Chapter 320: The Warriors’ Guild

The next morning, Giles Rivers had already gathered his two warriors and twenty-four elite soldiers.

This was the core strength of his domain; even if a rebellion actually broke out, with those forces at his back he still had a chance to retake his lands.

Yet when he was leaving he had told Hode, “If anyone dares to rebel, you may kill them all — even my blood and members of my family. Of course, I would be more grateful if you spared my youngest son.”

Giles Rivers’s youngest son was only six years old.

Aen Collins listened in silence. He did not know what expression to wear, so his face remained blank.

In Greenwood, even the cruellest lords he had heard of would not ask outsiders to slaughter their entire household.

But Giles had spoken so casually, as if such a thing were only natural.

Among the Comrades Group, only Hode’s face had gone somewhat stiff and Zeke’s face had been rather ill-looking; the others behaved as if it were perfectly normal.

…

Aen escorted Giles back toward York City, but first they stopped in Rod City.

The high, towering walls of Rod City instantly made the bare-chested Giles put on a coat.

Although it was only just past the New Year and a layer of snow still lay on the ground, the temperature here was far too warm for northerners.

That was why Giles had been bare-chested when he first entered Greenwood’s borders.

Even though Aen had, intentionally or not, told him that such behavior was impolite, Giles acted as if he did not understand.

He was, to put it plainly, submitting — but he wanted to show his strength. For a Northern warrior, what could be more convincing than the scars on his body?

However, when he saw the towering walls he finally understood Aen’s words, and put on his coat.

Aen had already reported in advance to Bishop Jeven that a northern noble intended to swear fealty to Lundex, and that he would bring this northern noble to York City — but first they would rest in Rod City for one day.

Whether a northern noble swore fealty to Lundex was not Aen’s decision; he was not qualified to intervene. He was merely a merchant, so the matter of sending a letter to York City required Bishop Jeven’s involvement.

As Aen brought Giles closer, a party emerged from Rod City to greet them.

Eight fully-armored mounted knights and forty-eight fully-armored infantrymen walked out; the metallic clash of their armor accompanied every step, and Giles kept a warm smile on his face.

The knights led the way, the armored men guarded both flanks. Rod City’s streets were sparsely populated, the buildings spread apart, and wide training grounds dominated the view, where soldiers drilled and shouted continuously.

Compared with an ordinary town, Rod City felt more like a vast fortress-town.

And it flaunted its strength without shame.

At the center of Rod City, when Giles arrived at the Great Cathedral of Rod, he saw at least eight hundred armored warriors training.

Before the cathedral, upon seeing Bishop Jeven in his conspicuous red episcopal robes, Giles dismounted of his own accord and trotted forward to greet him.

Even Aen was slower; he could only watch as Giles — hardly acting like a northern noble — hurried up to Bishop Jeven.

Jeven nodded to Giles with a smile.

The kindly look in Jeven’s eyes forced Giles to forgo his usual northern embrace; instead, clumsily mimicking Aen’s earlier bow, he performed a curtsey.

Jeven smiled and said, “Respected Sir Giles, welcome to Rod City.”

Giles flung his arms wide, laughing loudly. “I heard from my best friend, Mr. Aen, that Rod City was the most secure of cities. Not even Frozen Furnace City in the North could compare.”

Aen felt his scalp go numb.

When had he ever been Giles’s best friend? And how had the four words “Mr. Aen” ever come out of Giles’s mouth?

Jeven replied, “Perhaps it is because Aen now lives in Rod City; he is proud of it, and he has not seen the two fortress-towns of the south. Those are the truly impregnable cities, built solely for war. The catapults on their walls can cover half a village with a single volley, and those heavy crossbows can easily pierce dozens of men.”

“However, I’ve heard that the monastery and the academy of magic cooperated to produce some magic cannons. Though more costly, these magic cannons are easier to transport and can be adapted for legion warfare.”

Giles’s smile stiffened.

It was partly because his first, wholehearted flattery had been pierced by Jeven’s frankness, and partly because Jeven had, without quite meaning to, revealed the military strength at hand.

Beyond Rod City lay the North. Once, Marquis Demitri had defended against the North from here.

The soldiers in this city, and the magic cannons Jeven mentioned that could fight together with legions, made it hard for Giles not to imagine that Greenwood was planning an invasion of the North.

Just as, after the Supreme King had unified the North, the North had launched wars outward, Giles felt that Greenwood’s unification had to mean foreign campaigns.

Jeven did not let Giles remain too embarrassed and invited him to an antechamber.

The main hall was for worship and rites; Giles — a northern noble who could hardly pass even a baptism test — could not enter it.

In the side chamber, Jeven had arranged a banquet to host Giles.

After wine and delicious roasted meat had been taken, Giles’s anxious heart finally steadied. At Aen’s signal, he brought up the matter of swearing fealty to Lundex.

But Jeven’s answer left Giles in an uneasy mood.

“The Church does not interfere in Lundex’s internal affairs, so you will need to go to the Senate and present your case to the councilors,” Jeven said. “However, I have heard the Senate currently sees no need for the North — a mountain range separates it, and the administrative cost is too high.”

“Moreover, the North is too poor, and northerners’ character…is rather blunt. They do not believe in the Lord, cannot understand His mercy. Overall, to the Senate, the North has little value; one could even call it a negative asset.”

Giles did not understand “negative asset,” but he recognized the contempt in Jeven’s words.

He was furious.

But thinking of his purpose and everything he had seen along the way, his anger faded.

Now his domain faced not only the Annihilation Fiends, but also the fortress that was Rod City.

He had not gone to the Original Sin’s realm that Aen had mentioned, but thinking of Aen’s solemn expression, it could hardly be a friendly place — and that realm was nearly adjacent to his own lands.

So if anything stirred, his position would be immediately crushed by the surrounding powers.

He lowered his head and said, “I have long admired the Lord’s teachings. My best friend Aen knows that. During the New Year my people praised the Lord; they fervently desire the Lord’s teachings.”

After saying this, Giles turned his eyes slightly toward Aen, as if to say, ‘You are my closest brother; I came because I trusted you, so won’t you say something?’

Aen took the cue and added, “Yes. In Sir Giles’s domain, everyone hoped to receive the Church’s teachings; they have been trying to praise the Lord.”

Though their praise had come only after accepting the Lord’s New Year gifts.

Hearing this, Jeven sighed and furrowed his brow.

The sigh almost made Giles bolt.

But when Jeven continued, Giles relaxed slightly.

Jeven said, “Those are true believers who admire the Lord, but Greenwood still needs us, His servants. I cannot send extra priests to the North.”

Giles answered, “Yes, every priest of the Church is busy spreading the Lord’s teachings. My best friend Mr. Aen said even Greenwood’s nobles crave priests.”

Jeven smiled inwardly and cursed Monk Agamemnon in his heart.

Were those nobles really craving priests? No — they were craving servants to do their work. At least in those regions the nobles could shield the governing priests politically; here, politics and faith would fall squarely on his shoulders.

The thought made him wish daily for confession.

Politics was filthy, yet he had to confront it. He silently uttered the harshest insults he could imagine at Agamemnon, but outwardly kept smiling and said, “Yes. Those nobles are devout, and in Greenwood’s east, people whose lands were trampled by evil foreign tribes need the priests’ consolation.”

“The Lord’s believers will long for pilgrimage; they may come from your lands to Rod City, worship in the Great Cathedral, and feel the Lord’s teachings. What do you think?”

That was Jeven’s condition. Giles breathed a sigh of relief — at least they could negotiate.

He was about to reply, but remembered the Church’s earlier rise to power: once it seized authority, its first move had often been to let commoners leave their villages freely.

Because of bloodline issues, northern commoners held more hunger for freedom than those in Greenwood, and some would truly pursue it.

Those too timid to seek freedom had been kept more tightly penned than Greenwood’s peasants.

If the Church took that first step in his lands, following the historical pattern, soon the gentry would be driven out of villages — and then him.

The thought chilled him.

He realized that the Church’s mode of rising, supported by Greenwood’s abundant food and sufficient force, could quietly seize other regions.

Still, under Jeven’s smiling gaze, he could not voice a refusal.

He could only say, “Yes, you are right. I will tell everyone in my domain that if they wish to hear the Lord’s teachings, they may come south to Rod City at any time to undertake pilgrimage.”

After saying it out loud, he felt much more relieved. He even thought to himself that it did not matter if the commoners ran away — what he needed as a lord was the land. At the very least, he was still a baron, and still had his own territory.

With that thought to comfort himself, he then saw Jeven looking pleased at first, but then frowning slightly, as he said, “You are a merciful lord, but your lands are too far from Rod City. Even for worship, your commoners would need at least five days of travel. That is unsafe, and exhausting.”

“The Lord loves mankind, and does not wish to see them so weary, even taking risks to make pilgrimage.”

Giles Rivers almost could not endure it. He had just found an excuse to console himself, and now Jeven was saying this was not acceptable either. Just what did he want?

Helplessly, he said, “Then Bishop Jeven, you are wise. Please tell me — what should Giles Rivers, the confused believer of the North, do?”

Jeven said, “Aen is my friend, and he is also a devout believer. He knows how to pray, so I think he can help you establish a church in your lands. He can also deliver a batch of Holy Scriptures — the Lord’s Words. He is not a priest and cannot guide believers in prayer, but he can recite the Scriptures for them.”

Giles understood. Jeven was helping Aen obtain some authority, while also erasing the church within his domain.

There was indeed a church in Giles’s lands. To northerners who revered strength, a place that could grant power was a necessity.

And because of the North’s conditions, human sacrifices and the like inside the church had long been commonplace. Even the priests in Giles’s church were highly skilled in the craft of handling human lives.

If one thought of the North’s churches in terms of the Church of the Sanctuary’s standards, they were nothing less than a gathering of sins.

Understanding this, Giles agreed readily.

If a church could easily produce holy relics, then the North would not be as peaceful as it was now.

Well — though it was not truly peaceful even at present.

Seeing Giles nod, Jeven’s smile grew even more genuine. He said, “I will speak to the Senate and tell them you are a merciful lord.”

That was enough.

Even if Jeven kept saying the Church did not interfere in the Kingdom of Lundex’s internal affairs, such words were merely polite formulae, which even northern nobles understood.

Feeling much lighter at heart, Giles devoured two whole turkeys and drank a full barrel of rye beer.

Selling off the church in his domain in exchange for a bishop’s good word — to him, it was a worthy bargain.

Aen had told him before that when the Corlay Family still existed, bishops of the Church could speak on equal terms with the Grand Dukes.

…

Just as he had expected, after nearly ten days of travel they reached York City, where he received a very warm welcome.

Thirty-two fully armored knights came to greet him. How could it not be enthusiastic?

What was more, several dark, cylindrical objects on the city wall were pointed at him the entire time, as though in salute.

Yet Giles’s northern warrior’s instincts told him that if any one of those black things twitched, he would soon be reunited with his father, whom he himself had slain.

The meeting in the Senate with the councilors went smoothly. Administrator Piero, his face hidden behind a black scarf, declared directly that Giles was a merciful lord recognized by Bishop Jeven, and so Lundex would accept him.

After the formalities, the Senate even gave him one thousand York gold coins, so that he could enjoy himself during his three-day stay in York City.

The reason for three days was because the Senate needed time to prepare to grant him a banner.

Since there was as yet no King of Lundex, Giles could not swear fealty directly to a king. Instead, the Senate would give him a Lundex banner. As long as that banner hung over his fortress, then once the new king was chosen, Giles would be recognized as belonging to Lundex, and his oath of fealty would be accepted.

At least, that was what the Senate told him.

As for the real reason…

“That idiot didn’t even make it through one day before he spent all one thousand gold coins!” Bevan said in astonishment.

The three councilors responsible for northern affairs once again discussed matters in the Senate.

“This is York City, after all,” Puniel laughed. “Even three thousand gold coins could be spent in a single day. Take the Adam Family’s newest golden-thread robe — the deposit alone is five hundred gold coins, and it takes three months to make. Once finished, the remaining two thousand five hundred gold coins must be paid.”

“You know that so clearly. Did you order one yourself?” Jeffrey sneered.

“Cough, cough…” Puniel coughed awkwardly. “I am a councilor. Of course I must dress in accordance with my station.”

Bevan said, “So you spent your entire year-end bonus, then.”

At year’s end, after Agamemnon had nodded in agreement, each councilor had received a bonus of three thousand York gold coins.

The very next day, the Adam Family released that robe, trumpeting that only the noble and exalted deserved to own such clothing. As for its price, not a coin more or less than three thousand gold.

With Agamemnon’s surname attached, it was difficult not to suspect some hidden meaning behind it.

And among the noble and exalted — aside from the Church’s people — who else in York Territory could it be but the councilors themselves?

So Puniel had retorted, “Didn’t you two order one as well?”

Bevan said with scorn, “We are not lacking in gold coins. But you?”

Puniel’s face flushed. Shortage of money was his eternal pain.

At last, he could only sigh and divert the topic, glancing at Jeffrey. “Why keep that northern barbarian in York City? He has no money. I heard he even went to borrow from Aen.”

Jeffrey said, “It is only to let him see York City’s prosperity. At the same time, to keep him here a while. Of course, I also had word sent to Dean Oscar: a northern baron from a poor land, abandoned by the King of the North, admiring Greenwood’s wealth and strength, decided to leave his king’s protection and swear fealty to Lundex. He even begged to sell his lands, just to settle in York City.”

Puniel clicked his tongue. “To settle in York City is too much. He is a landed noble.”

Jeffrey glanced at him and said, “Do you know how Dean Oscar wrote it?”

Puniel grew curious. “How?”

Jeffrey cleared his throat, then recited loudly, “That is the center of the world, the land of human civilization. Only by gaining status in York City does one count as a true elite, only then does one truly possess honor. As for the rest of Greenwood, outside York City — it is nothing but stinking countryside. And beyond Greenwood, it is but uncivilized places where only beasts dwell. Therefore, all who pursue true honor yearn for York City.”

“Hiss!” Puniel twitched at the corner of his eye. “And yet in our south there is still a great empire.”

Jeffrey shrugged. “That was only the first draft. My men heard Dean Oscar muttering about things like ‘the world’s greatest warriors.’”

“No wonder he is Dean Oscar,” Puniel said — whether in praise or mockery, it was hard to tell.

Bevan now asked, “So that northern barbarian is to be the living example of those words?”

Jeffrey replied, “Something like that. But whether he stays here or not is not so important. In the end, northerners will only hear what I want them to hear.”

Puniel asked, “Then why spread such words to them? Do you want them to attack the world’s center?”

“Of course not.” Jeffrey shook his head. “The New Year has passed, the gladiator tournament is over — the North should grow chaotic again.”

Then, looking at Puniel, he added, “Agamemnon has already reclaimed the leftover coins. We no longer have spare gold to pour into the North to keep last year’s fever burning.”

“But after seeing the mercenaries’ strength, they will not abolish the mercenary taverns outright. Instead of letting you manipulate things behind the scenes, they may choose to run taverns themselves.”

“So soon enough, the northern mercenary taverns will slip from your control.”

Puniel said indifferently, “That was always bound to happen. It is difficult enough to control Greenwood’s taverns, let alone the North’s. For now, I only have Isaac guard Frozen Furnace Fortress’s arena.”

“That was the first arena in the North, designed by Monk Cicero. The first gladiatorial contest was held there, and the first champion born. With good management, it could become a sacred place for northern warriors who chase glory.”

“And the King of the North is cooperating nicely, is he not?”

By now, all three had guessed that the one cooperating with them in the North was none other than the King of the North, whose presence seemed so faint.

Bevan said slyly, “But once the mercenary taverns leave your control, your power in the Senate will be much reduced. When the other three councilors take office next month, your influence will be the weakest.”

Puniel grinned with satisfaction. “I have already withdrawn from the mercenary business. Priest Agamemnon approved it. By year’s end, all mercenary taverns will leave my hands and operate independently.”

Bevan froze, then asked with a grave look, “And after that?”

They were allies, after all. Banter was one thing, but if Puniel truly lost power, their alliance would be weakened.

Puniel replied, “When I managed the North’s mercenary taverns and arenas, I discovered the monastery’s ranking system was crucial. So I petitioned Agamemnon to establish a Warriors’ Guild, concerned solely with rank certification.”

“Without a councilor’s backing, the mercenaries’ rank certifications in taverns would have little effect. But now, the newly established Warriors’ Guild, supported by the Senate, can provide specialized rank certification — even finer distinctions, and they will issue medals of proof.”

“Of course, I think the warriors who come for certification will not mind paying a small fee. After all, these medals were specially crafted for me by the monastery.”

Puniel’s face brimmed with pride.

At last, he would not need to subsidize mercenary taverns out of his own purse. He might even profit from it.

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