"Uncle Sam, I think I'm fine now. It's time for me to start looking after my fiefdom and my subjects," Michael said firmly.
Uncle Sam studied Michael for a moment, noting that he appeared to be in good health, and nodded in agreement. He had previously advised Michael not to venture out alone, as the area was dangerous, and Michael had no intention of taking unnecessary risks.
After lunch, Michael set out with Uncle Sam and two guards. They traveled in a carriage, with Uncle Sam and Michael seated inside, one guard driving the carriage, and the other riding Uncle Sam's horse. Their first destination was one of the three villages in Michael's fiefdom, each with around 100 households and a total population of nearly 1,000 residents.
As they entered the village, their arrival caused quite a stir. The guard riding the horse announced loudly, "Listen up! The noble lord of the Black Forest land has arrived. His name is Michael—" He paused, unsure of how to continue, until Michael's voice came from the carriage, "Yahweh."
The guard cleared his throat and continued, "Cough, cough... His name is Michael Yahweh, and you are to be loyal to him from this day forward!" Uncle Sam shot the guard a glare, but Michael found the guard's enthusiasm somewhat refreshing compared to the lifeless demeanor of the others, like the carriage driver, who moved as if he were a corpse.
An old man soon came running toward them, followed by a crowd of men and children emerging from their homes. Women peeked out cautiously from behind doors. Michael observed the villagers closely and noticed that most of the children appeared malnourished, and there were few young women—only older women were visible. The village lacked livestock, and the overall state of the people suggested a life of hardship.
Michael stepped out of the carriage, followed by Uncle Sam. The old man approached and introduced himself with a weary and unenthusiastic tone, "My lord, my name is Coby. I am the village chief. Thank you for coming to this land. Your presence may protect us from the beasts and savages who plague us, stealing our food, money, and livestock."
Michael could sense the wariness and distance in the village chief's words, as well as the hollow praise. Uncle Sam, too, noticed the chief's lack of respect and suddenly drew his sword, placing it against Coby's neck. The villagers erupted into commotion at the sight.
"My lord, how dare this commoner show such disrespect to you? This is contempt for the lord of the land!" Uncle Sam growled.
Michael wasn't entirely surprised by Uncle Sam's intense reaction. Nobles were the ruling class, feared by the common people who had lived under their rule for generations. However, Michael raised his hand calmly and said, "Uncle Sam, lower your sword. I only wish to speak with the people."
Reluctantly, Uncle Sam sheathed his sword, though a faint mark remained on Coby's neck. The village chief maintained a stoic expression, as if prepared to sacrifice himself for the sake of the village.
"Village Chief Coby," Michael began, "don't worry. I am here to rule this land, and you are all my subjects. It is my duty to protect you."
Though Coby doubted Michael's ability to protect them, he couldn't help but notice that this noble was different from the previous lords. The others had always looked down on the villagers from their horses, treating them like livestock. In contrast, Michael spoke politely and with a softened tone.
"My lord, how may I assist you?" Coby asked cautiously.
"I have a few questions," Michael replied. "First, how many families are there in this village, and what is the total population?"
Coby hesitated, clearly unprepared for such a question. After a moment, he stammered, "Um, my lord, there are around 90 to 100 households in the village, meaning 90 to 100 families. As for the total population, we would need to count. I apologize, my lord."
Sweating under Uncle Sam's intense gaze, Coby seemed to struggle to breathe. Michael waved his hand, signaling Uncle Sam to step back, and then turned to Coby again.
"Alright, what kind of crops do you usually grow?" Michael asked.
This question seemed to put Coby at ease, as it was related to something he was familiar with—taxes and farming. He replied confidently, "My lord, we generally grow wheat, barley, and a few vegetables such as peas and potatoes.
Michael was surprised by the small amount of land the villagers farmed, but considering their dire situation, lack of productivity, and limited tools, it made sense. He decided to ask another question, one that immediately made the village chief tense and drew the attention of the surrounding villagers who were listening intently.
"How much tax do you pay after the harvest?" Michael asked.
Village Chief Coby replied with concern, "The previous noble lord taxed up to 80 percent of the goods we produced."
Michael inhaled sharply, shocked by the inhumane tax rate. However, the guards around him seemed unfazed, reminding Michael that most villagers were tenants who essentially belonged to the lord. They had no rights or ownership of the land they worked on.
Michael didn't attempt to change the tax system immediately, as it was his primary source of income. However, he decided to reduce the tax rate, though he would need to discuss how much later. Looking around at the dull, lifeless faces of the villagers, Michael felt deeply uncomfortable. These people were living like zombies, drained by the heavy taxes imposed by the nobles and the constant looting by savages. To make matters worse, they were also at risk of being attacked by dangerous animals.
He asked another question, hoping to find some skilled individuals among the villagers. "Are there any free persons here, or anyone with skills like blacksmithing, carpentry, or other trades?"
The village chief thought for a moment before replying, "I'm sorry, my lord. There are no free persons in this village, and no one with any special skills."