Chapter 4

The old king was amused by Cyrus. This request was quite reasonable.

He softened his voice and said, "You only want to expand your territory, not gold coins?"

Cyrus's eyes shone like stars. He raised his head and asked in a childish voice, "Will Your Majesty give me all of it?"

What would it matter if he did?

The old king was just about to agree generously when Bass Riches spoke first.

He fixed Cyrus with a sharp gaze that could make a child cry. "Territory and gold are not a problem, but the Cogit Sea falls within Visas's borders, and making salt from seawater and selling it would also take place within Visas..."

"You must understand that a gift presented to the king cannot be nothing more than a parchment covered in writing."

A lord was a vassal of the king or a higher-ranking lord and was obligated to perform military service, pay tribute, taxes, and other duties.

Within his own territory, however, a lord was the highest ruler, possessing administrative and judicial authority as well as other privileges.

For example, he could establish courts and prisons, set up checkpoints, collect taxes, and so on.

The territory of Visas had been directly granted by the king and was the king's vassal.

The king could enjoy the duties owed by a lord, but he had no right to casually interfere in all the affairs within a lord's territory. Even when going to war, the king sometimes had to discuss borrowing troops from a lord.

As Minister of Finance, Bass Riches was well aware of the enormous profits involved in selling salt.

He wanted to control it, yet he could not openly seek benefits for himself.

After all, Visas was not his vassal.

Cyrus took a step back under his gaze, tugging lightly at Judas's clothes as he said in a soft voice, "I can give sixty percent of the profits from the salt trade to Your Majesty."

Bass Riches said, "As far as I know, Visas is remote and poor. Since you wish to expand your territory, why not trade Visas directly to His Majesty for another prosperous city closer to the royal capital?"

Only once Visas became ownerless would he have a chance to acquire it.

Cyrus said, "But I only want Visas."

Bass Riches curled his lips, though the smile did not reach his eyes. "Count Desinia is rather clever."

"Thank you for the compliment." Cyrus pursed his lips shyly.

The old king waved Bass Riches aside and ordered an attendant to bring a map. "There seems to be only Par Mountain near Visas... How about I designate Par Mountain as your territory and reward you with five chests of gold coins as well?"

Naturally, Cyrus agreed wholeheartedly.

The procedures for transferring the territory would take half a day to complete.

The old king told him that he could first rest and enjoy himself in the royal capital. An attendant would personally deliver the documents later.

After Cyrus left the royal hall.

Bass Riches said, "Your Majesty, the Seawater Solar Salt-Making Method is extremely important to Gadayat. If we take control of it, the kingdom's wealth will surely become even more abundant. Why not take Visas..."

The old king interrupted him. "Desinia is considered one of my juniors as well. He presented the Seawater Solar Salt-Making Method, yet I turn around and take back his territory? If word got out, they would say I bullied a helpless child. Where would I put my dignity then?"

"Sixty percent of the profits is already no small amount. Visas is my vassal, so naturally it is also my wealth. There is no difference between the two, Riches."

Bass Riches concealed the emotions hidden in his eyes and lowered his head. "Yes, Your Majesty."

After discussing state affairs with the king, he took a carriage back to his residence.

The butler had long been waiting at the entrance to serve him. Only after helping him remove his outer coat and bringing him a glass of wine did he speak. "My lord, you do not seem to be in a very good mood. Is it because of state affairs..."

"Because of something that cannot be controlled by me." Bass Riches stood by the window, his face dark and gloomy.

The butler said, "It must be something very precious."

"You are right."

"I recall that Komoy Fort is my vassal?"

The butler said, "Yes, Duke. The lord of Komoy Fort is Bevis Elliot."

Bass Riches turned and walked to the table. He picked up a pen and wrote a letter, sealing it with wax before handing it to the butler. "Have someone deliver this letter to Komoy Fort by fast horse and give it to Bevis Elliot."

"Yes, Duke." The butler accepted it.

Naturally, Cyrus knew nothing of Bass Riches's secret plans.

He was currently wandering through the royal capital with Judas and Kelly.

The royal capital was indeed bustling.

Apart from the equally unpleasant stench and filthy environment, knights patrolled the city, while priests prayed in the temple of the Creator God.

Some commoners also knelt outside the temple with their eyes closed in prayer.

There were no churches or temples in Visas.

Cyrus was somewhat curious about the Creator God and entered with Judas and Kelly.

Nobles could enter the temple freely, and no one stopped them.

The temple was mainly white and gold. Gothic stained-glass windows were set into the ceiling, their edges outlined with patterns of the sacred Divine Flower Belanka.

When sunlight shone through the stained-glass windows, the mottled colors refracted across the walls, creating a breathtaking sight.

Cyrus saw the statue of the Creator God standing beneath the dome, dressed in pure white robes, with loose hair and a compassionate smile. One hand held a divine flower, while the other gently caressed it.

"I heard that miracles once descended upon the Western Continent. Judas, is that true?"

Cyrus withdrew his gaze from the Creator God's statue. Recalling the novel's plot, with the Mary Sue heroine's halo shining upon everything, the Creator God seemed to be little more than an irrelevant background prop.

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"Of course it is true."

A priest who heard this turned to answer. Upon seeing that the questioner was a child, his expression softened somewhat. "Please do not ask such questions again. The Creator God is omnipotent."

Cyrus used an even more innocent tone. "Since the Creator God is omnipotent, if I pray to him for lots and lots of little gold coins, will he give them to me?"

The priest's face turned red. "How can you expect something for nothing?"

"But you said the Creator God is omnipotent."

"If he will not give me money, can he give me the ability to make all my wishes come true? Can he make me healthy forever and never fall sick? Can he..."

"Please stop talking!"

The priest raised his voice, his face showing the aggrieved expression of someone thinking, Because you are a noble, I can only be angered to death and do nothing about it.

"Oh."

Cyrus pouted. The priest was so easy to tease.

With Par Mountain about to be incorporated into Visas, he could not help but feel like relaxing.

Behind the temple.

A handsome black-haired youth could not help curling his lips. His golden eyes shimmered like a brilliant sunrise crushed into fragments of light. In his hand was a pure white nine-petaled flower—the Belanka.

"Your Holiness, we have obtained the item." A knight clad in armor appeared behind the youth.

"Mm."

The youth responded indifferently. Only after the child he had been watching left the temple did he speak again. "Do you believe that the Creator God is omnipotent?"

The knight said fearfully, "Of course, Your Holiness."

The youth chuckled softly, neither confirming nor denying it. "Let us go. We are leaving Gadayat."

"Yes."

Cyrus only left after hearing a noisy commotion outside the temple.

Otherwise, he would have wanted to remain and see whether the priest would be angered into tears.

Outside the temple, a noble was beating a slave.

The cause was a verbal offense.

Commoners gathered around, pointing and whispering. Merchants either cheered or could not bear to watch. Patrolling knights stood to the side maintaining order... No one intervened, and no one stopped the one-sided "murder" taking place in the middle of the crowd.

The person about to be beaten to death was a tall, powerfully built man.

He had thick light-brown hair, dark brown skin, and a scar on his right cheek. His bare upper body was covered in blood as he was forced to kneel on the ground, enduring blow after blow from clubs.

A young nobleman stood nearby, grinning viciously. "Put some strength into it! Have none of you eaten?!"

He apparently wanted the man to suffer torment before dying rather than granting him a quick death.

The beneficiaries of the kingdom's laws did not include slaves.

Nobles possessed privileges. Even if they killed someone in the street, they would bear no responsibility, much less when the person killed was a slave.

With a crack.

A club struck the man's head. Blood instantly began pouring out.

Half of it ran down beside his ear and dripped onto the ground, while the other half slid down from his forehead into his left eye. His brown eye was dyed red with blood, and his vision was blurred, yet it still erupted with a sharp, unyielding will.

He was like a wounded lion on the verge of death. His pride could not be crushed, and his straight back did not bend in the slightest. Even under humiliation, he still held his head high.

Just as the blood was about to stain the ground and flow into a "river."

A voice rang out from the crowd. "Stop."

The young nobleman looked up and saw a child not even as tall as his thigh walking over, signaling to a knight to stop the beating.

"Who are you?" the young nobleman asked unpleasantly.

"And who are you? Say your own name before asking someone else's."

The youth raised his brow. "Nat Case."

Cyrus lifted his little chin. "Do you have a title?"

Nat Case scoffed. "My father is Marquis Marco Case. Naturally, I do not have a title yet. Do you?"

"I do."

"I am Count Cyrus Desinia. Please address me as Count."

Nat Case's expression froze.

He did not doubt Cyrus's words. After all, impersonating a noble was a capital crime.

Nat Case had heard his father mention the Desinia surname. The old Count Desinia had died unexpectedly, and the title of count had been inherited by a six-year-old child.

At the time... he had been rather envious.

He had not expected to meet him here.

Nat Case forced a smile. "Count Desinia... my lord, what do you need?"

Cyrus pointed at the man. "What crime did he commit?"

Nat Case sneered. "His crime was betraying his lord despite being a knight, brutally murdering his lord's younger brother, violating the spirit of knighthood, and being condemned into slavery before being sold to Gadayat."

"Sold here? He is not from Gadayat?"

"That is right. He is a Gaina from a neighboring country."

Cyrus looked thoughtful. "Are you his master now?"

"So what if I am?"

Cyrus gave Nat Case a sweet, soft smile. "Big brother, can you sell him to me?"

A direct hit.

Nat Case stammered, "N-no, he is only a slave. I can give him to you for... ahem, two, two gold coins."

No, he could not give him away for free. At most, he could lower the price to the minimum.

Nat Case came to his senses at the very last moment.

Cyrus sighed regretfully.

Two gold coins it was, then.

He was about to have five chests of gold anyway. He was rich and did not care.

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