When the afternoon sun shone on his back, Grosien finally set foot on the grounds of Joan of Arc Castle.
Walking past the vegetable vendors at the early market, stepping on the muddy, uneven road, he felt inexplicably sentintal.
When he read the proclamation of war, Grosien was quite excited, shouting loudly, "The end of the Ibe Knights has co."
But there were few responses, unlike the villagers on Autumn Dusk Island, who still lacked a collective awareness of the other citizens of Pope Country.
Despite Horn’s grand efforts in the Devout Special District, nearly everyone knew his na.
Do the villagers thank Horn? Yes, they do.
Are the villagers willing to fight for the so-called faith? No, they are not.
Thanking does not an willing.
After all, the Joan of Arc Castle regi was established less than half a year ago, and neither the credibility nor the collective consciousness had ford.
The faith of the Holy Father Association hadn’t yet spread, and remnants of influence from the Knights and the Church still lingered in their minds.
In other words, they were not fighting for their fellow countryn or for Pope Country, but for their "new lord," Pope Horn.
This is entirely different from the Old Black Hat Army Imperial Guard.
Eight young n timidly looked at the clean streets before them and the clock tower standing in the distance.
They may never have left their village in their lifeti, but now they had to follow the corps to the front lines.
"Ahead is the engineering registration point." Grosien turned around, looking at these young n, "You can still turn back if you regret it."
Despite their eyes full of fear for the future, they shook their heads firmly.
"We’re monks now, and monks can’t desert from battle."
The villagers appeared foolish only because of their limited knowledge; they were actually quite clear on so urgent matters around them.
Many Knights couldn’t figure it out; owning an estate was not because of noble birth, but because he proved he could keep the estate secure.
However, the villagers always understood that if a Yorkshire Terrier couldn’t catch mice, it would be slaughtered for at.
The Ard Farrs enjoyed so many privileges simply because they could fight, right?
If Horn didn’t recruit them into military service, they would suspect whether the Pope would take back the newly divided lands before the harvest and give them to the War Monks?
When the Wandering Cultivators brought the news that Horn indeed summoned them, even if it was rely for digging soil and transporting grain, they finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Leading the young n to the assembly point, Grosien greeted the Archbishop of Madlan and headed towards the Holy Seat Bank.
This ti, aside from bringing the young farrs to transport grain, his most important purpose was to withdraw money.
After abolishing the public accounting system, Grosien and his cousin Palak had set up a small two-acre fish pond.
In this two-acre fish pond, they raised 800 mirror koys, 600 of which survived and were bought by the Imperial Guard to feed new recruits, sold for 620 dinars.
After deducting the cost of digging the pond and labor expenses, the two could still divide and earn 262 dinars.
That was equivalent to two gold pounds, which was roughly the inco a regular farr earned in a year.
They earned it in just three months.
Standing with the Legion Secretary in front of the Holy Seat Bank, Grosien’s calves were trembling a bit.
This bank was entirely built from pure white marble, with seven Elania-style columns engraved with seven Saints.
The Saints had stern faces, watching everyone present like supervisors.
The Holy Seat Bank originated from the Pope’s agents across the land, responsible for managing his properties and making financial investnts.
These agents united with the wealthy local monasteries, forming the bank with exchange, pawn, and loan functions.
The Holy Seat Bank was initially only open to citizens and nobles, while soone like Grosien, a commoner, would be beaten up and chased away by hired thugs if he dared approach.
"Don’t be afraid." Seemingly sensing Grosien’s fear, the Legion Secretary grabbed his arm, "It’s a ti when everyone is equal, what’s there to fear? You’re also a monk."
Grosien swallowed hard, forcibly dragged inside by him.
His fear actually didn’t originate from dread of the Holy Seat Bank, but from this transaction.
The 800 mirror koys were not fingerlings, but two-year-old mature fish!
They weren’t purchased fingerlings but ca from the fish pond of a certain monastery.
The Pope Country didn’t assign anyone to guard that fish pond, and the monks in charge had gone for education reform at the Holy Trinity, so it was left as it was.
Palak thought that leaving them would be a waste, so he took advantage of the night to secretly transport 800 mirror koys, pretending they were bought fingerlings.
Handed them over to Grosien, who had experience in fish farming, to nurture them for a while, fatten them up, and then sell them to the Salvation Army.
This behavior felt like fleecing the Pope’s Palace, which was the source of Grosien’s unease.
The young n were headed to the battlefield, while he was doing such things here.
"Grosien?" Eyes buried, taking a few steps forward, Grosien suddenly heard a familiar na.
He raised his head, only to see Squall staring at him with wide-open eyes.
"Squall? Why are you here?"
"I can read, working here as a copyist."
Squall straightened his hunched back and said with feigned solemnity, adding a touch of pride, a touch of restraint, and a touch of nonchalance, "Eating the Pope’s food makes you half a citizen."
"Ah." Grosien exclaid politely, "That’s really great. When the gendars went to your house..."
"Shhh—" Squall quickly jumped out from behind the table with a snap.
He took two steps forward, covered Grosien’s mouth, and dragged him to a corner, saying with a forced smile,
"What are you here for? A loan or a pawn? We’re not accepting pawns at the mont.
Can you write? If you can write, go directly to the counter, if not, I’ll handle it for you."
Grosien turned his head to glance at the Legion Secretary, who shrugged, "Let the scribe help you with it, I’m not very familiar with how it’s done either."
This Legion Secretary, just a few months ago, was only a small shop’s accountant, so he naturally couldn’t be very knowledgeable about banking matters.
"Oh." Grosien turned around, "Withdraw paynt from the Second Imperial Guard Corps’ account."
"Paynt? You’re doing business with the corps now." Re-settling himself, Squall crossed his legs, "Let see."
Both n took out their respective vouchers, Squall’s eyes swept rapidly over the contract, and then his neck stiffened.
A bright red number was imprinted on the contract.
"524 Dinars, how is this possible..." Rubbing his eyes and confirming he hadn’t seen wrong, Squall almost burst out swearing.
His monthly salary was only 20 Dinars, and he had been away from this kid for no more than three months, where did the 524 Dinars co from?
No need to second-guess, it must be embezzlent!
Being a Hundred Households Captain is great, if I had...
With a gritted smile of flattery, Squall respectfully returned the contract: "I’ll write the application voucher for you right away..."
"Since I’m here, I might as well buy a Holy War Bond, the 5 Dinar one." said the Legion Secretary to Squall.
Squall collected the money properly, registered it, and handed the proof to the Legion Secretary: "With your military ID, you can handle it directly at the counter."
Watching the Legion Secretary’s light steps, Grosien wondered, "What is this Holy War Bond?"
Squall said irritably, "It’s like lending money for the Salvation Army to fight wars, it’s just an IOU, no different from a donation.
Worthless stuff, if it weren’t for respecting the Pope, no one would buy it..."
As if thinking of sothing, Squall’s eyes brightened, "What? Do you want to buy so?"
"Yes." Rembering his fish-stealing act, in order to ease his guilt, Grosien nodded.
"How much? I’ll write it up for you."
"Hmm, 24 Dinars, withdraw 500 Dinars to round it up."
Grosien decided to talk to his cousin, if he agreed, they’d share the Holy War Bonds half each, otherwise, he’d buy them all himself.
Squall didn’t say much more, perhaps fearing Grosien would expose his scandal, he swiftly completed the application, omitting even the usual bribes and favors.
"Sign here or stamp your fingerprint, whatever finger you used on the contract, use that finger here. Here, here, and here too.
You need to fill in the numbers yourself, you can write numbers, right? Fill in 24 here and 500 there, then here and here..."
Grosien didn’t expect that withdrawing money from the bank would be so tough, he was directed until he was dizzy, barely completing the task.
By this ti, the Legion Secretary was already yawning.
Handing the application to the clerk behind the iron desk, the clerk glanced at both forms and looked at Grosien again, "You sure you want to buy this many Holy War Bonds?"
"I’m sure." Grosien didn’t want to be troubled like before again.
The clerk’s eyes imdiately turned respectful.
He snapped his fingers, pulled out a full 40 Holy War Bonds, counted 24 Silver Coins, and handed them to Grosien.
Staring at the thick wad of Holy War Bonds and the small amount of Silver Coins in his hands, Grosien looked up at the clerk, then down at the coins, his mind going blank.
"Why are there only 20-plus Dinars, where’s the rest of the money?" Grosien asked, parched.
"Where indeed." The clerk pointed to the bonds in Grosien’s hand, "Didn’t you write yourself, 500 Dinars to buy bonds, 24 Dinars to withdraw?"
The Legion Secretary was equally stunned, he moved closer and carefully read the slip twice, "You, you filled it out backward!"
"I, I didn’t..."
Just then, Squall clicked his tongue and ca over, "Oh dear, I cautioned you repeatedly, how did you still fill it wrong, you, oh dear..."
"You, is it... What should we do? What should we do?"
Although he suspected Squall of foul play, without surveillance in the hall, Grosien had no way to prove it.
He was so anxious he was about to cry, 500 Dinars, such a large sum of money, all turned into waste paper.
"Why are you in such a hurry? The money isn’t gone." The clerk looked at him, puzzled, "The bonds in your hand are worth 2,000 Dinars."
Harboring one last hope, Grosien trembled as he said, "Can I, can I return them? Return half maybe?"
The clerk hesitated, "You’ve already signed and registered, unless the Saint Vault Master cos, you can’t return them."
"Er—"
A strange howl rolled out from his throat, Grosien’s eyes went black, and he fell straight backwards, eyes tightly closed.
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