The next day, the town tax officer appointed by Barnett arrived at Barnett's private office.
"Taxes?" Barnett asked in confusion. "You can even do that?"
"Yes, Chief. We now have over two thousand town residents and more than three thousand rural residents. Our plan for the head tax is as follows: urban dwellers pay two copper coins per month, and rural residents pay one copper coin per month. Ten copper coins make one silver coin, and ten silver coins make one gold coin. By this calculation, the total monthly head tax we can collect is seventy gold coins.
As for commercial taxes… our town still has a few shops, and they manage to sell a few goods. That brings in about fifty gold coins a month.
Additionally, the farmers within your domain, who are ultimately your serfs, are required to pay a land tax of thirty gold coins per month.
In total, under a medium tax rate, your monthly income amounts to one hundred and fifty gold coins."
"…One hundred and fifty gold coins, huh?" Barnett knocked his head lightly. "If I remember correctly, upgrading a high-level Town Center costs one thousand gold coins—so even if I do absolutely nothing, I still wouldn't be able to afford upgrading to a large town after six months?"
"That's about right. But, Chief, you could increase the tax rate. We're currently only using a standard tax rate. There are also high and very high tax tiers available," the tax officer suggested.
"Forget it," Barnett shook his head. "How much gold do we have in the treasury now?"
"Roughly five thousand gold coins. That's what our tribe has hoarded from decades of raiding and pillaging," the tax officer replied.
"So what would happen if we lowered the tax rate?" Barnett asked.
"First, our treasury income would certainly decrease."
"No kidding!"
"Second, it could attract more vagrants and refugees to settle in the town."
"—That's enough. That second one alone is reason enough. Lower the tax rate!"
"In that case, our monthly income would drop to just one hundred gold coins, Chief. Please be aware that our army requires three hundred gold coins per month in upkeep."
"Blah blah!"
After the talk with the tax officer, the town mayor arrived at Barnett's office.
"Development plans?"
"That's right. Our town is still in a state of complete disrepair. You can choose a few buildings to construct in order to develop it," the mayor said earnestly.
"What do we need to build for agricultural facilities?" Barnett asked.
"First, we need to open up farmland, which will cost one hundred gold coins and take ten days to complete."
"Approved!"
"We also need to build ten mills, which will cost two hundred gold coins and take ten days."
"Approved!"
"Then, ten livestock pens, at a cost of one hundred and fifty gold coins, to be completed in seven days."
"Approved!"
"Next, twenty bakeries, which will require five hundred gold coins and fifteen days."
"Approved!"
"…"
"Approved!"
"…"
"Approved!"
"…"
"Approved!"
…
Just like that, Professor Barnett approved more than a dozen basic infrastructure projects proposed by the mayor, burning through a full two thousand gold coins in an instant. But Barnett didn't care in the slightest—once the basic infrastructure was in place and the tax rate was lowered, the town would become more attractive to newcomers. The more people moved in, the faster the town could be upgraded. Upgrading meant the ability to build more structures, recruit stronger troops, and expand his influence further.
However, even this wasn't fast enough. Barnett spent five days calculating and found that an average of twenty vagrants joined the town of Biard each day. But to upgrade to a large town, he needed five thousand residents. That meant one hundred and fifty days—five whole months. That was far too long. And if he just sat around waiting, the money would eventually run out, and he wouldn't have enough to pay his troops. Of course, he could try shortchanging the soldiers—but that would definitely hurt morale, and in the worst-case scenario, could lead to mutiny.
"So that means… I'll have to go raiding," Barnett thought, reaching this conclusion after some deliberation.
Biard's army had over a thousand soldiers, well-equipped, including a unit of twenty knights and fifty medium cavalry. Even on the European continent, this was considered a well-armed and decently trained force. The only issue was numbers—they were still too few to go up against any major powers. But conquering a few nearby minor tribes would be easy. And the recent end of the Viking expansion campaigns meant these tribes had probably stockpiled quite a bit of wealth, livestock, and people. Unlike Barnett, those tribes didn't have a gold-devouring system to maintain, and probably didn't even know what to do with all their loot. Once those tribes were destroyed, the elderly, the sick, the children, and any surrendering able-bodied adults would all become new townspeople. With enough captured population, Barnett could finally meet the requirements to upgrade the town.
With all that done, he'd have more gold, more people—and if he didn't use this opportunity to conquer other tribes, it would be a waste of the system's potential.
Barnett felt no psychological pressure about killing people in this world. After all, it was just a virtual game—none of it was real. He could do whatever he pleased. Who knows, maybe after a few battles, he'd even unlock system traits like "Cruel Slaughter" or "Massacre Bonus."
Good. That settled it.
Three days later, the army mobilized! Barnett wrapped himself in a robe, threw on a fur cloak, and mounted his two-meter-tall, purebred European warhorse. His personal guard usually stayed in the barracks near the town center. After giving a command to his servant, a bell rang out, and the elite knights of his guard instinctively grabbed their longswords and lined up in two neat rows, standing precisely three meters from Barnett.
Barnett swept a cold gaze across them, and the twenty guards immediately stiffened, standing even straighter.
"Send the order. Assemble the army. Prepare for departure!" Barnett barked with commanding authority.
Following his command, four of the guard knights, who also served as messengers, leapt onto their horses and galloped toward the various barracks scattered around the town. Within minutes, over a thousand Viking warriors had assembled in the town square.
Once the troops were fully assembled, Barnett issued his command: "March out! Follow me to plunder and burn!"
The Viking warriors, pent up for too long, erupted in cheers. Their warrior spirit shone through—this was their calling, their purpose. War transcended time—it was the essence of being a soldier. The army marched swiftly, advancing toward the target Barnett had set.
Although this was Barnett's first time commanding an army, the military books he had read in his past life came in handy. Even if he hadn't led troops before, he'd at least watched pigs run, so to speak. Moreover, thanks to the "Natural Military Genius" and "Cavalry and Infantry Commander" traits he'd chosen during character creation, Barnett's command abilities weren't far off from a veteran general.
The axe cavalry was divided into squads of five, acting as scouts and vanguards, sent out to probe the enemy's movements. Even though the system map existed, if an enemy ambush was in place, the map wouldn't necessarily show it. So Barnett wisely sent out reconnaissance units.
Behind them came the main force. The first four units of Viking infantry formed a phalanx—or rather, something that barely passed for a phalanx, given their basic training. They were still far from elite troops. Behind them were two units of Norse archers, carrying homemade fire arrows and jars of flaming oil, ready to use if needed. In the third line, surrounded by two Viking warrior units, was the elite guard unit led by Barnett himself. Barnett had already decided: unless absolutely necessary, this twenty-man elite squad would only serve to protect him. No way was he risking his own neck in battle.
With the system's map, Barnett didn't need to waste time wandering. But the Scandinavian weather was wildly unpredictable. That morning had been sunny and calm, yet by noon, the wind picked up and snow began to fall. The accumulated snow was already knee-deep. Even with a leather jacket underneath and a fur cloak on top, gloves on his hands, Barnett was still shivering. The Viking warriors beside him, on the other hand, were full of energy. Barely dressed, and yet not a single complaint. Some even joked that this kind of weather was perfect for sneak attacks. Barnett couldn't help but feel a little ashamed.
"Whatever. I'll just spend some of my HP to redeem Mid-Level Constitution and Basic Cold Resistance from the system sprite. (I already spent all my gold on agricultural infrastructure.)" Barnett thought. But to his dismay, the system sprite informed him that they were now in war mode—system functions were unavailable until the battle ended.
"Fine then. I'll endure it for now and try again later."
After two hours of marching, the army reached its first destination—a small, traditional, utterly unremarkable Viking tribe, with a total population close to a thousand, and nearly three hundred able-bodied men fit for battle. In a pinch, they could add the elderly and weak to form a militia of a few dozen. But if it came to that, resistance would be futile anyway.
"Take a break. Eat something."
Following Barnett's order, the Viking warriors sat down where they stood, pulling out tough jerky and dry black bread from their cloaks, gnawing away at them with bites of snow. After eating until they were about seventy percent full, they rested for a bit longer. Barnett also dismounted to stretch his arms and legs. The food was barely edible, but at least it filled the stomach. He, too, ate to about seventy percent full and then closed his eyes for a short rest.
"We're ready, Chief," one of the guard knights quietly informed him after a few minutes.
"Mm." Barnett opened his eyes, nodded, then rose to his feet and raised his battle axe high, shouting:
"War! Slaughter! Plunder! We are Vikings—the mightiest people in all of Europe! The most battle-hungry, furious tribe! Death incarnate born from the northern blizzards and storms! Now, in the name of leadership and by the authority granted to me by the Lord, I command you: follow me, and crush those pathetic worms who aren't even a tenth of our strength! Hack off their heads with your axes! Seize their gold and their women! Let's go, warriors! Follow me!!"
After this rousing speech, the morale of the Viking warriors soared. Having eaten and rested, their strength had returned. Just two kilometers away lay the enemy village.
"Armor up! Mount up!" With the help of two guard knights, Barnett donned his full Renaissance plate armor and mounted his horse: "Forward!!!"
At this very moment, the unsuspecting Viking village had no idea a stronger predator had set its sights on them. Due to the earlier snowstorm, most people were huddled indoors, warming themselves by the fire. The warriors were gathered, drinking to keep out the cold and complaining about how bad the weather was and how hard it was to conquer England…
And just then—hundreds of fire arrows rained down from the sky.
Professor Barnett stepped onto the battlefield for the first time.