Chapter 597

Greedy Edward Campbell forgot the honor of nobility and lent money at exorbitant interest to his subjects; poor Campbellians would need a hundred years to repay their paper debts.

The Third Council passed the Currency Optimization Act; the Guild Master of Stonemasons stated this move aimed to resolve the shortage of copper coins in the market—boosting copper supply for nobles while alleviating the increasingly severe debt crisis, a tremendous benefit for both the citizens of Roland City and the Kingdom of Rayne.

— Roland City Times

……

In the morning of Roland City, mist had not yet cleared when the crisp, excited cries of newsboys echoed along the damp cobblestone streets.

That voice pierced through the haze of dawn, trying to awaken the city, sunk in endless complaints, from its slumber.

"Extra! Extra! The Third Council succeeded successfully!"

"A great reconciliation! Before the witness of clerics, His Majesty and the nobles shook hands! The era of Roland City's prosperity is coming!"

The thin-clad newsboy waved the freshly printed Roland City Times, still fragrant with ink, tirelessly darting through alleys and streets.

People with sallow faces rushed to buy it.

Newcas, having just returned from the Summer Palace to His Majesty's city, stood outside a bakery, pulled out some change, bought a copy, and paused to read.

But at the first glance, he burst out laughing.

Who said knights of the knightly land don't understand humor?

This is hilarious.

The report claimed that after two days of "friendly and cordial consultations," His Majesty Theoden deeply understood the hardships faced by second-class citizens in maintaining regional order; to jointly overcome these difficult times, he reached an epic "Great Understanding" with the nobles.

He permitted lords with minting rights to moderately "adjust" the purity and weight of copper coins according to local conditions—copper must be used in principle for minting.

In exchange, grateful nobles generously agreed to waive half the interest on the royal family's existing debts.

This was turning robbery into poetry.

As one of the audience watching this circus, Newcas could only sigh inwardly: if only he had a baron's title.

Then he wouldn't need to sell fire extinguishers at all—carving them from wood would be faster.

Yet he never expected the tense council to end so cleverly, when those wolves had nearly come to blows.

It seems Baron Wickton still has some skill.

Even the king, sitting outside the theater watching the show, the old man had probably already decided who would foot the bill for the stage built in the Summer Palace.

His gaze continued downward, landing on a feature interview titled "Voices of the Citizens."

The accompanying illustration was none other than the Guild Master of Stonemasons, who had sat to his right during the council—the very politician who claimed to speak for the people's interests.

Though Newcas couldn't recall whether the man had spoken at all during the meeting, he certainly knew how to talk after leaving His Majesty's palace—

【More coins mean more transactions, which means our citizens' purses will soon swell like rising dough.】

He swore in the interview that increasing copper supply would greatly enhance market liquidity—a win-win good deed.

"I've got good judgment—I knew he was a border collie, a clever shepherd dog," Newcas muttered, tossing the finished newspaper to a beggar picking through trash.

The young attendant behind him didn't grasp the subtle joke, but he was curious and eager to learn.

"Sir, what does that mean?"

"It means you're cheaper now. That's a good thing."

Newcas laughed and patted the boy's shoulder, but then felt it was immoral to joke at the expense of the weak, so he added quickly:

"I'm joking. How about paying you next month in silver pounds?"

His sudden conscience wasn't due to morality—it was because he valued his own life.

Mr. Andes of Rayming City once said something classic—no ragged beggar has ever died defending a rich man's vault.

That man was his idol.

The boy stared at Mr. Newcas, bewildered.

He hadn't understood the joke until Newcas's second sentence—then he instantly grasped its true meaning and went rigid with alarm.

"Campbell's paper? Sir, don't joke with me—I don't want that stuff!"

The boy's frantic, protective posture startled Newcas. He froze, unsure what to say, then stepped back, laughing and grimacing.

"I was joking. Forget I said anything."

He had to take it back.

Knights of the knightly land do understand humor.

They just take it very seriously.

……

Saint Roland Fitz Church Academy, its red brick walls covered in emerald ivy like a magical barrier, kept out the noise of Roland City.

But it could not silence the roar from within.

"This is… utter nonsense!"

The fifty-year-old scholar, holding the paper full of lies, could no longer suppress his rage—he tore it into shreds.

The fluttering paper scraps resembled white snow, yet could not hide the sorrow filling the room.

Professor Ferguson slumped into his chair, staring at the scattered fragments, overwhelmed by a profound sense of helplessness.

Lin Te Isaac probably never imagined that the newspaper he invented to carry the torch of truth would become the chains on the feet of Raynes, forged by the descendants of Devalu.

Many had forgotten his name—especially Raynes—but Professor Ferguson, who had read true history, remembered.

And that was precisely why he felt fate's cruelty: the once-mighty Isaac Dynasty seemed to have left behind only steam engines and playing cards.

Theoden had successfully broken the spine of the clever with fear and profit; now he could slaughter his cattle and sheep without restraint.

Every person in this city held a bundle of rage, and they were venting their unexpressed fury onto the weaker. The illiterate screamed, "I want to eat shit!" and the literate immediately replied, "Hey brother, I'll shit you a big one right now."

When everyone could eat, it was fine—but what happens when the sheep, unable to survive, begin eating people?

The Third Council gathered the most powerful in the kingdom, yet not a single noble or cleric seriously considered this question.

And when he tried to extinguish this fire, everyone except the flustered Baron Wickton turned their backs on him.