Building A Human Empire By Creating A Clan [EN]: Chapter 13

“Okay. Just a moment.”

Calliope’s call signaled the village chief’s return with his group.

I made them wait, tapping the dirt floor with the stick in my right hand.

A city plan was sketched in the dirt, and Griff studied it from the side.

We had been discussing the layout. Now that the Lord’s Manor was complete, I needed to explain the placement of surrounding structures, the walls’ location, the roads’ paths, and the farmland divisions.

“Do you remember?”

“Uhhh! I remember.”

Griff grabbed his chin, made a ‘hmm’ sound, and shook his head.

Since the blueprint was on the ground, I had to imprint it in his mind before it disappeared.

“It feels like I’m doing things completely unrelated to my job…”

Ignoring Griff’s grumbling, I focused on the dirt floor.

‘It’s so inconvenient without paper.’

In my past life, paper was as common as water.

Here, possessing paper indicated relative wealth.

Elves crafted the raw material, and the Council restricted exchanges between humans and other races, making elven-made items rare.

Most humans used wooden tablets, papyrus, and parchment for writing.

‘To get pointy-ears’ paper, I have to go through smugglers.’

But smugglers offered limited quantities at exorbitant prices.

‘Thinking long-term, inventing papermaking is better.’

Not the elven kind, but the human papermaking process from Earth.

Thanks to my past achievements, I remembered the process clearly.

I glanced at Kistler while calculating the feasibility of paper production.

“You’ve brought a lot of unfamiliar faces, Kistler.”

“I apologize.”

Kistler glanced at the group behind him, and they bowed.

“That’s enough. Stand up.”

Some of them were extremely cautious, their expressions betraying their nervousness.

“The ones in the back are the runaways?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

I stopped Kistler from bowing again.

“I forgive past actions. No punishment will be given, so live diligently.”

“Thank you!”

“And the rest?”

“They came from various villages to see the Lord. Other than that…”

If they weren’t runaways or village chiefs, it was obvious.

“Immigrants, then.”

“…Yes.”

They made up half the group.

Kistler’s face, previously brightened by the runaways’ pardon, darkened again.

He seemed to have brought more immigrants than residents without a plan.

This could destabilize the territory.

I gestured to Griff.

“Designate areas and help them build residences immediately.”

“Oh. My hard work is paying off.”

Griff whistled, summoning the vassals.

The vassals separated the runaways from the immigrants.

The runaways returned to their lives in Ollimurs, while the immigrants were assigned plots on the outskirts.

Materials were distributed from the Lord’s Manor.

The immigrants, being pioneers, could easily build temporary housing.

They only needed materials, which I had prepared in anticipation of their arrival.

‘They must have brought their own food. There’s also smoked meat. That should last until the next harvest.’

I had smoked the remaining beast meat from the village warehouse.

Without salt, it wouldn’t last long, so it needed to be consumed quickly.

It would run out quickly considering the immigrants, but I had Calliope.

If I asked, ‘Catch them,’ we’d have plenty of meat the next day.

Beasts, unchecked by predators, were abundant, and to Calliope, they were like ants.

‘The next harvest will come faster than the beasts disappearing.’

I addressed the village chiefs, issuing a warning.

“Internal migration within the territory is prohibited this year, except when village maintenance is impossible.”

“Yes, Lord.”

More migration wouldn’t be a problem.

But without a ban, a mass exodus could occur.

‘I should only accept migration from outside my territory.’

“You seem curious. Ask briefly and clearly, as we are busy.”

The oldest village chief stepped forward.

“Your Excellency…”

“Keep it short.”

“You said all villages that heard the proclamation belong to you. But we serve different masters. How is that possible?”

I inherited only Ollimurs and its surroundings from Seodret.

The pioneer villages within the territory recognized by the Council had different lords.

The village chief questioned this.

“Didn’t Kistler tell you? Your land’s rule is recognized by all races except humans. Most of your masters aren’t human, and if they are, other races are above them, right?”

“That’s true, but…”

The village chief hesitated, bowing deeper.

He doubted my recognition by other races.

It was understandable, given their closer interactions with them.

I chuckled and raised the village chief.

“If you doubt it, wait and see. Time will answer you.”

The village chief trailed off, saying, “But.”

“The time to pay taxes is coming. To whom should we pay?”

“Don’t pay.”

“Yes?”

“If the tax collector comes, repeat Kistler’s words. If they object, hold me responsible. I will not collect taxes from you.”

The village chiefs were surprised.

“I will recognize ownership of directly cultivated land and waive land taxes.”

“That, that is…”

I raised my hand.

“Not just land tax. All special taxes are waived: facility usage fees for mills and public furnaces, permits for raising animals and plants, and military tax.”

Taxes were diverse in this world.

There was no tax law; taxes were imposed ad hoc.

‘Even within the same territory, land taxes vary: 20% for some fields, 30% for others, and some fields pay 10% religious tax first, then 20% of the remainder, according to customs no one understands.’

Taxes weren’t limited to land or religion.

They taxed everything.

‘People want to squeeze out every penny.’

Special taxes exemplified this: usage fees for lord-maintained facilities, a portion of raised animals and plants, window installation fees, and death taxes.

The lord could create and collect taxes at will.

Because the lord was the territory’s king.

I declared I would waive them all.

“Does… does that mean you will exempt us from taxes?”

The village chief’s voice trembled.

“Yes. For five years, all taxes are exempt. This applies immediately to all territory residents. New immigrants and pioneers receive a five-year exemption from the moment they become residents.”

The village chiefs stared at me.

So did the villagers.

It was a crazy decision.

‘This is an investment to attract pioneers and migration.’

How much tax comes from a population of less than 5,000?

In the Middle Ages, 100 people’s taxes funded one soldier.

In war-torn or heavily taxed areas, it was three people.

1% of 5,000 is 50 people, and 3% is 150 people.

‘I have a skill that produces a maintenance-free soldier every three days. They are superior to farmers, and I have equipment. Why use pioneers as soldiers?’

Even without standing soldiers, the taxes weren’t worth feeding 50 people.

I wasn’t a small inland lord.

I couldn’t be satisfied with my current life.

The Great Disaster, where other races would conquer humanity, was coming. I had to develop Ollimurs and the Great Plains.

Human hands had to develop this vast land.

Vassals were insufficient.

I needed many pioneers.

‘There has to be something that will attract pioneers. Tax exemption will be one of the baits.’

The timing was right.

Land development in human strongholds was long over.

The land was cultivated, and the population saturated.

Many lords were corrupt due to the long peace.

Territory residents suffering from tyranny were ready to escape and become pioneers.

I planned to throw bait.

‘Tax exemption alone isn’t enough. I also have to recognize ownership of pioneered land, grant amnesty for past sins, and spread rumors about the gold mine.’

“Mobilization will be compensated, except for local defense.”

“That alone is enough!”

The village chief waved his hand and bowed.

He was overwhelmed.

His worried expression was now embarrassed.

They feared tyranny as much as other races’ hunting and looting.

That’s why they came here.

“If you have nothing more to say, go back. I will send guides when the time comes.”

I sent them back and called Kistler.

“I heard you were a monk.”

Kistler seemed surprised.

“That’s in the past.”

“I hate the Wolf Church. I will prohibit its propagation in my territory.”

“You don’t have to worry. I have abandoned my faith in Horbid [the Wolf God].”

“Is that so.”

“Yes. I have awakened to a different belief here.”

‘A different belief?’

I saw resolution in Kistler’s eyes.

He had made a decision.

A sense of déjà vu flashed through me.

‘Is it me?’

The look humans gave me in countless iterations.

Blind faith.

‘It’s natural, if you think about it.’

Even if faith is broken, it is bound to be reattached.

However, what attaches the broken faith is different.

I made a deal with Raeragon [likely a powerful entity or being].

I have a strange power called Gyeok [unexplained power].

It is enough of a spark to restore faith to a monk who has lost his faith.

‘I really don’t like it.’

To call myself a god when I am neither omnipotent nor omniscient.

What is the difference between a strong man in the neighborhood saying that he is a god?

If it were a game, I would have accepted it as a concept, but in reality, it was a comedy.

I frowned and was about to speak when I saw Calliope.

She, sharing my thoughts, shook her head.

‘It’s better than believing in a dog.’

“······.”

It was a thought filled with many meanings.

‘It’s a world where superhuman powers exist. It’s almost impossible not to have faith in God.’

As Calliope said, if I was going to believe in something anyway, a person would be better than a dog.

I looked up at the sky and then at Kistler.

“I won’t prohibit it as long as you don’t cause problems in the territory.”

“Thank you. I will never disappoint you.”