Volume II: The Iron-Blooded Baron Chapter 122: Thieves from the Sea (Part 8)

The party traveled at a swift pace for a full day, finally arriving in the city of Amondine by noon on the second day. After Sir Pippin had Berion change into standard aristocratic attire in his carriage, he escorted him to the governor's mansion.

Upon meeting Count David and Viscount Merry, Berion bowed solemnly and presented the gifts he had prepared: a solid gold statue of a knight, an exquisite silver flagon, a bear-fur cloak from Orion, a set of painted pottery wine vessels, and a wooden box containing a beautiful, high-value ruby.

Berion presented these gifts to Count David in the presence of Viscount Merry without fear that the Viscount would feel jealous or resent his sycophancy toward a higher-ranking superior. Not only was his relationship with the Viscount extraordinary, but upon his return, Berion had also instructed Gamgee to deliver a gift he had prepared in Yankwick to the Viscount—a gift even more valuable than this one. After all, as his direct superior, it was only right that Berion show him even greater respect in private. Furthermore, the relationship between Viscount Merry and Count David—that of a mentor and a highly trusted student—was so close that they were effectively one and the same; there was no need to worry about anything leaking out.

Seeing these gifts, combined with Berion’s earnest display of respect, Count David’s favor toward him rose significantly. The foundation had already been laid, as Viscount Merry had spoken highly of Berion over the past two days. In Valombre, because of the presence of the Grand Knight Commander, Count Hao, David—as his deputy—rarely received sufficient respect from his subordinates. Even the ministers in the palace treated him differently than they did Count Hao. Having served as a deputy for over a decade, Count David had swallowed many grievances, but today, in Berion, he found great satisfaction.

"Oh, Sir Berion, you are a veteran of the Palace Guard and one of my former subordinates; why be so formal? If I were to accept such precious gifts, what would others think of me? You had better take them back." Though Count David was psychologically satisfied, and while he appreciated the gifts, as a wealthy Count, he cared more about the attitude behind them.

Upon hearing this, Berion quickly bowed again, looking anxious and unsettled. "My respected Count, it is my own lack of consideration that has caused you such trouble. However, these items were meticulously prepared by me. Having been away from the Palace Guard for a year, I have missed my days there and have thought of you constantly, my Lord. These small tokens represent my sincere devotion. If you do not accept them, I shall be saddened for a long time." Berion intentionally emphasized the words "small tokens," hinting to Count David that he was genuinely using these generous gifts to earn the Count's recognition.

"Indeed, Mentor, you cannot refuse Sir Berion’s sincerity! Besides, he was your subordinate in the Guard, and here, under me—your student—he remains under your protection. We are all on the same side; no one will speak ill of you for accepting these." Viscount Merry chimed in to support him.

Count David nodded with a smile. "Very well! Since that is the case, I shall accept them for now, but let this be the only time."

Berion beamed with joy. "In that case, I am at ease. Thank you for your appreciation and care, my Lord."

"You truly must thank the Count for his appreciation and care. If not for him, you would have lost your title of Baronet," Viscount Merry added with a stern expression.

Before Viscount Merry could continue, Count David waved his hand, signaling him to stop. "Enough, Merry. Some things need not be said."

"Sigh!" Viscount Merry sighed and continued, "Mentor, you may not want me to speak of it, but I must tell Sir Berion, otherwise who would know of the grievances you have suffered?"

Viscount Merry stood up, walked over to Berion, patted his shoulder, and spoke with deep gravity. "After I submitted your war exploits, I sent a private letter to the Mentor, asking him to put in a good word with the Monarch to ensure your promotion. To be honest, your military achievements could be seen as significant or trivial; if a powerful figure did not want to see you promoted, your exploits would be worth nothing. After your achievements were reported, although the Minister of War and the Minister of Public Security spoke highly of you—the young hero they had championed—the Southern faction’s opposition was so strong that the Monarch had no intention of promoting you, planning instead to settle for a mere gift of money. It was only thanks to the Mentor, who argued his case before the Monarch, especially by reminding our sovereign that those who emerge from the Palace Guard are his most loyal servants and deserve to be promoted just as quickly as local landed knights."

"The Monarch only decided to grant you the promotion after hearing this. However, my mentor has been ostracized by the Southern faction ministers because of it. That is why, in this freezing weather, he was sent here to officiate your promotion ceremony. Count David didn't want me to tell you this, but I have thought it over and decided you must know who helped you. Though the Mentor would never ask anything of you, you must never forget those who have aided you."

After Viscount Merry’s impassioned speech, Berion was moved to tears. Weeping, he bowed to Count David and said, "Respected Count David, Berion Tuck will never forget your great kindness. I will always be your loyal subordinate."

Seeing Berion so deeply moved, Count David smiled, pulled him up, hugged him, and patted his shoulder. "Good lad, dry your tears. You are a talent, and my former subordinate; what does it matter if I suffer a few grievances if I can help you? From now on, just focus on your duties."

Berion sniffled, stopped his tears, and spoke solemnly to Count David, "Thank you for your cultivation, my Lord. I will keep it in my heart forever."

"Eh, it is the Monarch’s cultivation and your own performance," Count David corrected with a smile.

Berion nodded with a smile, responding, "Your subordinate understands!"

"If you want to offer thanks, you should also thank your Governor. Were it not for him, I would never have known of your talents," Count David said, returning the favor by ensuring Berion remembered Viscount Merry’s help.

"Thank you, Governor..." Before Berion could finish, Viscount Merry stopped him.

"There is no need for such formalities with me. Just work steadily for the Count and for me in the future; I still have high hopes for you."

"Yes, yes!" Berion nodded through his tears, indicating he understood.

"Hahaha!" Viscount Merry patted Berion’s shoulder. "Let us go drink."

The drinking session lasted from noon until the moon reached the center of the sky. Thanks to the experience Berion had gained in his previous life and the fact that the wine was high-quality, low-alcohol red wine, he managed to survive.

After the banquet, Bran and Hark helped the thoroughly intoxicated-looking Berion into the carriage. Once they were away from the governor's mansion, Berion sat up, looking as clear-headed as if he were a different person. Bran and Hark were not surprised; their master often feigned drunkenness.

Seeing Bran and Hark staring at him with silly grins, Berion tapped them both and scolded with a laugh, "You two rascals, if I didn't pretend to be drunk, wouldn't they have actually gotten me wasted? The burden on my shoulders is too heavy; I can't afford to get drunk."

"Hehe, Master, if you were to act in a play, you would surely be brilliant. You really are a great actor," Bran teased with a giggle.

Berion raised his hand to strike him, but Bran dodged. Berion didn't let him off the hook verbally, though: "An actor? You're the actor! Your whole family is full of actors!"

After the master and servants laughed and joked in the carriage for a while, Hark asked, "Master, why did you cry so hard in front of Count David and Viscount Merry today? I thought you were about to swear your allegiance to them. I remember you telling us that this Baronetcy was the result of the struggle between the Northern and Southern factions and the Monarch’s desire to go to war with the Valundians; it couldn't possibly have been earned just because Count David pleaded for you."

Berion reached out and cracked the carriage window to let in some cool air. The fresh breeze refreshed the stuffy cabin. Berion took a deep breath and said, "Since you asked, tell me your guess."

Hark thought for a moment and replied, "Master, it is obvious they were using your lack of connections in the palace to deceive you, wanting you to feel indebted so that if they ever needed anything, you would do your utmost for them. As for why you put on such an exaggerated performance, it was to avoid offending them while establishing a good relationship and gaining another powerful ally."

Berion nodded; the boy Hark was quite sharp. "Yes, what you said is basically correct. They thought I didn't know the news from the palace and conspired to deceive me, wanting me to be grateful. I was just playing along to fool them. We are all out here in the world; who can really fool whom? Count David is a representative of our Brick intermediate faction. Over these years, the struggle between the Northern and Southern factions has been intense, and both sides want the support of the intermediate faction. But they don't know that the intermediate faction is finding ways to undermine them and expand its own power. Only by weakening the strength of these local lords can they stop being limited to the Monarch’s direct territories and find opportunities to snatch meat from the mouths of the local lords."

"It is laughable that the two factions are making such a scene in the palace and the provinces, unaware that someone is already hollowing out their foundations. It is like a mantis stalking a cicada, not realizing there is a sparrow behind it, waiting to eat them both."

After hearing this, Bran and Hark nodded, suddenly enlightened. Bran said, "Master, your analogy of the mantis, the cicada, and the oriole is truly fascinating. I understood it the moment you said it."

Berion smiled and patted his head. "I know many such analogies; I will tell you more when there is time."

"Master, was your weeping and wailing just to fool them?" Hark continued to ask.

"Mm, yes!" Berion replied. "You know, although these intermediate nobles don't have as much territorial strength as the regional lords, they are the Monarch’s most trusted team. They have the best weapons and equipment, and they occupy the vast plains around Lake St. Martin—the primary grain-producing region. Furthermore, their territories have large populations and developed industry and commerce; they are quite wealthy. Their potential strength cannot be underestimated. Making friends with them is a hedge—a way to bet on both sides. If the Northern faction loses power, I have someone to rely on. Conversely, if the Northern faction wins, having close confidants of the Monarch like Count David and Viscount Merry ensures I gain even more. You must know, I am not a core member of the Northern faction; I am merely a minor noble they promoted."

"It works the other way around, too. If the Southern faction wins, with the Monarch’s confidants protecting me, I can survive the brutal purges and keep my fiefdom in Norlandenburg. You might think what I am doing is despicable, but I have no choice. For my family, for you, I must do this. In this world, it is far too difficult to survive—let alone thrive—by relying solely on moral integrity."

After hearing Berion out, Hark nodded thoughtfully. He sighed and said, "Master, my teacher once told me that those who truly accomplish things often do not look like 'good men' at first glance. But because they understand the rules by which this society operates, they can overcome all obstacles, achieve success, and help many people. We cannot judge a person's worth based solely on our own personal perceptions of love and hatred."