Everyone looked up, clutching at the last straw like drowning men, staring desperately at Luchen.
"Lord Solomon once said, his people should not be like lambs scattered in the wilderness, left to be preyed upon by wolves."
"Lord Solomon has a great plan! He intends to build several sturdy Military Forts!"
"Military Forts?" The villagers muttered, repeating the unfamiliar term.
"Yes, Military Forts!" Luchen emphasized his tone, waving his arms in the air as if this grand idea was his own. "High walls made of stone! Higher than the tallest tree in your village! Watchtowers on the walls! Soldiers standing guard day and night! Just like a noble's castle!"
"Let all of us! Live in stone castles like nobles! Never to be harmed again!!!"
Luchen's words were incredibly alluring at this moment. Their village was not safe at all, and the image of a sturdy, safe castle unfolded in the villagers' minds.
"Lord Solomon plans to bring all his people into the Military Forts to live together. Farmers, blacksmiths, carpenters, hunters... everyone under the protection of the high walls."
"Everyone gathered together, watching over and helping each other. At that time, let alone fifty bandits, even five hundred—would they dare approach the Military Fort?"
Luchen didn't mention relocation, didn't mention merging, and certainly didn't mention abandoning their land. He only painted a picture for these people, who had cowered in fear all night, of a new home with high walls, soldiers, and safety.
To live in a sturdy, safe stone castle like a noble.
For the villagers of Mountain Pass Village who had just experienced a night of terror, generational land and hometown sentiments seemed insignificant in the face of the word "survival," in the face of their own lives.
"I am willing!! I am willing! My Lord!!" After a brief silence, Old Hans, kneeling on the ground, was the first to react. His face showed immense excitement as he kowtowed heavily to Luchen. He never wanted to experience such a night again. "I want to go! Please! My Lord!!"
His shout was like a thunderclap, waking everyone up. Shouts rose one after another.
"We are willing!"
"Please let Lord Solomon take us in!"
"We want to live in the stone Military Fort!!!"
Luchen stood before the crowd, looking at the kneeling, shouting villagers. A perfectly measured look of relief finally appeared on his tense face. Damn, this job is really hard...
The heavy oak doors of the small castle slowly opened. Cold wind mixed with dust and the noise of people poured into the courtyard.
Luchen and a dozen riders dismounted. Behind them followed a group of villagers who had spent a night in terror—ragged clothes, exhausted expressions.
Leading them was Old Hans from Mountain Pass Village, his weathered face filled with awe and fear.
Old Hans and a few other villagers walked into the warm, bright Great Hall as representatives of their village. The soldiers standing on both sides gripping their sword hilts made them tremble constantly, barely daring to look up at the young boy sitting high on the Lord's seat.
They dared not go further. shrinking back, they knelt on the ground far from Solomon, their movements clumsy but sincere.
"Lord Solomon... Merciful Lord Solomon..." Old Hans's voice was hoarse and dry, carrying a sob. "Thank you for giving us grain! For giving us livestock!"
"Without you! We would surely starve! How merciful you are!!"
"The Seven will surely bless you!!!"
Solomon's expression remained unchanged. He had simply moved supplies from one village to another (left hand to right hand), while Evelyn, standing beside him, marveled at the thickness of this boy's skin.
The villagers kowtowed heavily to Solomon, their foreheads striking the cold stone floor of the castle, making thudding sounds.
"We beg Lord Solomon to allow us to move into the Military Fort! Please give us a safe shelter! Let us and our families live! Please! Lord Solomon!"
"We beg the merciful Lord Solomon to take us in!!"
"We are willing to do anything for you!!!"
Solomon just looked at them without replying. The crowd thought they would be rejected, and suppressed sobbing and weeping gradually broke out.
Evelyn stood aside, watching this scene with mixed feelings. She knew how all of this happened, who created this fear, and who gave this hope. She looked at Solomon, but saw that he seemed to have no empathy and remained silent.
She knew what he was waiting for. Waiting for these suffering people to be completely desperate before playing the savior. This boy used despicable means to establish a benevolent persona for himself and spread grace widely.
"Rise!" Solomon finally spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but in the confined environment of the castle, it echoed constantly, clearly reaching everyone's ears. "I grant your request! Barna! Arrange for them to stay temporarily in the camp to the east! Ensure food and bonfires!"
Hearing this, the villagers kneeling deeply and weeping raised their heads, praising Solomon in simple language, constantly praying to the gods to bless him.
"Yes! Lord Solomon!" The new Tax Officer, Barna the Beggar, immediately stepped forward to answer the order. "You lot, get up! Follow me!!!"
The news swept through every village like the wind. In the next two days, Riverbend Village, Valley Village, Forest Village, Rocky Beach Village...
One after another, villages threatened by bandit harassment sent representatives. Their requests were identical to Mountain Pass Village: begging to build and move into the Military Forts.
Fear is the most effective catalyst. Under the shadow of death, under the threat to life, no one misses their homeland. The will of everyone in the territory reached an unprecedented unity.
Late at night, only Solomon and Evelyn remained in Solomon's bedchamber.
The flames in the candles danced, stretching their shadows long and swaying on the walls.
Evelyn poured a cup of hot water for Solomon. Water in the cup meant she had something to say. Solomon looked up at her.
She raised her head. In the firelight, her beautiful face, disguised by the strange birthmark, showed an unusually complex gaze. She finally spoke, breaking the long silence.
"Sending bandits to create fear for the poor, then appearing as a savior..." Her voice was soft, as if talking to herself, yet also questioning. "Your methods are not honorable."
Solomon picked up the water cup. The steam rising from the cup blurred his expression.
"People's vision is short-sighted. When the day of war comes," Solomon took a small sip, "they will thank me."
"If a good man wants to outwit a bad man, he often needs to be worse, more cunning than the bad man."
Solomon slowly put down the teacup, looking directly into her eyes:
"Otherwise, all that awaits him is a tombstone carved with 'The Noble One,' while the despicable dance and celebrate on his grave."
"You think you are a good man?" Evelyn's breath hitched slightly. The boy spoke well, but she was surprised that after using such means, the boy before her actually considered himself a good man.
Solomon stood up, walked to the arrow slit, and gazed out at the pitch-black territory. Then he turned to look at her strangely.
"When did I say I was a good man?"
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