There's a famous saying in Confucian culture: "Trust is the foundation of a person; without trust, one cannot stand."
This applies not only to individuals but also to business, politics, the military, and even entire nations.
For Gregor's plan to enrich the people and strengthen the army, the very first step was to establish trust within the Westerling territories.
Chinese culture offers countless examples of wisdom about building trust. The feats of great historical figures are so numerous, any one of them would suffice.
For instance, the state of Qin's powerful reformer, Shang Yang, gained trust through his famous act of erecting a stake to prove his credibility, an example that Gregor found fitting.
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As the Lord of Westerling, Gawen watched as Gregor spread out the complete map of their lands on the table. He said, "Ser Gregor, Clegane can at most recruit three hundred more infantry."
Damon let out a short laugh, then shot a mocking glance from Gregor to Gawen and back again.
Leo, however, didn't laugh. Instead, he shifted his posture and leaned back in his chair, clearly relaxed.
The show was about to begin.
"Recruiting five hundred infantry won't be a problem, just raise taxes," Lady Sybell said, her long neck held high, elegant and dignified as any noblewoman, though the fact that she was the daughter of a spice merchant still pricked her pride.
"Raise taxes? Our taxes are already higher than neighboring nobles. I strongly oppose increasing them!" Lady Jeyne said firmly.
"Those peasants are cunning," Lady Sybell sneered. "Jeyne, you're young and too kind-hearted. You don't really understand them. Their cellars are full of food, yet they always come crying to you about poor harvests and hunger. They complain it's almost July again and the milk will all be wasted."
Lord Gawen looked at the long-unseen complete family territory map and said, "If we want to recruit soldiers, raising taxes is worth considering. Otherwise, what else will fund the army? July and August are coming soon, the heat will rise, and if this year the 'milk sickness' spreads again, all the milk in the West will be wasted. It won't just be a huge loss for our peasants but for the entire territory."
Milk is a great source of nutrition, but in July and August every year, milk sickness tends to spread. Drinking the milk often causes fever and illness, which can be tolerated, but the fatality rate is alarmingly high. People attribute it to the anger of the Stranger among the Seven Gods. When the Stranger is displeased with the people's behavior, he causes deadly bacteria to breed in the milk during those months, sometimes triggering nationwide plagues.
There was just over a month left until July.
"Lady Sybell is right. Raising taxes is an excellent idea. Haven't you noticed the peasants on the lands returned to the Westerling family are quite wealthy now? Increasing taxes on them to fund the army is definitely doable within their means. What do you think, Ser Gregor?" Lord Damon tapped his left-hand fingers on the section of the map that used to be his land.
Gregor cursed silently, Damn it, you ungrateful bastards. I want to enrich the people and strengthen the army, not raise taxes.
"Lord Damon makes a good point. I completely agree," Gregor said, sweeping his hand over the map to include all the peasants. "If each household increases their monthly contribution by half a silver stag, that's several hundred more silver stags in monthly income. The newly recovered lands have wealthy peasants and a growing population, so we can raise taxes a bit more. If some refuse to pay, they can provide grain instead."
"Good idea!" Damon laughed and gave a thumbs-up.
Lord Leo added, "Indeed, for nobles who maintain armies, increasing peasant taxes is a common practice. The purpose of the army is to protect their safety and property, so it's only fair for them to contribute more."
Gregor chuckled to himself.
Damon is a wolf, and Leo is a jackal.
They both can't wait to see the Westerling family collapse, especially if Gregor is the one tearing it apart.
Lady Sybell, almost to prove she wasn't foolish, said, "Lord Gawen, then let's do as you say. Have The Maester calculate how much extra tax would be needed to recruit five hundred infantry, and how much more if it's a thousand."
"Exactly," Damon said with a laugh. "The Maester, Lord Gawen, Lady Sybell, you must tell your tax collectors to inform the peasants that Ser Gregor has angered all the northern nobles. A war between northern noble houses could break out anytime, especially with the Marbrand family, my family, involved. We're coming for revenge. Collecting taxes early to fund the army is about protecting their lives and property. It has nothing to do with Westerling vanity or prestige! Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Lord Leo forced a laugh, hoping Damon wouldn't hold the broken hand against him, even though he was the one who opened the gates.
Gawen and Sybell's faces darkened.
Gregor, however, remained calm, watching the petty performances.
Lady Jeyne said, "Ser Gregor, "
Gregor raised his hand to stop her. "Raising taxes is a good idea. We'll do it. But with such heavy taxation, the peasants will likely think the Westerlings are joking when they receive the decree. I have a plan to make sure they know we mean business, and that anyone who disobeys the order will face consequences, just like Lord Damon lost his right hand."
Damon's smile froze instantly, as if punched in the gut.
Leo's laugh died as well.
But Gregor acted as if he didn't notice their discomfort. He smiled and said, "Keeping your word is the foundation of a lord. When a lord loses credibility, his peasants will no longer trust any of his orders. The Maester issued this order: five days from now, on the day of my wedding to Lady Jeyne, I will erect a wooden stake at Clegane's city gate. Any peasant who carries that stake all the way to the main fortress gate will be rewarded with one gold dragon."
The Maester blinked in surprise.
Gawen, Sybell, Jeyne, Damon, and Leo were all baffled, unsure what Gregor was trying to achieve.
Gregor smiled and said, "I know none of you believe this, but I'm serious. One piece of wood, one gold dragon. Of course, most peasants won't believe it, or rather, no peasant will believe it. But there will be plenty of spectators eager to watch the show."
Jeyne frowned, "Ser Gregor, what if no one dares to carry that stake?"
"Then wait until the next day."
"And if no one ever dares?"
"There will be someone," Gregor smiled. "One gold dragon is a huge reward, equal to thirty silver stags, two hundred and ten copper stars, and over ten thousand copper coins. Such a heavy bounty is sure to attract brave souls."
"But even if someone carries the stake, how does that help enforce the new tax decree? It seems pointless."
"It will help. I swear by the Seven Gods and the honor of the Craggan family, that once this order is issued, all peasants will obey without complaint, and they will be grateful to their lord!"
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