After the meal, Tommy and Claude left with what little money they had left. Time was tight; they needed to head for Westwood Laine immediately.
Henry, on the other hand, had other ideas. 'Maybe I can go "borrow" some money from Danilo and his men?'
The betting stakes at the Grand Tournament were massive. For the first round, wagers ranged from one Dinar to three hundred Dinars.
'If I rob Danilo,' Henry calculated, 'I'd solve my cash shortage and even have more money for betting.'
He was also well aware that Danilo was just a bit player; the man behind him was the real boss. Getting that money wouldn't be so easy.
'For a gang to establish itself in Odoche, swaggering through every street and alley... there's no way Count John doesn't know about it.'
After much thought, Henry decided to go have a talk with Danilo. He wore his imperial robe to Danilo's place this time and knocked on the door.
When Danilo opened the door and saw Henry's imperial robe, the faintest of smiles touched his lips.
"Old friend, what brings you here?"
"I've run into some trouble and I need your help," Henry said, getting straight to the point.
Danilo smiled, putting on a troubled look. "I'd love to help you, but I'm a bit short on cash myself."
Henry's eyes narrowed. 'This punk sees my imperial robe but acts like he hasn't?'
Henry gave a slight smile. "I hear your boss is very rich. If you could introduce me, perhaps I could get his patronage."
"I can take you to see the boss, but I can't guarantee whether he'll be willing to help."
"Thank you."
Henry followed Danilo to their headquarters and met the so-called boss—Count John.
Henry: ??? What?
At that moment, Count John was dressed in luxurious silk robes, drinking wine and eating a leg of lamb as he watched a group of dancers.
Count John beckoned to Henry. "Come, Henry. I am Count John Hoyland. You're not mistaken."
Still in shock, Henry sat beside Count John. "Count John, you..."
Count John raised a hand, cutting Henry off. "Are you desperate for money?" he asked instead.
"Desperately! I need more capital to bet on myself in the Grand Tournament in five days."
Count John nodded. "A Knight, burdened by massive contracts with merchants... That can't be a pleasant feeling, can it?"
Count John had someone pour Henry a glass of wine and bring him some creamed bread and smoked chicken. "Eat," he said. "Enjoy the songs and dances of our plains. We'll talk after."
As Henry ate and watched the performance, he felt Count John's eyes on him, a subtle but persistent gaze.
"Ahem. You're aware, I presume, that the King has ordered the Pioneer Bill to be set in motion?"
"I am."
After a moment, Count John spoke. "I can lend you the money, but I have one condition."
"What's the condition?"
Count John stared at Henry and said slowly, "I want you to lose the Grand Tournament to a specific person—my son."
Henry's expression changed. He hadn't expected Count John to make such a request.
"Why?"
"This is a deal. You help me get what I want, and I'll solve your money problems. Of course, you're free to refuse."
Henry fell silent, then asked again, "I need a reason. You know, I was ranked first at the Royal Capital Knight Academy. I've won the Royal Capital's Grand Tournament six times. I can't trade my noble reputation for a handful of Dinars."
"If you agree, I won't just give you enough capital. I'll also give you some extra benefits." A flicker of something... sinister? Ruthless? flashed in Count John's eyes.
Henry looked up and asked, "What kind of benefits?"
Count John leaned into Henry's ear and whispered, "I can help you solve some of your problems. For example... your wager with Baron Pedro."
Henry's face remained impassive, but inside, a tempest of shock was raging.
He knew Count John had a firm grip on his own domain, but he'd never imagined it was *this* firm!
"Since we've come this far, we might as well put our cards on the table. What exactly can you do?"
A reminiscent look appeared on Count John's face. "He's an Honorary Baron under my command. Back in my most difficult days, he used his entire fortune to bail me out. That was wealth he had spent half a lifetime building."
But then, the Count's expression darkened. "I gave him the honor of nobility. I gave him my two most profitable enterprises, enough for him to earn over ten thousand Dinars a year! That's a stable life he could never have dreamed of when he was a merchant!
But what about him? How did he repay me?! I could overlook the tax evasion, but now he's interfering with my city's defenses, meddling in the local patrols and security... What is he trying to do?"
John placed a hand on Henry's shoulder and said fiercely, "And now, he's secretly making this kind of deal with you for the huge sum of one hundred and seventy thousand Dinars? Does he have any respect for me?
Do you have any idea that those one hundred seventy thousand Dinars are all my money! It's enough to pay my army's salary for more than a year."
Count John said angrily, "He wants to turn his own son into an Independent Noble. I cannot tolerate such an act!"
"You want to get rid of him?"
"He must die. He's set a bad example for my other subordinates. The day your castle is finished will be the day he dies. You get a castle for free, and then you lose to my son."
One hundred Dinars was a fortune a farmer might never see in a lifetime. A thousand Dinars was a number the Free People of the cities dared not even imagine.
But to a Count, one hundred seventy thousand Dinars was pocket change—earned back from basic tax revenue in a single year.
In Count John's domain, over seven hundred thousand people provided him with all sorts of income. And that didn't even include the slaves. Slaves didn't count as people.
"I have two sons. One will inherit my title as Count, but my second son... I cannot grant him a fief. You know how it is—if a family wants to remain strong, it cannot divide its power.
So I need him to make a name for himself, to become an Independent Noble, at least a Viscount. Simply carving out a new territory isn't enough for that.
Henry, you understand. I'm a Count. I can't get involved in this pioneer war on a large scale... I can only provide him with a few supplies and some pioneer troops. And I can't let my eldest son get the wrong idea."
'Henry understood. It seemed he would have to give Count John's son a helping hand down the line.'
"Alright then. I'll lose just this once."
Henry nodded. 'If that's the deal, losing once isn't unacceptable,' he thought. 'For one hundred seventy thousand? Hell, I'd lose twice for that!'
A noble's honor and dignity must not be insulted or provoked—unless you can pay enough Dinars.
'Get a castle for free? For a deal that sweet, he'd agree to just about anything, even becoming king and ruling the world.'
"So, Henry, to a successful partnership?"
Henry raised his glass. "To a successful partnership."
'He understood now. What Count John valued was his reputation, and the attention from the King that came with it. This was the Count's brand of political savvy.'
'A noble by birth with an impeccable resume, who had even managed to propose the Pioneer Bill at the perfect moment—of course a man like that would have the King's attention.'
This was a deal between nobles: dark, ugly, and bloody. There was no need for contracts or fairness, only schemes and greed.
"I will arrange for my son to meet you in the finals. You're confident you can make it to the finals, aren't you?" Count John said.
"Of course. I'll do my best to make the match look real. Want me to shed some blood?"
"That won't be necessary. As long as you follow the plan, I will fulfill my promise when it's done." Count John gave a satisfied smile.
"Give me the money."
"Huh?"
"Didn't you say there was extra money? I need to place my bets."
"You're a greedy one, Henry."
After Henry left and saw Bain, he suddenly realized he had broken his promise to Bain about the warhorse again.
Henry could only pull Bain aside and say, "Bain, I will buy you the best warhorse. A sixty-five Dinar warhorse."
Bain's face fell, and with a catch in his voice, he said, "I don't mind at all, milord. I can get a new horse whenever. It's all up to you."
Henry gave an awkward laugh, insisting that he would absolutely buy Bain a warhorse. Absolutely! It was the solemn promise of a proper Knight to his companion and Attendant.
「A few days later.」
The Grand Tournament was held as scheduled, and all of Odoche was abuzz. Everyone was discussing the competition, one of the few forms of entertainment available to them.
And if they could make a small profit from it, all the better.
The Mercenaries and merchants who had recently flocked to Odoche also joined in, swelling the tournament's prize pool to an ever-larger size.
The tournament kicked off with four consecutive team brawls, firing up the crowd until their blood boiled. An onlooker might have thought they were the ones competing on the field.
Henry, Boman, and Fass all secured spots in the top eight. Their momentum was fierce, thrilling those who had bet on them.
There were generally three types of wagers for the Grand Tournament: betting on how many rounds a competitor would win, betting on who would become champion, and betting on the winner of a single match. The specific rules were quite complex.
"Fixed! It's gotta be fixed! My money!"
"Damn, I should've bet more. This guy won four in a row? Could he actually be the champion? What a loss, what a loss."
In the eyes of these degenerate gamblers, any profit that wasn't a windfall was a loss.
There was a break for lunch, with the one-on-one matches between the top eight finalists scheduled for the afternoon. All eight finalists were required to take their meals in the arena to prevent any "incidents."
Boman boasted, "This time, let's see which of us gets a higher rank!"
Fass rolled his eyes. Boman had to turn everything into a competition with him. It was exhausting.
Then, in the afternoon matches, Knight Boman was defeated in his match against Count John's second son.
When Boman returned to the waiting area, he saw the strange looks Henry and Fass were giving him and awkwardly explained that he was exhausted after four consecutive matches that morning. He'd just been careless.
Then, Fass "also" lost to John's second son.
"Uh, well, I didn't expect him to counter-attack like that. I couldn't react in time. I'm definitely bruised all over from that. The quality of these wooden swords is really good, haha."
Henry gave Fass a long, meaningful look, sensing that something was off.
The final match began immediately. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Henry and Count John's son engaged in a fierce contest. Although Henry's skills were far superior, he still lost the match.
Henry "accidentally" left an "opening," which Count John's son exploited, striking him twice and knocking him to the ground.
The audience was stunned. 'No way, is the Count's son really that fierce?'
When Henry was helped off the field, he saw the peculiar looks on Boman's and Fass's faces.
Henry beat them to the punch. "What are you looking at? You two lost to him, too, didn't you?"
'Man, what nice weather we're having today, haha.'