The tavern inside was far more chaotic than I had expected.
There were fools blowing their horns with cheap liquor, and others singing songs that I couldn’t even understand, drunkenly leaning on each other.
In the corners of the room, there were several people vomiting and others fighting.
I suppressed the urge to rub under my nose.
“Haha, this is a real mess.”
I had expected some noise in a tavern frequented by the poor in the city, but the scene before me was so much worse than I had imagined that it made me dizzy.
“Shall we leave, Baron?”
“I’m just a bit surprised at how crowded it is, Andrea. But don’t you think it’s kind of fun here?”
Despite wearing ragged clothes, the nobles, like myself, with swords by their sides, were mingling with the common city folk.
Though the lowest-tier nobles here, the “lesser knights,” had no land or pensions and were essentially fallen nobility, it was still interesting to see them, regardless of status, all playing together without regard for hierarchy.
“Let your men outside come in. It’s on me today, so tell them to eat and drink their fill.”
There was a reason I had brought my entourage to such a tavern.
Right now, I was perfectly sober, and the reason these men couldn’t touch me was obvious.
If they thought a few drinks would make me a target, they might attempt to kidnap me.
Even if a bloody scene broke out here, according to the social hierarchy, I’d be judged innocent, but it was best not to cause trouble in the first place.
“Understood.”
As soon as I gave the order, several men armed with swords entered.
They immediately ordered beer, cheap wine, and various snacks without hesitation.
“Two legs of pork and bacalhau! Four liters of beer!”
“Grill two chickens and bring out two liters of wine!”
They didn’t even bother to be polite, since they weren’t the ones paying.
I gestured for the tavern owner to come over and placed my own order.
“Three pieces of bacon and three beers.”
“Yes, Baron.”
“And give pork and a beer to the others who aren’t with us. No, wait.”
I handed the tavern owner three gold coins.
“This is an advance payment. Let them order anything they want. If they run out of money, feel free to charge them more.”
The tavern owner grinned widely upon hearing this.
He was likely thinking that he had hit the jackpot.
He looked to be at least twice my age, yet he seemed incredibly simple-minded.
“Yes, understood.”
The tavern owner took the orders for everyone at the table, and the leader of the group sitting nearby approached me.
“Thank you so much, my lord. Thanks to you, we can eat and drink to our heart's content for the first time in months.”
Though the words were grateful, the leader’s face clearly showed suspicion.
If I were in his shoes, I’d be worried as well.
Nothing’s free in this world. Why would a noble suddenly show up at a lowly tavern and start ordering drinks and food?
It was obviously suspicious.
“Actually, the reason I’m treating you all is because I’d like to ask you a favor.”
Upon hearing the word "favor," the man instinctively reached for his sword, but Andrea, sitting next to me, was faster, placing a blade at his throat.
“Stop fooling around, you rookie. You may have some spunk, but listen to the Baron and shut your mouth.”
Upon hearing the word “Baron,” the leader flinched.
“Well, it’s not a big favor. I just want to hear about the kind of life you’ve lived.”
“Is that all?”
“That’s all. In exchange for a good story, I’ll cover all the food and drink for you and your group tonight.”
What I was about to do was a classic “press gang,” also known as a navy conscription.
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These men, after eating my food and drinking my drinks, would be "press-ganged" into becoming sailors by morning.
Technically, it wasn’t voluntary recruitment, it was more like forced conscription, but...
By lunchtime tomorrow, they’d probably beg to join my ship.
Though I’d have a few tools to help persuade them in the process, ultimately, they’d beg to board the ship, and I’d be simply fulfilling their request, making everyone happy.
“My name is Rodrigo La Mancha. My father was a low-ranking noble and died in the war with the Kingdom of Lyon. I had planned to follow in his footsteps and become a noncommissioned officer.”
“A family of soldiers, huh?”
“Yes, I’m quite skilled in swordsmanship. I planned to enlist as a noncommissioned officer, fight Nador’s men, and earn a reputation to eventually become an officer.”
This was a pretty common tale.
But as with all things in life, what seems like tragedy up close often looks like comedy from a distance.
For Rodrigo, this was likely a serious matter.
“I had fulfilled all the conditions to become a noncommissioned officer, but because my father died young, my family was poor. I couldn’t bribe the examiners, even though I could have passed with top marks. No matter how good my results were, I kept failing due to ridiculous reasons.”
This wasn’t anything special either.
Originally, guilds weren’t supposed to have hereditary positions, but with the rigorous selection process, only those with means could make it through.
It was a similar case for noncommissioned officers. Even though your physical, practical, and theoretical conditions were perfect, if you didn’t bribe someone with a hundred gold coins, you couldn’t get in.
“And no matter how well you perform, they’d promote you to captain just before you’re about to retire,” I commented.
Rodrigo drank heavily, taking a long gulp.
“It was frustrating. If I couldn’t become a noncommissioned officer, I had no choice but to live like the other poor folks. I figured it was better to just go to the backstreets and become a thug. Drink, fight, and when the thief guilds overstep, beat them up, take their money.”
It’s fine to beat up bad guys, but why steal from them?
“The others here are in similar situations. I’m still a noble, but at the end of the day, I live just like the rest of the poor folks. A few fights, and we got along, so here I am.”
This is the common misconception about class systems.
People think that just because someone has a different rank, they must be openly discriminated against.
But across Europe or Joseon, in order to maintain your rank, you needed wealth.
Without a minimum amount of wealth, you’d have to live with the commoners and be treated as one of them.
However, as a “lesser noble,” the only privilege I had was exemption from some taxes like the poll tax. There were no real benefits, so I had no choice but to mingle with the poor.
Rodrigo’s face flushed red.
“Is this what our country has come to? My father fought and died for the country on the battlefield.”
“Yeah, it’s really too much.”
“It feels good that the Baron understands.”
As I listened to Rodrigo’s story, the rest of his group, angry at their fate, chugged their drinks in a drunken frenzy.
Perhaps it was because the alcohol was free, but they seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to drink as much as they wanted.
“Well, if I were to offer you a chance to change your life, would you follow me?”
Rodrigo slammed his fist on the table, completely drunk.
“Of course! If you’re offering a chance to change this damn life, I’d do anything!”
“That’s a promise.”
I then signaled with my hand.
Immediately, the mercenaries I had hired entered the tavern with wooden clubs in hand.
“Tie them up.”
The mercenaries, grinning, approached Rodrigo’s group.
“Ugh, what the hell! Why are you trying to hit us? Please spare us!”
“Wait, this is different from what we were told?!”
The mercenaries, still grinning, started binding the men, beating those who resisted into submission.
I then declared to the group:
“Welcome to the press gang. From now on, you are sailors in the Rothschild family!”
And so, I raided the tavern in Valencia where the poor and the lesser nobility gathered.
The Valencia defense forces, perhaps moved by my “noble deed,” turned a blind eye to the scene of their own countrymen being abducted.
“Well, now we head for Ifriqiya.”