Most of the villagers of Esbai have accepted the fact that Simon is the new lord. They attended dinner and ate a lot in the inner castle field of the Wooden Castle, filling their belly with a round belly.

However, some families did not attend the dinner.

It was not that they did not receive the news, but that their family was summoned by Baron Quinier and eventually died in Simon's territory across the river, who believed that Simon's hands were covered with the blood of their relatives.

Especially the families of Baron Quinier's private soldiers.

They learned some time ago that none of the Baron's private soldiers came back, and there was a high probability that they would encounter an unexpected accident.

This made them feel a tremendous hatred for Simon - they thought that it was this damn new lord who made them lose their husbands, fathers, sons, and the only pillars in their family.

Father James, who had learned from the priest, knew that these people were likely to become the biggest unstable factor in the entire territory, even if they were just a group of old, young, women and children.

After the fat man learned about this during the conversation between Father and Simon, he directly proposed a simple and crude method - to expel them from the territory.

The land granted by their families was nothing but fiefdom-like land, and was rewarded by the former lord to his private soldiers. That is to say, without the approval of the new lord Simon, the fiefdom-making land held by the relatives of those private soldiers would be illegal.

Now, except for the two private soldiers who knew the current situation and secretly cursed the other private soldiers who came to participate in the banquet and expressed their surrender, the other private soldiers were all indifferent and even showed hostility - spitting at the backs of the soldiers who came to inform the dinner news.

Simon thought that now he had enough reason to expel these "old old men of the previous dynasty".

It is time to buy the cage and replace the birds, take these fiefs back, and give them to the ordinary soldiers who fought bravely in the militia, as well as those who made significant contributions to the village of Folder.

So the next day, Fatty and Miller, who were originally going to his fiefdom, received a task from Simon to expel all the fief families who did not come to participate in the dinner last night from the baron.

After lunch, in the bright sunshine, the fat man and Miller got on the sword that Simon gave them, put on armor, and brought fifteen soldiers in armour and chain mail. The two private soldiers who came to attend the dinner last night led the way.

The core village of Esbai, the Baron's lord, is connected to other small villages in the territory by several winding muddy paths. There are very few merchants coming and going compared to the village of Folde, which runs across the village on the other side of the river.

Fatty and Miller rode side by side in front. Since the iron Norman helmet would become very hot after being sun-dense, the two simply took off their helmets and hung them next to the saddle, and then put on a straw hat for sunshade.

Sometimes they pass through large grasslands, sometimes they pass by lush forests.

The horse's hooves, the cloth shoes of the private soldiers' families and the soldiers' boots wade through the cool streams in the forest, leaving wet footprints of all sizes on the arid forest paths.

When they walked out of another forest, the beautiful scenery in front of them was dazzling - a few white clouds floating in the blue sky like sapphires, and the green buds in the grass were like green agate under the sunlight on the roadside, and the green buds in the grass were almost dripping with water.

"It's there, two lords." A young man with chestnut hair pointed to a small wooden house on the hillside in the distance and said to Miller and Fatty.

"What's the name of this place?" Miller asked the young man who led the way, stroking the smooth horsehair.

"Monzelan Field, Lord Montsell," the young man dared not look directly into Miller's eyes when he spoke. Even a day ago, Miller was a civilian of the same identity as him. "A large area of ​​land on the outer mountain belonged to Jack's family, but Jack's whereabouts were unknown and he could not come back after the war. Now his old mother, wife and children live in the wooden house."

"I get it." Miller nodded.

The Monzelan Field was a territory enthroned by Baron Simon to Miller. Therefore, as the new lord of this area, how Miller handled this family that was hostile to the Baron and his army would greatly affect the local lord's views on him in the future.

"Hey, Miller, you know what to do in a while," said the fat man sweating heavily on the horse's back, "You are the lord here."

"Of course, they have no right to live in this fief now. If they refuse to accept expulsion, I don't mind seeing blood and hearing the screams." Miller said firmly.

"Very good," the fat man smiled with relief, "this is what a lord should say."

Everyone walked towards the wooden house on the top of the hillside.

Miller looked to the other side of the mountain at the waist of the slope - there was a large area of ​​flat land in the vast forest, and a small village was in the middle of the plain, surrounded by many irregularly shaped farmland. That was his territory.

"Hey, Caspal," suddenly came a rough female voice from the hillside, "Don't move forward, who did you bring here? Jack is back?"

Everyone raised their heads, blocking the middle of the dirt road was a middle-aged peasant woman with mud on her body and hands on her hips. The years left dense wrinkles on her face. She was holding a hoe, probably just now doing the farm work that her husband should have done.

"They are soldiers of the Baron, and the Lord who rode on the horse was the new lord of the Monzelan field." The young man leading the way explained.

"What do you want here? I have nothing to give you!" The woman became alert, and the iron hoe in her hand tightened.

She knew that it would be useless to face the two horse-riding knights, fifteen soldiers wearing chain mail, even if her husband Jack was wearing the best armor and holding a sword.

"Yes, of course," Miller, who had put on his Norman helmet, stepped forward gently and pointed at the peasant woman's feet. "We want to take back this land."

"No," the peasant woman took a step back and stomped the soil on the ground hard, with fear and anger on her face, and she shouted excitedly, "You can't do this, you don't have the right to do this. This is my husband Jack's fief! We would not have left without the land transfer documents or eviction documents signed by Baron Quinier!"

"Forget Baron Quinnier, the land will not belong to you at the moment he died," Miller licked his lips and pulled out the knight's sword at his waist. "I'll say it again, get out of here, otherwise I'll kill you like a dog, and then throw your bodies out of the territory."

The peasant woman was obviously frightened, but she could do nothing except for her overwhelming hatred and deep powerlessness.

She seemed to have grown ten years old in an instant, throwing away her hoe and walking towards the wooden house with heavy steps.

"Good job, Miller," praised the fat man who had been saying nothing, "I have to do this to those idiots who can't judge the situation. Once you let them taste the sweetness of resistance, the leaders who follow the examples will bring you endless troubles."

"That's right." Miller said, retracting the Knight's Sword back into the cowhide scabbard.

Everyone followed the peasant woman's thin back to the wooden house on the top of the slope.

Two brown-haired children were playing chase games happily around the room, and an old woman with silver hair was sitting on a long wooden bench at the door of the house, basking in the sun, she was too old to do farm work. It was a happy scene.

Miller thought that it turned out that every lord private soldier who killed people without blinking on the battlefield had such a warm family, but for some reason, they seemed to have changed their individuality after going to the battlefield.

Baron Quinier's private soldiers did a lot of bad things at Earl Berg. They killed many innocent villagers on the way, raped many poor girls, and finally stolen all their property, leaving behind a pile of ruins with thick smoke.

In a sense, today the retribution fell on themselves—the private soldiers were sold to England and Scandinavia as slaves, and their families were ruthlessly expelled.

The innocent children didn't know what was going on, they helped their mother pack up in the house, while the old woman sobbed with her face.

"Will I be regarded as a cruel and ruthless person by the leaders?" Miller was kind in his heart, and he felt a little uncomfortable inside.

"It may be better," the fat man's answer was beyond his expectations, "cruelty and ruthlessness will reduce the cost of your rule, and people fear you and therefore are more obedient. As long as you are once a merciful, they will even think that you are greater than the saints. This is the heart of man."

Miller didn't speak, he needed some time to digest.

"We're packing up," the peasant woman's attitude changed a lot from the moment. God knows what kind of struggle she has experienced in her heart. Her choked voice was begging and pleading, "I beg for your kindness, my dear new lord, you can do anything you want me to do! I have two children, and we cannot survive after we leave here, and we will definitely die!"

"That's not my business," Miller's expression was as firm as a rock. Anyone knew he was absolutely not going to change his mind. "Also, when you meet your husband Jack again, you can ask him why he and his brothers cut off their heads and snatched their belongings when Baron Dorsten led the innocent villagers to beg him to let them go."

"..." The peasant woman was silent. In the end, she seemed to have accepted her fate, carrying a rag bag, holding the old woman, and taking the children, walked down the slope.

As she passed by the young man who led the way, she glanced at him meaningfully. Kaspal's breathing became rapid. He rubbed his nose and lowered his head, not looking at her eyes.
Chapter completed!