teaching his young grandson how to read.
"Child, look, this is 'water'... this is 'mountain'."
Two riders happened to pass by and heard the old man's voice.
The two riders quickly stopped and walked up to the old man. "Were you just writing?!"
The old man's entire family was terrified, thinking the old man had said something he shouldn't have or done something he shouldn't have. They all knelt on the ground, trembling and shaking.
The rider stepped forward and pointed at one of the characters the old man had drawn: "This one! Read it again!"
The old man knelt on the ground, trembling and shaking, not daring to answer the question. He had learned some characters from a barefoot monk he had given lodging to.
The other rider frowned, stepped forward, and half-drew his sword. "Hurry up!"
The old man cried in fear: "It's... it's the character for 'mountain', my Lord."
The rider pointed to another.
"It's... it's the character for 'water'."
"This money is yours! Your father is Lord Arthur's!" The two riders laughed. Such a good thing! Mission accomplished right after leaving! One rider pulled out a heavy bag of silver stags from his waist pouch and threw it in front of the old man's son.
"My Lord! No!" The old man's son cried out but quickly picked up the money bag. "My Lord! No!"
"My Lord! No!" The old man's son held the money bag, feeling its heavy weight. His face was flushed with joy, making his pleas and cries utterly unconvincing. "My father is old! He can't do anything!"
The two soldiers stopped talking, picked up the old man, who was crying in fear, laid him horizontally across the horse, and galloped away.
Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw the old man's family's tears instantly disappear as they joyfully gathered around to open the bag of silver stags.
The news spread like wildfire. A dozen or so people were taken away by Lord Arthur's riders. A beggar who knew how to count was taken away on the spot by Lord Arthur's men, and an old man on the verge of death received a bag of silver stags as a reward for knowing a few characters.
The commoners discussed animatedly, guessing that perhaps this young Lord had some special Hobbies.
But when Bana, the old man named Herman, and nine others were cleaned up, dressed in decent linen clothes, and appeared in the castle's great hall, everyone was shocked.
Arthur sat at the head of the hall, with two rows of armed soldiers standing below him, as well as over fifty village representatives who were specially permitted to observe.
"Today, I appoint these eleven people!" Arthur's voice echoed through the hall.
He pointed to Bana, who was thin but looked much more spirited in his new clothes: "This is Bana! He is skilled in arithmetic! From today onwards, he will serve as my territory's Treasurer! Responsible for calculating the taxes of all villages!"
Arthur then pointed to the old man: "This old man is Herman! He is literate! From today onwards, he will serve as a Village Official for one of the villages! Responsible for registering the population, land, and contracts within the territory, and for proclaiming my decrees!"
All the villagers were shocked, including the eleven people standing in the center. They had never been watched by so many people before, nor had they been informed beforehand. They didn't know what was happening, but now, in front of everyone, they were successively called out by Lord Arthur to serve as his administrative officials. Each of them straightened their backs.
Arthur paused, his gaze sweeping over the invited villagers: "They will be provided with lodging in the inner and outer castles, a fixed monthly food allowance, and will receive salaries directly from my hand."
"From this moment on, their status is equal to my officers!"
"To defy them is to defy me!"
The entire hall was filled with shock and uproar. A beggar and an old man on his last legs, a dozen ordinary people who were not nobles and had no noble blood flowing in their veins, had risen to prominence overnight, becoming the Lord's administrative officials?
Arthur knew why they were shocked. Traditionally, such positions should be filled by the younger sons of nobles who had no inheritance rights, or by legitimate bastards with noble blood, or by wandering, landless, impoverished knights. Commoners had never held such power.
Bana, Herman, and the other nine trembled with excitement. They knelt on the ground, tears streaming down their faces, kissing the cold floor over and over again, thanking Arthur for his grace.
This grand act of "buying a dead horse with a thousand gold pieces" had an immediate effect. The news spread throughout the territory.
"Lord Arthur really gives money and land! As long as you're literate, it counts!"
"I heard that beggar can eat meat every meal now!"
"You don't know! Ever since that beggar became an official, he was assigned a pony! Now he looks at people with disdain and doesn't even bother to talk to anyone!"
The news continued to ferment within the territory, and even spread quickly beyond its borders. A few days later, the first batch of true applicants from outside the territory began to appear sporadically at the castle gates.
These people were of mixed backgrounds. There were a few impoverished young people who only knew a dozen characters and came with the mentality of simply getting a meal. There was a limping, bankrupt small merchant who said he could do accounts and used to keep records for his small shop.
There was also a middle-aged man with a proud demeanor who claimed to have served a minor noble as a steward and had been separated from his master during the war.
Arthur welcomed everyone who came. He set up a simple examination room in the Lord's Hall, with a few tables and some parchment.
He said to the middle-aged man who claimed to have been a steward: "Write a paragraph introducing yourself."
The man picked up the pen and indeed wrote a paragraph in neat handwriting, with flowery language and beautiful script, far surpassing Old Nicken.
Arthur suspected his identity was not what he claimed; someone of that caliber should only serve great nobles.
He then said to the limping, bankrupt small merchant: "I sell you three sheep at eighteen silver stags each. I then buy five axes from you at seven silver stags each. Finally, who owes whom money, and how much?"
The limping, bankrupt small merchant scribbled on the table for a long time, then finally looked up: "Lord Arthur! I owe you nineteen silver stags!"
Arthur nodded.
He had Lucien and Hakon register all these people, arrange accommodation and food first, and conduct initial screening and placement. Those who came just for a meal were given some money and politely sent away.
Arthur was somewhat troubled. The true "thousand-mile horses" had not appeared; there weren't even a few decent "horses."
It was late, and Arthur was once again sitting alone in his room. On the table was a list, just presented by the middle-aged man who had served as a steward. He had been appointed as a scribe.
In these few days, a total of seventeen people had come to apply. After preliminary testing, only the former noble scribe could write a complete sentence.
Only Bana, the beggar, and the bankrupt small merchant could correctly calculate two-digit multiplication and division.
The rest were mostly "semi-illiterates" who could only write their names and a few other characters, or who could only do simple addition and subtraction.
Westeros's scarcity of talent and the extent of illiteracy poured like a basin of ice water, extinguishing the flame that had ignited in his heart.
Arthur's face twitched. He had created the demand, but there was simply no supply in Westeros.
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