Star Lake Fort, night.
The guarded dining room was covered in dust and cobwebs. Only two candles emitted a red light, casting eerie shadows.
But at this moment, many people were sitting in the dining room. It was noisy and lively.
"That old man, Vitano," D.D. leaned against the wall, his legs propped up on the bench and munched on a piece of bread. "I haven't heard him say a word since he got here. Is he a zombie crawling out of the ground?"
Zombie.
Everyone who was eating at the same table looked at each other and subconsciously looked at another table behind them.
Doyle realized something. He smiled awkwardly and waved at the real 'zombie', Glover.
"Sorry."
Glover was drinking his soup. When he heard Doyle, he threw down his spoon and his gaze turned cold.
"Why are you sorry?"
Doyle was stunned by the zombie's ferocious gaze.
"I …"
Doyle realized that something was wrong. He laughed at himself and lowered his head.
"Yes, sorry."
"But that old man, the watchman, maybe he really is a zombie," at the other end of the long table, Wya suddenly spoke and attracted everyone's attention.
The dining room fell silent.
Glover frowned.
"Be careful with your words," Mallos' herald, Toledo reminded him sternly, "Officer Mallos respects that old man very much."
Wya shook his head and lowered his head to take a sip of the odd-tasting 'drink' that the Logistics Division got from somewhere. His expression was pained.
"No, I mean, he's not that simple."
Doyle leaned forward, "What do you mean, really Wya?"
"Star Lake Fort has been without a master for years. It's almost becoming a nest for animals," Wya said solemnly, "And animals are very sensitive to their territory. We can scare a flock of crows out of the corner with just a breath, but …"
He raised his head and looked at everyone.
"That old watchman lives here, but he didn't scare a single mouse."
Everyone who was eating was instantly stunned.
In a dark corner, the special-class flag bearer, Hugo Fube, who was out of place with the others, picked up a notebook expressionlessly and recorded.
Wya Caso.
Sensitive to observation.
Lacking in tact.
"Has he lived here so long that the animals are not afraid of him?" Doyle flicked away a spider that landed on the bread, then tore off the dusty crust of the bread and bit into it.
Wya shook his head. "That's only the best guess."
Logistics Officer Procca turned his head around from the window.
"What's the worst?"
Opposite Glover, Ralf looked at his own soup bowl in annoyance. There was a spider that had flown out of nowhere and was struggling with all its might.
Doyle sighed.
"Zombies."
At this point, Doyle seemed to have thought of something and waved at Glover in embarrassment.
"That, sorry!"
Glover snorted angrily and swallowed the food in his mouth.
"Morgan, Kosta, it's your turn." Two tired figures walked into the dining room. The two people in the dining room took turns.
Doyle's eyes lit up.
"Hey, Bastia, Ness! What do you think? Is there anything good in Jackal Tower? "
"You mean apart from cobwebs, ashes, cat droppings, bird droppings, ghosts, rotten wood, and rusty iron. D.D？”
The young Vanguard, Ness, picked up the kettle and poured himself a drink.
"Let me think. Oh, yes, there's a rotten rag, it smells like shit — Pfft, damn it, what's that smell?"
"Maté tea." Procca drank his tea contentedly by the window. "Don't ask too many questions. If you do, you'll know it's sponsored by the Logistics Division."
"There's a monastery in the southeast corner with a lot of graveyards." Seeing this, Bastia decisively poured away his drink and tore off a cobweb on top of his head. "It's surprisingly clean. Obviously, it's cleaned regularly — maybe it's that old man."
"Maybe he lives in the graveyard, you know — zombies!"
Doyle laughed and habitually turned around to wave.
"Hug —"
"One more word of apology and I'll throw you out of the window." Glover stared at him.
As if to cooperate with him, Ralf poured away the spider soup in his hand and snorted coldly, causing a slight chilly wind to blow.
The room fell silent.
Doyle could only turn around awkwardly.
In the corner, a few more lines appeared in Wealby's notebook:
Caleb Glover.
The destroyer of the atmosphere.
But he had the authority to make the final decision.
"Don't overthink it," Paul Bozdorf, who joined in midway and had been silent all this while, suddenly said, "Lord Mallos has his reasons for trusting that old man."
Wya's gaze flickered.
"You know him?"
Paul shook his head.
"No, but I know that family name."
"Cato."
Paul's expression was calm as he said plainly,
"That's the maiden name of the current queen. She's also a wealthy merchant family in the kingdom."
Everyone's gaze turned to Bozdorf's heir.
"Queen Keya?" Wya was shocked.
"His Highness' stepmother?" Doyle looked puzzled.
"We have a queen?" Willow of the Northern Territory was puzzled.
Paul ignored everyone's reaction and continued,
"The Cato Family started by reselling the spoils of war and making a fortune from the war. They keep a low profile, but have a close relationship with Renaissance Palace. They are the best among the merchants licensed by the royal family and have opened up many sources of income for the Jadestars of the past. Although their title is low, their position is critical and they have great power. "
Paul looked up.
"That's why His Majesty Kessel, the youngest son of the late king, married the daughter of the Cato Family."
Flag Bearer Fuby's expression did not change as he wrote incessantly.
Paul Bozdorf.
Gloomy and reserved. His words hit the nail on the head.
"Oh, that explains why the old man is here," Doyle came to a sudden realization. "Because his mission is to guard the Wang Family's property."
Wya narrowed his eyes.
"But those animals … why do I feel like there's more to them?
"Instead of worrying about that, why don't we think about our next step?"
Ness scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal that had almost no substance and gritted his teeth.
"I say, how much longer do we have to eat this? Old Leather, you're the logistics officer. What do you say? "
Nate Ness.
Young and impetuous, not knowing how to restrain himself.
Fuby continued to write.
"Trust me, His Highness and the commanding officer have already started to deal with this matter."
Procca sighed and raised his cup.
"Cheer up. Maté tea is also tea."
Ness gave him a gesture unique to the Star Lake Guards — a middle finger.
A middle finger as a provocative gesture.
Flag Bearer Fuby frowned as he recorded:
Duke Thales especially liked to use the rare and peculiar Northland customs to cultivate the Guards' culture and enhance the cohesiveness and sense of belonging of his subordinates.
"You know."
Bastia suddenly spoke.
"When I went home a few days ago, everyone was pointing at me and hesitating to speak. Even my five-year-old nephew was avoiding me, as if I'd suddenly become a leper."
As soon as he said that, everyone fell silent.
"Why?" Bastia sighed. "Why does His Highness have to go against His Majesty? You even followed him into the palace … "
In the corner, Flag Bearer Fuby pursed his lips.
Ade Bastia.
As always, conservative, timid, and worried.
Thump.
Herald Toledo put down his bowl coldly.
"Mallos has already called a meeting to reprimand this issue."
Toledo answered flatly, but there was a chill in his tone.
"We have our own vows."
Everyone looked at each other. The atmosphere in the dining room became a little awkward.
Wya, Glover, Doyle and the others were especially silent.
"Of course I know that, but to be honest," Ness was unhappy, "my father is trying to pull some strings to get me transferred back to Renaissance Palace."
"My uncle has a different opinion," Pezarosi of the Discipline Division downed the maté tea in one gulp, his face contorted from the smell. "He thinks that the king only has one son, and no matter how much he dislikes him, sooner or later he will …"
"Watch your words!" Toledo said sternly.
"Come on, Toledo!"
Ness spread his hands and complained, "We've already been exiled to the deserted wilderness. We even have to scrimp on our food. Watch our words? What, the Flag Bearer Division can hide in a spider's web to spy on us? What do you think, Uncle Hugo? You've been taking notes for months! "
"Get lost," Hugo Fuby did not even raise his head. His pen did not stop moving.
Ness liked to look for trouble.
"Then why don't you leave?"
Doyle suddenly spoke, his tone not as relaxed as usual.
"Why don't you go back? Back to the place you're used to?"
Ness and Pezarosi, including Bastia, looked at each other, not knowing what to do.
Glover stirred his spoon. Without raising his head, he snorted and took over the conversation.
"Yeah, go back and lick Brother Hangman?"
The nickname stunned everyone for a moment, which then led to a burst of laughter.
"I know why."
Doyle stared at the half-eaten bread in his hand, lost in thought. He flicked away a moth on it again.
"Because in Renaissance Palace, no one is willing to bind their hands and feet and get into trouble at a royal banquet just to save a sloppy bodyguard."
He sighed.
"No one."
The dining room fell silent again.
Fuby threw away the dead moth on his notebook, silently observed the atmosphere around him, and wrote a few more words.
Danny Doyle.
His words may seem carefree and casual.
But humor, pain, emotion, and gratitude often fit the atmosphere and hit the emotions of others.
"Then, thank you for introducing yourself, Protector Doyle." Ness snorted.
"I know that His Highness is still young and treats people with sincerity." Protector Kommodore, who was sitting in the corner, sighed softly. "But we have to remind him that sincerity cannot be exchanged for everything."
"Yes, His Highness has returned from the North and is used to the ways of the Northland barbarians." Procca shook his head. "He has yet to suffer in Constellation — I hope he can get through this safely."
Gianluca Kommodore.
Reo Procca.
Passive in dealing with matters and playing it safe.
Fuby frowned. His pen stopped at the turning word. He did not continue writing.
He felt that something was wrong.
"You guys worry too much."
In the end, the one who spoke was Wya.
"I think what we see is different from what His Highness sees, after all.
"And His Highness told me," the prince's attendant said firmly, "that if we see the sun, we can't go back to the grotto."
Ness snorted.
"Thank you, Sir Attendant. Something I don't understand again."
But Wya shook his head.
"All of you only really got to know him at that banquet," Wya said absentmindedly. "But I have been following His Highness since six … seven years ago. No one was earlier than me."
A deep, throaty voice came from behind him.
"Hmph."
"Sorry." Wya rolled his eyes and waved at the masked man behind him. "Ralf was earlier … a little earlier than me."
Ralf then turned his head.
"I followed him and saw him charge into the Northlanders' battle formation, saw him walk back to Heroic Spirit Palace's trap, saw him destroy the kinslayer king's plot, and even saw him work hand in hand with Chapman Lampard and dance with the wolves."
Everyone in the room listened to Wya's words and subconsciously quieted down.
"Yes, Duke Thales usually looks tolerant and easy-going, even a little weak and easy to bully." The attendant's gaze flickered. "But only during critical moments, such as royal banquets, will you understand what kind of person he is."
Doyle shrugged.
No one spoke.
Only Fuby's book kept turning pages.
Wya Caso.
The person who lived the longest, was the closest, and understood Duke Thales the best.
"In short, I don't really want to go back, but the castle gate has not been repaired. If anyone wants to leave, please go ahead."
Glover said coldly,
"It will be the same after it is repaired."
His words made everyone freeze in unison.
"Yeah." Doyle lay down on the pile of junk behind him and stared at the spider webs in the corner of the ceiling in a daze. "You make it sound like we have the money to repair the gate."
This book was published by
[Read the book and get a cash red packet!]
Everyone burst into laughter.
Fuby narrowed his eyes.
Danny Doyle.
The mediator and manipulator of the team's atmosphere.
Everyone in the dining room gradually finished their dinner and left in twos and threes, complaining.
Hugo Fuby raised his gloomy gaze and turned to the next page.
Thales Jadestar.
Hesitation.
Weakness.
Compromise.
Gentleness.
Childish.
Willful.
Impulsive.
Unscrupulous.
Full of emotions.
Vengeful.
Lazy and slick.
Strange interests.
Likes to be alone.
Makes a fuss.
Never cares for attendants.
Does not bend over and pretend.
Is not good at establishing prestige.
Does not care about etiquette.
Does not like to interact with people.
Does not need to bribe or rope them in.
Does not care about the glory of inheritance.
Does not use collective slogans to brainwash them.
Does not know any of the methods the nobles used to win over people.
When Fuby wrote this, he changed the direction of his pen.
But.
Not only did his subordinates' loyalty not decrease, they became even stronger. Rumors were hard to shake.
It was … surprising.
Fuby's gaze sharpened as he wrote the last sentence.
Where is the hidden danger?
In the next second, he slid his finger across the spine of the book, and the words on it disappeared, as though they had seeped into the paper.
Only a blank space was left.
Mallos spent a total of three days to clean up a part of the dilapidated Star Lake Castle. At least, it was barely livable.
Unexpectedly, Star Lake Castle occupied a large area and was fully functional. There was the main hall, the Jackal Tower, the Rapid Shadow Tower, the Meditation Room, the Ascension Hall, the Brilliant Area, the Dining Room, and several other different areas. They were used to receive guests, stay, read, meditate, relax, and host banquets. There was also the Lakeside Monastery, which had long been abandoned but was still preserved. There was also the Starlight Courtyard (commonly known as the lumberyard), which was used to station troops and train soldiers. There were probably no less than three or four hundred rooms in total, not to mention the possible hidden passageways and secret rooms.
Until now, Thales could not remember how many ways there were to get from the main hall to the study and bedroom. Mallos could only order the Logistics Division and the Defense Division to seal off the passageways that led to unknown or dilapidated locations. Then, they worked overtime against the different versions of the old castle map, corrected the markings, and continuously recorded and unsealed the newly arranged rooms and areas.
But the good news was that the Chief of Palace Staff, Baron Quentin, was easy to talk to. He notified the surrounding villages and towns in advance, and asked them to compensate the nominal suzerain, the Duke of Star Lake, for his food and clothing so that Thales would not starve to death in the castle. Then, with the help of the Chief of Palace Staff, the Logistics Division continued to recruit servants, cooks, and gardeners from the villages, on the condition that part of the rent and taxes were waived.
"Your fief is about the size of a small baron's territory. Of course, it's not the barons of the Northern Territory or the Land of Cliffs. All of their territories are uninhabited wastelands, and the area is almost the size of the Count of South Coast Hill …"
This morning, Thales was walking on the ridge of the fields. Accompanying him was Baron Quentin, who had rushed over from the capital. The latter was talking non-stop about the fields in front of him.
"Six farms. Other than one belonging to Sunset Monastery, which serves the gods, the other five have to report to you. There are self-owned fields, rented fields, and public fields with a long history. But now, they are all complicated and intertwined …"
Five respectful butlers followed behind Baron Quentin. Each of them held a thick stack of account books and records. More attendants, guards, and servants followed behind them, trembling with fear.
"The production of each farm is different. It's far from enough to feed just the farmers. For this, we have hired many workers to produce grapes, wool, and other primitive crops according to the season and the weather. Of course, in another month, the wheat in the fields will be harvested. It will be very busy then, and we need even more manpower …"
Thales frowned as he listened.
They were in a farm that belonged to Star Lake Castle. Along the way, they saw farmers carrying farm tools and leading cows and horses to the fields, or farm women carrying fur baskets to work in the workshops. They might not know Thales, but when they saw Baron Quentin and a few butlers, their expressions changed slightly. They retreated in unison and lowered their heads as they whispered to each other.
"There are also three villages or small towns with a long history. Even war could not erase them. They pay taxes to the royal family regularly. It's just that things have not been going well recently. Everyone prefers to go to Eternal Star City or other large towns to find work and make a living …"
The Chief of Palace Staff spoke excitedly as he walked. He was very familiar with the situation of Star Lake Castle's fief.
"Also, your fief is next to the Wang Family's Hunting Forest. If the villagers want to hunt some game or chop some firewood, as long as they pay enough and don't do it too openly, we will turn a blind eye to it. It can be considered as an output. After all, it's not easy for everyone after the Bloody Year …"
"Remember, every farm and small town has its own craftsmen. Their products, such as fabrics, furniture, honey, candles, soap, and some rare items, are the easiest to miss …"
Thales' frown deepened.
"These registers record the general situation of your farm, including every farmer's name, land, farm tools, all kinds of employees and craftsmen, as well as the annual reference output and taxes payable. In the future, you will be in charge of …"
"Wow, Lord Baron." Thales, who was having a headache, had to interrupt him. "I need to, uh, remember all of these things?"
Baron Quentin glanced at him and immediately understood the duke's current mood. He sighed softly.
"Every respectable family will have their own trusted butler to manage the master's accounts, collect rent, hire manpower, supervise the work, and take care of the master's basic necessities. In fact, the bigger the family, the more they need a good butler … Damn it, Cordero, don't let me see your subordinates slacking off again! "
The Chief of Palace Staff used only a second to seamlessly switch from being kind and kind to flying into a rage. He reprimanded the local manor's butler. The latter was drenched in cold sweat as he turned around to yell at a few employees who were hiding in the shade and gossiping while pointing at Thales and his group.
Chief Quentin turned around angrily.
"Believe me, from the farmers to the workers, from the butlers to the overseers, they are lazy, cunning, crude, impatient, but greedy, unscrupulous, arrogant, habitually gluttonous and lazy, deceiving their superiors and subordinates, racking their brains to work less and earn more money …
"You need to have the shrewdness and wisdom of a fox and the strength and majesty of a lion to control these ingrates."
"It seems that you are the one who is truly indispensable in this land," Thales said sincerely with a lot of emotion.
Baron Quentin coughed. His words were humble in fear and trepidation, but there was a hint of joy on his face that could not be concealed.
"Oh my, Your Highness, I dare not say such things. I was merely deceived by the late king's trust."
"So, butlers?" Thales looked at the chief hopefully.
Quentin snapped out of his daze.
"Oh, yes, and we, you can say, are the butlers of the Jadestar Royal Family … one of them. For this, I need to know all the lands and estates of the royal family, every inch of production, population, and labor …"
Thales immediately took the bait.
"If that's the case, I believe that I, a newcomer, should not usurp the host's position. These matters …"
Baron Quentin reacted quickly.
"I understand very well. After all, you are a noble and busy man …"
"Then everything will continue as usual. I will separate out the rent and taxes that belong to you, and have the butlers of each estate and the mayors of the towns and villages send them to Star Lake Castle regularly, including the monthly rations, firewood, and fabrics … Of course, the variety and sophistication of food and clothing cannot compare to those in Eternal Star City …"
Thales waved his hand generously, indicating that the Duke of Star Lake should share the joys and sorrows of his people.
Seeing the prince's indifferent expression, Quentin could not help but sigh.
"In the future, there may be a mistress who will take care of these for you. Unfortunately, you are the heir to the throne, and the future mistress is destined to be the queen. She will be busy enough with the families of the nobles in Renaissance Palace, the capital, and even the entire country. She probably won't have time to take care of these minor details … You still have to find a suitable candidate …"
That was what he said, but in reality, there was not much for Thales to worry about, because Baron Quentin had already arranged everything before he came. The public and private taxes of the territories around Star Lake Castle — land tax, poll tax, hunting tax, including transaction tax, travel tax, and so on, were all collected by the tax collectors of the Department of Finance into the treasury. This year, they would all be transferred to Star Lake Castle.
It was just that the fief was limited, and getting rich overnight was out of the question.
"I don't have such extravagant hopes, I just want to get enough to eat and wear."
Thales closed the thinnest record in the account book with a headache.
"Just don't cause any major trouble."
In the face of such an unambitious heir of the royal family, Chief Quentin could not help but sigh.
"I think, as long as you don't order the restoration of the right to the first night, it should be fine."
"Thank you, Chief Quentin."
Thales looked at the Chief Quentin who had served his grandfather.
"I know, it was your intention to help speed up the handover, which allowed me to take over this land so smoothly."
Baron Quentin paused for a moment.
He closed the account book and passed it to the other stewards, telling them to stay away.
"Do you really think that I am the indispensable person to these lands, and that I can decide who they belong to?"
Baron Quentin looked at Thales with a complicated gaze.
"I think, he still cares about you."
Thales' smile froze.
"Perhaps."
Thales put his hand into his pocket and touched the 'Gurtaksa'.
It was cold to the touch, and the thorns pricked his hand.
"Perhaps."
He laughed softly and pulled his hand out decisively.
You've already exceeded your reading limit for today. If you want to read more, please log in.
Login
Select text and click 'Report' to let us know about any bad translation.
