Chapter 221: The Blood of Capital
Marl paused, then continued,
"However, Dean Oscar of the Monastery said that the mission of the Monastery is merely to spread knowledge. If people from other territories are willing to send their appropriately-aged youth to study at the Monastery, as long as they pay enough tuition fees, the Monastery will naturally open its doors to them."
Bevan froze for a moment and couldn't help cursing inwardly—those old bastards in the Monastery were truly cunning.
The current generation had firm willpower and had already become part of this societal structure, so they naturally wouldn’t be easily influenced. But these youths were a different story.
Most of these young people were at an age where they desperately wanted to do something, but due to the limits of their age and abilities, could accomplish nothing. They were eager to change their current state and didn’t mind accepting new ideologies or enhancing their own capabilities to do so.
Hmm. Bevan had gone through this stage himself, so he naturally knew that influences exerted on people at this age could be enough to completely change their future worldview.
And once this news got out, would those gentry and baronial lords be tempted?
Bevan was certain—the answer was yes.
Just look at these exquisite products. Even the simplest carvings—artisans under their command wouldn’t achieve this in a lifetime. Yet such techniques could be hand-crafted by any apprentice in the Mechanical Discipline at the Monastery.
Then there were those bows and crossbows. Join the Mechanical Discipline, and these techniques would be shared freely. Apprentices could even work together with seniors to improve them.
And these gold coin maneuvers Bevan was playing with now—the gentry and baronial lords merely lacked the means to carry them out or the strength to resist. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t see through the blatant scheme they had no choice but to accept.
There was also knowledge on how to better unearth one’s own strength, how to treat wounds and illnesses, and so on.
Had this news not appeared, or had no one come into contact with it, then fine. But now that York Territory had already begun invading with the power brought by this knowledge, no matter how wary they were, they could only helplessly send their own family members to study.
After all, if they studied, their family’s future would be uncertain. But if they didn’t, then in as little as five years, their families would be eliminated.
The nobility might last a bit longer, but even then, it would only extend that five years to ten or twenty at most.
As someone who had been both the first to suffer and the first to benefit, Bevan was well aware of how those people would react once this news was revealed.
So, he finally said,
"I think they’ll be delighted when they hear this news. To selflessly share knowledge—such a noble act. I’m sure they’ll sincerely, wholeheartedly, and eternally thank Dean Oscar for it."
Marl nodded and said,
"August 1st marks the recruitment of the Fourth Batch of Apprentices. That’s less than two months away. Councilor Bevan can begin preparations."
Bevan said,
"This news might not spread too far, but the people in Baron Morn’s territory are all devout Believers of the Church. I believe that once they hear about this, they’ll certainly want to send their children to the Monastery."
Other places might take time to influence, but if knights delivered the news directly to the gentry in Baron Morn’s territory, they would likely be quite happy to send their family’s children to study in York Territory.
Marl said,
"Then I’ll trouble Councilor Bevan to pay more attention to this matter."
After speaking, he turned his gaze to Julian, who had remained silent, and said,
"Councilor Julian, I heard you’re planning to construct a large fortress-town?"
Although the idea of building a fortress-town had been suggested by the Church, conveyed through the Monastery, and understood by Julian himself, Marl still asked the question out of decorum, going through the motions.
Julian nodded and explained that he intended to connect three fortresses to form a fortress-town. He then continued,
"Councilor Bevan has already contacted them. They’re willing to build according to my ideas. It’ll just cost a bit more gold coins since they’ll need to smooth things over."
Marl glanced at Bevan, who had already lowered his gaze, staring into the black tea in front of him.
If it had been Bevan speaking, he definitely wouldn’t have put it so bluntly—especially the part about needing gold coins.
It seemed this Councilor Julian hadn’t progressed too far politically compared to the others.
Retracting his gaze, Marl looked at Julian and said,
"Gold coins are minted to be spent. Don’t worry about the cost. If needed, the Church can send over another ten thousand coins."
Though the Church and the Monastery claimed to be independent on paper, no one besides the commoners ever believed it.
They all knew in their hearts that the only thing independent was the apprentices.
And the Monastery was now in charge of minting new York gold coins.
Bevan’s eye twitched slightly at this. There were barely fifty thousand York gold coins circulating in the outside world, yet Marl casually offered to send over ten thousand more.
He was now even more acutely aware that once one held the right to mint and price currency, and had the resources to back it, wealth truly became nothing more than numbers.
After all, he couldn’t even remember when exactly he had started to equate York gold coins with wealth.
Julian didn’t think as deeply as Bevan. He directly said, "If possible, please send them over as soon as you can. The exchange of York gold coins at the port is currently insufficient. The black market exchange rate has already reached one to eight."
Marl’s pupils contracted, and he sharply turned to look at Bevan.
He cursed Julian inwardly for his indiscretion, but now Bevan could no longer pretend to be absorbed in his tea. He lifted his head and explained to Marl,
"The exchange gap between the northern territories and York proper is huge. Additionally, the gentry and baronial lords here at the port haven’t undergone the Gold Coin Recall, so they still have vast reserves of gold in their cellars. The York coins we’ve transported simply can’t meet their demand."
Marl chuckled coldly, his smile devoid of warmth.
"So Councilor Bevan sat idly by while the exchange rate between ordinary gold coins and York coins rose to one to eight?"
Bevan replied,
"Actually, the exchange rate is one to twelve."
Marl fell silent.
Bevan continued,
"But the one-to-twelve rate is their private trade. Our merchants have maintained the rate at one to eight."
"Of course, I admit—this was planned with Jeffrey. After all, to get these merchants to cooperate, we had to give them a chance to earn more. Only then would they enthusiastically promote York coins, helping to anchor its value."
"It’s precisely because of this strategy that merchants were willing to venture deeper inland, allowing our intelligence network to spread so rapidly."
Marl looked at Julian again. His expression was calm, as if unaware that one sentence had nearly cost him his seat in the council.
Marl mentally retracted his earlier judgment of Julian and instead offered a word of praise—no wonder he had been chosen by the Bishop.
Marl then said seriously, "I’ll reluctantly accept that reasoning. But Councilor Bevan, please remember—no matter how much you manipulate things, you must ensure the commoners can survive."
Bevan finally breathed a sigh of relief and said with a smile, "Of course. The commoners in Baron Morn’s territory now call me the Merciful Sir Bevan."
Inwardly, though, he thought—he had to get rid of the gentry in Baron Morn’s territory as soon as possible and then send the baron himself to York Territory. Let the merchants go stir up trouble somewhere farther away.
Light Port was still too close to York. And the first stop for the Church of the Sanctuary’s priests and knights would be here. If things got too out of hand and they were caught, the responsibility would fall on him as the Governor.
Bevan didn’t overestimate the self-control of those merchants.
Besides, he had already exchanged a large sum of gold at a one-to-twenty rate. There was no need to manipulate exchange rates at Light Port any further.
Marl now turned to Julian and said,
"I’ll have the Church send you twenty thousand coins. Consider them your military funds for this region."
Julian nodded and said,
"I will make sure every single coin is turned into defensive strength for the fortress."
Marl stared deeply at Julian’s calm face, then asked,
"According to the plan, under ideal conditions, how long will it take to finish building this fortress-town?"
Julian said,
"Six months to complete."
Marl frowned.
"Six months is too long. The Fishmen nearly breached the capital of the Principality of Corlay in just six months."
Julian thought for a moment before replying,
"Even with increased manpower, it will take at least four months. That’s the absolute limit. Any shorter, and we’ll have to compromise on defense."
Marl shook his head,
"That’s unacceptable. This place holds strategic value. No defensive strength can be sacrificed."
After some thought, Marl turned to Bevan and asked, "When will you be able to establish relations with Earl Raul to allow York’s mercenaries to pass through his lands?"
Bevan looked troubled,
"Organized military units can be negotiated diplomatically, but unregulated mercenaries aren’t welcomed by the gentry and baronial lords."
After all, York’s mercenaries had real combat experience and were all well-equipped. One or two was fine, but when three to five showed up together, noble houses felt the pressure. If the number reached ten or more, the gentry became wary. At thirty, even barons had headaches.
And how many mercenaries did York have now? Bevan had heard from Puniel—over six hundred, all armed.
That number alone had put pressure on the Senate. Puniel had even suggested recruiting a group as house servants, though the proposal had stalled for various reasons.
Marl thought for a moment, glanced at the two of them, and finally said,
"The Bishop has tasked me with assisting Earl Raul in fighting the Fishmen. But including myself, we only have thirty-four people in our unit. Even with a Holy Relic in hand, I can’t guarantee we’ll hold out for three months."
"These are Fishmen, after all—over a million of them on the lands of the Principality of Corlay. With their reproduction rate, they can spawn at least thirty thousand a day."