A serf boy asks his father why they pay rent to the Baron. Not only rent, says the boy, the Baron gets ninety per cent of our crops. And I notice, says the boy, that mom sometimes goes to the Baron’s, in his carriage, and while she’s gone you’re always in a violent mood. “Why do we have to pay tribute to the Baron, who doesn’t even seem like a nice man?”
“We pay tribute to the Baron so that he will protect us from other barons,” says the father, the boy staring at the man’s clenched fists.