Chapter 32: The Play

That’s right, this little scheme came from the Non-Combat Special Attack Team, Lesson Three of the Emotional Manipulation Course. However, Her Highness the Princess did not make an appearance… because such a righteous character wasn’t needed here. Well… the above is just an excuse; the truth is probably that this fool of an author couldn’t write her properly.

As for why a farmer could kill a warrior with a pitchfork, I’ve given an explanation here, just take a look if you want… I’ve been a bit overwhelmed these past two days and haven’t handled the character relationships well. I bow my head in apology once more. Also, for the classmates who enjoy battles. After this small chapter highlighting Constantine’s intelligence, I’m planning to move into describing combat, and monsters which I’m better at writing.

And also, erotic content has been scheduled, even though Constantine is still tragically incapable, I’ll have him grow up soon, at least in that aspect…

That’s all.

P.S., everyone please comment more, whether good or bad, otherwise I won’t have a chance to get a featured highlight… it would be such a waste.

“I am Count Gerald Baskett Field. I believe my status allows me to hear your grievances.” The old man paused, his voice taking on a touch of softness.

“We are but ordinary commoners… my lord Count. Our families have lived for generations on farms outside the city, making a living by farming. We came here today because we can no longer bear Marquis Paul… no, that scum no longer deserves to be called a noble. His actions are a hundred times more shameless than those of murderers and robbers!” Perhaps intimidated by the old man’s imposing aura, after a brief silence, the leader of the mob answered. His voice was deep and forceful, lacking the timidity common among ordinary folk.

“We have evidence to prove he tampered with the tax records, raising the taxes owed by freemen across more than a dozen farms by over double!” He paused, slowly pulling out a small bundle from his person. He opened it, revealing several pieces of rough Parchment. “We can no longer endure Paul’s shameless exploitation! The crimes he has committed can only be atoned for with his blood!”

“Paul, you scoundrel! You used your administrative power to embezzle vast sums of money! Yet you make us commoners bear the consequences! Do you think you can hide forever?”

The big man’s voice was like a switch. As his words fell, the crowd behind him began to shout and yell in a chaotic uproar.

“The harvest this year was terrible, locusts swarmed, yet the tax rate on farms around Hayton still reached two measures for one! If this continues, what difference is there between us freemen and slaves?!” A short man holding a flail yelled, shaking the stick and chain in his hand, making a clattering noise.

“And that’s not all! When the epidemic spread this spring, that bastard Paul even skimmed funds from the medicine subsidy ordered by the King himself! The medicine distributed wasn’t enough to treat the sick! They simply don’t see us as human beings!” another man roared. This fellow holding a sickle had an even louder voice than his companion, thumping the wooden handle on the ground as if it were a judge’s gavel in court. “Such a person should be nailed to death! He should be sentenced to burn at the stake!”

“Silence!” The old noble took a slight step forward, his eyes sweeping over the pieces of Parchment, then he shouted.

“Now, accusations have been made against Marquis Paul’s conduct… therefore, I hope, Marquis Paul, that you can uphold the teachings of the God of Justice and provide a reasonable explanation for all this.” The old man turned around, his low voice carrying a hint of angry displeasure.

“Who are you people? This… this is completely lawless slander, yes, slander! I am an Imperial Minister, a Third-Class Marquis! You low-born scum have no right or power to judge a noble!” From within the crowd, the obese Imperial Minister of Internal Affairs let out a stream of angry shouts. Yet his trembling voice held none of the expected authority; it sounded half like sobbing… “I have always collected taxes according to the decrees of the King! There is absolutely… absolutely no embezzlement!”

In fact, judging by the constant trembling of this fat man’s legs, he had no desire to converse with these mobsters before him. But the current situation didn’t allow him to hide behind others—the nobles skilled in self-preservation, just as they had avoided the mob earlier, scattered away from his side. Every glance cast his way seemed strange and suspicious.

Thus, this unfortunate Minister of Internal Affairs was pushed to the edge of the cliff, with no retreat. If he retreated, even if he escaped this ordeal, he could no longer maintain his standing within Hayton’s noble circles.

“What? Our usually shrewd Minister of Internal Affairs seems confused now? Have you developed amnesia?” The leading big man let out a long laugh. But the laughter quickly turned shrill and piercing… “Do you think denial can cover it up? Open your eyes wide and look!” He pinched a yellow-brown piece of Parchment in his hand. A bright red seal on it shimmered conspicuously with his movement.

Immediately, a huge expression of terror twisted across Marquis Paul’s plump face… as if he saw The Nine Hells opening before him, countless angry spirits and ghosts swarming towards him, desperately trying to pull him into the endless Abyss.

“This is the tax order you personally signed, stamped with both the seal of the Internal Affairs Office and your personal seal. It’s not something easily forged! The signature is yours too, isn’t it? And this one is the order for distributing medicine, also bearing your signature and personal seal. Just compare it with the King’s decree, and you’ll see the medicine you authorized for distribution didn’t even reach half the stipulated amount! Even so, do you still want to deny it?”

Shouting out this string of words like a roar, the mob leader shook the longsword in his hand and turned to the old noble. “Honorable sir. And all the lords present here… all this is the doing of that damned Paul standing over there! The farming people around Hayton can no longer endure it. Therefore, today, we shall act in place of the Temple of the Three Gods to punish this greedy and cunning swine! We hope you will not obstruct us in any way!”

“That’s fake, stolen… no, forged! He, they couldn’t possibly have obtained any documents! They…” Marquis Paul seemed unable to support his own corpulent body any longer… He broke into a hysterical shriek, cutting off the other’s speech!

“They are only trying to cover up the crime of breaking into a noble’s residence and taking hostages! That’s right… haven’t you considered how great a crime that is? Even if you don’t value your own lives! But have you considered your families? They will die with you! Be buried with you, hanged on the gallows! They will…” This seemed to be his last struggle, like a drowning man grasping at the final straw.

“Heh heh heh… ha ha ha ha ha… Clever Marquis, your wicked mind is turning again, isn’t it?” The mobsters burst into raucous laughter! Then, the leader spoke in a sinister tone, “Family? Every person here has long had no family left… My only son died of a cold last year! That child… when he died, his body was withered, like a Skeleton, even lighter than a sack of flour!”

“And, you’re right, these pacts were indeed stolen! That fool in charge of tax collection probably didn’t dare tell you his documents were stolen, did he? As for you… you probably never imagined, us folks who’ve dug in the dirt for generations, some of us can actually read! Some of us know these documents can be used as evidence!” the mob leader said fiercely.

“This… if he truly committed such crimes, then your actions could be considered… justified. However, we are now aware of all this. So, you should release the hostages and leave the matter to us… the King will surely provide a fair judgment for this affair!” From far within the clustered group of guests, another gentleman who seemed to have some sense of right and wrong shouted. Clearly, his words represented the sentiments of the majority. Immediately, a large number of nobles hoping to settle matters quietly began whispering and murmuring among themselves.

However, this seemingly reasonable speech was met only with louder ridicule.

“We’ve already broken into a noble’s private residence, fought with the guards… and taken noble hostages! These are all capital crimes! When we came, we were already prepared to die! As long as we can kill that bastard Paul, our worthless lives aren’t that important! We don’t care about the honorable King’s judgment, nor are we here for some grand justice. We came to kill him! Of course, after that, we might find one or two less fortunate souls to take with us… Even if our Souls can only go to The Nine Hells afterwards, at least we’ll feel a bit more balanced before then!”

These words instantly reignited the tension that had slightly eased. All the nobles involuntarily stepped back again. One or two, taking advantage of their position, even edged closer to the other doors of the banquet hall!

“You! Do not treat life so lightly! Even if it is your own!”

A voice suddenly rang out! It was aged, yet robust and quite penetrating.

Count Baskett Field’s originally expressionless pale face was now flushed red. He looked like a majestic warrior.

But this old noble, who usually seemed so aloof, calmly walked up to those farmers. Then… in front of everyone, he actually bent one knee and knelt down towards those freemen!

The previously noisy and chaotic scene suddenly fell into a strange, hushed silence, as if a mute button had been pressed! Everyone looked at each other, seeing their own utterly shocked faces reflected in the eyes of those around them.

“I still hold some influence within the City Guard. I will request they grant you pardon… no, that your actions be considered a just exposé!” The old noble stood up, casting a contemptuous glance at the fat noble who had collapsed on the floor in the distance. “This man’s actions have completely stripped him of the qualifications of a noble… no, of a human being. Such a person does not deserve the rights of a Noble. Therefore, I believe your actions hold no grounds warranting punishment!”

“You may question my actions… but I believe that using one’s power to benefit, lead, and protect one’s people is the duty a Noble must bear! A Noble must stand together with the people he is meant to protect, even if it means facing the gods in battle!” His gaze then swept over everyone present as he spoke in a tone that brooked no violation.

…

“Now that is the true bearing of a noble!” Amidst a round of applause, a familiar voice sounded behind Constantine. The youth turned his head and noticed Consens had appeared beside him at some point. He was staring intently at the Count who had just delivered the impassioned speech, his eyes gleaming with excitement and admiration. “How well said! What breadth of mind! This is…”

“Bearing? Breadth of mind? Nonsense! It’s just a performance!” Constantine watched the chaotic situation in the hall with great interest, gently swirling the crystal goblet in his hand… He slightly narrowed his eyes, his gaze seemingly fixed on the trails the wine left on the Crystal Wall. Perhaps the stimulation of alcohol made his mind work more sharply, as he picked out one by one several discordant details in this major event.

“You! How can you say that! You…”

Clearly, this blunt assessment immediately ruffled his younger brother’s feathers. He glared fiercely at Constantine, his hands even tightening into fists with a slight cracking sound! Obviously, if not for the surrounding environment, he would have started cursing and throwing punches at that detestable face!

“Me what? Before you get emotional, you should use your head and think a little… Don’t you think the security in this hall is a bit too lacking? Those Household Knights, while they look decent, I dare say their skills rank among the worst in the Marquis’s household! And their numbers—a Marquis shouldn’t be unable to afford even ten men, right?”

Constantine’s gaze swept over Consens’s face, which held a mix of excitement, envy, and undisguised contempt for him. Shaking slightly, he hopped down from the table, walked around to another side, returned to the table edge, and poured himself another drink. “Have you considered that perhaps this Paul usually had terrible relationships, and his superiors decided to sacrifice him to save themselves? And this Count Ginn… is probably their chosen successor…”

“After this commotion, this fellow’s popularity and reputation will likely soar to great heights very soon. If any corruption occurs later, for a while, no one will think to connect it to him.”

“You’re saying this was premeditated? How is that possible? Who would entrust such a thing to a bunch of farmers…” Clearly, this line of reasoning was even more impactful. At least the young white-clad noble’s mind couldn’t process it immediately. His mouth hung open for a long moment before he managed to ask a question.

“You think a bunch of farmers could easily charge into a district where nobles live, and accidentally pass through layers of patrols by Household Knights? That with the weapons in their hands they could casually penetrate Armor? Don’t make me laugh… Although I said those Household Knights’ combat skills aren’t great, they should still be able to handle eight or ten farmers…

“Those surrounding the perimeter and holding the women hostage seem to be quite capable experts, especially that leader… He deserves at least a formal Knight title—but I think even a real Knight might not be his match. His experience is definitely richer than any Knight’s!

“Mr. Constantine, I’d also like to ask, why exactly do you make such inferences? If you’ll pardon me, around where I live, I often see those lower-class folks. Their attire, appearance, movements, and the thick calluses on their hands are absolutely impossible to imitate… Some might practice a move or two to protect themselves against bandits or beasts… but most aren’t warriors.” Young Lord Stings interjected at this point. After the previous conversation, this youth before him had already taken on an air of inscrutability. His tone had unconsciously become extremely polite.

“A very prominent hawk-nosed man once said that everything in the world has been done before, rarely is anything truly new… and everything in the world is like a chain; we need only see one link to know the nature of the whole…

“Of course, not everyone is skilled in combat. Aside from these peripheral figures, the twenty or so inside are indeed ordinary farmers…””You can tell by observing their stances. Those cowering, holding their weapons with both hands across their chests are most likely ordinary farmers. Only true combatants have their own unique postures. For example, that fellow holding the pitchfork, slightly crouching, ready to thrust at any moment…”

“Also, they just said they suffered disasters and a plague. So even if they aren’t starving to the point of immobility, they should be thin and sallow-faced, right? But look at those guys on constant alert. Aside from the dust on their faces, where do they look like they’ve been starving?” Constantine chuckled lightly.

Lord Swice’s gaze swept over the rioting farmers. Clearly, someone holding a noble title had some observational skills and brains. “Even if the leader has ulterior motives, what the farmers said is true… Rain was scarce from the start of the year, and there was indeed a locust plague in May. Then the epidemic that broke out killed many people…”

“The tax rate around Hayton, normally all added together, should be about one-third, right? How many years has it been set?” Constantine ignored this point and posed his own question.

“The basic tax rate has been in place for twenty years. Because the Mage Association occasionally helps with soil fertility and rain spells, the harvests from surrounding farms have always been good. Also, the plain’s agricultural products are renowned for high quality and sell very well in Hayton’s market, so setting the tax rate a bit higher isn’t unreasonable…”

“If it was already one-third from the start and maintained for over a decade, then raising it to half—the effects would take at least until next spring to show… or erupt immediately after the famine. But these guys are causing trouble now, in early winter, when everyone is storing supplies for winter?” Constantine sneered.

The two youths beside him fell silent. They stared at Constantine—the youth still wore a smile, watching the people moving about the dance floor. The expression on his face… how to describe it? It was a kind of detachment, like that of an old man?