"I remember, Your Highness," Lancelot said with a salute. He knew that Simon would not bring this up without reason, so he asked. "My Lord, do you intend to reinstate the military farming system?"

"Exactly. At the founding of the Empire, the government implemented the military farming system, where soldiers doubled as farmers. But as time passed, commoners lost their land, and the system gradually became obsolete, replaced by the current mercenary system." Simon said, brushing the snow off his shoulders. "Now that my six cities are in ruins, everything should be planned with agriculture in mind. I intend to temporarily reinstate the military farming system. Soldiers will farm during the busy seasons and train during the off-seasons. This will not only ease the financial burden but also accelerate the economic recovery of the six cities. What do you think?"

Lancelot pondered for a moment before replying. "My Lord, restoring the military farming system is not impossible. You are the ruler of the six cities, and your word is law for us soldiers. However, most of the current recruits are landless commoners. If we reinstate the military farming system, they still won’t have land to farm."

Simon had already anticipated this issue. He replied. "I’ve thought of that. This version of the system will be different from the past."

"Please enlighten me, Your Highness."

Simon continued. "Those who own land can return home to farm, while landless soldiers can cultivate government-owned land. The harvest from these lands will be entirely used for military supplies. What do you think?"

Lancelot couldn’t help but laugh. So, after all this, Simon planned to have the Brambleford army farm his land. Straightforward as always, he said. "Hmph, I thought Your Highness was truly concerned about the people. Turns out, it’s just about your own estate."

Simon wasn’t offended. From an outsider’s perspective, it did seem like he was acting out of self-interest.

He laughed heartily. "If that’s how you see it, Lancelot, you’re gravely mistaken. I won’t take a single grain from these lands. All the harvest will go to the state treasury. As you said, the land already belongs to me. I don’t need to quibble over small gains. In my view, if the people prosper, my territory prospers. If the people are strong, my territory is strong. If you don’t believe me, I can write a formal decree and hand it over to Baldwin. How about that?"

Lancelot was taken aback. The royal family and noble clans of the Eldorian Empire were all known for hoarding wealth. Yet Simon was willing to relinquish his estate’s profits to the government. This was unprecedented.

"My Lord, do you truly mean this?" Lancelot asked again.

"I do. A gentleman’s word is as swift as a horse’s gallop." Simon said, meeting Lancelot’s gaze head-on. He knew that dealing with this stubborn officer required directness. "My only concern is whether the soldiers will believe me. That’s why I need you to oversee this."

After a long pause, Lancelot nodded and spoke. "I will trust Your Highness once more. If you keep your word, I will devote my life to serving you, for you are a wise and just ruler. But if you go back on your promise, I will have no choice but to take my soldiers and seek another path."

"I’d rather not have a gang of bandits led by you roaming my land," Simon said lightly. Lancelot commanded great respect in the army. If he truly turned outlaw, many soldiers would follow him.

"In that case, leave convincing the soldiers to me," Lancelot said firmly.

The snowfall grew heavier, obscuring the road ahead. Now that Simon had confirmed the location of his estate and secured Lancelot’s support for the military farming plan, he had taken a crucial step forward.

The mercenary system had made the army a major financial burden.

With limited funds, he could barely sustain 5,000 troops in a territory meant to support a much larger force. The soldiers were ill-equipped and poorly supplied, little more than a band of brigands.

Given these dire conditions, the only way to change things was to implement the military farming system, reducing the army’s drain on the treasury.

This model was essentially a form of military settlement, a system that had appeared throughout history whenever resources were scarce.

On the way back, Simon continued explaining the logic behind the production-based military corps to Lancelot. He planned to divide the army into two groups: a Production Corps and a Construction Corps.

The Production Corps would focus on military farming and border defence.

The Construction Corps would handle mining, road building, and dam construction.

Lancelot, being a straightforward man, only had a basic understanding of the old military farming system. But after listening to Simon’s detailed explanation, he suddenly saw the bigger picture.

"My Lord, I was wrong to doubt you. This is a brilliant strategy! If that’s the case, we can immediately begin recruiting, expanding our forces from 5,000 to the full 50,000 soldiers our territory should support." Lancelot said.

Simon nodded. "We can, but we shouldn’t expand too quickly. Right now, we don’t have enough food to sustain such numbers. Let’s start by recruiting 5,000 more. Once the government farmlands yield their first harvest, we can expand further."

"I overlooked that," Lancelot admitted, smacking his forehead. Then he grinned. "But, My Lord, you promised that each soldier who completes their service will receive ten plots of farmland, which they can pass down for generations. The recruitment office is going to be swamped with eager applicants!"

"Hahaha!" Simon laughed. This policy was both a military incentive and an economic measure, designed to encourage enlistment. "Well, that’s your problem now, Lance. You handle it."

Lancelot froze for a moment, then chuckled. ’Lance’ was his nickname in the army. Hearing Simon call him that made him feel a newfound camaraderie with his lord.

Over the past month, Simon had come to understand that being a vassal prince was no easy task. He had to balance rewards and punishments, manage both governance and military affairs, maintain authority, and earn his subordinates’ trust.

Now, he could say he was truly working at full capacity.

Braving the heavy snow, the group of thirty riders headed back toward Brambleford City.

Halfway there, a vague silhouette appeared in the distance, another group of riders galloping toward them.

"Who goes there? Halt!" Lancelot suddenly shouted. The assassination attempts last time had made him highly vigilant.

The snowfall obscured their faces, making it impossible to tell if they were friend or foe.

In an instant, the thirty riders surrounding Simon formed a protective ring, bows drawn, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

But the approaching riders paid no heed to Lancelot’s warning, continuing their charge. As they drew closer, Lancelot raised his hand, preparing to give the order to fire.

Just then, a voice from the approaching group cried out. "Steward Roland, hold on!"

"Wait! It’s Roland!" Simon immediately ordered the soldiers to lower their bows.

Sure enough, as the group neared, it became clear that these were Roland and his men, who had been out searching for mineral deposits.

But Roland was slumped over his horse, an arrow lodged in his back.