Once the traces of the northern giants are found, they will be reported immediately. The troops stationed in the county will attack immediately and kill the damn giants.

County Magistrate Cohen did not agree with this.

"The giants in the north are much taller than us. Every time they take a step, we have to take at least two to three steps to catch up. Their speed in running is equivalent to our cavalry. Moreover, giants also have horses, and they are far superior to us in terms of speed and strength."

"As long as the northern giants are willing, they can run faster than our cavalry."

"The archers of the barbarians have been training since childhood, and they can shoot a crow's eyes from two hundred meters away."

These words are obviously too exaggerated. Baron Hartson knew this very well, but he could not refute it, because the county magistrate Viscount Cohen was twice his age and was a powerful local official among the nobles. Regardless of financial resources, power, connections, and other aspects, they were not comparable to those of him, a "military nobleman" who had no fiefdom.

More importantly, Viscount Cohen said the reason next is very sufficient--Morent County is large, including the county town, with as many as a dozen cities of large and small. Taking Fort Ladford as an example, the residents are as high as 300,000. Other small towns have a population of at least 50,000.

With these cities as the core, hundreds of villages and towns are scattered in the surrounding areas. The common village-town model in the Saxon Kingdom is four to one, that is, a small town is the main one, and four villages form radiation nearby. Of course, this situation is not widely used with all kingdom areas. In some places, some places restrict the development of towns due to resources, rivers, terrain and other factors, and the number of surrounding villages is relatively small. But in general, "four to one" is an unwritten basic administrative unit in the Saxon Kingdom. According to the calculation standard for the population number that is passed through most places, the number of residents in each four village and one town is about 10,000.

"I know you are an excellent officer, otherwise Marquis Brackbarn would not appoint you as the commander of this army." Viscount Cohen looked at Baron Hartson's young face. He saw the stubbornness and persistence exclusively to the young man, and saw a little confusion and wavering. So he struck while the iron was hot to further explain why he did this.

"It's your first time in Mollent City. You are not familiar with this place. But I am different. This is my father's fiefdom, the previous Earl of Moriente. I grew up here. Although I am not good at military affairs, I think I am a very good lord, knows how to manage, and is very tolerant of the common people below."

Speaking of this, Viscount Cohen changed his subject and smiled, "Are you familiar with the city of London?"

Although Baron Hartson didn't understand why the other party asked, he hesitated for a moment, he still nodded subconsciously: "Yes."

"Are you familiar with the civilians in London?" Viscount Cohen slightly shifted the topic to the aspects he needed.

"...Is that true!" Baron Hutson remembered the bars in the common areas he often visited, and the bar girls who were exposed in their clothes and were very enthusiastic about themselves. In London, the nobles liked to disguise themselves as ordinary people and entered the bar bars as ordinary people, lurking among the poor with a special sense of superiority, listening to them complaining, and even following the drunks, cursing the king and the holy lord in the dirtiest words. This is by no means presumption or betrayal, it is just venting.

Of course, you can also meet some beautiful girls in that kind of place. Compared to salons where noble ladies are or hooking up with noble women at dances, the "country girls" in civilian bars are more wild, and in the eyes of nobles like Baron Hartson, it has a unique flavor.

Viscount Cohen's face was calm: "Do you know where the food that civilians in London need for daily life come from?"

Baron Hartson became hesitant again. He asked with uncertainty: "...you mean bread?"

Without ridicule or ridicule, Viscount Cohen expounds the important interdependence between villages and towns in a plain tone.

"A four-to-one village administrative district can support 50,000 to 100,000 people. If there are no these villages and there are not enough farmers, not to mention London, even the City of Morient cannot maintain it. Under normal circumstances, there are enough reserve grains in Moriente for half a year. As long as I issue an order to increase the purchase price of one to twenty percent, farmers in nearby villages and towns will send their stored grains over, so that the supply time of the grain storage base will be increased to one year or even one and a half years. Of course, I can also order forcibly expropriated in the name of "war"... I actually have only one sentence: Without these villages and towns, even if the city has a strong garrison power, it will be useless."

Baron Hartson finally understood the meaning of Viscount Cohen's words: "Do you want to break this army into pieces and distribute it to various villages and towns?"

"It's not all the troops, just take out half of the troops." Viscount Cohen smiled again: "Send 10,000 soldiers to all villages and towns according to the size of a hundred-man team. The stationed locals will provide them with supplies, and they will even eat better than staying in Moriente. I promise that the mayor and the village chief will bring out the best bacon and wine..."

"Wait." Baron Hartson interrupted him and asked in confusion: "Ten thousand people? Do you ask me to send ten thousand soldiers to garrison in dispersed manner?"

"Yes." Viscount Cohen did not think there was anything wrong with doing this: "According to the information we have obtained at present, the northern giants did not go south on a large scale, and their main force should still be in the Shenwei Fortress, or even further north. Haha, I also participated in the Northern War when I was young, and I knew the strength and practices of those giants. Although we lost this time, they have never taken the initiative to go south for hundreds of years, and I think this time is no exception."

Baron Hartson shook his head with a gloomy face: "No, this time it's different. The Northern Giants have developed muskets, and their weapons and equipment are even much better than us. You must pay enough attention to this."

"It is precisely because I attach great importance to this that I ask London for reinforcements." Viscount Cohen was completely like a veteran: "The situation will naturally become different if you win the war. Young people, you have to learn to think deeply about the problem. The northern giants did not go south on a large scale, but just sent scattered soldiers to harass them on a small scale, which is worth pondering. But the situation is obviously not as complicated as you think. I believe that Marquis Brackbarn also saw this, otherwise the number of troops he sent would be far more than 20,000, or at least not less than 50,000."

Baron Hartson frowned and fell into deep thought.

He is an excellent general, but not a qualified politician, and he will not consider issues from the economic perspective. This is an advantage and the biggest flaw of the Baron.

"My request is not too much. 10,000 soldiers were left in Morient City. You have the final say on how to arrange it." Seeing the effect of his persuasion, Viscount Cohen's face became more and more smiling. He raised his right hand gesturedly, and the attendant standing beside him immediately gave a wallet that had been prepared long ago.

This is a black wallet mixed with thin linen and cotton cloth. The surface is embroidered with beautiful patterns. Judging from the craftsmanship alone, it has great value. Whether it is material or finished products, it can be sold at a high price on the market.

The moment his fingers touched the wallet, Baron Hutson felt a heavy surprise and surprise. He untied the tether and saw gold coins that reflected dazzling luster. This was a special currency mainly circulated in the Saxon Kingdom aristocratic circle, issued by the royal mint. The front of the currency was engraved with the portrait of Wilson, the third Saxon King. This man was sick at a young age and had lost all his hair when he ascended the throne at the age of 22. In order to take into account his image, Wilson wore wigs all year round. Later, many people in the aristocratic circle followed suit and quickly formed a trend.

A beautiful wig must be golden and smooth and smooth.

This special currency has a number because it has a high gold content and high technical means for anti-counterfeiting mark, so it has considerable value. One is equivalent to fifty gold pounds. In the aristocratic circle and among the people, it is nicknamed "Blonde Wilson".

The value of this "blonde Wilson" full of money bags is self-evident. Baron Hutson felt a sudden bump in the deepest part of his heart. He stroked his slightly trembling fingers on the surface of the gold coins, just like touching the most private part of his beautiful mistress's body... By the time he raised his head, there was no confusion and persistence in his eyes, only fanaticism and a little hesitation.

Viscount Cohen looked at him with a smile on his face, and his whispered softly was full of temptation: "The king will never understand what the vassals like me think, and the Marquis of Brackbarn will only look at the problem from the whole. In fact, I have a common view and interest with them, that is, the security and benefits of Mollent County. This is my fiefdom, my ancestors were once the Duke, and I have to protect the civilians here, and everyone."

Baron Hartson's corner muscles were twitching slightly: "Isn't ten thousand soldiers... enough?"

Viscount Cohen's smile is kind and kind: "Everything has its own price. If you are willing to send more soldiers to station in various villages and towns, I can give you more rewards based on the existing ones."

As he said that, he raised his hand and pointed to the purse in the baron's hand: "The same number of blonde Wilsons, and a small town located in the south of Moriente City, with a population of three thousand."

He inquired in detail about Baron Hartson. This was a military noble who stayed in London for many years. He made his fortune entirely by military merits. He did not have much property, and his salary was pitifully small. More importantly, he had no fiefdom.

Speaking of which, this is also caused by the king's stinginess. More than a hundred years ago, King Saxon rarely granted fiefs to his subordinates, thus forming the later "title but not fief". Those old nobles who own fiefs must pay a certain amount of "renewal gold" to continue to have titles and enjoy the same benefits as their ancestors. Generally speaking, the succession of titles must be made by the previous titles, such as the duke's son Xu Jue can only become a marquis, and the son Xu Jue can only become an earl, so as to promote it.

If Elizabeth had not received the help of the local county magistrate and had paid the corresponding price, her status as a viscount, not a count.

Compared with old nobles like Viscount Cohen, who have fiefs, Baron Hartson is undoubtedly the poorest among the nobles.

His tough heart, which belongs to the soldier, jumped up again unscrupulously - the blonde Wilson with two large pockets, plus a fief that is not too big but is crucial to him. This is really a crazy multiple-choice question.

As long as you have a higher title, you are qualified to grant fiefs to lower-level nobles. This is a transaction between nobles and the king never interferes.

At this moment, Baron Hartson figured it out.

Viscount Cohen wants security in Morent County.

What the King and Marquis Brackbarn wanted was the same as Viscount Cohen on the surface, but in fact it was a world of difference.

The latter must first ensure that the city is, in their opinion, farmers can be recruited at any time, and with just one order, they can be infinitely generated from the urban poor. Even if the northern giants killed all the farmers in Morent County and destroyed all villages and towns, as long as the city is still there, the production capacity of these villages and towns can be restored in a short time.

Assuming that the number of farmers in the entire Mollent County is as many as one million, they all die next at the hands of the northern giants. This kind of thing has had disastrous consequences for Viscount Cohen, but the King and Marquis Brackbarn would not see this way. They will only recruit the same number of urban poor from London, Fort Wales, Princeton, Cape Town and other places as supplements... This is the most favorable solution to the high-level rulers, reducing urban chaos, making up for the war deficit, and weakening the control and source of wealth of the local nobles.

No wonder Viscount Cohen repeatedly asked to dispatch these 20,000 trained musketeers to various villages and towns, and did not hesitate to give out a large sum of money to bribe himself.

"Don't worry! I will tell you about the Marquis Brackbarn, and he will not blame you." Viscount Cohen's smile was profound: "Haha, only the money in his pocket belongs to him... This is a real proverb."

...

The dark black forest covers everything.

The densely growing forests extend from the northern mountainous areas to the plains. The densely packed trees grow intertwined, and no one has ever cut them down. The seeds fall into saplings, and they grow into vegetation year after year, forming a large natural barrier.

White woodcutters never go deep into the forest. They only chop wood outside the black forest. There are a large number of wild animals, brown bears, wild boars, bobcats, wolves, foxes, and leopards... They form a complete food chain based on herbivores, but they do not exclude humans from entering this circle and becoming new predators.
Chapter completed!