Chapter 170 : Noble Codes of Conduct
Chapter 170: Noble Codes of Conduct
Baron Puniel was a noble, yet he was by no means inferior to knights in swordsmanship and bravery.
Back when Wolf launched his assault, he had also held out the longest.
“Baron Belair is our friend. If you’ve got the energy to make threats, why don’t you go vent it on Piero, go curse at the Bishop instead?” It was Baron Bevan Morton who spoke, awkwardly cutting meat with his knife and fork.
“Hmph, that’s still better than a guy like you who surrendered before the fight even began.” Puniel snorted coldly, though his mood gradually settled down.
“At a time like this, you all should set aside such petty grudges.” Baron Jeffrey Sacker shook his head and sipped his tea.
He had suffered the heaviest losses during the Dark Creatures’ assault, and because he was the first to be attacked by Knight Wolf, he had been captured before he could even organize a proper resistance.
After being captured, he had been placed in the Church’s Monastery. Scholar Caleb from the Monastery had originally been his advisory scholar, so his interactions with the Monastery had been fairly cordial.
In fact, even the current so-called ‘Noble Codes of Conduct’ used by the Monastery to torment the three of them had drawn from his casual chats about noblemen’s daily activities.
So, although he felt indignant at being forced to act according to noble rules, he was still the quickest among the three to adapt.
“I’ll never work with a coward like him,” Puniel said with disdain.
“You’re not exactly a suitable partner either, you brute,” Baron Bevan no longer spared him a glance.
Belair watched coldly. Even under their current circumstances, these three still harbored internal discord.
Baron Jeffrey clearly leaned toward the Church faction.
And while Bevan appeared to speak for the Church, Belair could see that Baron Bevan was merely observing. Whichever side gained the upper hand, he would lean that way. Even if he currently seemed to be at odds with Puniel, should Puniel truly gain the chance to break free from the Church’s control, Bevan would likely seek cooperation without hesitation.
Puniel, for all his disdainful words, would not forgo Bevan’s strength when truly needed.
After all, they were nobles. Even if they appeared destitute now, who knew what they might still have hidden?
In the face of profit, a noble’s personal sentiments were secondary.
And Puniel, he displayed nothing but loathing for the Church, showing a strong desire to escape this cage.
Thus, the only one Belair could form a fragile alliance with now was Puniel.
Thinking this, Belair smiled and said, “If Sir Puniel desires an exciting hunt, I believe I can satisfy you. Hunting those Werewolves is far more interesting than preying on commoners.”
“I once led knights to hunt a Werewolf. Even after my warriors shattered most of his bones with throwing weapons, rendering him immobile, he still bared his fangs at me, ready to bite me with the last of his strength.”
“Commoners who can only kneel and beg for mercy—how are they worth hunting? Only vicious creatures like that can showcase the martial prowess of a noble.”
Although he had never gone hunting himself—his martial ability wasn’t even equal to that of an ordinary warrior—he could fabricate the tale. Just tweaking what Julian had done would suffice.
Besides, Julian was his knight. What Julian had done was naturally what he had done.
He thus catered to Puniel, but dared not utter anything about hunting commoners.
At the very least, the Holy Scriptures did not explicitly claim that the Lord loved these Dark Creatures.
The Church of the Sanctuary’s influence here was indeed intimidating.
“Hmph, if I were still in my own territory, I’d have led the knights there already,” Puniel snorted coldly. “But now I don’t even have a suit of armor. The best Blacksmiths are in the market outside the Church, and even a decent suit of armor costs a fortune in gold coins.”
“Gold coins—since when did we nobles need to spend coins when we wanted something?”
“Those Church bastards have codified monetary transactions into law.”
“Previously, we could still use trade with other noble territories as a reason to suppress the Church’s redefinition of currency policies, but recently, the southern trade routes have been completely sealed off. We no longer have any justification to resist.”
“They’ve even demanded that we nobles set an example, giving us salaries as Senators and requiring that we consider the expenditure of gold coins when managing affairs.”
“For example, hiring a laborer for three days costs one silver coin. And those robust ones, capable of serving as guards, are even more expensive.”
“And us Senators, us nobles, only receive eighty gold coins a month.”
“Brother Belair, just eighty gold coins a month—what can that accomplish?”
“Can you imagine that now we even have to calculate how many gold or silver coins it costs to drink a cup of Honey Wine in our own homes?” Puniel’s eyes were filled with suppressed rage and humiliation.
“But more than Honey Wine, Sir Puniel, what you should really be concerned about is the compensation for destroying a merchant’s goods in a fit of rage. With the southern trade route now closed, those goods are worth one hundred and twenty-seven gold coins,” Bevan suddenly added.
He then tilted his head slightly to dodge the teacup thrown by Puniel.
“That needs to be compensated as well,” Bevan added. “If you don’t get your temper under control, your estate might be confiscated next.”
Puniel clutched his plate, face flushed with fury.
So, this was the price Puniel needed.
Belair began to understand his intent.
He needed gold coins—a lot of them. Only with gold coins could he hire warriors to return to his side.
Which meant that Belair would have to pay to hire warriors for him.
Belair didn’t consider hiring them himself—this wasn’t his territory, after all.
Nor was there any need to.
There was no sense in offending Puniel over such a trivial matter.
Besides, if Puniel truly managed to lead hired warriors back and drive out the Werewolves from a region, Belair would gladly support him in claiming land there, thus easing some of his own burdens.
“It’s only some gold coins. I’ve brought a few gifts for the three of you on this visit. While they aren’t coins, they are golden ornaments. I believe if coins can be used in trade, then so can these golden ornaments,” Belair said.
Since he was giving gifts, everyone present had to receive something.
Of course, privately, he would bring an especially fine gift when visiting Puniel.
Gold coins were just currency in York Territory due to the Church’s regulations, but on Belair’s land, gold was merely a symbol of power and decoration.
Hearing Belair’s words, all three men turned to look at him, their eyes showing a trace of warmth.
“Of course, my friend. And these ornaments will be worth even more. Those wealthy Local Gentry will happily spend an equal or greater weight in gold coins to buy them,” Puniel even stood up with a smile on his face, though there was a hint of gritted teeth when he mentioned those Local Gentry.