Warhammer Divine Throne

The summer’s hot wind ravages Baron Gene’s Domain, the scorching sun blazing down upon the land. The peasants toil away in the fields, sweat pouring off them in streams. The large drops of sweat fall onto the muddy ground, carrying with them the peasants’ hopes for a bountiful harvest, representing their toil, and bearing the livelihood of their families. Peasants cultivate, pay taxes, offer tributes; knights collect taxes, fight, and protect—this almost constitutes the entirety of their lives.

The peasants’ only path for advancement is through war—accepting conscription, joining the army, fighting the enemy, and hoping to catch the eye of the nobility, allowing them to be promoted to sergeant or even ranger, thereby changing their fate.

The peasants start working at five in the morning, but by around ten, due to the extreme heat, they cease working.

Two peasants are sitting underneath a straw hut cooling off, with a crudely made clay pot filled with water. They use bowls to directly scoop water from the pot to drink, taking turns, one sip each.

”Phew, I’m exhausted.”

”What’s the point of working so hard.”

”Yeah, today was truly tiring.”

”I don’t even want to till the land anymore~”

”Yeah, I’m about the same.”

The two peasants complain, always feeling that farming is hard work. Yet, in reality, today’s farm work ends here, and the rest of the day is time for them to rest.

The peasants are not as industrious or as backbreaking as imagined. Many peasants often go hungry, but many times they would rather starve than work hard cultivating. The reason is simple: the Ten-Nine Tax drains almost all of the peasants’ efforts. The strategy of exhausting the national resources to support the knights results in the nation’s wealth being concentrated on the knights, neglecting the peasants.

”This situation has its pros and cons, you know? My baron, in the Empire, we have thirty percent of people who are vagabonds.” In the distance, Laine, Olivier, Lops, and Kasenberg sit on the second floor of a tavern on the town’s outskirts, also taking refuge from the heat.

Olivier performed excellently in the recent war, he and a few others managed to take down several Desolate Tomb Guards and Bloodthirsty Celestial Ghosts.

In this war, over two hundred elite soldiers who followed Francois into battle suffered losses of about fifty men, more than twenty wounded soldiers could return to the ranks after recovery, the rest were either killed or maimed.

The injured soldiers can be incorporated into the patrol teams responsible for maintaining order or receive a gratuity.

”Vagabonds have no assets, and no one wants to take them in. They are landless farmers, exiles without homes, defeated deserters, and bankrupt nobles.” Laine poured ice cubes into the red wine: ”Unlike Brittania, where every peasant has an affiliating noble, the nobles not only must unconditionally take them in but also protect them when needed. The most disliked by the Empire’s aristocrats are these vagabonds who produce no income; they are driven away everywhere, relying on odd jobs to survive, while the corruption of Chaos spreads in their hearts.”

”Indeed, while studying in the Imperial Capital Brunswick, I was deeply impressed.” Ranger Knight Hex nodded, stating: ”Brunswick is an exceptionally vast city, also known as the ’Heart of the Empire.’ Yet, in reality, that city is built atop slums and mudflats, with tens of thousands crammed into each harbor district. Chaos, depravity, and decay spread everywhere.”

”Much like Marinburg, after a city’s population grows past a critical point, this outcome is inevitable. Too many people lead to severe challenges from sanitation to law enforcement, and urban agglomeration is not as simple as 1+1.” Steward Kasenberg chimed in.

”As it stands, the enthusiasm of the domain’s populace isn’t too bad, not entirely disinterested or absentminded.” Olivier had no interest in discussing these matters, he wanted to discuss war: ”Baron, I think we should reorganize the army now, and recruit quality soldiers during the Midsummer Festival’s conscription activities.”

Laine had no objections to recruiting new sources: ”This time we plan to conscript fifty to a hundred men. Hex, I’ll leave the army conscription to you.”

”Understood.” Hex nodded in agreement.

”My baron, several brand-new windmill mills have already been put into use. We levy only a small portion of the windmill tax, but we stipulate that if a regional windmill is damaged, the peasants are obliged to repair it.” Kasenberg held a ledger and continued: ”And notable is that the wood elves have recently tried to spread the faith of Isa and Kunos among the peasants, but I have put a stop to it.”

”Stopping it was the right choice.” Laine impatiently said: ”The wood elves don’t genuinely intend to spread faith; they simply want to lure those children to be their servants. Warn the wood elves—if all they need is labor and assistants, that’s one thing, as it can be seen as normal hiring. If they plan to use the children for rituals or sacrifices, I’ll level their outposts!”

”My baron, your reputation is illustrious, your prestige unparalleled. In fact, after I mediated with the wood elves, they have already expressed their apologies and promised never to do such things again.” Kasenberg added.

”That’s good.” News of Laine slaying the Blood Red Duke had already spread throughout the Kingdom. His current fame in the Knight Kingdom was at its zenith, and even the Imperials and Southern Realm People were well aware of his name and deeds. In such circumstances, the wood elves naturally would not conflict with him, as he was also their only trading partner.

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