Chapter 316: I Have an Idea

“Of course. The New Year is just around the corner. It’s a special day. If we can avoid drawing blades and shedding blood, then it’s best not to. After all, we are all devout believers—kind and merciful.” Councilor Jeffrey concluded his words.

After speaking, he drew a cross in front of him, then lowered his head and grasped the silver cross on his chest.

By now, the silver cross had become a decorative item worn by nearly all nobles in Greenwood.

At the very least, if one claimed to be a devout believer, some tangible token needed to be shown.

And compared to the thoughts within one’s heart, these tangible items helped them believe more firmly that they truly were devout believers.

Puniel’s lips curled slightly, but he didn’t dare laugh out loud.

Bevan, however, had no time for idle thoughts like Puniel. He directly stated, “Even so, there are still one and a half million gold coins remaining.”

As the one managing commerce, handling these three million gold coins was naturally his primary responsibility.

And when this number was spoken aloud, even Puniel fell into silence.

Until now, he had always believed that gold coins were never enough—no matter how many, they could easily be used up.

However, seeing the actual amount laid out before him—three million—he finally felt what it was like to have more than enough. Yet upon second thought, a certain idea began to stir within him.

He said, “Ahem, in fact, I have an idea.”

Bevan and Jeffrey both turned to look at him.

And then they looked away at the same time.

If it was about fighting a war or scheming against their own people, they believed Puniel could handle it well.

But when it came to matters involving money, neither of them thought Puniel had that kind of brain.

He was in charge of mercenary deployments, and yet still scraped by earning pitiful coins from the Underground City. Worse still, despite all this time, he hadn’t managed to recruit even a few excellent mercenaries.

Their blatant disregard annoyed Puniel, but thinking of his goal, he still swallowed his anger.

He said, “The coronation of the Pope is just around the corner, and it’s also the end of the first year since the founding of the Kingdom of Lundex. I think such a momentous day deserves to be commemorated. Shouldn’t the officials who have served our great Pope and our great Kingdom of Lundex receive an end-of-year reward?”

As he spoke, his gaze turned oddly toward the other two, and his tone grew hurried as he added, “Think about it. Whether it’s the expansion of our territories, the rise in taxation, or the Eastern Crusade—aren’t these all worth celebrating? And behind them are the officials in every territory, coordinating and managing all these efforts.”

“They’ve been so diligent, following the Lord’s teachings, working hard to ensure every grain of wheat’s tax is delivered safely to the King’s granary or the farmer’s cellar. Yet these officials receive only meager wages and have never had a single holiday. Don’t such officials deserve a reward?”

Bevan and Jeffrey wanted to laugh.

The officials had indeed done their jobs, and their salaries were indeed low. All three councilors had been receiving the same pay since they first joined the Senate. While the currency had been replaced with York gold coins, the amount of work had increased tenfold, and they now had actual territories to manage.

Their estates from when they were barons had all been “voluntarily” confiscated.

And could anyone afford to be lazy? Countless eyes watched their every move. After all, even with low salaries, there were plenty of ways to line their pockets.

They didn’t even need to exploit the farming commoners—the merchants alone were enough to keep them well-fed.

Still…

Thinking of the remaining one and a half million gold coins…

The two exchanged glances. Then Jeffrey said to Puniel, “Yes, Councilor Puniel, you are absolutely right. Just look at Councilor Bevan—his face is so haggard from working to revitalize the territory’s commerce.”

Bevan’s eye twitched. His current state was entirely due to these two half-forcing him into this.

But he still said to Puniel, “Indeed, indeed. And look at Councilor Jeffrey. His eyes are bloodshot from striving to build academies for the lords.”

Jeffrey’s lips twitched. The bloodshot eyes were from analyzing Northern movements to predict his actions, not from anything to do with academies.

As for the academies, once Puniel had floated the idea and it was shared with the other lords, they began moving on their own.

Finally, the two said in unison, “Councilor Puniel, of course we support your idea. So please, bring it up with Administrator Piero. You may tell him we’re all in agreement.”

Puniel froze, then clenched his teeth so tightly the grinding sound was clearly audible.

Bevan and Jeffrey pretended not to hear it.

Puniel could only force the words out between his teeth, one by one. “Fine. Then I’ll speak with Administrator Piero.”

What choice did he have? Bevan and Jeffrey weren’t exactly short on gold, while he was already on the verge of renting out parts of his own territory.

Only then did Bevan say, “Even if Administrator Piero agrees, and Agamemnon also consents, this will only spend at most one hundred thousand gold coins.”

Currently, Greenwood had just over three hundred officials directly under the York Territory. Not even Puniel would dare dream of giving each person a thousand gold coins.

Jeffrey said, “The academy in York City is scheduled for construction next year. We can allocate the funding this year.”

The Senate would never fund academy construction in other noble territories.

Bevan quietly calculated, then concluded, “Even if it’s built nearly to the scale of a monastery, and using only the finest materials, it’ll consume at most fifty thousand gold coins.”

Jeffrey continued, “During the New Year, don’t the church’s small churches usually distribute goods to the poor? Since the North has now become a land under the Lord’s protection, I thought that during the New Year, they too should share in the Lord’s mercy. Perhaps they could receive gifts from the Lord—some wheat flour, some bread, maybe some turkey meat, or some candy. That sweet stuff the monastery made two years ago—people in the North should enjoy it. After all, without the Lord’s protection, their lives are far too bitter.”

Jeffrey did not mention the nobles and local gentry.

Even in Greenwood, the Church had no interest in handing out such things to nobles and gentry.

Aside from the fact that these people weren’t lacking in gold, there was a more pressing reason—the Zeda Manuscript was still held by the Church.

Though it hadn’t been publicly revealed, all the nobles in Greenwood merely pretended not to know.

Bevan paused, eyeing Jeffrey strangely as he said, “That could indeed cost some gold. But merchants can only reach so far, and to ensure maximum effect, this will probably cost no more than twenty thousand gold coins.”

Some would receive it, others wouldn’t. The contrast would create the greatest impact.

Moreover, to prevent lords from seizing these ‘New Year Gifts from the Lord’ en masse, potentially blowing up the situation, these items had to be low in value.

Just like the Church’s Sacrament for charity—tasteless, but filling.

Jeffrey said, “The North is wild and rough. Perhaps some bandits might steal these gifts from the Lord.”

Bevan’s eye twitched. “Jeffrey, remember—this is the exact figure Lord Agamemnon specified.”

So don’t try to pull your usual tricks to skim off some coins. When it came to Church funds, even a single missing coin would bring down accountability neither of them could bear.

Jeffrey caught the meaning behind Bevan’s words and could only reply regretfully, “Very well. Twenty thousand gold coins will suffice. At the very least, it will earn the Church a bit of goodwill among the Northern commoners—and perhaps for Greenwood too.”

Puniel asked, “What now? Are you planning to target the commoners too, aside from the lords and warriors?”

“Heh. Just waiting for him to act, while I can only serve as a messenger—this is not what I wanted to see. We must take the lead in this matter.” Jeffrey’s eyes were bloodshot as he gritted his teeth and said, “He can manipulate those nobles, then I will manipulate these commoners.”

Jeffrey raised his blood-red eyes and looked at the two of them. “These commoners may not be able to serve as combat power, but they can watch, they can listen, they can speak. So these people can become my eyes and ears.”

“In fact, I suspect that the Church uses those commoner believers as…”

“Cough, cough, cough!” – Bevan.

“Mm-hm-hm!”  – Puniel.

The sounds from the two interrupted Jeffrey’s words.

Jeffrey instantly regained his composure, and silence fell over the Senate.

After a moment, Bevan finally said, “But even after budgeting for this, there are still more than one million gold coins left.”

It was as though during his silence, he had been doing the calculations.

Pressing his fingers to his brow, he said, ‘You should know, the entire Greenwood’s tax revenue this year has been just over two hundred thousand. To spend three million gold coins in such a short time—I even suspect Agamemnon just made up a number on the spot.’

…

“Heh, I really did just make up a number.” Agamemnon chuckled and said, “The gold left by the Golden Lion—even minting three million gold coins has only consumed a small corner of it.”

This was on the first floor of the Clock Tower. The main door was shut, the windows misty—only light could pass through, not vision. Inside, candles burned, aiding the dim daylight in illuminating the room.

On the wooden platform lay an eyeball with pupils like emerald gemstones. Above the eyeball, a scene unfolded—the three men of the Senate were shown in conversation.

Their voices could still be heard.

“Come on, at least it’s letting us spend gold coins rather than forcing us to earn this much.” This was Puniel speaking.

“And it’s precisely because of this gold that the Northern progress has gone smoothly. Perhaps Agamemnon received revelation and gave it to us in advance.” This was Jeffrey’s voice.

“Ha. If there’s nothing else, I’ll go find Administrator Piero to discuss the end-of-year bonuses.” Puniel concluded. After speaking, the three left one after another.

The image disappeared. A frail, aged voice sighed and said, “They are all clever men.”

“Compared to you, they are far behind.” Agamemnon said, “King of the North, Aureus Fernando.”

The one who had spoken with the aged voice was Aureus. He sat on the right-hand bench of the first row, while Agamemnon sat on the left-hand bench.

Aureus said, “They should have guessed the Church can know what happens in the Senate. That’s why they discuss these matters there.”

Agamemnon smiled faintly and said, “Who knows? I am not the Lord. I cannot see their inner thoughts.”

In the back row sat George and Olivia.

Olivia had her legs propped up on the seat, arms hugging her knees, face buried in the gap between them. Only her eyes peeked out, shoulder-length golden hair falling forward to cover the earplugs she’d made from plucked Dragon-Eagle feathers.

George sat upright, eyes fixed intently on Aureus.

Aureus and Agamemnon’s conversation continued.

Aureus said, “Sometimes, there’s no need to look into a person’s heart. Words spoken may not reflect what’s truly inside. Judging someone’s mind from their past actions is far more accurate.”

Agamemnon still wore his smile. “You are right.”

Aureus studied Agamemnon intently and slowly said, “You’re all clever men. Hode cannot escape the path you’ve arranged for him.”

Agamemnon said, “On the contrary, we haven’t interfered much. It is you who have guided him more.”

Aureus said, “I only wished to preserve the last bloodline of the Fernando Family and allow it to continue.”

Agamemnon said, “He is working hard to sow seeds.”

Aureus said, “Because of me, he has suffered a curse—one that affects his bloodline. So he can only sow seeds, but no wheat will grow from the fields.”

Agamemnon said, “I sympathize with the curse that you and he have endured.”

Aureus said, “Perhaps he already suspects he is living in a dream.”

Agamemnon said, “I imagine it must be a beautiful dream.”

Aureus said, “Gathering worshippers, cutting down one enemy after another, ultimately becoming a hero and earning every Northerner’s praise—this should be a dream for any Northerner. But unfortunately, his bloodline holds a part of the Fernando lineage. He once lived in Greenwood as well. These have greatly influenced him. He cannot be considered a pure Northerner. I think now he only feels more and more lost and unreal. Perhaps by next year, he will sink into the arena and into battle, using pain and blood to feel reality.”

Agamemnon said, “That must be very painful.”

Aureus said, “He can endure the pain of the flesh. But his heart is lost.”

Agamemnon said, “He can read the Holy Scriptures more.”

Aureus said, “He was once a Knight of the Church.”

Agamemnon said, “But he is not now.”

Aureus fell silent, while Agamemnon’s smile did not fade.

‘Ah~’ Olivia yawned, the sound clearly audible.

George still sat upright, staring intently at Aureus. But if one looked closely into his pupils, there was a hint of distraction.

Olivia’s voice did not disturb the atmosphere between the two men.

Still silent, Aureus finally stopped looking at Agamemnon and instead gazed at the cross directly opposite. He tilted his head slightly upward and said, “I beg you—when his mission is complete, disperse that curse for him.”

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