Chapter 218: High-Quality Serf Source!

"My lord, let this servant help you dress!"

"My lord, let this servant help you wash and freshen up!"

Maid Caroline dressed Gervas, while Maid Freya wrung out the towel and washed his face.

As her slender hand gently wiped his face, a faint, peculiar fragrance drifted into his nostrils.

This fragrance, Gervas had smelled many times before—it came from Freya's hands.

It was pleasant, light, and soothing.

Gervas thought she had the scent of a Fragrant Concubine.

Of course, Caroline also had it, but Caroline was, after all, the "home flower."

How could she compare to this "wild flower" who only visited for ten days or so?

"Good, good! Maid Freya, your washing pressure is just right today!"

As the towel was removed, Gervas nodded in satisfaction.

He remembered the two previous threats he'd issued were precisely because Freya had washed his face with too much force.

"What about me, my lord?"

Hearing Gervas praise Freya, Caroline naturally felt displeased.

"Caroline, you're already in your maid's uniform—do you really need me to spell it out? Only new maids deserve proper rewards!"

Gervas's method needed no explanation; a single sentence made Caroline glow with delight.

But maids couldn't be coddled—they dared to compete for favor.

"Still, Caroline, when your master speaks, servants must not interrupt. Have you forgotten?"

"Ah! My lord, Caroline knows she's wrong!" Caroline startled, instantly adopting a pitiful expression.

"Knowing you're wrong is enough? If apologies worked, what need would there be for the Noble Council?"

"Then… then what will you do to me?"

"Do I really have to say it?" Gervas glared.

Caroline's shapely frame trembled. "Then… then let my lord punish me with a few more slaps today…"

Slap! Slap!

Freya: "…."

Of course, Freya was used to it—this punishment occurred daily between master and servant.

She could only silently curse the nobility of the human race as utterly shameless.

But she feared Gervas might use the same method on her, so she stood mute beside them.

…

After washing and breakfast, Gervas listened to the administrative reports from Old John and Thomas.

Finally, Gervas spoke: "Thomas, I've received word that from today onward, Stormhold will receive many refugees from the wastelands."

"Go and prepare—designate open spaces in the town square for them to set up stalls, and coordinate with the guards to maintain order."

"Also, provide them free cool water. Oh, and add a loaf of black bread the size of a fist—call it Stormhold's care for the wasteland refugees."

"As for their trade taxes, charge them two in ten—the standard rate for regular commerce."

Upon hearing Gervas's orders, Thomas stood stunned.

Though Stormhold had grown increasingly wealthy under their lord's leadership,

it had not grown so wealthy as to hand out free black bread to refugees.

And the wasteland refugees were countless—if everyone came for free bread, how could they possibly manage?

"My lord, providing space and water I understand, but giving them free black bread is too merciful!"

"They're refugees. In other domains, not dragging them straight to the gallows is mercy enough—and you're only charging them two-tenths trade tax!"

"So I wonder if the free bread might be omitted, lest word spread and refugees flood Stormhold just to take advantage."

Having worked with Gervas, Thomas and the other administrators now understood:

Voicing opinions directly to their lord would not invite punishment.

In fact, if their suggestions proved sound, they might even be rewarded.

Thus, Thomas now dared to voice his thoughts.

True to form, Gervas did not grow angry at his rebuttal—he explained: "Thomas, according to my knowledge, the nearest refugee gathering point near the kingdom's border is at least half a day's journey away—and that's rare."

"Most take one or two days to reach the border, traveling in groups, only dispersing once they arrive to trade."

"So no one will trek all that way just for a fist-sized loaf of bread—we needn't fear them coming daily."

"Besides, Thomas, do you know what Stormhold most lacks right now?"

What did it lack most?

Thomas pondered briefly, then ventured cautiously: "My lord, I believe Stormhold currently lacks money and troops."

It was a safe answer—every noble domain lacked these two things.

Gervas paid it no mind: "Correct, both are lacking—but fundamentally, Stormhold currently lacks population."

"Our border territory has always been vast but sparsely populated, and Stormhold even more so."

"I now control a domain one and a half times larger than a viceroy's land in the kingdom's heartland, yet I have fewer subjects than a typical baron's domain in the interior."

"To earn more money and raise more troops, we need a constant influx of population."

"With more people, tax revenue increases, more soldiers can be recruited, and even infrastructure development accelerates."

"Buying slaves for this purpose is like trying to fill a well with a cup of water—these refugees are our best target."

"By letting these refugees feel my mercy as their lord, and witness Stormhold's prosperity, we increase the likelihood they'll choose to settle here."

"And these refugees, once turned into serfs, have one major advantage: they are almost all strong and fit."

"In the chaotic, deadly wastelands, the weak and sickly have long been eliminated."

Thomas listened, dumbfounded.

He had never imagined his lord thought so deeply and clearly.

To other nobles, these refugees were worthless—perhaps even the source of chaos.

Yet in his lord's description, they became the finest source of serfs.

And it made perfect sense.

For one thing, these refugees surely possessed survival skills—hunting, farming, anything to stay alive.

After all, without skill or strength, they'd have starved long ago in the wastelands.

So their only real flaw might be their lack of discipline—they might not be obedient.

But their lord had tamed even the savages—these refugees would be no problem.

"My lord, you are a wise and far-sighted noble—I deeply admire you!"

"Enough. Go carry it out. Remember—treat them kindly, so they feel no rejection or discrimination."

"Yes, my lord! This servant will complete this task flawlessly!"

Thomas, the civil administrator, departed, his face brimming with energy.

Gervas then gave Old John a few more instructions, telling him to prepare weapons and supplies.

These were for responding to the little mermaid Waga's plea for aid.

Then he headed toward the falconry on the castle's western side.