Chapter 13 (1/2)

“Hurry up, you stupid lubber! The lord wants the details of your family. Put on your clothes and bring your wife and your children to the empty ground ahead! I’ll break your leg if you are slow!”

The patrolmen pounded on the doors and shouted into the cottages.

Very soon, all the farmers of Barleyton were gathered in the empty ground under the urging of the patrolmen.

They whispered to each other and looked at the desk at the center now and then. Behind the desk was a woman in her forties. She was sorting a thick pile of paper. There was a younger maid behind her preparing ink for her.

“Who’s she?”

“I’ve never seen her before.”

“Idiot! She must be a maid from the castle!”

“That’s right! Her clothes must’ve been ironed. Only the lord’s maid can wear such clean clothes.”

“What does the lord want? Those people mentioned demo… something.”

“Demography.” An old farmer chewed the root of a plant and said, “Ten years ago, the earl had someone run statistics. At that time, Barleyton had much more people than it does now. Too many people were starved in the blizzard seven years ago.”

Before the desk, the intimidating patrolmen bowed and scraped. “Mrs. Mason, Ms. Michonne, all the serfs in Barleyton are gathered.”

“I am not a miss; I’m just a maid in the castle.” Michonne Cowtail was actually happy about how they addressed her. She asked with a smile, “Is everyone here? Don’t miss any, or both you and we will be punished.”

“Of course, I guarantee that no one is hiding.”

Mrs. Mason nodded. “All right, then. Ask the households to come in turns and go home afterward. Do not come and register again.”

“All right.”

The patrolmen brought the serfs to the desk.

According to the questions Liszt prepared earlier, Mrs. Mason asked, “You’re the patriarch? What’s your name?”

“H-Hope, my lady.”

“Don’t be nervous. I want your full name, Mr. Hope.”

“O-Okay. I am Hope Swill.”

“Well, Mr. Hope, is your whole family here? What’s your wife’s name? And what about your sons and your daughter? How old are you? What do you do for a living? Is your wife the same? Does your first son have a job?”

Soon, Mrs. Mason finished her inquiry and recorded the information on a piece of paper.

Patriarch: Hope Swill, 37, a barley farmer, no disabilities; wife: Simon Swill, 34, a barley farmer, no disabilities; first son: Robert Swill, 20, an oat farmer, crippled; second son: Peter Swill, 17, a barley farmer, no disabilities; daughter: Lily Swill, 15, hen caretaker at home, no disabilities.

After recording the information, Mr. Mason confirmed it with them.

Making sure that it was correct, she said gently, “Mr. and Mrs. Hope, you may return now.”

“Oh, o-okay.”

After a busy day, piles of paper were delivered to Liszt, and the census for Flower Town was completed.

“Liszt, this is amazing. You solved such a difficult problem so easily. You will be a qualified lord. Definitely,” Goltai praised.

“Mr. Goltai, let’s save the compliments. Please sum up the numbers and give me a report.”

“With pleasure.”