When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 791 - 742: The Phoenix Will Not Perch on Withered Branches

The military judge was right; by nightfall, the battle indeed had ceased.

As if it was pre-arranged with the Holy Father, just as the fighting stopped, the rain that had poured all day came to a halt.

Not only did it stop, but the moon even appeared in the evening.

The Bether Infantry Corps was divided into three groups.

One group of wounded soldiers returned to Feldheim, another group of service soldiers stayed to salvage the Griffin Cannon, and the rest joined the convoy entering the temporary camp on the east bank of the Iron River.

In the camp, the warhorses snorted heavily, their skin and pupils twitching unnaturally and turning red.

This was a side effect of the potion they had consumed; for this battle, the nearby stationed Iron Fist Battle Group Commander, André, had exerted all his strength.

The Iron Fist Battle Group was the new army established in Hotam County by Moliat, using Mountain Knights as the main forces and officers, with André as the Battle Commander.

As for the other former leader of the Saint Sun Army, Valent Taylor, he was now a Priest-in-Charge in the Hotam County area.

At this moment, André had risen from a Falan deserter to the Battle Commander of the Iron Fist Battle Group, while the once high and mighty Duke of Redwood was now being led into this abandoned village hall in disgrace.

The Duke of Redwood was dressed in a beaver fur robe, with a bruise on his forehead and quite a bit of dried blood around his nostrils.

When André saw the Duke of Redwood enter, he greeted him with a grin and untied his ropes, "Your Grace, it's been three years since we last met. How have you been?"

The carved-like features of the Duke of Redwood's face twitched, and his eyes bulged nearly out of their sockets, "I should have killed you back then."

"We were dear friends who went to the academy together, how could you say such a thing?"

Back when André committed an offense, it was the then-second son of the nobility, the Duke of Redwood, who let André go.

Subsequently, the Duke's older brother passed away due to illness.

Nearing fifty, he had almost become a high-ranking officer but chose to retire and return to inherit the family estate.

Now, their reunion here highlighted the irony: one was a noble prisoner of war, and the other a civilian victor.

After the ropes were untied, the Duke of Redwood rubbed his head, "Your soldiers are as rough and disrespectful as you are. I've surrendered, yet they still humiliated me."

"That was a body search, to prevent you from carrying weapons."

"I've surrendered."

"Nothing can be done about that; that's how the regulations are written, and I can't change the regulations," André shrugged.

"You've caught me, in a mere skirmish, and managed to turn it into an annihilation battle," rubbing his wrists, the Duke of Redwood sighed, "Had you stayed in Falan, you might have become a Knight Commander."

"I'm not of noble birth, how could that happen?" André maintained his pleased smile, "Here, I'm a high-ranking officer commanding four to five thousand people."

The Duke of Redwood said nothing, and after a while, he continued, "I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"Where did you get so many spare troops to surround me?" The Duke of Redwood still couldn't figure it out.

"It's simple, just pull out the defense army."

"But wouldn't that leave the garrisons bare?"

"As long as I beat you, I can return the troops before the enemy finds out our vulnerability," André said nonchalantly.

Only someone who has commanded troops, like the Duke of Redwood, understands how difficult this truly is.

He wrote over a dozen letters for help, hoping nearby forces would come to the rescue.

They were much closer to the battlefield than André, yet the battle concluded without their arrival.

After holding back for a long time, the Duke of Redwood finally let go of all his energy, "You really are a genius, André."

André smiled slightly but did not explain.

It wasn't him who was the genius; he was merely the user of this tool, not its creator.

"I still don't understand."

"What do you still not understand?"

"Why a lawless and wanton genius bastard like you doesn't head to Norn to make a name for yourself but stays in this little Thousand River Valley?"

In his early years in the Falan Army, the Duke of Redwood was once André's superior.

He loved André's knack for seizing battle opportunities and his capability for large-scale troop command.

Yet he loathed André's disobedience, his reckless actions, and disregard for military orders, not to mention his poorly disciplined soldiers.

This André was inherently a slick realist.

In the Thousand River Valley Holy Alliance, a country full of idealism, he was evidently out of place.

"Have you read 'The Holy Path's Salvation Doctrine'?"

"You can't seriously believe in that damn 'Holy Path's Salvation Doctrine'?" The Duke of Redwood couldn't believe his ears.

André half sighed, half laughed, "I've memorized the 'Holy Path's Salvation Sermon', if you want me to perform, I can outdo even the fanatics."

"Then why... why are you doing this? You must know, if Leia can't clean up Thousand River Valley, then the Falan and Norn people surely will." The Duke of Redwood still frowned, "Since you don't believe in the Holy Path, and the Holy Alliance clearly can't offer you the status and honor of a lord, why do you still fight for them?"

"Because there's no future being a lord."

Seeing the Duke of Redwood's puzzled expression, André dragged a chair and sat opposite the Duke.

"Previously, to form a new army, I advanced my studies at the Saint Danji War School for three months." André slightly lifted his head, as if reminiscing, "Once, the Saint's Grandson personally came to give us a lecture, titled 'Why Must We Expel the Devil?'

"I thought he was going to recite some cliché about lords oppressing farmers, but what he said was something I still remember vividly to this day."

Sitting across from the Duke of Redwood, André seemed to have returned to that lecture.

"...Lords or landlords, they themselves do not labor, their business is not agriculture, but rent collection, or you could even say it's finance.

For landlords, they don't care about the harvest; their sole purpose is for the farmers to pay rent on time, with no desire or necessity for improvement.

Take the Kush people, for instance; due to large-scale land encroachment, they have the willingness to invest in and improve the land to maintain their living and family relations.

Count Enrico is a typical example.

Generally speaking, whether it's a count, a knight, or even a large landlord, they don't care about the yield of grain or the state of agriculture.

Perhaps for them personally, this path is the most stable and suitable.

But for everyone else, it means eternal stagnation, do you know why?"

Just as André did back then, the Duke of Redwood asked the same question: "Why?"

"Do you know how many years it takes for a knight to recover the cost after occupying an acre of land through war?"

"Uh..." The Duke, who leaves all household affairs to the steward, only knows to attend banquets and socialize, was naturally speechless.

André shook his head helplessly, "An acre of good farmland only needs three years to recover the cost, while a poor acre needs five to ten years.

Based on the current tax rates, the annualized rate for an acre of good land is over 30%."

"Annualized rate? 30%?" A stream of unheard Elvish words jumped out of André's mouth, making the Duke's mind somewhat overloaded.

"You can simply understand the annualized rate as how much the annual income has grown, thirty percent means a threefold increase." André picked up a branch and drew some incomprehensible formulas in the sand tray.

"In other words, a lord's daily life has become a cycle of merging land, collecting rents, saving money, waging wars, merging land again..."

The Duke of Redwood listened more and more uneasily, "What's wrong with that? Hasn't it always been this way for a thousand years?"

"That's precisely the problem." Discarding the branch, André wiped his hands, "The population is increasing but the land is limited, the influx of precious metals and cheap grain from the Royal Court has overwhelmed the grain market.

The knights and the people desire land and money even more fiercely.

The Empire is full of refugees, suppression is needed from time to time.

Lords who do not labor hide their gold and silver underground or lend it at high interest through the Holy Seat Bank.

The granaries are full of grain while millions of Miseria's believers wander starving, how is this different from the Fire Prison?"

From André's perspective, his words were exceedingly grating to the high noble Duke of Redwood.

This blatant division of interests was difficult for him as a noble to withstand.

But as a former second son of a noble family and a well-educated student from the University of Falan, the Duke of Redwood had to admit that André was right.

No matter where in the Empire, even in the wealthy Falan Kingdom, knights still needed to continuously suppress the refugees to reduce the population.

Just like the lemmings fighting each other in the Roaring Corridor, if they aren't killed, there's no way for everyone to survive.

"Five percent of the population takes away ninety-five percent of the Empire's wealth, what can they consume? How much can they consume?

The Holy Alliance lowers agricultural taxes and suppresses high-interest loans, distributing the money held by the lords and the church to the majority.

With money in their hands, the consumption of the majority far exceeds that of the few.

Only the consumption by the majority can generate sufficient demand, and with demand, enough jobs are created.

With jobs, workers and citizens have something to do.

With work, there's money, and with money they can buy grain, then the money goes back to the farmers.

Everyone gets what they want.

So, the Holy Alliance seeks to suppress all industries with annualized returns higher than those of industry, with the two primary targets being land rental and high-interest loans.

This is a result born entirely of reality and rationality, not of his personal preference."

Seeing the Duke of Redwood's lips move, unable to say anything, André patted him on the shoulder, "I don't know if you believe it or not, but I believe it."

Straightening up, André looked directly into the Duke of Redwood's eyes: "Lords are inevitably obsolete, and I have a premonition that in the future, Thousand River Valley will grow into a monster that makes the Empire tremble.

A phoenix won't perch on withered branches, and though it's just a sapling, I believe it will become a towering tree."