A farmer was driving a carriage with two huge wheels slowly on the rugged ridge road covered with snow. The thin pack horse seemed to have to shake every step, which made people worry that it might suddenly fall to the ground and die suddenly in the next moment.

The farmer was wrapped tightly, so although the weather was so cold after the snow, he was not in a hurry. Instead, he shrank his whole body into his large sheepskin coat and sat on the carriage and swayed and took a nap.

The road in the fields is rugged and covered with silver. If he is a poet or painter, he might have created an extraordinary work because of this beautiful scenery after the snow. However, the farmer obviously did not have that high interest, especially when the carriage was loaded with physical taxes.

Centuries later, someone once found a record of farmers paying taxes from the site of an ancient city hall. In fact, the physical tax is recorded like this. "A farmer should pay a total of 200 hu of wheat, 100 hu of oats, 10 roosters, 5 hens, 30 tans of various eggs, 5 barrels of honey, several sheepskins, etc...."

Such a long list is not something that a farmer can pay at once, and the lords obviously noticed that these in-kind taxes are obviously affected by the seasons, so they will divide these taxes at different times, such as wheat will be collected in two seasons, while oats will be looser. As for chickens and various eggs, they will be paid every month all year round, while honey is often concentrated after the summer and autumn of the year.

But even so, such taxes are indeed a bit heavy, not to mention that there are tithes that must be paid to the church, so for farmers, life is often tight even in the harvest season.

Especially in recent years, abnormal weather has caused disasters in many places. Even in warmer areas, the reduction in harvests is obvious.

This is really a disaster for the peasants. Although the lords in some places have mercilessly reduced taxes in their territory, it is often very rare. Most lords still stubbornly collect physical taxes according to normal standards, and the church even put away the merciful dogma they preach every day at this time and ordered all villages that they must fulfill their people's obligations to God. Titles are absolutely not a small one.

In this way, the territory was naturally full of complaints, but even so, the farmers finally helped to put the things they could take out from their homes on the carriage, and reluctantly sent them to the tax collector in the town.

There are two tax collectors in the town of Casrera, which makes the town very famous nearby.

This is because unless it is in those big cities, a town often has only one tax collector, while Casrera has two.

The tax collector not only has a prominent position in a town but also has great power. Even the mayor is often respectful to him. This is because the tax collector in a place is not controlled by the highest commander in the local area, but directly accepts orders from the higher-level lords.

The same is true for tax collectors in higher-level territories, which formed a rather peculiar way of wealth and government separation, which was established under the supervision of Queen Isabella after the victory of the regaining lost lands.

This system undoubtedly deprived the control of taxes to the greatest extent from lords at all levels, and everyone knew that lords without money could not do anything big.

The nobles of Castile were not unaware of Isabella's ambitions. They knew very well that the Queen was trying to deprive power from them. Perhaps it would not take long for her to take further measures. However, even if she knew what was going on, the great prestige Isabella built on regaining the country was pressed against them like a mountain, making the nobles unable to act rashly.

The farmer's carriage was about to enter the town. You can see the large arch bridge outside the town of Casrera from afar. The bridge has a history of many years. According to some statements, it seems that the bridge was already here before the town of Casrera was built, and it seemed to be the Roman era.

The locals didn't care about the origin of the bridge. They passed by it from generation to generation. The only impression they gave them was that the tax collector would set up his hateful wooden table on the open space beside the bridge on one side of the town, and then let the followers be on the bonfire and calculate taxes while keeping warm.

The farmer rushed across the bridge listlessly because there were not many people paying taxes today. He was lucky to not stay on the bridge for too long to drink the river wind. However, even so, his lips were blue with cold. So when he finally arrived at the ground, he did not go to pay the tax collector first, but ran to the bonfire and stretched out his frozen hands and baked.

"You look like a rat that is about to freeze to death," the tax collector wrapped his thick coat on his body and said dissatisfiedly. "Hurry up, there are still many people waiting behind him."

"Master, everything is here, just write it according to the number. Do you know I will lie to you?" The farmer rubbed his hands back and forth and then rubbed his almost unconscious ears desperately. "It's really hard to live these years, but I still collect these things every year. Just take a look at it and you will know how much."

"Are you complaining?" The tax collector sent his followers to check, then glared at the farmer. Or do you think you should pay less?"

"We didn't say that. We are not the kind of person who likes to cause trouble," the farmer immediately defended himself. He rubbed his cheeks with his hands until it was a little hot. Then he took out a ceramic wine pot in a straw bag from his arms and handed it to the tax collector. "But I heard that the west side of the town seems to be different from you, this is always true."

"Oh, right? You know again," the tax collector snatched the wine pot from the farmer in anger and pulled out the plug and took two sips. The hot licorice wine made him feel a lot more comfortable in his throat, which made his temper calmer. He took another sip and threw the wine pot back to the farmer, then looked at the other side of the town in the distance, muttering, "Who knows what's going on? It's a bit strange to say that there is something strange. I advise you all not to think about it, you must know that something might be wrong here."

As he said that, the tax collector waved his hand impatiently at the farmer and urged him to hurry up and walk forward in the carriage that had been counted and unemployed, and give up the place to the people behind him.

The farmer walked forward while muttering something, as if complaining about why he was unlucky and was paying taxes at the east end of the town. Then he drove the carriage into the town.

The farmer's carriage walked forward and arrived at the center of the town. Then he sighed at the small path made of brown and red pebbles in the middle of the town square, which divided the entire town into two halves.

The reason why Casrera Town is different from other places has two tax collectors because this town belongs to two different lords.

When the movement to recover lost lands was in full swing, there was no place in the entire Iberian Peninsula that was peaceful and peaceful. Even in the north that was not occupied by the Moors, Christians always hoped to rush their troops to go south, expel Moor, and recover lost lands.

At that time, countless Iberian nobles committed to this protracted war, and many families often spent several generations of them in this war that seemed to have never ended at the time.

This naturally creates a very common phenomenon, that is, after participating in the war, the heirs of a family were told that they were unfortunately killed in battle, and this family not only had their offspring and even their relatives died in the war. In this way, the territory of this family became a homeless thing and was taken back by his lord. These unbearable territories were either annexed by the great lords or were rewarded by them again to the meritorious ministers who rose in the war.

But before these upstarts could drink and celebrate the benefits they received, either the heir of the original territory who was originally thought to have died suddenly came back alive, or suddenly a relative who had originally thought to have died stood up with evidence of the irrefutable claim of inheritance.

Of course, the old lord would not give up, and the new lord would not be able to spit out the ones that were eaten in his mouth. The next step was naturally to continue to argue with his own abilities.

From the one-on-one challenge between the two sides to a group fight, the various conflicts that broke out due to territory in the years since the war have never stopped in Iberia.

This situation certainly gave the couple of two kings who hoped to quickly get rid of the devastated dilemma of war and were very troubled. So after a variety of competitions and compromises with the old and new nobles, the disputed territories were finally divided into two, three, or even more in the name of the noble court. As these territories were constantly divided, some places appeared in some places, even the same town had different lords, so they naturally had different tax collectors.

This is the case with Casrera. This town was originally under the name of the Dudalin family. Although this family was not a very prominent family in the Castile court, it also had a long history. The earliest founder of the family, Alsova Joan Dudalin, can even trace the early era of resisting the Moorish invasion.

However, the family seemed to have bad luck. By the past few years, the Dudalin family was already sparsely populated. Shortly after Queen Isabella announced the end of the Moorish rule and the recovery of the last lost lands, the last few descendants of the Dudalin family who were devoted to the war with full of passion and blood came from the news of unfortunate death.

Then the town of Casrera, which had no lord, was finally enfeoffed to another new nobleman who had won honor and wealth in the war. Until one day a Dudalin appeared, so trouble followed...

The farmer drove the carriage through the boundary that now divides the town of Casrera into two halves. No one noticed that the farmer seemed relieved when the wheel of the carriage ran through the pebbles on the ground.

The carriage swayed slowly on the dirty street until it stopped beside an alley.

The farmer walked into the alley with an empty wine pot. His steps started to be very slow, and then gradually accelerated. Finally, after passing two more houses, he finally stopped at the door of a family.

"That's it." The farmer muttered and walked up to knock on the door, but before his hand touched the door, the door had been opened. Then a short man with a low appearance appeared at the door, which made the farmer stunned and instinctively said, "I am..."

"Come in, you can tell from how far you look like a troublemaker." The short man frowned and greeted, then turned sideways to make way.

The farmer looked a little embarrassed. He took off his hat from his head and squeezed his hands and walked into the room with some anxiety. Then he saw the young man sitting next to the half-open floor stove reading the letter in the light of a fire.

The farmer's heart couldn't help but jump. His hand holding the hat tightened even tighter. After a few steps forward but was signaled by the short man to stop, he stood there in a hurry and uneasy waiting silently.

The young man didn't ask him to wait for a long time. After reading the page in his hand, he put away the letter, raised his head and looked at the farmer, and then frowned and said strangely: "You don't look like a soldier like this."

"Sir, I've participated in the war," the farmer immediately raised his back when he heard this, but then his shoulders collapsed. "But I was injured, and now I can only rely on farming to support the family."

"Farming is not easy now," the young man asked casually. "If you like, I can arrange some other business for you. It's also what you deserve."

"This... I can't help myself, thank you," for a moment, the farmer seemed to be moved by this promise. His eyes lit up, and his hands holding his hat stopped, but then he shook his head. "I know what I can do. I can only farm except kill people, but I am tired. I have a wife and children at home now, and I want to live a peaceful life with them."

Looking at the farmer who deliberately did not contact him and just stared at the flames beating beating next to him, the young man was silent for a little while and nodded: "I said this is what you deserve, but since you are willing to live your current life, I will not force you."

"Thank you, sir, thank you!" The farmer nodded nervously. He originally thought it would not be so easy. After all, he had sworn at the beginning, but now it seems that this adult who even Baron Dudalin in Sicasrera Town was respectful in front of him was not that difficult to speak.

"Casrera town belongs to the Dudalin family," the young man glanced at the farmer with gratitude. "But it's very dissatisfied with this now. I hope to help Baron Dudalin, what do you think?"

The farmer looked at the young nobleman who seemed quite mysterious to him in a daze. He didn't know who this person was, but only knew that someone suddenly sent him a letter to him to meet the adult, and it was obvious that he didn't want others to know that he was here.

"Do something for me, and then you will be free." The young man ordered.

"What do you want me to do?" the farmer asked in a low voice. At this moment, his originally dull and dull appearance seemed to have undergone a slight change. His dirty face was full of eyes that were always unsightly.

"You are a soldier, so tell me how to draw out the enemies who have been hiding in the fort?"

The farmer wagged his head and said, "What else can you do? Angry him, call him a coward, greet his whole family women, if it is a pagan, let their prophet go to the hell, **s do this."

The young man thought about it and thought it was indeed the case, so he picked up a purse from the table next to him and threw it to the farmer: "Take it, it's not too much money but it's enough for this winter. Do what you said, I want Casrera Town to get messed up soon because of the dispute."

The farmer quickly took the purse and weighed it in his hand, then put it in his pocket with satisfaction: "Sir, do you want the whole town to be in chaos?"

"Just make an excuse for what I want to do next. After all, this is the territory of the Dudalin family, and I don't want the Baron to take a mess."

The farmer nodded in understanding, bent down to salute the young man, then put on his hat without saying a word and turned away.

"Sir, do you think this person can really do this?" After the farmer left, the short man came over. He asked the young man with some concern. Speaking of which, he didn't know much about the young noble who suddenly appeared, but he knew that the baron was not only respectful to the young man, but also seemed to be a little afraid.

"Even if you can't do it, it's nothing, right?"

The Eternal Man smiled at the short man, and he could see that Baron Dudalin's confidant seemed a little worried about his decision, but he didn't care. After all, as he said, even if he didn't succeed, it would be no big deal.

This answer obviously cannot satisfy the short man, but he also knew that this was not something he could control. Although he still didn't know what the young nobleman who didn't even know the true or false name was, he thought that even the baron was respectful to him, and the short man could only bear to say anything in his heart.

The young man sat down next to the floor stove again. He picked up the unfinished letter and continued to look quietly. With the fire on his face, the short man seemed to see the corners of his mouth slightly raised, and a slightly warm smile slipped through.

The winter day was very short, and the tax collector finally survived the day's labour. He ordered his followers to put out the bonfire and put away the wooden table, then jumped onto the carriage in front of him, and led a convoy full of the physical tax collected that day to walk out of the town under the escort of two guards.

The Lord's castle is not near the town of Casrera, so it will take a long way to go back.

The team gradually disappeared into the distance and the sky gradually became dark.

Seeing the tax car fleet gradually disappearing, the people in the town secretly whispered to these hateful borers.

But people didn't know that this was the last time people in Casrera town saw the tax collector.
Chapter completed!