CHAPTER 201: CHAPTER 97: THE WISDOM OF ORDINARY PEOPLE

Since ancient times, the number of troops has always been exaggerated.

Duncan’s war mobilization order had just been issued, and soon Cornwall, Hampshire, London, and other places responded one after another. He originally expected to recruit only 20,000 people, but unexpectedly, the people of Britain were so supportive of him that many volunteered to enlist, some even came with a short spear and a wooden shield.

With this, the number of troops increased to over 25,000.

Most of the extra five or six thousand people were young exiles who had just arrived on Great Britain and had been allocated land but temporarily had no land ownership.

Many wanted to gain land ownership directly through military merits.

All it took was beheading a first-rate armored soldier on the battlefield.

Military merits could earn them a reward equivalent to what their entire family could earn in three to five years, and there would be additional rewards.

Agriculture and warfare.

Duncan was actually using a tactic from the Qin Kingdom, just a weaker version of it, and added a land distribution aspect along the way.

Dorset.

A group of young exiles with long spears and wooden shields gathered within the village. This place was somewhat desolate and dilapidated, surrounded by those very old dome-shaped wooden houses that were leaky and drafty, with mud-smeared outer walls giving a rustic feel. The village didn’t even have a decent flat ground, just a circle of muddy land outside.

When they moved here, there were only a few dozen native people around, the wells were in terrible condition, and they had to be wary of wild animal attacks at night.

The Saxon pirates had wreaked havoc on Great Britain.

"Boss."

A young man of about sixteen or seventeen years old rushed up to the somewhat brazen-faced young leader and said, "Everyone’s here, a total of thirty-two people."

Roland was the small leader of this group of exiles.

The exiles were scattered in small groups, and he was just one small faction among them. He looked at the others and said in a deep voice, "Has everyone brought their rations?"

Someone quickly replied, "Brought them."

Roland nodded in satisfaction, "Very well. Prepare to depart."

"Hurry up with the journey."

"If we dawdle, we’ll miss joining the main army."

Duncan’s war mobilization order was delivered by three light cavalry. There was no rounding up of young men. The three Sarmatian Cavalry halted outside, didn’t even bother entering this rundown village, just took a sip of water outside the fence. After Roland arrived and the war mobilization order was hastily announced, they immediately headed for the next town or village.

Not coming?

No problem.

Don’t want the land anymore?

There was no worry that people wouldn’t come, in fact, there was a concern that too many might come, affecting the village’s land reclamation. Only a quota of thirty people was given to them.

Roland was a bit sneaky, secretly adding two more, a captain and a vice-captain.

"Let’s go."

This group of exile militiamen were all infantry, the village was so poor that they didn’t even have a donkey, plowing the land all depended on human force, and this period required a lot of reclamation work. Since they arrived late, the cattle and horses had been allocated to others.

Roland felt an intense sense of loss!

Exiles who came early were settled in Hampshire, near London, where the land was good, with water sources, and they could expect a good harvest next year.

Those who came late like them could only be dispersed into mountainous regions.

Of course, they could also go to London, but the land wasn’t theirs, it was tilled for the soldiers of the Britannian Imperial Legion. Essentially, their status was that of tenant farmers, able to make a living, but farming for others lacked a certain significance.

The best land in the Britannia Region mostly consisted of military farms.

Soldiers didn’t farm.

All the land was managed and farmed by tenant farmers hired by the municipal hall, or farmed by their own families. The harvest was directly taxed, and it could even be converted into money for the legion soldiers.

But very few people enjoyed this privilege, roughly around three thousand people.

They were considered professional soldiers.

Roland did not want to be a tenant farmer. The good land in London was not available to him, so he gritted his teeth and, after completing the population register, led his people to Dorset, even if it meant reclaiming barren land, at least the future land would belong to them.

The hardship would be endured by their generation, but future descendants would have good land to cultivate.

London!

It was simply their dream paradise, with fertile plains, the Thames River, convenient ports, thriving commerce, and even schools. Roland dreamed of proving himself and directly moving into the essence of Great Britain.

After traveling for a long time, they finally entered the avenue.

Rome’s road system was very advanced. Over four hundred years, nearly five thousand miles of Roman roads were built on Great Britain. The most important were the Waltling Avenue and Elmien Avenue, one directly leading to the Wales area and the other to Yorkshire.

The three major symbols of the Empire were: first, the Roman roads; second, urbanization; and third, Roman law.

However, the Roman roads had long been in disrepair, no longer a grand Four Directions Avenue, and only about four or five meters wide. These roads were originally constructed for the rapid deployment of the Imperial Legion and were still fairly well preserved.

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Roland and his group prepared to head to the gathering point along Fosse Way, with more people joining them along the way, almost all bringing their own food. But once they were integrated into the legion, they’d get meals and accommodation covered.

"Over there seems to be a druidic ritual stone," a short young man sitting by the roadside said.

Roland, chewing on dried fish and hardtack, glanced over, patted the dust off his pants, and stood up.

"Let’s go."

He beckoned to a few people, saying, "Let’s go get something to eat."

One advantage of Great Britain is that salt is cheap, and fish are cheap. They couldn’t afford good fish, so their daily meat intake depended on a bit of smoked dried fish, tough and not so fishy. The thriving fishing industry in Southampton benefited surrounding areas, driving fish prices down considerably. People would buy salt and get fish as a bundle.

As for other meats, their group couldn’t even think about it—everyone was dirt poor.

However, since arriving in the British Province, they did look considerably healthier.

On an island by the sea, could you actually starve?

A quick-witted young man caught up and looked at Roland, asking in doubt, "Boss, didn’t you just recently convert to the church?"

"Isn’t it inappropriate to go to a druidic ritual stone now?"

Smack.

Roland raised his hand and gave him a smack, rolling his eyes as he said, "That’s to get the priest to give us some food."

"Do you understand sacrifice?"

"Later, we’ll act a bit pitiable. These priests and such will give us food as charity."

There’s a certain wisdom in being a small figure.

Roland had been hanging around the Gaul Region, believing in the Arian Sect, because priests, in their missionary efforts, would occasionally help the poor with a meal. Usually, just one meal, and he’d take the opportunity to eat more, eat and take, enough for a day or two.

But since he’d come to Great Britain, naturally he needed to be flexibly adaptable. Druidism, sure, he could believe in it, and see if he could get some food there.

Whoever’s useful, I’ll believe in them.

Roland was loyal to the Governor of Britain; as for religious sects, he’d mix it up a bit when reaching the next town, see if he could scrounge some holy meal.

His principle was pragmaticism: don’t waste faith; whoever provides benefits, that’s who I’ll believe in.

This was a small Avalon ritual stone.

The Avalon faith was mostly in remote areas, in native tribes of Britain, near the mountainous forested areas of Cornwall, Dorset, and Wales.

There was only one Druid in charge of maintenance with two apprentice priests because the place was rather remote, with not many believers coming. Seeing Roland and his group arriving, they immediately got overjoyed seeing these obvious exiles. Getting them to convert to Avalon faith would be quite an accomplishment in missionary work.

The Avalon faith also had its own sect, formalized and organized, with the full name being the ’British Druid Priesthood’. On the battlefield, they could also boost morale, serving as a special temple troop type.

Roland was quite the expert in mooching off food and drink.

He pretended reverence for the Avalon faith, then performed a simple ritual, digging painfully from tattered pockets to offer a few small dried fish, no bigger than five or six fingers, to the Druid priest.

Truly pitiful.

Truly poor.

The Druid priest twitched at the corner of his mouth, reluctant to accept. The British Catholic Church often did charity work, and while the Druid Priesthood was poorer, they couldn’t be too stingy.

So before long, Roland returned joyfully, having eaten and taken, using cloth to hold things, and still holding a hard pear, biting it. The pear was produced in Mesopotamia and spread through Greece and Rome to Great Britain. The Druids managed the forested lands, and there were large orchards near the Avalon ritual stone.

The rest each got a little share.

A short exile youth, carrying a spear and chewing on a pear, gave Roland a thumbs-up.

Well done.

Back when the Arian sect priests were on missions, Roland would occasionally sponge off them. Now that he was in Great Britain, he continued his mooching.

The Druid was even happy to send them off from the Avalon ritual stone.

And stated that in some time, they’d bring disciples to their village, not only to teach them farming but also to give them some agricultural tools, even thinking of ways to lend them a cow.

The Avalon faith had been undergoing changes recently.

Many Druids now also had to learn farming knowledge, and when spreading faith, they had to include ’agricultural’ divine roles. The biggest festival of the Avalon faith had become the ’Harvest Festival’, with the entire sect’s beliefs shifting, even changing the image of druids towards experts in agriculture, focusing on constructing a divine sanctuary of Avalon faith around ’agriculture’.

Cultivate and Battle.

The cultivation was for Avalon faith; the battle was for the Victory Goddess.

A little episode.

Roland led his group along the avenue for two days, finally reaching the gathering camp. Others gnawed on dry rations all the way, while he loitered around churches and ritual stones, eating and taking, and even looked healthier than before.

However, he felt that the priests in Britain weren’t as generous as the Arian priests, so he decided to convert to Avalon faith in the future.

Definitely not for that cow the Druid priest promised to lend them!

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