Chapter 269: Punishment

Chapter 269: Punishment

The landlord, Baden, was brought to the great hall of the lord’s mansion.

He was a corpulent middle-aged man with a round face adorned with two small, green bean-like eyes. Despite trying to present himself as a victim of great misfortune, his gaze occasionally betrayed a hint of greed.

Upon entering the hall, Baden performed the formalities of a commoner meeting a lord with meticulous attention.

“Respected and great Count Grayman, your loyal subject Baden has come at your summons.”

In the main seat of the hall sat the young lord. Hearing Baden’s words, he said nothing, merely staring straight at him with an expressionless face.

A sense of foreboding tightened Baden’s heart: “Oh no, could the lord have found out about the [War Tax]?”

The hall was eerily silent, with only the ticking of a grandfather clock. Paul, the lord, remained silent, leaving Baden standing awkwardly, waiting.

“Are you Baden?” the lord finally spoke.

Baden nearly collapsed, weakened by the long-standing and his pampered lifestyle.

“Yes, respected Count Grayman, I am Baden.”

“Where have you been recently? Did you return home after the riots were quelled?”

“Thank you for your concern, my lord. I was hiding in a secluded farmhouse in the fields. I have returned home... Ah, my home was a pitiful sight, everything was looted, and several honest and loyal servants met their untimely deaths.”

Speaking of the riot, Baden’s face grew more miserable, and he began to bitterly denounce the salt miners’ violence.

Paul let Baden continue without interruption.

“...It’s all the fault of those damned poor devils. Count Grayman, you must uphold the lord’s justice and hang all those lawless beasts. They’re nothing but living beasts!”

Seeing the lord’s lack of response, Baden’s voice dwindled.

“Cough... Respected Count Grayman, please grant us, the good people, justice and restore peace to the land of Alda.”

With that conclusion, silence fell in the hall once more.

Paul then asked, “So tell me about this so-called [War Tax].”

“War Tax? What War Tax? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Oh? Didn’t you collect a War Tax from the salt miners?”

Baden feigned innocence, pleading, “Lord Count, please don’t believe those rioters’ lies. They’ll say anything to lessen their guilt and gain your sympathy. For those poor devils, honor and shame are nonexistent.”

Paul scoffed, “But Baden, it’s not just the salt miners who said you collected a War Tax. Bring in the witnesses!”

As Paul finished speaking, the guards brought in several people.

Baden’s lips quivered: “I... I...”

Suddenly, his eyes lit up, “Lord Grayman! It’s all because of that cursed Hansel Abbott under your command!”

“Oh? How did this suddenly come down to him?”

Baden, as if making a final stand, accused, “That damned Crystal Shine man, what was he thinking with that land redistribution? He swapped my good land for bad. Using the lord’s backing, he’s made life miserable for us honest and diligent landlords.”

“You? Are others dissatisfied with him too?”

“Yes, Lord Grayman,” Baden hastily said. “Many are unhappy with him, we secretly call him ‘The Skinflayer Baron’. Please, you must uphold justice, replace and punish this inhumane agricultural director to calm everyone’s resentment.”

During the land redistribution, the inevitable exchange of good land for bad was unavoidable, and most people, like Baden, focused only on their losses, taking their gains for granted. Moreover, Baden’s resentment towards Hansel centered on another matter: the illegal appropriation of public land by Baden’s family, which was uncovered during the land survey. This caused Baden substantial financial and property losses, though he knew he was legally at fault and chose to focus his complaint on the land exchange instead.

Paul’s face briefly showed a hint of relief, then he continued, “What does this have to do with you collecting War Taxes privately?”

Baden, feigning distress, said, “It’s because I lost so much in the land exchange that I came up with this foolish idea to recoup some losses.”

“Ah... no, no! It wasn’t my idea, but my butler’s!”

Suddenly remembering something, Baden quickly changed his statement.

“Your butler? Where is he?”

“He was with me, hiding in the farmhouse in the fields. He never returned after going out to gather information, probably killed by the rioters...”

Paul pondered, “A butler? Missing? Interesting!”

He recalled the interrogation report from Cecil; it was the butler who first provoked and escalated the conflict by ordering servants to attack with catapults during the siege of Baden’s estate.

“Enough, Baden, I don’t have time to waste on you! Regardless, privately collecting War Taxes behind the lord’s back is a violation of the law, and this riot is because of you.”

Paul stood up, ready to make his final decision.

Baden fell to his knees with a thud, “Lord, the Grayman family is renowned for its kindness!”

Ignoring his pleas, Paul continued, “You should receive a severe punishment, but considering your family’s long service to the lordship, I hereby declare—”

“First, you are stripped of your tax collector status. The areas you were responsible for will now be directly taxed by officials appointed by the Administration Council!”

“Second, half of your property will be confiscated to compensate for the damages caused by the riot—not including your own losses!”

As Paul’s words fell, Baden fainted, collapsing onto the floor.

The guards rushed to check on him. His eyes were rolled back, showing only the whites, and he was foaming at the mouth, unconscious.

It seemed the two sentences were too much for him to bear.