“What do you mean they work for free?” Varre repeated, shocked, “nobody works for free.”

  “Well, that’s just what it means to be a serf, your majesty,” Dutton stammered, “you graciously allow them to live on your land, and in exchange they work for you!”

  The king raised an eyebrow. “And they’re okay with this?”

  The magistrate scoffed. “They’re just peasants. I don’t think it matters what they think.”

  Varre glared at him. “Are they here willingly? Can they leave if they don’t want to work for me anymore?”

  Dutton grimaced, “Well, no… but that’s how it has always been, your majesty. They get to live under your protection and in exchange they work for you. Everyone benefits.”

  “So they’re slaves?” the king asked.

  “No! No, absolutely not,” the magistrate frantically shook his head, “we’re not like those foreign barbarians! We do not practice slavery here in Logres, of course. Not for centuries.”

  “But if they can’t leave and they have no choice but to work for me…” Varre responded angrily.

  “They’re serfs, your majesty,” Dutton slowly said, trying to calm down the monarch, “it’s completely different, I assure you.”

  The king crossed his arms. “How so?”

  The magistrate had no clear answer. Benjamin decided to jump in and fill the awkward silence. “They cannot be sold, your majesty. They are attached to their land. You could sell the entire village of course, but the peasants will remain in their homes.”

  “Unless they’re criminals,” Elvira added. Her expression suggested that she too was unhappy about the way this system functioned. “If they are captured as outlaws, or war prisoners, they can be sold freely.”

  “Yes, that may be true,” the chamberlain nodded, “but we do not have any auction houses like the other, backwards nations that practice slavery. If those deals happen,” he paused, “when they happen, it’s a private agreement between individuals. Not some grand public affair.”

  “War prisoners. Great,” Varre grit his teeth, “and which crimes exactly turn someone into this outlaw?”

  “That’s up to their liege to decide, unfortunately,” Elvira said, “and it’s not like anyone can overrule that decision. If some noble wants to, they’re free to declare some poor peasant an outlaw and get rid of them, or sell them.”

  “Yes, tragedies like that do happen,” Benjamin admitted, “but, your majesty, they are very rare.”

  “I don’t care how rare it is,” the king replied, looking straight at Dutton, “it shouldn’t be happening at all.”

  “Forgive me, your majesty,” the magistrate meekly said, “it’s just how things have always been done.”

  “Your majesty, if I may,” the chamberlain cut-in, “the serfs do not have an easy life, that is true. But there is another thing that separates them from slaves. Slaves get nothing in exchange. They’re only fed enough food to survive to live another day. But peasants receive their own plot of land and can farm it to their heart’s content.”

  “That’s right!” Dutton, sensing a way out of this dangerous situation, jumped on it like a drowning man trying to grab onto a lifeboat, “your majesty, each and every one of your serfs is assigned an allotment of land! They grow their own crops and eat as much as they wish. They can even sell the surplus! I do not tell them what to do with it or control it in any way!”

  Varre squinted his eyes “So you’re telling me that they are renting the land from me? And they pay me in labor instead of coin?”

  “It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?!” the magistrate urged, excited, “they’d have nothing otherwise! They’d be forced to beg in the cities, or go out into the woods to try to scrape out a living in the wilderness. Here, they’re free to work for themselves!” he chuckled, “besides, where would a peasant like that even scrape enough coin together to make paying you worthwhile. There’s not enough merchants in the nearby towns.”

  “So do I provide them with food and lodging then?” the king asked, “I suppose it’s not that bad if they can keep a sizeable portion of their harvest for themselves. Though I still don’t like that they’re not allowed to leave.”

  “Well, almost,” Dutton admitted, “you owe some of the fields, and everything they grow there is for your profit. And they have separate fields which they use to provide for themselves, you see? That’s what the plot of land is for. They build their own house on it, and grow their own crops. They feed themselves, and sell whatever’s left over.”

  “Which isn’t much,” Elvira pressed.

  Varre sighed. “So how much time do they have to work for me, and how much for themselves?”

  “Four days for you, your majesty,” the magistrate explained, “and three on their own.”

  The king rubbed his temples. “And when do they rest?”

  “Rest?” Dutton seemed surprised, “just look at them. They’re lazy bastards. Look at how slowly they’re working. We have to constantly watch them to make sure they’re doing their jobs or we won’t get anywhere!”

  Varre observed the peasants closer. Indeed, now that the conversation was growing heated, many have stopped their labor and observed their lord with interest. Still, they seemed rather panicky. As soon as they noticed the gaze of their masters upon them, they quickly returned to their duties.

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  If this is what he calls lazy, the king thought to himself, then I’d hate to see what hard work would be like. The serfs were already trudging knee-deep in the stream as they hammered nails into the wooden planks holding the bridge together. Others were carrying material back at forth. Without wheelbarrows they had to use their bare hands. They certainly weren’t running, but they kept up a solid pace.

  “They seem to be doing fine to me,” the monarch argued.

  “I assure you, that’s only because you’ve started watching them, your majesty,” the magistrate replied.

  “I don’t think they even realize who you are, your majesty,” Elvira added, “they know you’re their liege, but not that you have been crowned. If they did, they’d be a lot more scared.”

  “You’re right, I apologize. I should teach them a lesson,” Dutton said, rolling up his sleeves.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Varre warned.

  The magistrate immediately froze. He turned around with a frightened expression. “Your majesty? These are your serfs. They need to understand how to properly treat you.”

  The king put his hand on Dutton’s shoulder. “Look. Of course, they’re taking things easy. How could they not? You’re working them to the bone. They need every moment they can get to rest.”

  The official gulped. He kept his gaze low, but decided to answer, certain that his point of view would end up winning out in the end. “I’ve seen them on their off days, your majesty. Trust me, they are trying to cheat you by wasting time here.”

  Varre pressed the man’s shoulder down a little more. “If we force them to spend most of their time working for someone else, then of course they’ll try to conserve their energy. They must be ready to work for themselves, or they’ll simply starve!”

  “I… understand that you’re upset, your majesty,” Dutton carefully replied, “but please understand me as well. This is how things have always been done. And three days for themselves is plenty generous. Some lords only give them two. Some of them even demand that the peasants’ wives or eldest sons must join in the labor. The conditions in Lindridge are rather comfortable in comparison.”

  The king’s frown deepened.

  “Your majesty,” Benjamin stepped closer, trying to stop the situation before it devolved any further, “it is commendable that you care about the lives of your subjects, but this is not something that can be changed in a day. Like Dutton said,” he nudged towards the man, trying to convince the monarch to let him go, “our kingdom, and all of our neighbors, have been working in the exact same way for generations. Centuries even. It might seem a little cruel to you, but it has kept our people fed and the kingdom safe for all this time.”

  Varre let go of the man, but crossed his arms. “It cannot continue.”

  “Why don’t you discuss such bold ideas with the council?” the chamberlain suggested, “this is not the time or the place for politics. And your poor magister,” he nodded towards Dutton again, “is just one man. He’s only been doing what he’d been assigned to do. Please don’t punish him for that.”

  “Fine,” the king said and took a step back, “I agree that stopping this system in Lindridge alone is not enough. But there will be no more beatings from now on. And you will go easier on these poor folk. Understood?”

  “Of course, your majesty,” the magistrate replied and bowed deeply, “I appreciate your wise and merciful decision.”

  Varre sighed and took a step away from the group. This is ridiculous, he thought to himself, but he has a point. If everyone else in this damned world is fine with this, I might stick out too much if I go against this. I need to keep my emotions in check a little better. Especially with this damned Esther nearby. Who knows what she’s thinking right now?

  As he stood off to the side, he watched the peasants at work. The loud argument has clearly motivated them to put in even more effort. Or rather scared them. An angry lord would be likely to try and take out his fury on his own subjects and there was nothing they could do to stop him. It was best to appear busy, work hard, and avoid sticking out.

  The king sighed and tried to give them some encouraging smiles. He didn’t want to terrify them even more.

  Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Elvira had decided to join him.

  “I am a little surprised, your majesty,” she smiled warmly, “I already knew you were different. But I didn’t expect a noble to notice the plight of his lowest subjects. Let alone step up for them. That’s new.”

  “I’m not a noble,” Varre replied dismissively, “I’m a king.”

  “Ah yes. That explains everything,” she laughed.

  The monarch chuckled too.

  “You know, I was a little hesitant about taking this position at first,” Elvira admitted, “of course, becoming a Court Mage would be one of the greatest honors of my life no matter who I served, but I expected someone cruel. Someone who wouldn’t give a damn about the commoners in his nation. Someone with whom I’d need to fight all the time for every little improvement. Especially with the rumors about you that were going around at the time.”

  “You believed that I murdered my uncle?” Varre asked.

  She grimaced. “And almost your entire dynasty. Sorry. But even you have to admit that the whole situation was a little suspicious. I hope you don’t mind me saying that now,” she smiled awkwardly.

  “I suppose I can’t blame you for that,” the king chuckled, “why’d you accept the position then?”

  Elvira sighed. “I didn’t have much choice. Someone needed to replace Tobias and there aren’t many other senior mages in the guild. And you know how much I disdain Kadmos.”

  “Can’t blame you for that either,” Varre joked.

  “That was my first sign that maybe you were someone worth following, you know?” she said, “when I told you that story about the archmage refusing to send help to the slums until the disease got too bad, you were furious. And now, it happened again. You don’t like seeing these people suffer, even if they’re far below your station.”

  “It’s not right,” the king shook his head, “there is nothing special about these people that gives them the right to abuse others. If Dutton, Kadmos, or hell, even I, just happened to be born in that shack instead,” he pointed to one of the houses, “we’d be the ones on the bottom of society.”

  “That’s not something I’d ever imagine to come from monarch,” she giggled, “I thought you were all about divine mandates. You were all chosen to lead us by the very gods!”

  “Maybe we are. Even I must admit that the circumstances around my ascension to the throne were a little… too lucky,” he replied, “but come on. If I had just decided to attend that fateful dinner, then you’d have Charles sitting on my throne instead. A single-second decision could have completely changed everything.”

  “Perhaps the gods chose wisely then,” Elvira offered.

  Varre smiled. “Perhaps they had,” he sighed and looked out onto the peasants again, “and do you know what the worst part is? That all of these decisions, all of these abuses, are not even worth it in the end! The peasants are overworked and unmotivated. The land is poorly managed. It’s just inefficient,” he shook his head, “kindness isn’t chosen by those too weak to be cruel. Cruelty is chosen by those too stupid to see the downsides.”

  “Yep,” she replied, “definitely wisely.”

  Elvira gave him a curtsy and left him alone, rejoining the rest of the group. Dutton was still too cowed to decide whether the tour of the property should continue or not. Benjamin also decided to give his liege some more time to cool down.

  Varre took one last look at the peasants and decided to follow the Court Mage. Maybe I don’t stick out as much as I feared, he thought to himself, maybe not everyone is fine with the way this world is after all.

  They lasted for a thousand years across a continent with dozens of kingdoms and systems. If not hundreds.

  Some systems were even harsher than this, others softer.