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墨書 Inktalez
Redman’s expression changed, becoming somewhat serious. “John, we have a problem with our territory.”
“What’s going on? Didn’t we just receive the grant?” John was puzzled, wondering what other complications could arise. Could it be that Marquis Duvas had changed his mind? Or was someone eyeing our territory?
Redman shook his head and spread a map on the table. “Nobles may employ many tactics, but it shouldn’t come to this. If the granted territory is given to someone else, it would violate the rules. These rules protect not only commoners but also the interests of the upper class.”
The two of them held territories in the southwestern coastal region, but that area was still under the control of the beastmen. Even if they managed to defeat the beastmen in a few days, no one would be sent to reclaim that land; they would have to rely on themselves.
John examined the situation on the map. Indeed, their territories—Binhai Town and Salty Fish Village—were too remote. Even if the beastmen’s main forces were defeated, no one would bother to clear out those impoverished areas; without profit, who would care?
Moreover, the remaining beastman forces were far too numerous for John and Redman to handle alone.
“We can’t just abandon it. I’m not one to give up easily,” Redman said, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Without our territory, how can we still call ourselves Noble Lords?”
John felt a headache coming on as well. The White Family wouldn’t be able to help anymore; after all, they had already contributed significantly by sending twenty guards recently—a considerable assistance.
“This is troublesome,” Redman sighed.
The two sat in silence inside the tent, unable to come up with a solution.
“Boss, why don’t you reach out to your family or consult with other nobles?” John suggested, placing his hopes on Redman’s connections.
Redman shook his head decisively. “Now that we’re both nobles, we need capital to ask for help. Neither of us has any.”
“Profit is key; they won’t help us unless there’s something in it for them.” John’s words hit home, but both of them were financially strapped. Besides their two hundred militia and twenty Ironclad Guards, they had no other bargaining chips.
Using the militia for trade would only yield slightly more valuable serfs, while the Ironclad Guards were Redman’s last resort—he needed them to manage their territory.
Suddenly, a loud clap startled Redman from his thoughts.
“John! Don’t go slapping your thighs like that; you scared me! Did you come up with an idea?”
John grinned mischievously. “What if there’s a fake treasure?”
“Fake treasure?” Redman was confused. “What do you mean? Explain.”
“Guess,” John replied playfully, suddenly intrigued by whether his older brother could figure it out.
"Guess what? Hurry up and say it." Redman slapped John on the back, making his point clear.
"Ouch, why are you so rough? I think I might be turning red," John winced.
This big brute! Damn it, I should have known better than to let him guess. Rubbing his back to ease the pain, John quickly spoke up, fearing another slap if he hesitated too long.
"Do you think it's possible that some treasure from hundreds of years ago was buried by those great sea pirates near Salty Fish Village or Binhai Town?"
"Fake treasure, you mean?" Redman clapped his hands together, looking at John with admiration. "How did your mind come up with that? It’s brilliant! Once the news spreads, greedy people will flock there. The beastmen won’t be able to hold it down, haha, John, you’re onto something."
"Then spreading the news is up to you, big guy."
"Leave it to me. My reputation as Iron Will Fortress and Little Social Butterfly isn’t just for show. When it comes to gossip, I have my experience. You know, not every gathering has something serious to talk about; gossip is the best seasoning for building relationships."
He was Redman, the gossip spreader, the life of the party. Mike and James White were online now.
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