Chapter 264: Insult
The noble returned to his fortress, saying he would come tomorrow during the day to lead Aen on the road.
Aen was not afraid that this lord named Jared Brick would gather other nobles.
The transported wheat looked plentiful, but for an entire territory to eat, it would not last long.
For the nobles here, clearly, having long-term caravans aligned better with their interests.
Besides, the combat power of the mercenaries Aen had brought was not something a hastily gathered coalition could easily contend with.
Inside the tent, Aen slapped himself hard across the face several times. The sound was loud, and his mouth even began to bleed.
His heart was a little excited and restless.
The reason he had let Lord Jared return was not only because he was unafraid, but also because he feared that if he lost composure, the other would see through his bottom line and intentions.
A lord was, after all, a noble. No matter how little reverence one had toward nobles, it was impossible to go so far as to actually slap a noble’s face.
Such an act made his heartbeat race to the extreme.
But this was something he had to do—he needed to raise his own value.
Deals could only be made between equals. If he remained just an ordinary merchant, not to mention a grand duke, even a minor noble would not look him in the eye.
In fact, if Jared had not come to attack, Aen had considered before meeting the grand duke to assault some lesser noble, so that people here would take him seriously.
This was also the experience taught by those big merchants of York Territory who first opened trade and established business districts. As a small merchant, Aen had only ever done this with the gentry, never before with nobles.
Of course, being attacked was the best outcome.
Only by such high-profile means would the grand duke take his words seriously, believe that Bishop Jeven was an equal, and truly consider whether to negotiate about that Saintess.
But Aen needed to keep himself sober. Tomorrow, he would be meeting a grand duke—he could not treat him in the same manner as this lord.
…
The next day, Jared donned a noble’s robe and brought a knight with him.
Aen also changed into the special clothing he had prepared for meeting the grand duke.
It was the latest craftwork from the Adams Family, close-fitting, noble and elegant. On his feet were white silk stockings, and around his neck, flower-like ruffled folds.
These were only purchasable by officials and gentry, requiring half a year of waiting in advance.
By his status, Aen had no right to buy them. But after he invoked Bishop Jeven’s name, the Adams Family had cut the line for him, making a set and charging only the cost.
Bishop Jeven came from the Adams Family. Although formally, after becoming a priest one’s surname remained only a name, he still bore the Adams bloodline.
Of course, even at cost, the amount had pained Aen so much that his face twitched.
Yet…
Glancing at Jared’s old-fashioned noble robe, Aen felt the money had been well spent.
On the road, he even considered changing out some of the garments again, lest the grand duke feel disgraced by not being dressed better than him.
…
The group arrived straight at Blackrock City.
On the road, no other nobles came to plunder, perhaps because Jared’s knight carried his house banner.
Upon entering Blackrock City, the stench of the crowded place made Aen frown.
This odor was worse than York Town back then.
He was now already living in York City.
Aen’s group of over a hundred people, along with more than thirty carts of wheat, naturally caused a commotion.
But before some people could act rashly, four knights with soldiers cleared the streets.
Jared greeted the knights, and then one said, “Sir Jared, and this merchant from York Territory, the grand duke wishes to see you.”
Aen asked, “And what about my goods? Please, Sir Knight, arrange a place for me to store them. These are Bishop Jeven’s belongings.”
The knight did not interrupt. Only after Aen finished did he reply, “There are no goods here. Everything here belongs to the grand duke.”
At those words, the soldiers drew weapons toward Aen’s mercenaries.
A disturbance arose. Three wild knights lowered their visors, the mercenaries nervously gripping weapons and crossbows, while the laborers held wooden poles.
Aen’s face changed as he shouted, “Is this the grand duke’s hospitality?!”
Sir Jared quietly stepped back.
Then the knight approached and, with a calm stroke, severed the head of Aen’s riding horse.
“Ah!” A scream echoed. The headless horse collapsed, one of Aen’s legs pinned beneath it, his head striking the ground and bleeding.
The wild knights stirred, but the three knights glared at them.
The knight who had beheaded the horse looked down at Aen and said, “You are not a noble. You may not ride when meeting the grand duke, so I helped you dismount.”
Aen’s scream stopped. In that instant, his mind returned to the past, when the Church of the Sanctuary had not yet acted against the gentry, and he had still been serving them.
He pulled his leg out with effort, stood limping, his once-straight back bent. His clothes were stained with dust and blood, wrinkled, and he forced a sycophantic smile. “Yes, of course. How could a lowly merchant like me ride to meet the grand duke?”
The knight said, “You must lower your head. Without the grand duke’s permission, the lowly may not gaze upon his visage.”
Obediently, Aen lowered his head to the filthy ground. “Yes, the grand duke is so noble. How could someone like me dare look upon him?”
The knight nodded in satisfaction. “Very good.”
He then rode forward to the three wild knights. “You are knights. Please wait outside with these men. He will come out soon, and you may take him back.”
One wild knight said, “He is our employer, serving important figures.”
The knight said, “I despise you for accepting coin and throwing away knightly honor, but I understand misfortune may have driven you. The grand duke bids me extend an offer—he will grant you what knights deserve.”
The wild knight replied, “We serve him not for gold, but for the man behind him.”
The knight asked, “That Bishop Jeven he speaks of?”
The wild knight said, “The Church.”
The knight retorted, “Even if the Church makes you unlike true knights?”
The wild knight said, “After losing lord, fief, and all else, we are confused about what true knighthood means—loyalty to one’s lord, keeping oaths, or upholding virtue.”
The knight said, “It seems things are lively over there.”
The wild knight replied, “Perhaps one day you will experience it yourself.”
The knight asked, “Is it good?”
The wild knight shook his head, gesturing behind him. “Not one of them was willing to surrender.”
The knight said, “Only because they haven’t tasted death.”
The wild knight answered, “It is because they have seen a better world.”
The knight sneered. “We have seen well enough what the Theocracy is.”
The wild knight replied, “The Church is not the Theocracy.”
The knight said, “What difference? Both enslave with words and faith.”
The wild knight gave no answer, only said, “We will wait outside.”
The knight said, “He will be out soon.”
Thus, the wild knights led the mercenaries and laborers outside of Blackrock City.
The knight raised his hand. “Bring the grand duke’s goods back.”
The soldiers seized onlookers to haul the wheat carts.
The knight then addressed Aen, still bent and bowed. “Come.”
Aen shuffled forward, head low. “Yes, Sir Knight. Yes…”
Sir Jared then said, “I will go see the grand duke first.”
The knight nodded. “The grand duke is in the hall of Blackrock Fortress.”
Jared inclined his head slightly to the knight, then without a glance at Aen, rode with the knight to Blackrock Fortress.
Aen walked at a steady pace, yet felt the road unbearably long, long enough for him to recall three times over everything from his birth to when he first heard of the Church. Only then did the knight bark at him to stop.
“You are the merchant serving the Church of the Sanctuary’s bishop?” asked a youthful voice.
“Yes, Your Grace the grand duke,” Aen said, naturally dropping to his knees, forehead pressed deep to the ground. The white silk stockings could not protect his legs, and he felt sharp pain as though pebbles were beneath them.
The young voice said, “I am curious about the Church of the Sanctuary. Tell me of what they have done.”
Still pressed to the ground, Aen said, “Yes, Your Grace the grand duke.”
He then recounted the Church’s deeds—erasing small families overnight, building cathedrals and monasteries, forming a senate, expelling werewolves, constructing ports and ships, currency reform, anathema, campaigns against southern nobles.
Everything he knew of the Church’s work these two years, he spoke.
The young voice asked, “Whom in the Church do you deem equal to me?”
Aen said, “Bishop Marl is bishop of the Adrian Diocese, and Earl Richard of Adrian shares his power. I believe bishops of the Church can be your equals.”
The young voice gave a laugh, mocking or otherwise. “You mean I, the Grand Duke of Corlay, should be equal to an earl? Are you belittling me?”
Aen said, “No. I only believe the Church is exalted, and every bishop worthy of respect.”
The young voice said, “So you think the Church deserves more respect than nobles? That it is more exalted?”
Aen replied, “You are noble, worthy of respect. Nobles are noble, worthy of respect. But in my heart, the Church deserves greater respect. As for exalted, the priests of the Church never considered themselves exalted.”
The young voice asked, “And you, what do you think?”
Aen said, “I believe every priest of the Church is exalted.”
The young voice pressed on. “You say nobles are noble and respectable, yet you trampled Sir Jared, slapped his face, insulted him. Am I to believe you despise and insult that which you call noble and respectable?”
Aen said, “That was because I wished you would take me seriously, not scorn me for being a commoner.”
The young voice said, “Yet now you kneel before me.”
Aen said, “That is because you do not understand the Church’s exaltation.”
The young voice said, “You threaten me?”
Aen said, “Yes, I am threatening you.”
The young voice laughed aloud. “Hahaha, amusing, amusing. You are honest.”
Aen said, “Honesty is a virtue.”
The voice said, “Very well. I like those with virtue. I permit you to raise your head and look upon me.”
Kneeling, Aen lifted his head.
The grand duke wore thick silver-white armor, no helmet, allowing Aen to see his heterochromatic eyes at once.
Sir Jared stood at his side and said to Aen, “This is the great Grand Duke Raymond Corlay. You must remember this.”
Aen kowtowed again. “Thank you for the reminder. I will remember.”
His forehead, already raw, struck the ground again, sharp pain pricking. He felt every tiny bump.
Raymond said, “I told you, you may look at me.”
Aen raised his head once more.
Raymond said, “You come on behalf of that bishop, yet you are but a commoner. To speak with you insults me. And having been insulted, do you think I will agree to your request? Originally, a minor noble or even a priest would suffice. But since I have been insulted, I will only receive the bishop you deem my equal. That is the only way to speak with me.”
With that, Raymond lifted his hand. Sir Jared immediately bowed his head to him.
“The bishop you call my equal sends only a little grain—worthless, though I do need it now. My envoy, Sir Jared, will return with you to deliver my gift to that bishop. I am willing to build friendship with the Church, but sending a commoner to face me is an insult.”