Arthur took in everyone's reactions, then stepped forward to help Brin up, but that wasn't enough.
"All my laws shall be publicized!" Arthur raised his voice to make the statement sound impactful and authoritative.
"I command you, upon returning to the military towns you are responsible for, to erect a large wooden board in the most crowded place, such as the central assembly ground."
"I want it to be large enough and sturdy enough. I call it the Public Notice Board."
Arthur's gaze swept across everyone's faces.
"From today onwards, any decree I, Arthur, issue, just like the three I just mentioned,"
"Any taxes we are to collect in the future, what the standard is, and when they will be collected."
"Calling for labor service, who, how many, and when."
"Any rewards I give to anyone, what was rewarded, and why it was rewarded."
"Any punishments I mete out to anyone, what was punished, and why it was punished."
"All of this, clearly and precisely, word for word, shall be carved onto this Public Notice Board!"
"Whenever a law is enacted, someone must read it aloud to everyone in front of the Public Notice Board."
Arthur's voice suddenly rose, like a thunderclap exploding in everyone's ears.
"In my territory, Arthur! There is only one law! My law!"
"No nobles or officials can govern as they please! No private executions behind closed doors!"
"Every town square must have such a board: the details of taxes, the appointments and transfers of officials, the punishment and pardons of criminals." "Remember! You are merely the executors of my power! The power rests with me!"
Everyone fell silent. This final command was more subversive than all the previous ones combined.
This was a special, completely reconstructed method of governance. The rights of nobles and stewards were weakened, everything proceeded according to written law, and stewards lost the right to interpret the law, becoming mere executors. Commoners gained the right to know the law. This was not only an unprecedented respect for the rights of Westeros commoners but also absolute confidence in the legitimacy of his own rule.
The commoners of Westeros had long been accustomed to the capricious rule of their lords; the law was the lord's word, spoken one way today, and another way tomorrow. This was a supreme privilege belonging to the bloodline nobility.
A long silence filled the lord's hall.
In the center of the assembly grounds of the four military towns, huge newly cut and pieced-together wooden boards were erected.
At first, no one knew what they were. The commoners, whether Arthur's veteran families, or the common folk, or the newly surrendered bandits and refugees, gathered around curiously, whispering among themselves.
They watched the stewards continuously carving something onto the wooden boards, discussing animatedly. They didn't know what this practice of carving words onto wood was for, waiting for the steward to shout out as usual, telling them what was happening.
The steward of the South Valley military fort stood in front of the Public Notice Board. The military officer next to him cleared his throat, and his voice, loud enough to drown out all the murmuring, rang out.
"Listen up!!!!"
The crowd quieted down.
"These are the three laws promulgated by Lord Arthur!! From today onwards! This land beneath our feet! And all of Lord Arthur's territory!
Shall abide by these laws!"
The steward stepped forward to the wooden board. He had learned some characters by following a barefoot monk, but he had considered it a foolish hobby from his childhood, and as he grew up, he found it useless. He was still a farmer, full of regret, thinking he should have spent that time cultivating more land.
However, he never expected to be directly promoted to steward by Lord Arthur. Now, in his spare time every day, he taught his children to read and count at home. His voice was clear and crisp as he began to read the content on the wooden board, word for word.
When he read that, except for the eldest son, all other males aged eighteen and above must separate from their families and be granted a plot of arable public land by the lord, an uncontrollable stir erupted in the crowd.
"What? I… I can also have my own land?" A young man in his early twenties, who had been troubled day and night because he couldn't marry while living under the same roof as his two older brothers, grabbed the arm of the person next to him, his face flushed red.
"By the Seven Gods, is this true?" More second sons and landless people in the crowd had fervent light in their eyes. In Westeros, land was one's lifeline. This Lord Arthur was actually willing to distribute land to those extra people in their families.
The crowd was in a heated commotion, but the steward continued to speak. When the steward read about the compensation policy for the families of those who died fighting for Lord Arthur, the crowd became quiet again.
A woman named Ailaner, whose husband had died in the previous battle following Arthur against the wildlings, although Lord Arthur had given her her husband's spoils of war, which was a large sum of money, she was unable to work and still had two children to raise. That money wouldn't last many years, and once it ran out...
She held her young son and led her slightly older eldest son, hiding at the back of the crowd, watching the joyful adult men with numb eyes, only despair. She didn't know how she, a widow with no man in the house, would raise her children.
"....All families of fallen soldiers will receive a one-time pension of ten silver stags. If the widow does not wish to remarry, she may take on simple labor within the territory and receive monthly wages.....
"Ten silver stags!" Someone in the crowd gasped. This was a large sum of money. Was he really so generous?
Ailaner froze. She looked disbelievingly at the wooden board and the steward pointing at it, reading continuously. Her slender body trembled non-stop.
Then, the tax collector began to call out names. When her name and her husband's name were read, she pushed desperately forward with her two children.
The crowd noticed this and automatically parted, creating a path for her to walk up with her children.
The tax collector personally held a money bag containing ten silver stags and walked up to her, lowering his voice:
"Lady Ailaner, remember, this is a gift from Lord Arthur to you and his warrior's children. Please accept it."
Ailaner's hands trembled as she took the heavy money bag. The cold touch in her palm grew warm.
She lowered her head, looking at the sleeping child in her arms and her eldest son whom she was holding by the hand. Tears, like broken pearls, silently streamed down her face.
She was not the first, nor the last. All the families who had lost loved ones in battle received this money. Some women broke down in tears on the spot, clutching their money bags.
They did not blame Arthur. The Lord had brought them, these useless people, to his land and handed over the spoils of war of their already fallen husbands, fathers, and sons. They were already incredibly grateful. No noble would do this; they would have long ago swallowed this money. The Lord was a man who kept his promises; they had never seen such a lord.
And now, Arthur even intended to support them, these useless people, for their men who had already died in battle.
The military officer looked at the weeping women in front of him and spoke softly:
"Ladies, Lord Arthur remembers every drop of blood shed for him, and the name of every fallen one."
"We shall never forget."
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