Chapter 117: Who Am I?
"Isn’t it obvious? Different categories mean different things to do after graduation." Erin said matter-of-factly.
"That’s why it’s strange. The sages taught us that studying is for self-cultivation, governing the country, and bringing peace to the world. It’s about becoming a high-ranking official and serving the nation and its people. If that’s the case, why does the Oxford Academy need so many categories? The classics, history, philosophy, and literature should suffice." One scholar argued.
"I disagree. I think the Oxford Academy is different from private schools. Scholars don’t have to focus solely on passing the imperial exams. They can do other things too." Another scholar countered.
"Oden, are you saying you won’t take the imperial exams anymore?" Erin asked a scholar wearing patched clothes.
Oden nodded. "I take the imperial exams every year, and every year I fail. My family is getting poorer, and I can’t even afford the travel expenses for the exams anymore. Rather than copying books in the bustling market, I’d rather take the Oxford Academy exams. Even if I don’t become an official, I can still live a decent life."
"Oden, that’s not the right attitude. As the saying goes, ’Wealth cannot corrupt, poverty cannot sway.’ Even if you don’t take the imperial exams, you can still apply for the political history category at the Oxford Academy. Serving in Brambleford’s government would be a good path."
"It’s not that I don’t want to. But just look at the number of applicants for the political history category. It’s like ten thousand people trying to cross a single log bridge. I’m already in my twenties; I can’t afford to waste more time." Oden sighed deeply.
The atmosphere grew awkward. Erin said. "We’ve gone off-topic. We were talking about the Redwyck family’s rebellion, and now we’re discussing the Oxford Academy."
Everyone laughed bitterly. It was precisely because of the fall of the Redwyck family and other noble clans that they were paying attention to the Oxford Academy. With the nobles gone, there would be many vacancies in the six cities. Now was the perfect time to become an official. Unlike the scholars’ reactions, when the newspaper reporters read the news to the villagers of Tuttle Village, there was an outburst of cheers, followed by continuous shouts of ’Long live the prince!’
The reputation of the prince was once again deeply rooted in the hearts of the people. He was a feudal lord who feared no noble clans and worked for the benefit of the common people. Now, this feudal lord stood tall in their hearts like a hero.
Who else would dare to attend a banquet knowing it was dangerous, all for the sake of eradicating the harm caused by the noble clans?
More villagers were concerned about what would happen next. According to the newspaper, the properties of these noble clans would be confiscated, and families whose lands had been seized by the nobles could report to the local government. After verification, the land would be returned to them.
This news excited the villagers even more. Many had already received fertile land after the Goldwynd family incident. The tangible benefits made the villagers believe this was no lie.
The prince kept his promises.
After cheering, they listened carefully while calculating how much land had been taken from them by the noble clans.
Including the newly cultivated land, many families now had over a hundred acres.
"Father, if we get all our land back, will we be able to farm it all?" Billy asked his father.
Mason said. "With so much land in the production team, we won’t be able to farm it all unless we buy more Plow oxen."
"Let’s wait and see after this harvest. The production team said if the harvest is good, we’ll sell some grain to buy Plow oxen. Before, we worried about not having enough land to farm. Now, we worry about having too much." Billy’s father laughed heartily.
Billy’s mother glared at her husband. "You’re happy now, but don’t complain when your back breaks from the work."
"I’ll still be happy." Billy suddenly said. "I still need to get married."
The whole family burst into laughter.
On the threshing ground, the villagers of Tuttle Village gathered in groups, their eyes filled with dreams of a better future.
Land was the lifeblood of farmers. Now that Simon had given them land, he had given them everything.
As the Butcher family chatted and laughed, Collin, who had been silent, suddenly said. "Father, Mother, I want to join the army."
"What the hell are you talking about? We don’t even have enough people to farm the land, and you want to join the army?" Billy’s father scolded, almost kicking him.
When the Brambleford Army surrounded the Redwyck family’s militia, Collin had been carrying firewood to sell in the city. Seeing the battle, he wasn’t scared; instead, he was awed by the majestic armour of the Brambleford soldiers.
Back home, he couldn’t stop thinking about the Brambleford Army, itching to wear such impressive armour himself.
How wonderful it would be to be one of those soldiers in the battle formation.
"Father, if the Brambleford Army hadn’t surrounded the noble clans’ militia, could we have gotten our land back? To put it bluntly, what if the reavers attack again? What good is all this land if we can’t protect it?" Collin argued.
Collin’s father fell silent, and the surrounding villagers stopped talking, struck by his words.
Only then did they realize that everything they had now was something the prince had fought for through blood and sacrifice. The prince was willing to risk his life for the people of his domain. Shouldn’t they also do their part to protect the prince and their land?
"Collin, have you thought this through? If you join the army, you can’t be a coward on the battlefield." Collin’s father said seriously.
Collin was thrilled. "Father, you agree?"
"This kid is usually quiet, but what he said today left me with no rebuttal. You’re right. If no one joins the army, how will the prince fight the reavers?"
"I’ll join the army too." A voice came from a nearby family.
"Me too."
"..."
Soon, the threshing ground was filled with the voices of young men eager to enlist.
The reporter reading the newspaper in the middle stopped. He silently recorded what he had seen today. Suddenly, he remembered a question he had asked his teacher years ago: "What is the people’s will?"
His teacher had replied. "The people’s will is food. The people’s will be an endless supply of soldiers. The people will be the labourers who transport grain to the battlefield. Lose the people’s will, and a nation will lack soldiers, unable to afford even a single defeat. With the people’s will, even after a hundred defeats, an endless supply of soldiers will eventually win the war."
This was exactly the scene his teacher had described.
As a reporter, the more places he visited, the more he saw. Brambleford was constantly changing, and these changes reflected the prince’s vision.
Although he had initially resisted this job, he now found himself enjoying it.
Continually delivering news and reflecting the issues of the common people to the higher-ups, the newspaper office was the bridge between the prince’s castle and the grassroots. He felt he wasn’t an official advisor, but he was doing even more than one.
Putting away the newspaper, he headed to the next village, eagerly anticipating more changes in Brambleford’s future.
