Chapter 46: Anya Strikes Again!

Now it was truly time to rest, recuperate, and restore vitality.

Although Duncan had led the British legions to consecutive major victories, they could not offset the heavy toll of the Duke of Tintagel's initial crushing defeat followed by a minor defeat, coupled with the two fiercely contested battles against Hengist and Horsa. These had been genuine, hard-fought campaigns against the elite of the Saxons, and the cumulative casualties amounted to a significant figure.

However, the most pressing priority was demobilization. Conscripted peasants, town militias, auxiliary cohorts, and the like were all summarily disbanded by Duncan in one sweep.

Land was to be divided and distributed.

Everyone was to go plow the fields, clear the land, and dig drainage ditches. The town hall would provide interest-free loans and prepare the tools. They were tasked with plunging into serious agricultural labor to revive the near-collapsing economy of the British Isles.

Back during the era of imperial rule, the British Isles had been quite prosperous, supporting a population of over three million.

As for the present day, it was uncertain whether the English region even had a million people left. Harassed by Saxon raiders, vast tracts of land had been left desolate, wiping out at least one-third of the population. Many villages had decayed to the point of holding only a few dozen souls. A vigorous economic revival had to be enforced immediately, otherwise, next year's harvest would not even yield a surplus.

From a bird's-eye perspective.

Duncan discovered a new feature within the projection interface. For instance, his current settlement of Southampton could now generate a simple town panel.

"Territory: Southampton (Large Port Town)."
"Roads: Muddy Tracks (Terrible road conditions)."
"Agricultural Level: Low (Crop rotation system, lacking irrigation ditches)." [Improving agriculture requires recruiting relevant talent. Current era technologies include canal irrigation, feudal grand manors, and other agricultural techniques.]
"Commercial Level: Low (Dilapidated market, abandoned port, lagging fisheries)." [Relevant personnel, Anya, is currently reviving commercial economic activities.]
"Technological Level: Low (Backward forging technology, low education, no engineering technology)." [Requires recruitment of relevant talent.]
"Environment: Extremely poor (No drainage ditches, domestic waste discarded casually)."
"Temple: Small Viking Sanctuary (Dedicated to Odin)."

Basically, all of Duncan's territories were in this condition.

In his past life, Duncan belonged to a nation deeply rooted in farming culture.

Could he endure this?

How on earth were they farming? Did they not even know how to properly construct irrigation canals?

It was not just one place; nearly everywhere was like this—muddy roads, crop rotation systems, withered commerce, and an inability to find anyone capable of forging decent equipment.

"This level of infrastructure is absolute trash."

Duncan's first step was to boost agriculture. The disbanded troops were all sent to the fields, and prisoners of war were put to forced labor digging ditches. Within just a few days, the entire territory presented a bustling, fervent scene. He dipped into his own pocket to lend money to those allocated land, urging them to rush the plowing season.

Duncan even developed a military farming colony near Porchester Castle.

"With my current territory, maintaining an army of three thousand is quite sufficient."
"However, they must all be core combat troops."

Severus had personally recruited exiles from the region of Gaul, and two batches had already arrived, consisting of over a thousand able-bodied young men. This group was not assigned land directly; instead, they cultivated the lord's lands, but they would acquire land ownership after ten years, along with the corresponding status of free citizens.

If they wished to accelerate this process, it was simple: surrender more grain, purchase it with money, hand over war horses, or have family members join the army and perform meritorious deeds. As long as one beheaded a ranked warrior on the battlefield, it was roughly equivalent to ten years of diligent, quiet toil.

For now, only the first batch of following exiles had been granted free-citizen status and land allocation by Duncan.

The logic was simple.

Clinging to a powerful patron had to be done early. Creggan leaping to become the commander of the cavalry was precisely because he had seized the initiative. The earlier one followed Duncan, the more generous the rewards would be.

Inside the lord's manor.

Anya wore a hesitant expression as she looked at Duncan and asked, "Will those Saxons be allocated land as well?"

Duncan replied calmly, "Distributed."

"Why should they be?"

Anya spoke cautiously, "I am afraid that if we distribute land to them, the Britons will feel discontented."

Duncan slowly stood up, his gaze cold as he said, "Those who are discontented may come and confront me directly."

"Since we have incorporated them, they are my subjects."

"In my eyes,"

"there are no Britons and no Saxons; there are only loyal subjects who swear allegiance to me."

Defying all dissenting opinions, Duncan proceeded to distribute fields and lands to the Saxons as well, granting them the corresponding status of free citizens.

However, this was strictly limited to those who had been incorporated or who had performed meritorious service. Many Saxon prisoners were still performing hard labor at present. To put it bluntly, anyone who proved further insubordinate would be shipped off to repair Hadrian's Wall in the future.

Anya soon departed.

The Raven Queen, Triss, glanced at her and said softly, "Southampton worships the sanctuary of the Germanic barbarians."
"Dorset worships the sacrificial stones of Avalon."
"Cornwall and Wiltshire both possess church cathedrals."
"How do you intend to handle the issue of faith?"

Duncan pondered for a moment and said, "There is no need to worry about it for now. Let them worship whomever they wish. The various cults and pantheons can rely on their own methods; whichever one can attract believers shall keep them."

"We only need to control the secular realm."

Freedom of belief.

Let the polytheists and the monotheists lock in a struggle among themselves; Duncan had no intention of wading into these muddy waters for the time being.

Nor was it possible for him to eradicate the sanctuaries of the Norse gods in order to foster the cult of Avalon; doing so might shake the morale of the barbarian foreign legions. Maintaining the status quo was best for now, and proselytization ultimately depended on their own methods.

The Raven Queen, Triss, nodded slightly and said, "That is for the best."
"It will not easily draw the hostility of the Monastic Brotherhood."

If the local churches were abruptly eradicated, high-tier experts from the Monastic Brotherhood on the European continent might very well descend upon them.

Duncan had his own plans, but the time was not yet right.

Only when one's fists were hard did one have the right to speak!

Duncan stood up and said, "Have Anya find a way to poach some talent from the Italian Peninsula. Doesn't she have a manor?"
"Are there any agricultural talents available?"
"These Britons are absolute trash. How many years has it been, and they still haven't learned Roman farming techniques!"

What nonsense.

Did they simply rely on the heavens for their food every single day?

They failed to farm properly, failed to manage commerce properly, and the towns lacked even a decent sewage drainage ditch. Centuries had passed, and across the entire British Isles—aside from the infrastructure built by the empire in the London region back in the day—every other place was an unspeakable, dilapidated mess.

No wonder the Romans equally looked down upon all the peoples of Europe!

The civilizational gap was simply too immense; one could say that this place was slightly inferior even to a minor Roman town from before the Common Era.

The British Isles had regressed by at least five years.

Send in some technological retainers!

Agricultural experts, armor craftsmen, engineering masters, and the like—Duncan would never complain about having too many; he could afford to feed them.

The Raven Queen, Triss, spoke softly, "That should not be a problem. I can also dispatch people to recruit some talent."

Duncan nodded and said, "Attend to it as quickly as possible."
"Do not abandon the native population either; make them learn more of the Roman techniques."
"Manor economies, viticulture—the Franks have all learned them. Can these people not learn? It is not as if they are missing a brain!"

Once one truly took charge,
myriad tangled threads emerged all at once, leaving one clueless as to where to begin.

Duncan discovered that leading troops into battle suited him far better; handling domestic politics and the economy indeed entailed countless trivialities.

Meanwhile,
in the distant Italian Peninsula, certain rumors began to circulate within the imperial domains.

Inside a magnificent palace.

Under the watchful eyes of the palace guards, a man resembling a jester hurried into the grand hall, then passed through a succession of gates to enter the deepest recesses of the Roman imperial palace. Within a certain luxurious hall inside, maidservants and slave women wore scant garments. In the center, alluring beauties were dancing, while a group of nobles clad in togas were frolicking and making merry. From the chambers on either side of the hall, the faint sounds of panting and groaning could even be heard.

The Emperor of the Empire, Valentinian III, indulged in wine and women, leaving the Grand Commander Aetius to basically manage the overall affairs.

His inner circle of confidants consisted of pampered, hedonistic individuals. Even after the rise of monotheism, they continued to maintain the early imperial tradition of indulgent banquets, merely keeping up a slight veneer of concealment.

A starved camel is still larger than a horse.

As long as the emperor did not court death, and provided he did not assassinate the Grand Commander Aetius later on, the empire could still linger on for a period of time.

However, things brooked no counterfactuals. On one hand, Valentinian III was addicted to pleasure; on the other hand, he was eager to prove himself.

"Your Majesty."

The jester-like man slipped quietly among a group of women, amidst a dense cloud of fragrant powder. The corruption and decay of the Roman Empire's upper echelons were second to none; their revelries were in no way inferior to pools of wine and forests of meat. Indeed, in the early days of the empire, when a lord and lady shared a bed, seven or eight slave women would still serve beside them to satisfy their various needs.

"Oh, it is Quintus."

Valentinian III pushed away the slave woman at his side, allowing a maidservant to kneel at his feet, and said lazily, "You have returned? Are there any fresh tidings of late?"

The man named Quintus glanced left and right, went with the flow, loosened his belt, pulled a slave woman toward himself, and said, "Your Majesty."
"Aetius is currently allying with the Goths and Franks to resist the grand army of the Huns."

Hearing the name Aetius, a trace of aversion flashed across the face of Valentinian III. The Grand Commander Aetius was both a loyal minister and a powerful subject; the emperor could be said to utterly detest him, yet on the surface, he was forced to bow and show respect.

Seemingly perceiving that Valentinian III disliked hearing that name, Quintus immediately shifted the topic and gasped, "Hiss!"
"There have been some rumors from Britannia recently."
"Your Majesty might perhaps find them interesting."

Sure enough, Valentinian III displayed a flicker of interest.

Soon, Quintus recounted what he had managed to inquire about to Valentinian III, and then offered a scheme: "Does Your Majesty not constantly yearn to demonstrate your capabilities before the Roman populace?"
"Previously there was no opportunity, but now the opportunity has arrived."

Valentinian III's eyes brightened slightly as he inquired, "What plan do you have? Let's hear it."

Quintus shuddered as he stood up, straightened his garments, leaned close to the emperor's ear, and said, "Your Majesty. Although the Province of Britain has long since been abandoned, since that Duncan is capable of making a name for himself in that barbarian land,"
"why not find an opportunity to smoothly appoint him as the Governor of the Province of Britain?"
"He is of Roman origin, and also your subject. If he can truly unify the British Isles, would it not mean that, under your leadership, the empire has restored its rule over the Province of Britain?"
"We need not provide him with any military funds."
"We need only bestow a title upon him, arrange a few minor favors, and we might perhaps rally an army that swears allegiance to you!"

Quintus continued, "I know a friend named Anya."
"She recently transferred her manor over to me, seemingly intending to organize an oceanic fleet over in Britain."
"She said that Duncan requires craftsmen and individuals versed in technology."
"All of these we can provide to him."
"As long as he nominally remains loyal to the empire, his achievements on the British Isles will include a share of the glory belonging to Your Majesty."
"More importantly,"
"Your Majesty can also seize the opportunity to acquire prestige within the army."

Upon hearing Quintus's words, Valentinian III's eyes lit up brilliantly, and he said with excited expression, "Indeed?"

Quintus nodded and said, "Most certainly true."

Valentinian III pondered for a moment, waved a grand hand, and declared, "Give him everything! Not only can I provide him with craftsmen and talent, but I can also subsidize him with military funds and supplies."
"As long as he can conquer the Province of Britain!"

If the empire nominally restored its rule over the Province of Britain without having to manage it, let alone station troops to protect it, while gaining an additional trading province, then he would cut a remarkably dashing figure before the Roman citizens.

As for the fact that Duncan was practically a feudal lord of Britain in reality, that did not matter; that place had always been an impoverished backwater anyway.

A substitution of concepts.

The empire had dispatched reinforcements to help recover the Province of Britain, but those reinforcements consisted solely of Duncan himself.

Previously, Duncan's identity was acknowledged only by the Duke of Tintagel.

Now that he had accomplished a grand undertaking, the emperor of the empire was prepared to acknowledge him as well.

Quintus watched the delighted Valentinian III, slid his hand inside his robe, and touched a deed to a manor.

The task entrusted to him by Anya had been successfully accomplished.

It was only a pity that he had never even managed to touch that breathtakingly gorgeous Roman noblewoman. Quintus had craved her for a very long time, but that woman's standards were impossibly high.

A beauty was fine, but he still preferred career advancement.