parentshiftbook Chapter 404 : Speculation
Chapter 404 : Speculation
In truth, he had greatly wished to participate.He believed that the noble system of old was the proper order. The commoners were meant to be the property of nobles like himself. Granting them freedom was already an act of mercy—how could one even speak of enacting laws to protect them?
Thus, he had wanted to join in the opposition against the Senate, especially in the uproar caused by the Knight Guild.
He believed that the policies favoring commoners were only being passed because the Senate held power, and with a Consul who wasn’t even a noble, it was inevitable that to maintain his own authority, that Consul would weaken the power of the nobility.
How could this be acceptable!
He had worked so hard to become a noble, yet now that he had achieved that status, he still had to cater to the commoners? What was the point of being a noble then?
But the words of those bards had made him extremely wary.
In the end, he chose not to go.
And in the end, he was very thankful for that choice.
All the nobles involved had died, and now they were being purged.
But that feeling of relief didn’t last long—once news leaked from the thieves, he was left dumbfounded.
He was on the purge list too.
Who? Which councilor? Was it Puniel?!
Hobert immediately suspected that it was that man, Puniel, who wanted to kill him.
He remembered how, after acquiring his Holy Relic, he had become less eager to fawn over Puniel.
And he recalled how he had eliminated those who were disloyal to him...
He felt as if he had uncovered the truth.
“Puniel, you bastard!” Hobert cursed angrily. “I did so much for you! Even during the crucial phase of building my territory, when gold was urgently needed, I still gave you three hundred York gold coins. Real, glittering gold coins!”
He was hiding inside his fortress, in a small secret chapel he had built himself.
The floor was littered with human bones, blood still fresh from the most recent ritual.
This was the most secretive, and the most reassuring, place to him.
It was said that a Holy Relic needed to be nurtured within a chapel. That was what he had heard.
His Holy Relic meant everything to him. Even those he trusted most weren’t allowed to approach.
So he had stitched a black priest’s robe himself and served as the priest of this chapel, using the most primitive ritual methods.
He looked down at the scroll in his hand. Judging by the speed at which Gregor was conducting the purges, in another six days... no, perhaps just five if they hastened, it would be his turn.
“No, I can’t just sit here and wait to die!” Hobert's eyes were bloodshot.
“Randolph, Kratt, Evans—none of them participated in the rebellion, yet they’re on the list too,” he growled like a wild beast. “They must have received this list by now as well.”
Hobert lifted his head, gazing at the Holy Relic enshrined before him.
It was a gray gemstone, layered with three hues, the innermost one pitch-black like a pupil.
...
Two days later, Hobert met with the other three nobles at an estate.
“I imagine you three have received the list,” Hobert said in a low voice.
His hair was combed forward, covering half his face, and combined with his sunken voice, he seemed a little deranged.
Very unbecoming of a noble.
But Hobert had started out as a mercenary, so the three others weren’t surprised.
“You already detailed that in your letter. No need to repeat it,” one of them replied.
“So, Hobert, if you called us here just to confirm whether we’re on the list, I assume that’s not all you intend,” said another.
“Heh...” Hobert chuckled darkly, a sound that made the others uncomfortable.
“Of course, Baron Evans. I invited you three here to see if there is still a way for us to survive,” said Hobert. “Surely, you all understand. Even though Marquis Doyle suffered great losses, losing an entire knight order, he is still a Marquis. And already, he has gathered twelve Tier Four Knights.”
“Of course, under the Senate's current policies, it’s uncertain whether three of those twelve can even become official knights,” he added with a mocking tone.
He himself was Tier Four. Even after becoming a baron, he couldn’t discard the title of knight.
“So, I don’t think any of you want to die, especially not for something we never even did.”
The first man scowled. “So you called us here just to tell us that? To point out the difference in strength?”
“No, no,” Hobert turned to him. “Baron Randolph, that’s not my intent. I just want all of us to survive.”
“But as you know, I’m of commoner origin, so my intelligence is limited. You three come from noble bloodlines, passed down for generations. Surely, you must be smarter than I am.”
Baron Kratt interrupted with a calm voice, though laced with insult. “No need to say such things. It only reminds me of how filthy and lowly your blood is.”
He seemed composed, but his words were offensive. “Those graduates from the monasteries have already proven that even commoners can possess wisdom. What they lack is merely experience and perspective.”
Of course, the ones he referenced mostly came from the gentry families, but to them, gentry were no different from commoners.
At most, they were the kind of commoners permitted to meet them.
Hobert was briefly enraged, but quickly suppressed it and forced a smile. “Indeed. Actually, I have a hypothesis.”
He paused. When all three looked his way, he continued, “I assume each of you had some dealings with certain senators—maybe even done some unlawful favors for them?”
The three exchanged glances and fell into silence.
Hobert was in no rush. He just looked at them quietly.
Beneath the half of his face that was hidden, the Holy Relic embedded in his eye socket twitched like a real eyeball.
In Hobert’s vision, the three barons glowed white.
It was the glow of ‘indifference.’
Eventually, Baron Randolph spoke first. “So, you think the senators want us dead?”
Hobert replied, “The Consul is of commoner birth, and still remains a commoner. Naturally, such a Consul would take the law very seriously.”
After he spoke, Kratt shook his head. “No, perhaps you’ve guessed wrong. I have no deep ties with any senators. At most, we exchange pleasantries.”
Hobert froze, his expression turning grim. “Before I became a baron, it was Councilor Puniel who gave me the opportunity.”
Baron Randolph's expression was the same. “Councilor Fenrir’s business in the dungeon has ties to me.”
Baron Evans added, “There are quite a few matters on Councilor Yorn’s end as well.”
Finally, all three looked at Kratt.
“If attending a wine tasting with Councilor Jeffrey counts, then yes,” Kratt said.
These words made Hobert and the other two frown.
If it wasn’t about doing dirty work for senators, then why were they on the list?
Could it be...
Kratt interrupted their thoughts. “I think I might have a clue.”
His face was filled with disbelief as he spoke.
He met their eyes and continued, “Last month, just before the Doyle Rebellion, I spoke casually with Councilor Jeffrey at a banquet. I recall him mentioning that the Consul had considered political reforms—to appoint more officials in order to take complete control of Greenwood.”
“I took it as a joke at the time. Of course, so did Councilor Jeffrey. Replace the nobility with just officials? How could a territory be governed like that?”
“But now, look at the list. Look at Doyle Territory and the surrounding regions. Only one Marquis remains—not a single noble!”
His voice trembled with awe and fear. “So, if the Consul was serious, then perhaps the Doyle Rebellion was orchestrated by them—to wipe out the nobles completely.”
Hobert was stunned. “But... isn’t the Marquis of Doyle still alive? Didn’t they announce that it was his knights who impersonated him and initiated the rebellion?”
Kratt’s eyes were bloodshot, and he panted. “Idiot! Isn’t it obvious they’re protecting him?”
“But... but...” He swallowed hard, throat dry.
“But even so, only the Marquis of Doyle survives. Besides the Senate, besides the Consul, I can't imagine who else could pull something like this off.”
Silence filled the room.
Following Kratt’s line of thought, they began to understand what Councilor Jeffrey had meant by ‘appointing more officials.’
They were to be replaced by bureaucrats.
They also recalled the Scholar’s Guild established earlier that year, and the Consul’s policy during the Doyle Rebellion that all officials must be ranked Tier Two Scholars certified by the Guild.
Then they thought about the Consul’s origins, and the apprentice administrators trained over the years by the monastery.
Putting it all together—it seemed the Consul had planned this for a long time.
Randolph shook his head repeatedly, his voice trembling with terror. “No, impossible! The Senate isn’t just the Consul. There are other senators, and above the Senate, there is still the King!”
Kratt responded coldly, “Then tell me—where is the King?”
A moment of silence.
Then Evans spoke hesitantly, “Didn’t the matron of the Adams Family recently send robes to the Royal Castle?”
Kratt's voice dripped with sarcasm. “Yes, she did. But tell me, Baron Evans—what is the Consul’s full name? Agamemnon Adams. Which family does he belong to?”