Iron Powder and Spellcasters

   Chapter 246 Granting Fields

  The former Ronald Garrison - now the [New Tiefeng County Infantry Regiment], was led by Commander Montagne all the way to the southwest of Gervoudan.

   They were walking on the dirt road in the country, and all they could see were desolate fields.

   Only Tiefeng stands alone in front, like a friend.

  The soldiers didn't know where to go, which made them a little uneasy.

After the    surrender, they were doing pretty well. No beatings, no starvation, and no executions.

   So they meekly accepted the authority of the "Montagne garrison", like a flock with a new owner.

   So what? It's nothing more than a change of person to send bread.

  …

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

   So the team stopped in front of a small hill.

  The centurion and the sergeant ran and scolded the ranks, turning the formation into a horizontal and vertical appearance.

   Winters, on horseback, reviewed his troops.

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

   But there are not many. If it is 1,200 warriors, it will be a force that cannot be underestimated.

  The whole team is over, it's time for the commander to say something.

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

   "Among you, the landless." Winters didn't need to scream, but his words delivered well to the soldiers: "One step forward."

  The soldiers looked at each other, and Tamas—the current centurion, the former tenuror, the Wolftown veteran of Winters, the foreman of the Bentins—takes a big step forward with a blank expression.

   The others followed one after another.

   "One of you who has cultivated the land for others." Winters' voice echoed on the hillside: "One step forward."

With    still Tamas and the other centurions taking the lead, the soldiers took another step forward.

   "Those of you who want to own and cultivate your own land - step forward."

   Everyone took a step forward neatly, as if the forest was panning.

   Winters has not rehearsed, let alone colluded with the old department. He does not need to prepare in advance for such a small scene.

The   New Iron Regiment is a unit that he devoted all his energy to, and every soldier, sergeant and centurion in it was hand-picked by him.

   He deliberately shaved off the soldiers from Revodan, deliberately excluded soldiers from yeoman families, and deliberately did not transfer any Dussac veterans.

   The 100 arrows and 1,200 people of the Xin Iron Corps were all landless peasants.

   Winters had even higher expectations for this unit than for the three centurions of Bud, Andre and Mason.

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

  The veterans simply sat on the ground neatly, and others sat down one after another.

   "Why don't you want to farm someone else's land?" Winters asked.

  No one answered, as expected.

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

   The short soldier stood up at a loss.

"what's your name?"

   "Peter." The short soldier replied nervously, and he hurriedly added: "Peter Bunir... You paid for..."

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

  Peter swallowed a mouthful of saliva and said hesitantly: "Being a long-term worker only...only wages..."

  Peter spoke in a low voice, but he was surprised to find that it was loud in his ears.

  His voice clearly reached everyone's ears, but it was a little unstable, fluctuating high and low.

   This is a spell technique once demonstrated by Lieutenant Colonel Field, not to amplify the caster's voice, but to stably amplify the external sound source.

   Winters wasn't as brilliant as Field, but it was enough.

   "Is it bad to have wages?"

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

   "Why can't the hired worker save money?"

  Peter could not answer.

"I've seen something like this." Winters seated Peter Bunier and said to the other soldiers: "A troop of hired hands protects a convoy to Gervodin. It's the only time they can save for a year. So they were willing to risk their lives. The owner of the estate kept his promise and gave them the reward and wages in Gervodin.”

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

   "You said, what happened next?" Winters asked. "Have the hired hands saved up?"

   Still no one answered.

  When the hillside became quiet, Winters said calmly: "No, not a penny. They spent all their money on wine and women."

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

   "Should you blame them?" Winters glanced at the crowd, avoiding everyone's eyes wherever he went: "Of course! Who told them to get money and couldn't help spending it?"

   The hillside became more and more dead, and even the sound of a heartbeat could be heard.

"But you must know!" Winters shouted: "This is exactly what the owners of the manor want! They know that the peasants have worked hard for a year and are eager for even a moment of pleasure! They deliberately settle their wages in Gervodin! They Deliberately letting things turn out like this, but blaming the peasants for their low morals!"

"Haven't you experienced these things? Haven't you thought about them?" Winters pressed, telling the soldiers word for word: "What the manor owner wants is for slaves to be slaves for generations, and tenants for generations to be slaves. Tenant farmers. Hired workers are hired for life, and when they are old and have no strength to work, they will kick them away and hire young and strong ones."

   All the soldiers swallowed their saliva subconsciously.

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

   "The wasteland... the wasteland belongs to the government office...I want to buy it..." The soldier looked around in panic for help: "Just open up wasteland and break the law."

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

   "Buy... can't afford it."

   "Why can't you afford it?" This time, the third soldier was asked.

   The respondent could not answer.

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

   The respondent still could not answer.

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

   "We have no money!" The soldier who was questioned answered tremblingly.

"It's not just because you don't have money. It's because the land is too expensive! The price of land has been pushed higher and higher, and even the homesteaders can't afford new land. Only the manor owners have the money to buy land. So their land More and more, and others have to work for them."

"I won't cover up my intentions from you." Winters looked into the eyes of these poor-born soldiers: "I rebelled to smash the unfair rule of the New Reclamation Corps on this land, and then they A new republic on the corpse of the dead. A republic where most people can live! That's my philosophy, and I can tell you plainly now."

  The hillside was silent.

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

   He injected a trace of unease and anticipation into the crowd.

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

   One thousand two hundred soldiers stood up in unison.

   "Go! Go!"

   Winters jumped on his horse and walked at the forefront. The procession followed him and drove along the road towards the top of the slope.

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

  Half of the farmland still has weeds growing, and the soil of the other half has been turned up, so the land has two different colors: yellow-green and dark black.

  Because the hired workers fled one after another, the production of most of the manor has collapsed, and the land occupied by the manor has also been forced to be abandoned.

  Abandoned farmland overgrown with weeds is now revitalized.

   In the sight of everyone, two draught horses are pulling a pair of heavy plows with wings and striding hard.

  The coulter slashed across the ground, the turf was buckled upside down, the black soil was turned up, and the furrow gradually formed behind the coulter.

   Plowing is usually the job of a man, but three women are plowing in front of him.

  Two of them are leading the draw horse, the other is holding the plow handle-they are preparing for the planting of winter crops.

  The soldiers stared dryly at the scene below the hillside—the land, the women, the harvest, and the rural scenery before them could satisfy all the desires of a farmer.

   "What are you doing?" Winters glanced at the soldiers, and he felt very happy: "From now on, these lands are yours! I give each of you - twenty hectares!"

The    soldiers stood still, dazed by the news.

   They didn't know what twenty hectares was, because the Palatine peasants were more accustomed to using the old system to calculate their land.

   Twenty hectares? Seems like a lot?

   "Twenty hectares! That's two [Mances]! Nineteen Bonnies! Two hundred thousand square meters!" Winters pointed at the farmland below with his whip: "Three hundred city acres!!"

  Mans, is a land taxation unit, its standard is enough to feed a peasant family. It is not a small family of three or five, but a large family of more than 20 people who have lived together for several generations.

   In the new reclaimed land, there is half a [Wilgert]—that is, five hectares of land, which is enough to be called a middle peasant.

  Two muns? Everyone subconsciously swallowed a mouthful of saliva.

  …

  The land for soldiers must be much more than for refugees!

   After working for seven years, the refugees can buy land and become self-cultivators; the soldiers go to battle, but there is nothing.

   Who else is willing to join the army?

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

   At that time he only had three arrows, a hundred or so refugees, and a town of land, and his personal prestige was enough to overwhelm any dissatisfied voice.

   Now he has 100 arrows, 20,000 refugees, and one county of land. The extensive policy he had in Wolf Town was far from being enough to deal with the current situation.

  There must be a gap between those who can go into battle to kill and those who cannot go into battle to kill.

  Only in this way will the soldier's heart be balanced.

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

   And Winters just hit the nail on the head—twenty hectares!

   "The battle hasn't been won yet! There's no need to scoff at it now and make a fuss about it." Winters asked his friends: "What's the difference between Dussac and a peasant?"

   "No difference!" He asked himself and answered: "No more than that! So much that they can prepare their own warhorses and weapons! So much that they are willing to pay the blood tax!"

   "And in this world, the most capable of fighting is the peasant farmer! Not a knight! Not a citizen!" Winters couldn't resist pushing the [20 hectares] decree: "Just give 20 hectares!"

  …

   "Go!" Winters waved his hand: "Go down and have a look!"

The    team drove down the hillside and walked towards the manor under the hillside.

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

   "That...isn't that my wife?" A soldier shouted in surprise, "It's my family!"

   "And my family's!"

   "Where's my house?"

The    decree was to give each soldier 20 hectares, but it was impossible to get them there immediately.

   Not to mention that the soldiers are all serving, and it would be a waste to give them.

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

   So he screened the families of the soldiers from the refugees and brought them to Forge Township.

   All the estates in Forge Town are now in Winters' hands. The source is either lease, redemption, or coercion.

   The next step is very simple, he distributed the land to the family members of the soldiers, and then distributed the farm tools, the horse and the seeds.

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

  The lonely soldiers watched with admiration as the other soldiers desperately waved their arms at their families.

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

   "Don't be restrained!" Winters ordered loudly: "Call me out!"

  The team was silent at first.

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

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

  The family members of the soldiers also shouted their names, some women covered their faces and cried, and some soldiers were secretly wiping their tears.

   "Father!" Tamas shouted at the sky: "Mother!"

  The soldiers watched as the centurion roared hoarsely, but few knew that Tamas's father and mother were no longer alive.

   The Iron Peak County Infantry Regiment regrouped on the dirt road in the farmland, and the soldiers' families watched them.

   Winters read the Twenty Hectares Act to everyone.

   This decree is very simple. Referring to Dussac's land grant system, each piece will be granted twenty hectares of land, and each piece will serve for seven years;

   meritorious service, shortening service time;

   promotion, granting more land;

  Death in battle, the land is directly inherited by the family;

  Fear of war, defecting, and violation of military discipline, in addition to being punished, deductions or even complete deprivation of land grants, depending on the severity of the circumstances.

   Afterwards, Charles and Heinrich brought three silver shields and a deed to each soldier.

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

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

  The soldiers of the Iron Peak 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 through tempering can they go from billet iron to weapon.

   Winters didn't expect to win the loyalty of his soldiers immediately by relying on "Twenty Hectares."

  Only when the soldiers were sweating in their fields, only when the soldiers walked through the fields with their plows, only when the soldiers cut down the heavy ears of wheat themselves.

   He can truly earn their loyalty.

   Winters is also well aware that if he fails, it will all go away.

  The enemy must be erected, the enemy must be turned into something like a "man" but not a "man", cruel and realistic Machiavellianism.

   "The land, I gave it to you." Winters took a deep breath and asked in a stern voice: "But what if the devil does not agree?!"

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

   "What if the devil wants to turn you into serfs, hired workers, and tenants again?!"

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

   "No!" Tamas roared sharply.

   "You're the only one who doesn't agree?" Winters sneered and looked at the others: "How about you?

   "No!" the crowd murmured.

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

   "No!" the soldiers shouted.

   "Are you going to agree or not? I can't hear you."

   "No!" The new homesteaders shouted hoarsely.

   "Okay." Winters raised his whip: "Then follow me to fight! To defend everything you got today! The devil who is coming to take your land, kill them all!"

   [Self-farmers are indeed the most capable group. Small nobles and small landlords may have stronger individual abilities, but the number of people is too small. Citizens or lower-level landless peasants are even more useless. The powerful combat power of the early empire's army relied on self-cultivation farmers to provide high-quality soldiers. Yes, I'm talking about the First French Empire XD; the same goes for Cromwell's New Model Army. This point, regardless of the East and the West]

   [The area of ​​arable land per capita is an insurmountable mountain, and Mans was the land taxation unit in early medieval France. The size of different Mances varies, but in principle one Mance can support a family. With the improvement of agricultural technology, half a monte can even feed two families (small families). Before the Black Death, at least half a lot (5-7 hectares) was needed to feed a farming family, but half of the farmers had less than half of the land]

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

   [I remember, General Su Yu said at the beginning of "Memoirs of Su Yu's War" that his grandfather was a landlord and had more than 400 dan valleys, about seven hectares today. However, the intensive farming model and the three-plant system cannot be compared.]

   [Thanks to book lovers for their collection, reading, subscription, recommendation ticket, monthly ticket, reward and comment]

   (end of this chapter)