Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 211
Upon hearing that person’s words, not only Jack who was eavesdropping, but even those grumbling idlers were startled.
After staring awkwardly at the other party for quite some time, Trett finally forced a dry laugh and said, “You can’t possibly be serious……”
They had merely gathered to complain about Duke Oliver’s overly lenient treatment of women, never intending to risk being beaten to death for revenge or anything of the sort!
Especially when it came to Duke Oliver himself—even though they were full of complaints about his methods, after witnessing how effortlessly he wielded that miraculous blue greatsword while bathed in sacred golden light, they had absolutely no desire to oppose him.
What a joke! They weren’t even comparable to the former bandit gang members, so how could they possibly stand against Duke Oliver, who had single-handedly defeated those very bandits?
Under their suspicious and scrutinizing gazes, Insait remained completely composed, as if he hadn’t just made such a chilling proposal. He even smiled nonchalantly and spread his hands: “So you’re all talk but lack the courage to take a gamble? You should know that the lord’s excessive kindness is actually a mercy you can exploit.”
“Don’t forget, so far only invaders of the territory have died by his hand—not a single one of the territory’s subjects.” Insait’s tone was measured yet powerfully persuasive: “Think about it—even Annie the former cook who spat in his soup, that freeman who repeatedly deceived him about the crops, even those captured bandits who were pardoned into slavery because they hadn’t shed blood yet… What you need to deal with isn’t even that willful, naively kind duke himself.”
Pausing here, he laughed and said: “If you just burn one or two granaries, take advantage of the chaos to steal some money, food and weapons, then go to other cities—wouldn’t that both get your revenge and let you live much better than now? With those things, you might even marry pretty slave girls or even commoner girls as wives elsewhere.”
Trett and the others felt slightly tempted, but after exchanging glances, they calmed down: “Even if we don’t die, we’ll be discovered and captured quickly. There are patrols everywhere nearby!”
But Insait said: “Do you really think there are no vulnerabilities in these three cities he hasn’t fully consolidated yet?”
“If you knew anything about outside affairs and eavesdropped on passing merchants’ conversations, you wouldn’t voice such ignorant fears.” Insait said without changing expression, mixing truth with falsehood: “Although that duke is His Majesty the King’s only surviving younger brother, after greedily devouring Albury and Gregor city, he has become the capital’s enemy. A duke opposing the king—could he possibly prevail? Before he realizes it, His Majesty’s spies are already all around him. Those foolish, blindly loyal followers behind him— like moths drawn to a flame, are bound to bring about their own destruction alongside him sooner or later.”
It is true that he has made enemies everywhere and become the most feared presence in the royal capital by the King.
However, the claim that spies have infiltrated three cities is nothing but an outright lie.
Duke Oliver, who possesses three major southern cities, indirectly controls the lifeline of mineral supply to the mining cities, and has welcomed back a knight order so powerful it is renowned throughout the nation, is undoubtedly fully fledged. He is no longer a lord whom the King can bully at will.
Unless Cameron has gone mad and truly intends to mobilize the entire nation—including forces largely from nobles whose loyalty to him remains quite limited—to deal with such a powerful lord, the only option left would be through means like assassination.
Spy infiltration requires a long time to lay the groundwork, yet Duke Oliver rose too rapidly, and the royal capital’s response was far too sluggish.
By the time the King realized the extent of his threatening power, the measures taken were neither timely nor effective. Insait, who was once an unremarkable apothecary apprentice in Gregor city, had secretly accepted the royal capital’s overtures and followed the instructions of his mentor, Pharmaci. Yet, after successfully infiltrating Laina under a false identity, the tasks he could accomplish and the people he could reach were extremely limited.
He dared not act rashly: only when dealing with the likes of Trett, who existed at the very bottom even among slaves, performing the simplest yet most grueling manual labor, would the steward not repeatedly verify and question a person’s identity.
However, these empty-headed fools were also the easiest to deceive and the most susceptible to incitement.
Before Trett and the others could pour more cold water on the idea, Insait said calmly, “If you do nothing, sooner or later, you’ll be left far behind by everyone, even the women you look down upon the most. Only the fools who are wholeheartedly loyal to that beautiful and cunning Duke will get to live the good life—it will never be your turn. While you remain in filthy slave huts, exposed to wind and rain, gnawing on the hard black rye bread meant for feeding pigs in the farms, they will live in spacious, bright wooden or stone houses, topped with brightly colored tiles, and their children will be allowed to attend school in the divine temple. Every day, not only will they wear clean new clothes and do simple, easy work, but they will also eat meat…”
Just hearing Insait’s plain yet vivid description made Trett and the others, who hadn’t tasted meat or eggs in a very long time, stare wide-eyed, their mouths watering incessantly.
Trett’s eyes shifted craftily as he said slyly, “Then, according to you, shouldn’t we be trying to please the lord instead?”
Insait smiled faintly, a trace of contempt flashing in his eyes, but his words came out naturally: “That’s precisely because you haven’t been deceived by his traps. Otherwise, with your abilities, if you were willing to act, how could you possibly still be stuck here?”
Although Trett had no idea what was so remarkable about his own lazy approach, seeing someone as seemingly intelligent as Insait—who was rumored to have once done big business in Albury city—praise him made him feel immensely proud and even less inclined to doubt such claims.
Moreover, he couldn’t help but be tempted by what Insait had said earlier. Unable to restrain himself, he asked, “Then what exactly is this opportunity you mentioned?”
Insait didn’t answer immediately.
He knew full well that when dealing with these greedy yet cowardly, bullying-the-weak-but-fearing-the-strong lowlifes, one shouldn’t satisfy their demands all at once.
So he smiled faintly and vaguely said, “Let’s find a suitable place to talk tonight.”
It seemed they finally realized they had stayed too long. Before the steward sent someone to look for them, the idlers quickly scattered.
Jack didn’t want to be discovered by them. He remained motionless, hiding in that concealed spot until there was truly no one around anymore, then crept out cautiously.
God.
This honest man who had never directly faced conspiracy before was already clutching his wooden bucket with a splitting headache, completely unsure of what to do.
Worried, he rinsed himself off, picked up the carefree children, and returned home.
When facing his wife Marianne, he kept hesitating to speak, uncertain in his heart whether he should say anything at all.
He thought, although Marianne was a bit smarter than him, she had no experience in such matters either and wouldn’t be able to offer good advice.
Should he return to the barracks and tell the people there? Or directly inform the steward? Let the sheriff know? Or perhaps he should report directly to the sheriff?
But hadn’t that Insait also said that there were already people from the royal capital hiding in Laina, planning to harm the lord?
Jack shifted restlessly in his seat, for the first time feeling that the bread in his mouth was so difficult to swallow.
Moreover, even someone as self-aware of his poor intellect—who could be called a fool—understood that without evidence, a report would never succeed.
It might even alert the other party, making his family a target.
Only he had eavesdropped at that time—which also meant only he had the ability to stop this sinister conspiracy against the lord.
Although he only knew a few main participants, he remained completely ignorant of when, where, or what exactly would happen.
“Great cat god,” he scratched his head in agony while Marianne, unaware of any of this, went to wash dishes. “What should I do indeed!”
After all, should he tell the knight about these matters?
The likelihood of a knight secretly betraying the lord was very low—he must desperately describe the situation at the time, hoping the other would believe him, then heighten vigilance and keep watch on Trett and the others.
Just as Jack steeled his resolve, an unfamiliar man’s voice suddenly came from outside the door.
“Jack?”
The voice was soft, almost drowned out by the sound of Marianne washing dishes, but the tone was urgent. “old Edley is sick. Come quickly and help.”
“What?!”
Jack was startled.
Had Edley overworked himself these past few days and fallen ill again?
Jack knew that with old Edley’s stubborn temper, he wouldn’t come to him unless he was seriously ill and had no other options.
Without time to think further, he quickly grabbed his clothes, rushed into the bedroom, took a handful of coins hidden in a chest, and stuffed them into his pocket.
Then, he said to Marianne, who looked puzzled, “Edley is sick, I’m going to check on him,” before rushing out the door in a flurry.
It was already dark, and he only saw a thin, gaunt figure with its back turned to him, hurriedly walking away.
“Hey, wait for me.”
Jack muttered, hastily tying the bag containing the coins shut as he chased after the figure.
THUD
— A dull sound.
Under normal circumstances, it might have seemed abrupt, but at that moment, it was completely drowned out by the dense crackle of cooking fires and the clamor nearby. Unprepared, Jack was struck hard on the back of his head with a wooden club and instantly lost consciousness.
— “Cat God?”
Before falling asleep, Oliver looked questioningly at the deity, whose expression had suddenly turned grave.
Backlit, the god’s golden eyes appeared deep and shadowy.
To anyone else, it might have seemed like an imposing, inscrutable gaze. But Oliver knew better—this was the specific expression the god wore when he was somewhat confused, somewhat doubtful, yet not entirely certain.
He only called out once and then waited quietly.
It wasn’t until those eyes regained their clarity that he gently asked, “Did something happen?”
“Probably nothing.”
The Cat-eared God twitched his ears lightly as he replied.
He was like a large cat that had just tensely caught a faint scent of prey, poised to strike, only to lose the target the next moment when it vanished abruptly.
Although he had placed a few strands of his divine sense in the divine temple in Laina City, the distance was considerable, and having just recovered from a state of Divine Power Depletion, he hadn’t paid much attention to the happenings in that distant city.
The directive he had left on those strands of divine sense was to “watch for anyone harboring ill will toward Oliver.”
He had previously detected faint traces of malice and had informed Oliver about them… but those individuals were merely posing as slaves and couldn’t access much information.
As for spies, it was impossible to completely eliminate them. Most lords, upon discovery, would opt for “close monitoring rather than immediate capture and execution” to avoid the hassle of having to identify new spies later.
Oliver was no exception.
When writing to knight captain Noel, he passed on the warning he had received from the Cat God and requested that the knight dispatch people to keep an eye on the movements of those individuals.
After that, since Laina had remained peaceful and the Cat God had said nothing further, Oliver hadn’t closely followed up on the matter.
For a moment just now, the god seemed to have detected a surge of malice directed at his little partner… but before his divine sense could specifically mark them, they vanished without a trace.
Though the Cat-eared God wasn’t exactly anxious, when it came to Oliver, he didn’t want to be careless.
“It might be Deyth.”
Unfamiliar with the complexities of human hearts, the young deity couldn’t guess the underlying reasons.
—It was because the slaves, once incited by Insait to harbor ill will toward Oliver, had quickly redirected their resentment toward the captured Jack and were now entirely focused on the mountains of food stored in the granary.
After seriously contemplating for a while, the God of Wealth decided to return to his divine realm.
“Oliver.”
After finally finishing these thoughts, He was surprised to find that it was already time for Oliver to fall asleep.
“Oliver……”
Feeling slightly disappointed, He lowered His gaze, then ultimately leaned down unapologetically to claim the missed goodnight kiss from the slumbering lord.
Satisfied, He embraced His beloved partner, then stormed back to the divine realm with imposing momentum, ready to cause trouble for Deyth.
