Chapter 54: Chapter 45: This is Bad, We Came Too Early, and This Lord Isn’t Even Waging War
As for those fallen nobles, Henry simply wanted to fleece them. They might have been down on their luck, but their family fiefs still existed. They had a way out, so there was no need to overthink them.
Right now, Henry only had one problem he needed to deal with: the castle’s renovation and maintenance.
Several months ago, Pedro had boasted to Henry, making the bold claim: "Two thousand men, three months, and I’ll give you a castle."
In reality, it took a little over four months, but that was still a terrifyingly fast construction speed. Henry had been using the castle for more than two months now and had discovered many problems.
The construction schedule had been too rushed. It was basically a giant, unfinished stone house. This wasn’t worth one hundred seventy thousand Dinars; it was just a "stone mountain" with a wall built around it.
From the day he moved into the castle, Henry had been continuously pouring more funds into finishing its construction.
Perhaps if Henry hadn’t distinguished himself at the Battle of Zhiluo, Pedro might have had the chance to slowly renovate the castle after it was built.
If Henry hadn’t performed so brilliantly in the battle, he never would have been able to occupy the castle this easily. John would have made him pay dearly, even if he was the King’s student.
Unfortunately, as soon as the castle was mostly complete, John couldn’t wait to have Pedro’s entire family "disappear," seizing the Pedro family’s vast fortune for himself.
After all, in John’s eyes, that was all *his* money! He felt the sting of every extra Dinar Pedro spent!
And so, Henry waited for an invitation from a Legion while developing his domain.
The biggest difference between a game and reality is that in a game, you just have to click a few buttons. In reality, even with all the help in the world, there’s always a mountain of trivial matters waiting for you to resolve.
Anyone who’s managed a fief knows that when a slapdash administration transitions from pure agriculture to a mix of farming and commerce, all sorts of problems and conflicts arise, especially with public order.
Ever since Henry opened up Westwood Laine, never mind the first batch of minor nobles; the Mercenaries and small merchant caravans that followed gave him a massive headache.
Brawls often broke out between two groups of Mercenaries, dozens of men at a time, and Bain would have to take his men to beat them all down, arrest them, and fine them.
Once was fine, but their constant troublemaking was becoming a real nuisance!
Henry stayed up all night strengthening the regulations for Mercenaries, establishing stricter rules and enacting new territorial laws.
With the implementation of these measures, the security situation in the fief gradually improved.
"My lord, two more fallen nobles are about to fight a duel to the death right outside the tavern. They want to ask you to be a witness."
Henry waved his hand in exasperation. "Let Bain be the witness. I don’t have time for that!"
The problem had improved, but it wasn’t completely solved. Those fallen nobles still fought and brawled every day; they’d initiate a duel to the death over a single cup of wine.
He had found it interesting at first, but it was just too time-consuming.
Claude nodded and went out to handle the matter. Nearby, Tommy put down the ledger he was using to track supply consumption. "My lord, there are too few literate people in the fief. Nowadays, even Bain has to help with recording inventory management."
"Hmm... What about those exiled nobles I asked you to observe a while ago? Are they behaving themselves?"
Henry decided not to delay any longer. He would, at the very least, recruit a few junior Record Keepers to alleviate Tommy and Claude’s increasingly burdensome clerical work.
"There are four who are quite well-behaved. They’ve disbanded their Private Armies of a dozen or so men, bought a few dozen acres of land, and are having their serfs dutifully clear it for farming. They’re already registered in the ledgers and will start paying taxes to us next year."
Henry nodded and told Tommy to summon them. He planned to reward them with a job.
Strictly speaking, they were no longer nobles. They were now self-employed farmers under Henry’s rule—or rather, small landlords, the big fish in their little ponds.
Their former noble status only afforded them a bit of face and dignity now. Perhaps their future descendants could restore their ancestors’ glory.
Therefore, for the lord to bestow a respectable job upon you was a true blessing.
The four exiled nobles happily hurried to their audience with Henry. They were dressed in slightly worn but still magnificent imperial robes, their expressions tinged with anticipation.
The two stewards, Claude and Tommy, stood to the sides, a hint of relief in their eyes.
The exiled nobles approached Henry one by one, bowing slightly. They demonstrated their mathematical and literary skills, presented their elementary and secondary school degree certificates, and expressed their desire to become Henry’s subordinates and pledge their loyalty to him.
’Maybe I can become an honorary noble in the future? That would be a way to preserve my family’s honor.’
Claude and Tommy watched the four energetic exiled nobles and sneered inwardly.
’You foolish exiled nobles. We’ll show you what year-round, non-stop clerical work is really like!’
In the days that followed, the exiled nobles became Record Keepers. Tommy took one, and Claude took the other three, and they began to immerse themselves in their various tasks.
Some of them meticulously recorded the quantity and type of supplies; others tallied complex data.
Henry’s occasional inquiries also kept the four men’s work attitudes rigorous and earnest, as if they were striving to prove their worth.
Time flew by, and the first snow in Westwood Laine arrived as expected. The plains were covered in a blanket of white, looking peaceful and serene.
The fallen nobles, wearing the imperial robes they wouldn’t sell even in bankruptcy, sat gathered around the tavern’s warm hearth, savoring wine and sweet snacks.
Winemakers from Odoche and the surrounding regions had already signed long-term contracts with Henry, providing a steady supply of beer, rice wine, and wine.
Groups of Mercenaries gathered together miserably, loudly recounting their adventures, their laughter and cheers echoing through the tavern as they tried to attract the attention of the increasingly impoverished fallen nobles.
They couldn’t understand why, after more than a month, the lord of Westwood Laine, the star of the Battle of Zhiluo, Knight Henry, still hadn’t made any big moves.
’If we’d known, we wouldn’t have come. Now look at us. Our travel money is gone, and we’re stuck in Westwood Laine, slowly burning through our dwindling savings to survive. Some of us have even started taking odd jobs at the blacksmith’s or the tavern.’
The man on the minds of these fallen nobles and Mercenaries, all of whom were desperate for a helping hand, was Henry. He was currently standing before the thick wooden window of his study, gazing at the scenery outside.
Snowflakes drifted down, blanketing the world in a sheet of white. It all looked so beautiful.
Ailia draped a bearskin cloak over Henry’s shoulders and kept adding wood to the fireplace, ensuring the room didn’t get too cold.
Ailia looked at Henry’s back but didn’t disturb the entranced man, for she could see his tightly clenched fists.
Bain and Claude arrived in a hurry, not knowing why Henry had summoned them so urgently.
"My lord!"
Henry said nothing, merely pointing at the table for them to read the intelligence report that the Grassland Warriors had relayed back over the past few days.
"What? The Third Legion was defeated?"
