Iron Powder and Spellcaster

Ronald's former garrison, now the [New Tiefeng County Infantry Regiment], was led all the way to the southwest of Gevaudan by Commander Montagne.

They were walking on a dirt road in the countryside, and everything they could see was desolate wilderness.

Only Tiefeng stands alone in front, like a friend.

The soldiers didn't know where they were going, which made them a little uneasy.

After the surrender, they were doing pretty well. No one was beaten, no one was starved, and no one was executed.

So they meekly accepted the authority of the "Montagne garrison", just like sheep taking on a new owner.

So what? It's just a matter of changing someone to distribute bread.

…

Winters led the [New Iron Regiment] towards Forge Township for half an hour before seeing some people again.

So the team stopped in front of a hillside.

Centurions and sergeants ran among the ranks, scolding, and changing the formation into horizontal and vertical shapes.

Winters was on horseback, reviewing his troops.

One thousand two hundred men, one hundred arrows. It's not much, just thirty times forty.

But it is definitely not a few. If it is 1,200 soldiers, it will be a force that cannot be underestimated.

After the team was assembled, the commander said something.

Winters dismounted and stood on the hillside where everyone could see him.

"Those of you who have no land." Winters didn't need to scream, but his words were conveyed to the soldiers well: "Step forward."

The soldiers looked at each other, and Tamas—now a centurion, a former tenthurion, a veteran of Winters' Wolf Town, and a long-time laborer of the Benteen family— took a big step forward with an expressionless face.

Others followed suit and took a step forward.

"Those of you who have cultivated the land for others." Winters' voice echoed on the hillside: "Take a step forward."

It was Tamas and the other centurions who took the lead, and the soldiers took another step forward.

“Those of you who want to own and farm your own land – step forward.”

Everyone took a step forward in unison, as if the forest was moving.

Winters had not rehearsed, and he had not colluded with the old team. He did not need to prepare in advance for such a small scene.

The New Iron Regiment was a unit that he devoted all his efforts to, and every soldier, sergeant, and centurion in it was personally selected by him.

He deliberately eliminated soldiers who were born in Gevaudan, deliberately excluded soldiers from yeoman families, and deliberately did not transfer any Dussac veterans.

The one hundred arrows and one thousand two hundred men of the new iron regiment were all from landless peasant backgrounds.

Winters' expectations for this unit were even higher than those for the three centurions of Budd, Andre, and Mason.

"Sit down." Winters waved his hand: "Sit down and say. Everyone is standing, and the people behind are blocked by the front."

The veterans sat down on the ground neatly, and others took their seats one after another.

"Why don't you want to farm the land for others?" Winters asked.

No one answered, as expected.

Winters pointed to a soldier in the front row: "You, get up, you say it."

The short soldier stood up in confusion.

"what's your name?"

"Peter." The short soldier replied nervously, and he hurriedly added: "Peter Bunir...you named him..."

Winters walked up to the other party and asked again: "Why don't you want to farm land for others?"

Peter swallowed his saliva and spoke hesitantly: "Being a long-term worker only...only wages..."

Peter spoke quietly, but he was surprised to find that the sound that reached his ears was loud.

His voice reached everyone's ears clearly, but it was a little unstable, rising and falling.

This is a spell skill that Lieutenant Colonel Field once demonstrated. It is not to amplify the caster's voice, but to steadily amplify the external sound source.

Winters isn't as good as Field, but he's good enough.

"Isn't it good to have wages?"

Peter lowered his head and stared at the tips of his shoes: "Hired workers can't save money."

“Why can’t hired workers save money?”

Peter couldn't answer.

"I've seen something like this." Winters sat Peter Bunier down and said to the other soldiers: "A team of hired hands protecting a convoy going to Gevaudan. This is the only time they can save money in a year. They were willing to risk their lives because of the opportunity. The owner of the manor kept his promise and paid them the reward and wages in Gevaudan."

The soldiers listened silently, and what they heard was their own experience.

"Tell me, what happened next?" Winters asked, "Did the employees save any money?"

Still no one answered.

When the hillside grew quiet, Winters said calmly: "No, not a penny. They spent it all on booze and women."

The sun was obscured by a dark cloud, and some soldiers lowered their heads.

"Should they be blamed for this?" Winters scanned the crowd, avoiding everyone wherever he looked: "Of course! Who told them to just spend the money they got?"

The hillside became more and more dead, and it was even possible to hear the heartbeat.

"But you must know!" Winters shouted: "This is exactly what the manor owners want! They know that the farmers have worked hard for a year and are eager for even a moment of enjoyment! But they deliberately pay off their wages in Gevaudan! They You deliberately let things turn out like this, but you blame the farmers for their poor morals!”

"Have you not experienced these things? Haven't you never thought about it?" Winters asked, and he told the soldiers word for word: "What the manor owner wants is for slaves to be slaves for generations, and for tenant farmers to be slaves for generations. Sharecroppers. Hire workers for life. When they get old and have no strength to work, kick them away and hire young and strong ones."

All the soldiers swallowed subconsciously.

"You, stand up." Winters forcefully pulled a front-row soldier up from the ground: "Tell me! You don't have land, why don't you open up wasteland?"

"The wasteland... the wasteland belongs to the government... I want to buy it..." The soldier looked around in panic and asked for help: "It is against the law to open up wasteland at will."

Winters pressed the soldier who answered and pulled up another soldier: "Why don't you buy it?"

"Buy...can't afford it."

"Why can't you afford it?" this time he asked the third soldier.

The person being asked could not answer.

"Tell me! Why can't you afford it?" Winters stared.

The person being asked still couldn't answer.

"Why?!" Winters asked for the third time: "Can't afford it?!"

"We have no money!" the soldier who was asked the question replied tremblingly.

"It's not just because you have no money. It's also because the land is too expensive! Land prices are being pushed higher and higher, and even homesteaders can't afford new land. Only the manor owners, only they have the money to buy land. So their land More and more, and everyone else is left to labor for them.”

"I will not hide my intentions from you." Winters looked into the eyes of these poor soldiers: "I started the rebellion just to smash the unfair rule of the New Reclamation Corps on this land, and then in their A new republic was built on the dead bodies of the people. A republic that allowed the majority of people to live! This is my philosophy and I can tell you clearly now."

There was silence on the hillside.

"You may not understand it now, but you will understand it gradually." Winters sighed softly in his heart. He smiled and said loudly: "I brought you here today not to explain the truth to you, let alone To tell you nonsense, empty talk, and shit! I brought you here to let you understand what I want to do!"

He instilled a sense of unease and a hint of anticipation in the crowd.

"Come on!" Winters shouted: "Everyone who wants to own their own land, stand up!"

One thousand two hundred soldiers stood up in unison.

"Go! Let's go!"

Winters jumped on his horse and walked in front. The procession followed him, moving along the road toward the top of the slope.

As soon as the soldiers climbed over the hillside, acres of farmland appeared in front of them.

Half of the farmland is still covered with weeds, while the soil of the other half has been turned up, giving the land two different colors: yellow-green and dark black.

Because the employees have fled, the production of most manors has collapsed, and the land occupied by the manors has been forced to be abandoned.

Abandoned farmland overgrown with weeds is now coming back to life.

In everyone's view, two draft horses were pulling a heavy plow with wings and struggling to move forward.

The plow cut across the earth, the turf turned upside down, the black soil was turned out, and the furrow gradually formed behind the plow.

Plowing is usually a men's job, but there were three women plowing in front of me.

Two of them were leading the draft horses and another was holding the handle of the plow - they were preparing for the planting of overwintering crops.

The soldiers looked dryly at the scene down the hillside - land, women, harvests. The rural style paintings in front of them could satisfy all the desires of a farmer.

"What are you doing standing still?" Winters glanced at the soldiers. He felt very happy: "From now on, these lands are yours! I will give each of you twenty hectares!"

The soldiers stood there, stunned by the news.

They did not know how much twenty hectares was because the Palatuan farmers were more accustomed to the old system of calculating land.

Twenty hectares? Seems like a lot?

"Twenty hectares! That's two [mangs]! Nineteen bunniers! Two hundred thousand square meters!" Winters pointed to the farmland below with his riding crop: "Three hundred acres!!!"

Mans is a land taxation unit whose standard is enough to support a peasant family. It is not a small family of three or five people, but a large family of more than 20 people with several generations living under the same roof.

In the newly cultivated land, owning half [Vilget] - that is, five hectares of land, is enough to be called a middle farmer.

Two mans? Everyone swallowed subconsciously.

…

The land given to soldiers must be much more than that given to refugees!

If a refugee works for seven years, he can redeem his land and become a self-cultivated farmer; a soldier fights hard but gets nothing.

Then who else is willing to serve as a soldier?

A few months ago, Winters' policy in Wolf Town was simple and crude [giving wasteland to refugees for reclamation].

At that time, he only had three arrows, a hundred or so homeless people, and a town of land. His personal prestige was enough to overwhelm any dissatisfied voices.

Now he has a hundred arrows, 20,000 refugees, and a county of land. The extensive policies he had in Wolf Town are far from enough to deal with the current situation.

The gap between those who can go into battle to kill and those who cannot go into battle to kill must be widened.

Only in this way can soldiers feel balanced.

According to Bard's plan, each soldier was given ten hectares, about one manse. When their term of service expires, they can receive the land.

And Winters made a direct decision - give it twenty hectares!

"The battle has not been won yet! There is no need to worry about it now." Winters asked his companions: "What is the difference between Dussac and a farmer?"

"It makes no difference!" He asked and answered: "It's just too much! So much that they can prepare their own war horses and weapons! So much that they are willing to pay the blood tax!"

"And in this world, the most capable people are the peasants! Not knights! Not even citizens!" Winters pushed for the [twenty hectares] decree without any refutation: "Just give me twenty hectares!"

…

"Let's go!" Winters waved his hand: "Go down and take a look!"

The team drove down the hillside and headed towards the manor below.

Many people ran out of the fields and houses and ran toward the soldiers.

"Then...that's not my mother-in-law?" A soldier shouted in surprise: "She's from my family!"

"And mine too!"

"Where's my family's?"

The government order gave each soldier twenty hectares, but it was impossible to get it immediately.

What's more, the soldiers are all serving, so it would be a waste for them.

But Winters wanted them to see the real, tangible twenty hectares.

So he selected the soldiers' families from the refugees and brought them to Forge Township.

The land of all the estates in Forge Township is now in Winters' hands. The source is either lease, redemption, or coercion and inducement.

The next step was very simple. He distributed the land to the families of the soldiers, and then distributed farm tools, draft horses and seeds.

He doesn't need to worry about the rest - do farmers need him to teach them how to farm?

The lone soldiers watched with envy as other soldiers desperately waved their arms to their families.

They did not dare to call out because military discipline restricted them.

"Don't be restrained!" Winters ordered loudly: "Shout it to me!"

There was silence in the team at first.

"Jenna!" Suddenly a soldier called to his wife.

For a time, many names were flying in all directions at the same time.

The soldiers' families also shouted their names, some women covered their faces and cried, and some soldiers secretly wiped away their tears.

"Dad!" Tamas shouted to the sky: "Mother!"

The soldiers watched the centurion roar at the top of his lungs, but few knew that Tamas's father and mother were no longer alive.

The Tiefeng County Infantry Regiment regrouped on a dirt road between farmland, as the soldiers' families watched.

Winters read the Twenty Acres Ordinance to everyone.

This decree was very simple. It was based on Dussac's land granting system. Twenty hectares of land would be granted to each ding, and each ding would serve for seven years;

Perform meritorious service and shorten service time;

promotion, granting more land;

If you die in battle, the land will be directly inherited by your family;

Those who fear war, defect, or violate military discipline will, in addition to being punished themselves, have their land granted deducted or even be completely deprived of their land, depending on the severity of the case.

Later, Charles and Heinrich led people to distribute three silver shields and a deed paper to each soldier.

"Three silver shields are your first installment of military pay. On the paper, the complete "Twenty Hectares Ordinance" is printed."

Winters rode slowly past the front of the queue and inspected his troops again: "From today on, you are my soldiers. As long as I am alive and as long as I have not failed, these lands are yours and no one can take them." Walk!"

The soldiers of the Tiefeng County Infantry Regiment looked at Commander Montagne, each with a different expression.

Winters doesn't expect to turn farmers into warriors in the blink of an eye; they still need to be tempered.

Only after tempering can they transform from billets of iron into weapons.

Winters did not expect to win the loyalty of the soldiers immediately with "twenty hectares."

Only when the soldiers shed sweat in their fields, only when the soldiers walked through the fields holding the plow, only when the soldiers personally cut off the heavy ears of wheat.

He can truly win their loyalty.

Winters also knows that if he fails, all of this will be lost.

Enemies must be established, and enemies must be turned into things that look like "human beings" but are by no means "human beings". This is cruel and realistic Machiavellianism.

"I gave you the land." Winters took a deep breath and asked in a serious voice: "But what if the devil refuses to agree?!"

"What if a devil wants to take the land away from you again?!"

"What if there is a devil who wants to turn you into serfs, hired workers, and tenants again?!"

"Do you promise to hand over the land again?"

"No!" Tamas shouted sharply.

"Are you the only one who doesn't agree?" Winters sneered and looked at the others: "What about you? You are all weaklings and deserve to be bullied? Squeezed? Be slave laborers for generations?"

"No!" the crowd murmured.

"If your courage is as small as your voice, you'd better go back as soon as possible and continue living your old life!"

"No!" the soldiers shouted.

"Do you agree or not? I can't hear it."

"No!" the new farmers shouted at the top of their lungs.

"Okay." Winters raised his riding crop: "Then follow me and fight! Go and defend everything you got today! Kill all the devils who want to take away your land!"

[The peasants are indeed the most capable group. The small nobles and small landowners may be more capable individually, but their numbers are too small. Citizens or lower-level landless farmers are even less reliable. The strong combat power of the early empire's army relied on the self-cultivating farmers to provide high-quality soldiers. Yes, I'm talking about the First French Empire XD; the same is true for Cromwell's New Model Army. This point, regardless of East or West]

[The per capita arable land area is a mountain that cannot be bypassed. Mans was the land taxation unit of France in the early Middle Ages. Different mans vary in size, but in principle one mans can feed a family. With the improvement of agricultural technology, half a manse can even feed two families (small families). Before the Black Death, feeding a farming family required at least half a land (5-7 hectares), but half of the farmers owned less than half a land]

[But no matter what, 20 hectares is enough for farmers to live a prosperous life in any era]

[I remember that General Su Yu said at the beginning of "Memoirs of the Su Yu War" that his grandfather was a landowner with more than 400 tons of valley land, which is about seven hectares today. However, the intensive farming model and the three-field system cannot be compared]

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