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Afterwards, he took this elite force and quietly crossed the Pindus Mountains and entered Pharsalus, ready to make a big move and open the eyes of Luther's daughter, the war commander of the Ottoman Empire.

Chapter 203: Tax Farmer

In the village of Zolfi near the Pindus Mountains in the territory of Pharsalus, some old elves, after cultivating the land, gathered together and sat under the ridges in the sunset, lamenting the impermanence of life.

When they were children, they witnessed the glory of the Roman Empire, and watched it decline step by step. They had seen everything in their life, but after the Ottomans came, they felt that they had not seen enough. The Roman Empire collected 30% of the tax out of 100%; the Crusaders collected 40% of the tax out of 100%, of which the lords collected 20% and the pope collected 20%; and now the Ottomans came, and the tax of these Turkic tax farmers was 60% of the tax out of 100! And even if the production was reduced in a disaster year, it was calculated as 60% of the full production! It really didn't give people a way to survive.

However, they really had no other choice. Could they abandon the land and property they had cultivated for so long and run away on their skinny donkeys with their stored food on their backs? Where could they run to?

A group of people chatted for a while, dragged their farm tools, and went home listlessly and exhausted. Among the adobe, thatched, and wooden houses, there was an exquisite three-story house wrapped in stone walls that stood out like a crane among chickens. The red dome seemed to fall into the setting sun in the western mountains, standing in the purple-blue vineyard - that was the manor of the local tax farmer: Skern. A team of elves in white robes and white turbans patrolled and garrisoned here all the time, with spears in their hands, scimitars on their waists, and bows and arrows behind them flashing terrifying cold light.

The high elf in the lead was wearing an impenetrable chain mail. The soft chain mail, also known as mail, covered his entire body, and vital parts such as the chest were reinforced with iron plates. It was a common protective gear in Central Asia.

Skene was originally the largest landowner in the area, but when the Ottoman army arrived, his assets and houses were not plundered or liquidated. Instead, he was transformed into a local tax farmer. However, it is said that his favorite concubines disappeared forever.

When the harvest season came, this guy would bring his Turkish lackeys awarded by the Ottoman Empire and go door to door to collect 60% of the crops. Anyone who dared not to pay or pay less would be beaten. The remaining food was barely enough for everyone to live, and they maintained a half-living state for many years.

"Why are you back so early today? Isn't the sun still setting? Have I finished my tasks of pest control, fertilization, and irrigation in the fields?!"

An elf dressed in brocade and silk said arrogantly. There was not a speck of dust on his exquisite clothes, which formed a sharp contrast with the farmers whose clothes were covered with mud. Behind him stood five armed servants and guards. An elf who looked young but wore heavy makeup and dressed very seductively was fanning him with a cattail leaf fan.

"Master Sken, it's done, it's done."

Several farmers said timidly.

"It would be best if you finish it. If the harvest is not good this year, I will use the seeds you planted in the fall and winter to pay the tax! Get lost!"

Skene waved his hand disdainfully and told these people to leave quickly.

Just after the farmers returned home, a cloud of dust rose from the distant plain. A few elves with sensitive hearing lay on the ground and immediately heard the sound of horse hooves trampling the earth. The sound was like a war drum and thunder, getting closer and closer to their village!

For a moment, Sken was panicked. He heard that there was a Scoia'tael nearby. A group of high elf rangers dared to resist the rule of the Ottomans, fighting guerrilla warfare, burning, killing and looting everywhere. Would they attack him?

He packed up the couch in a panic, and retreated back to the manor with his servants and his lover, closing the gate and keeping on guard. The elves with white turbans holding bows and arrows climbed up to the three-story attic and aimed and shot through the windows.

In the distance, they saw a small black dot, which spread into a black mist of death, and then refined into fully armed fallen angels. These rebellious Janissaries continued to use the legion's black paint, wearing black robes over their silver armor, with the six-winged sword decorations on them unchanged. Alleria's rangers also changed into corresponding equipment - Luther brought a lot of these costumes when he rebelled.

The one rushing in the front was an elf wearing a golden mask and gold-studded armor, standing at a full two meters and five meters tall. A pair of purple pupils, hidden in the golden mask, flickered with the fire of catastrophic desire. On his back was a young Gorgon! A legendary monster!

Seeing this scene, Sken was so scared that he pissed himself. This is the Janissary! Dark angels of the First Legion, quickly open the door to welcome them!

Aenarion was leading this group of soldiers in Dark Angel uniforms. Before they even got close to the village, they saw a group of people rushing out of the manor, rushing towards them, and then kneeling on the side of the road and kowtowing. He had only learned Turkic for a few months and could only have basic conversations. He was afraid of exposing his flaws, so he waved his hand and asked a fallen angel to have a conversation and ask about the specific operating principles of the tax farming system here.

"Hey! The boy kneeling on the roadside, who are you attacking?"

The fallen angel said arrogantly.

"I am Sken, the tax farmer of Zolfi."

That brocade flower

The elf in robe said respectfully.

"Then let me ask you, how much food do you harvest from this village every year?!"

The fallen angel continued to ask questions.

"Why...why are you asking this? Aren't the imperial army and taxation in the same system?"

Skene looked up in confusion, and then was hit hard on the back with a whip, making him scream.

"Just say what you're told to say! Why are you talking so much nonsense!"

"I say! I say! The tax officer of Pharsalus gave me a quota! He asked me to pay a fixed amount of grain every year! Those ogres walked around without measuring the land, but counted the heads, and then said that based on the average of 360 mu of land per farmer, there are a total of 108 households in my village. He directly calculated for me that I have mu of land, and the harvest of grain is kilograms per mu, which means an annual harvest of tons. He asked me to pay % every year, which is tons of various grains as taxes!"

Skene lay on the ground trembling with fear and confessed everything like a pug. He didn't know what had happened to the Ottomans and why the army suddenly wanted to take care of tax matters, but he knew that neither the Ottoman officials nor the soldiers were people he could afford to offend.

"Whether it is a disaster or a good year, I must pay 108 tons of grain to the tax collector of Pharsalus, not a single grain of wheat less. Then, I will be given the right to collect taxes for the entire village of Zulfi. Every year when there is a good harvest, you will receive a fixed income, and I will be responsible for my own profits and losses."

Aenarion was a little surprised. Although he had looked down on the tax farming system of the Ottoman Empire before, he did not expect it to be so rough. The officials of Pharsalus were too lazy to even measure the land. The agricultural tax was actually calculated by counting several households?

"What about you? How much do you charge?"

"Well, sir, didn't you say I could collect whatever I wanted? I pay taxes every year, not even a grain of rice owed. You ask this..."

The fallen angel raised his whip and pretended to whip him, which frightened him so much that he begged for mercy.

"I say! I say! I can't do this job at a loss, right? The Ottoman Empire wants 216%, so I take % too! We collect about tons of grain from them every year! I keep half for myself and give the other half to the tax collector in Pharsalus!"

"With so much grain, should the tax collector come to the countryside in person to collect it, or should you go to the city of Pharsalus to pay it?"

"Of course I will pay it. Pharsalus governs so many villages. How can I trouble the Turkic master to come down and collect the money in person?"

Siken became more and more humble and kept kowtowing.

"Then what if you don't hand in enough grain, or even no grain at all? Do you need to go in person to hand in the grain?"

The fallen angel continued his questioning.

"In that case, the tax collector will send people to collect the taxes, or even contact the army, send auxiliary soldiers, or even have the Janissaries go to the countryside to see what's going on. I really need to go there in person. The tax collector in Pharsalus has kept files of all the tax farmers' portraits and information."

Aenarion looked around the village. It was already April and the harvest season was about to come. The mottled wheat fields, a mixture of green and yellow, stretched to the end of the sight, giving the fallen angel several new questions to ask.

"Is it true that there are only 3,600 acres of farmland in your village? Tell the truth."

"Um, it's actually 4,400 acres."

Sken was sweating profusely, wondering what was wrong with these Janissaries.

"So, you collect 60% of the 4,400 acres from the farmers, and then give 30% of the 3,600 acres to the Turks? That's a real punishment, there's a judge."

"No, no, no, I will only take 60% of the 3,600 acres! If I take all of it, it will really drive people crazy!"

The fallen angel snorted coldly at Sken's frantic defense, looked at Aenarion, and waited for his next instruction, but Aenarion just shook his head and ordered him to return to the team, then left Zolfi Village in the frightened eyes of the tax collector.

Fortunately, we have a complete system of officials, and the schools are continuously training and cultivating new officials, who are then sent to every town and even every village. The grassroots control capabilities are adequate, otherwise the tax-farming system would be disgusting.

Aenarion ordered the Janissaries to act separately. They spent a week investigating thirty or forty villages near the Pindus Mountains and interrogated thirty or forty tax farmers. They found that everyone's statements were consistent with Skene's. They also carefully investigated the nearby terrain and road conditions. The first stage of the work was now completed and they could really start.

Chapter 204: Spear of Longinus

On the eighth day, Aenarion, carrying the little Gorgon on his back, led the fallen angels back to Zolphi Village. Gorgon, like snakes, is a cold-blooded creature and likes warm environments, such as Aenarion's arms and Aenarion's back. After leaving the nest, the little girl basically just lay on him and snored.

The local tax farmer, Skeen, came out tremblingly to greet them again, and was pinned to the ground by the fallen angel along with his servants. With just a few men, he could only suppress the peasants of a village. To the fallen angel, they were not even qualified to fill his teeth. Under the stunned gaze of the whole village, Aenarion gathered all the people in the village in the open space.

"Stand up, tax farmer, and speak in front of everyone in your village! How much tax do the Ottomans let you collect?!"

Aenarion took out the Spear of Dionysus and gently placed it against Sken's neck.

The fine golden spears on the reliefs and murals made Sken's eyes widen and cold sweats broke out all over his body - anyone with a little knowledge could see that this thing was the Spear of Dionysus.

Legend has it that Jesus was shot and killed by the Spear of Longinus, which was forged by all the gods of old Rome. However, his blood spread out and transformed the person who held the spear into a most devout believer of Christ. He himself was resurrected three days later because of his immortality.

Later, the holy spear broke into three parts and scattered across Europe, and was recast by various monarchs. One of them was still called the Spear of Longinus, and the other two became the Spear of Apollo and the Spear of Bacchus respectively. The person who recast the Spear of Bacchus was the emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire, and he gave it to successive war generals for use.

Then, the identity of the person in front of him was obvious. He was the recently popular warlord of the Eastern Roman Empire, Aenarion, the Despot of Athens! These people were not the Janissaries, but damn fallen angels!

"Aren't you going to tell me yet?"

Aenarion gently swung the spear, leaving a faint blood mark on his neck. Sken suddenly felt a sharp pain in his brain. This attack was not only costing him his life, but also hurting his spirit and soul. The magic power on the ring was also shattered by this blow. The life-saving ring that he was so proud of suddenly lost its magic!

"I say! I say! The Ottomans only collect 30% of our grain revenue every year!"

Sken said fearfully.

"What? Only 30%? That's it? Then why do you usually charge me so much???"

"Asshole! What the hell did you tell us for decades? You said the Ottomans wanted 70%! You persuaded them to lower it to 60%!"

"Kill this Turkic dog!"

For a moment, the peasants in the audience were excited and waved their hoes in a pretend manner, but no one really dared to kill. After all, the fallen angel and Alleria's ranger on the side looked very scary, and these uneducated peasants naturally had no idea who Aenarion was.

"I can't do anything about it! All tax farmers do the same thing! The Ottomans want a quota! Even if we encounter a locust plague and have no harvest, they still want a quota of grain! If we can't give it, our whole village will be ruined!"

Sken looked at the excited villagers, then at the fully-armed fallen angels, and was so frightened that he wet his pants.

"You have been taking extra food from them for so many years. Now, it's time to be punished! Open the warehouse and release the food."

Aenarion waved his hand, and the high elf soldiers happily kicked open the door of their manor and searched out treasures worth 20,000 silver coins and sixty to seventy tons of grain - these were sixty to seventy tons near the harvest season. Being an Ottoman tax farmer was really a lucrative business.

Each member of the 300-man army kept 30 silver coins as an extra reward, and took away three tons of food to supplement the food consumption of the week and reserve food for the future. The rest were distributed to the local farmers, making them cheer loudly with joy. They took the reward money and food like crazy, carrying them on donkeys and pushing them in carts back home. It took two hours before the whole thing was barely over.

"Thank you, General, for your heroic act. I wonder if you are..."

After the peasants put all the things in their pockets, they looked at Aenarion with gratitude.

"Everyone, I am Aenarion, the Warmaster of the Eastern Roman Empire and the Despot of Athens. We defeated the Warmaster of the Ottoman Empire in Athens! The little girl fled back with her tail between her legs, and one-third of the Dark Angels returned from their lost ways, taking up arms to fight for our fellow elves and our Roman Empire!

At this moment, the army is about to march north to recapture the Thessaly Basin! Let the flag of the Roman Empire fly again in the sky of Pharsalus! But before that, I will come here in person to liberate you. "

Aenarion held the Spear of Dionysus high in the air and swung it violently, so that the large red flag with four betas printed on it, which was tied to the flagpole, fluttered in the wind.

For a moment, some old elves were so moved that they knelt down. They had never expected that in their lifetime, they would be able to see the royal army set foot in the old land of Thessaly again. They excitedly used the various foods they had just collected to make delicious dishes, and took the Roman royal army to take care of the soldiers who had just received money and food for them, just like taking care of their own brothers and sisters. At this moment, Skene had given up defending himself and knelt on the ground with a gloomy face, waiting for death to come.

"I'll give you one more chance, Sken."

After everyone finished their meal in peace, Aenarion said coldly.

"You'd better not think about going to Pharsalus to sue the officials. I won't touch your manor or your land. These fields are enough for you to live a life of a local tycoon. But the land that these farmers have cultivated in the past all belongs to them. If you want to collect taxes this year, you can take 30% of the tax to Pharsalus. If you dare to collect more than one cent, I will let you know that sometimes death is also a luxury."

"Of course, of course! Warmaster! I was forced to do this by those Turks! I am also a high elf! Welcome to the Empire to rule this land again!"

When Sken heard that he would not die, his eyes lit up immediately and he knelt down before Aenarion, kowtowed continuously until his forehead was almost broken.

After eating and drinking, Aenarion confiscated all his weapons and armor, led his army to the next village, and repeated his liberation steps.

"Eh? You're not going to kill him? That mortal looks shifty and doesn't seem like someone who keeps his promises."

Sisina's slender blue-gold snake tail wrapped around him.

She straightened her waist to prevent herself from falling, and hung on Aenarion like a koala. At this moment, the soft and tender human body climbed to his chest, raised her white and tender cheeks with some baby fat, fluttered her beautiful eyes like emeralds, and asked curiously.

"It's useless to kill him. Osman will send out the next tax farmer. Then I will have to repeat the process of collecting tax farmers and dividing the land, money and grain. That will be even more troublesome. Besides, we are still counting on this guy to pay the taxes in June this year."

Aenarion teaches the little girl.

"I didn't expect to scare that guy in one go. As soon as we leave, he will definitely notify the garrison in Pharsalus and take back the food and money from the people. However, the entire Pharsalus has a population of about 80,000 to 90,000. The Thessaly Basin is one of the most densely populated areas in Greece, with nearly a million people, but this place only has 6,000 Janissaries. Do you think they can handle it?"

Sisina fiddled with her fingers and calculated using the division method taught by Aenarion. A level 4 Janissary would be in charge of about 166 people. With this calculation, each village could only be assigned two or three Janissaries at most, not even half a team, so it was indeed impossible to manage them all.

"Yeah, I'm good at math."

Aenarion touched Sisina's head. Her dark green hair was as smooth as silk, and the little girl smiled proudly.

"So, if the tax farmer dares to do this, we will go back after a while and rob him a few times. Then he will learn his lesson and know that Osman can only protect him for a short time, not for his whole life. And we are always nearby! Unless he wants to abandon his land and ancestral home and run away, he can only do what we say."

"Oh, I understand!"

Sisina suddenly realized.

"At the same time, those mortals have their money and food robbed repeatedly by the tax collector, and you have repeatedly helped them. They will know that when the Ottomans come, their money and food will be robbed, and when the Romans come, they will be given money and food. Even if some of these mortals don't want to fight, or even hate Rome, but if this happens a few times, they will definitely turn against us and stand on our side!"

Chapter 205: The Art of Skinning

Sure enough, as soon as Aenarion left with his army, Sken immediately returned to his usual self. His face was gloomy, and he looked at the people who had taken away all his money and food with gritted teeth. He wished he could rush into their homes and take back his property.

However, with all his weapons and armor taken away, he indeed lost the ability to suppress the local people. He had no money to pay their wages, and his servants and some hired thugs were unwilling to follow his orders.

There was no other way, so that night he sent his son to Pharsalus to call for help and told the Ottoman officials everything that had happened there, especially the news that Aenarion, the Eastern Roman warlord, was active there and that a group of dark angels were following him.

After hearing the news, the ogres and elf officials of Farsalus expressed that they were in a stable mood. There have been many rebellions in Farsalus recently, and this must be an attack by the rebels on the tax farmers. This guy must have done it on purpose, trying to make the matter sound serious and attract our attention.

A Roman general and Athenian tyrant, bringing 300 men to a village to collect taxes? Is he crazy? What is he trying to do?

As for the Roman Warmaster leading a group of Dark Angels? ? ? Are you kidding me? Our Legion Commander has said that the First Legion has no secrets and the Dark Angels have never betrayed. Are you kidding me?

Ryan covered up the fallen angel so thoroughly that it backfired here.

However, this matter was indeed a bit bad, and Governor Pharsalus immediately contacted the Dark Angels stationed there. Through a series of complicated bureaucratic operations, he finally asked the Dark Angels stationed in Pharsalus to take action. The Dark Angels stationed here saw that it was a trivial matter in just one village, so they sent a small team of Janissaries to Zolfi Village.

After they understood what was happening, they rolled their eyes, took some old weapons from the monastery warehouse and gave them to Sken, asking him to rebuild his own retainers' forces, and then cooperate with these militiamen to start suppressing the rebellion. With his armor, he blocked the attacks of several farmers' dung forks without any damage, and stabbed four or five people with his spears, which made these elves who had no combat experience feel fear and collapsed at the first touch. The suppression was completed in less than an hour, and several of the most fierce resistance leaders were captured.

The Janissaries then ordered them to gather once again in the square in the center of the village.

"Listen to me, everyone! The Ottomans still rule the world! Rome has fallen! The royal army you are expecting will never come back! The things you took from my house a few days ago, hurry up and bring them back to me! Otherwise, you will end up like him! This man resisted the Turkic master most fiercely, and now the Janissaries are going to execute him, watch carefully!

Oh, by the way, after the harvest this year, I can harvest whatever I want! I don’t know who dares to resist! "

Skene carried a long sword arrogantly and spoke with the power of others behind ten murderous dark angels.

A Janissary also began to carry out the punishment. In front of everyone's angry and fearful gazes, he hung up a villager who had resisted the most fiercely and was crippled by the Janissaries. Then he pulled out a knife used to skin wild animals and, amid horrifying screams, he skinned off his skin alive.

The face revealed patches of pink, bleeding, fresh muscle.

The two rows of teeth without lips were exposed to the air. The eyeballs without eyelids were only connected by a few blood vessels and nerves, hanging on the bloody eye sockets, almost falling. Even the nose was cut off, revealing two bleeding scarlet holes. The elf's slender ears and long golden hair were completely attached to the thin face. He almost cut the man's head into a bloody oval shape without any bulges with a knife.

The bright red blood dripped all over his body, and the horrible smell of blood filled the entire square. The Janissaries did not stop, stripping off the clothes of the resisting man and began to peel off his skin. Once the tortured man screamed and became weak, they splashed water on him to wake him up. The guy fainted in the pain and was woken up again by the pain. The horrible scene of repeated torture frightened people and trembled with fear. Skene swallowed his saliva and was also frightened by the cruel methods of the Janissaries.