It is said that while the two teenagers were having fun in the forest, the old Witt and his wife were busy with their livelihoods.

The snow and ice on Fested's ground had melted completely, and in its place had been re-drilled out of the dirt, sparse and sparsely stained with a few drops of dew. From time to time, a few locusts mischievously flew into the air, and then landed on another tender grass, as if just to attract attention. The swallows happily clung to the grass roots and built their new homes under the eaves of the farmhouse. The air is filled with the unique earthy smell of nature's bounty. Winter has long since passed, and spring has begun to envelop the industrious farmers of Calradia, signaling the arrival of the farmer's cultivation season.

However, the faces of the villagers of Fesdena showed no signs of festivity, instead a look of anxiety and fear of an unseen future.

Spring is the season for farmers to cultivate and sow seeds, and it is precisely the period when food is most scarce. Farmers not only have to store part of the supply for their own consumption, but also free up some grain for farming, and there are really only a handful of people who can do both.

The villagers walking on the dirt road of the village looked like walking corpses with their souls drained, their faces emaciated, their cheekbones clearly visible, and the ribs on their chests were on par with the skinny hounds in the alleys. There are fewer and fewer people in the village, whose male died of illness and was buried, whose boy could not afford to sell to whom, whose girl could not afford to sell to which nobleman, the news came and went, as long as it was not deliberately avoided, everyone had a bottom in their hearts, but they gradually stopped panicking. It can be described as the end of the road, climbing the rock of Mount Tai!

To get back to the point, the old Witt couple were as diligent and thrifty as usual, and every three or two months they would spare half a bag of flour, which was equivalent to a week's worth of food for a family of three.

Old Witt heard that the fortress of Lord Warisienpoye housed not only nobles and servants, but also well-armoured and well-trained soldiers. There are 30 or 50 people who speak lightly, 2 or 300 people who sit upright, and more than 1,000 people who are alarmist. Among them, there are inevitably rulers who instruct them to facilitate governance, and there are also people who secretly instigate them. Old Joey, who enlisted frequently in the army, speculated that the total population was estimated to be about 100 people, accounting for nearly one-sixth of the total number of villages. Counting temporary conscription, the number of troops is generally about forty people, so the daily fortress garrison should not exceed fifty people.

But in any case, old Witt thought that since the lord of Warisi Enboye provided for a large number of people, it must have cost a lot of firewood, rice, oil and salt in ordinary times, not to mention that a large amount of grain was always levied when he went on an expedition, so he decided to sell the freed up flour to Lord Warisi Enpoye. Witt is over 14 years old this year, and now that he is an adult, it's time to save some money for Witt's marriage.

Old Witt struggled to carry half a large bag of flour on his shoulders with his large calloused hands, and his thin body looked even weaker against the back, and he staggered all the way to the lord's fortress.

"No, the tax collector, the flour has been delivered to you as scheduled," said old Witt, as he slowly lowered the flour bag on the ground and flattered the tax collector of his old acquaintance, Fisdena.

The Chief Tax Officer is in charge of tax and financial management, and the Commissioner of Taxation is responsible for the financial management of taxes at the grassroots level.

Old Witt untied the thick rope on the flour bag, took out a small bag of flour that had been prepared from it, and said with a smile: "Old rules, this is filial piety to you!" ”

"Old man Witt, if you are so polite, then I might as well be respectful", the treasurer was not finished, and the flour bag had already been put into the dark cabinet under the table next to him, and then said: "Recently, the friction with the enemy country of Nord has escalated, and the military pressure is continuous, and it is estimated that the adults are going on an expedition again, and the military food is in short supply." Exactly, the old rule, the three dinars do not bargain. As he spoke, he untied the cloth money bag with the "jingling" sound pinned to his waist, and took out three dinars and threw them to old Witt. Old Witt had already held his hands in his hands and was ready to take it, but he couldn't take it over, so he had to bend down and pick them up one by one, and kept thanking each other gratefully.

Old Witt stooped down to pick up the dinar, and then he caught a glimpse of a middle-aged man in his thirties and forties, who was covered in bruises lying in the corner of the big room full of miscellaneous items, and next to him was a little girl from the farm who was twelve or thirteen years old, and her eyes were red, and she could see that there were traces of tears drying her face. The girl's coarse cloth clothes and coarse pants are no different from other peasant girls, except that they may have done less rough farm work, and their hands and feet are slightly more tender than other rural children. The middle-aged man next to the girl looked like the girl's father.

The corners are surrounded by a wooden fence and separated from the tax collector's office. The two ends of the fence are like two worlds. The ground at the end of the fence was wet, there was no hay, no light, the walls were covered with moss, and the rats would come out from time to time to wander around, which looked very gloomy.

Old Witt paused slightly, and asked curiously as he picked it up: "I said my lord, these two people in the corner are..." If you put it down, you must be "hanging it up high".

The tax collector glanced at the father and daughter in the corner, sneered, shook his head contemptuously, and lowered his head to continue his work at hand.

Seeing this, Old Witt stopped talking, and then slowed down, but heard the treasurer suddenly speak, and his voice was slow and reasonable: "This old immortal dog thing owes my family two months of grain tax and refuses to say it, and I was asked to make a special trip to urge this month's grain tax." This dog said that he could not pay the food tax, and begged me to give him another month. I was a little upset, and at that moment, do you know what the guards found in the house? ”

The chief of finance and taxation stopped what he was doing, his voice was high, his face was pale, his eyes were wide open, he was like a living Hades, so frightened that old Witt did not dare to move, and fine beads of sweat slowly seeped out from his forehead. The only remaining dinar on the ground was only an arrow away from his fingers, like a thousand miles.

Old Witt lowered his tone and asked softly, "What did you find?" ”

"A whole vat of flour! That's more than three times the amount of flour you delivered! The treasurer slapped his palm on the table, causing the girl to tremble.

The chief of finance and taxation continued in a tone that continued: "This dog thing relied on the benevolence and righteousness of my family's adults, and he couldn't bear to kill them all, so he ran to his head and pulled Xiang. I was furious at that time, and I took away the vat of flour and did not say anything, and if there is a debt, it will be exchanged, and it is justified. I think that dog girl's hands and feet are quite delicate, and it is still possible to be a maid. The chief of finance and taxation gradually lowered his tone, paused for a long time and was silent, his deep eyes stared at the stone wall, and a wicked smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, and he stood there stunned.

After a while, the chief of finance and taxation had his eyes shining again, and the work in his hands had already stopped, and he shouted: "But this dog not only does not appreciate it, but attacks the tax collector like a mad dog, and also bites the tax collector's hand." If you don't clean up this kind of chaotic people, I'm afraid that the entire Fisdena villagers will go to heaven! ”

The Commissioner seemed to realize that he had left a lot of work behind, and then he lowered his head and got busy again, and said no more.

Old Witt hurriedly stuffed the three dinars into the coarse cloth pocket, and hurried out of the lord's fortress. When he arrived at the dirt road in the village, he gently let go of his heart, exhaled lightly, and walked in the direction of the thatched clay house.