Chapter 229: Tyr Paladin

"D-demon..." The Desire Demon felt her chest tighten, nearly fainting from sheer rage.

’A thousand it is, then! If my mistress thinks the price is unreasonable, she can come and say so herself. I have to leave before noon, otherwise I’ll end up dying of rage right here!’

"I will take a few samples of the Abyssal Silver Ore back to report, and I’ll return next month to formally sign the contract." The Desire Demon gathered a few scattered pieces of Abyssal Silver Ore from the ground and summoned a Teleportation Array at her feet. "Human, you’d better pray day and night to the writings of that bald fellow that the Duke doesn’t unleash his thunderous wrath upon you!"

"So, what about all this on the ground?" Ron kicked at the scattered "Gold Coins" on the floor.

"Do whatever you want with it!"

The Desire Demon’s figure vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving behind only a pile of pure gold-plated lead blocks and the wide-eyed, staring crowd.

"Benefactor," Silvia gave Ron a thumbs-up. "I’ve heard of people who can conquer Desire Demons and Succubi in bed, but I’ve never heard of anyone who could chase off a devil with just their words! For that alone, you could give yourself a new title!"

"’The Ascetic’? ’Devil Slayer’?" Aive teased as she picked up a few Gold Coins from the ground. "I’ll grab a few as souvenirs to have someone send home. By the way, did that Duncan the Demon fellow say whether these coins have any curses on them? Can an ordinary person wear them?"

"They’re made of lead. How good can they be?" Ron gave the Half-Elf a helpless look. "But you could have someone haul them all back to tile a wall and create a private meeting room. A thin layer of lead can block many detection Magic spells."

"We might as well keep it for ourselves, then," the Half-Elf mused. "With Night Wind’s decorating style, a room made entirely of gold coins would be a bit too tacky."

"Then we’ll wait until Mazarino is done with New Green Swamp Town," Ron nodded. "Aiksuuri would definitely love this style."

"How long do you think it’ll take him to pry all the Gold Coins off the walls?" Delaford gazed reluctantly at the coins on the ground, which could now only be used for decoration. "I happen to like this style too..."

"You’d better save it," Victoria flipped her Hard Head Hammer around and tapped Delaford on his big head with the handle. "Goblins don’t live that long to begin with. You’ve finally been blessed by nature, so are you really that eager to end your life early?"

Even she knew that you couldn’t live in a room like that for long. True Dragons were the exception, of course.

After dealing with the demons stealing ore underground, the Ghouls that had been plaguing the Hill Giant naturally vanished as well. Ron and his group paid the giant his reward as promised and also dragged back the debt-dodging Rurik.

Faced with a mountain of ironclad evidence (a pickaxe), the blacksmith who once proclaimed his "three-no-forges" rule could only swallow his pride and obediently begin forging the Abyssal Silver.

As for the artisan from the Shapeshifter side, Ron didn’t plan on troubling him for now. Based on Quest’s report after their return, the Shapeshifters’ own village was still under construction, and pulling him away at this time would significantly hinder their progress.

Although the Shapeshifters had gained the approval of most residents in Ron’s territory, people still kept a respectful distance when it came to working in their settlement. Trust was one thing; feeding both your biological and social life into their mouths was another.

Perhaps these Shapeshifters were all good people and wouldn’t actively swallow someone. But what if they gulped subconsciously? Avoiding suspicious situations was the common resident’s secret to maintaining peace between the various races in this world.

"We are well aware of this ourselves," Quest, the Shapeshifting Demon Monk—an oddity among oddities—said with a smile as he took a sip of light beer. "That’s why even when we go to other villages to work, we’re willing to be supervised. As long as people don’t stare at us like we’re a circus act."

"Right now, every part of the territory is busy, so conflicts won’t seem intense or frequent." Back at the trading post, Ron sat across from Quest, spearing a piece of roasted venison with his fork and lifting it to his mouth. His eyes, however, were rapidly scanning the reports submitted by the heads of the various villages over the past few days. "If you can manage to prevent anyone from developing ill feelings toward you during this period, then even when things eventually settle down, there probably won’t be any major problems."

Ron’s use of a knife and fork was essentially a variation on using chopsticks; Sera and Delaford were even clumsier than he was. But since he was a Lord now, after all, Ron had wanted to take the opportunity to learn the proper technique from the "masters from Rose City." However, Constance and Carlos weren’t particularly enthusiastic about the idea.

"Tsk, I just feel like holding a fork this way isn’t right," Ron chuckled, looking at the piece of meat on his fork.

"Did it get into your mouth? As long as it gets into your mouth, that’s all that matters," Aive, who was sitting at the same table, set down her utensils and wiped her mouth. "You’re a Lord, you know. Whatever you do becomes the noble standard. It’s the same everywhere."

"As for all that complicated etiquette Constance learned, it’s just a set of standards tailor-made for ’assimilating’ into high society. You’re already in it, so what’s there to learn?"

"You don’t practice what you preach," Ron laughed. "What about you? Did you learn all this to assimilate into high society too?"

"Remember? I have Half-Elf blood. It’s innate."

Ron: "...Give me a break."

"It really depends on the person," Quest said, carefully wrapping up the remaining fruits and vegetables in front of him to take with him. "Based on my experience serving as a Spy for several Lords, there are typically two types of Lords who desperately need this kind of social etiquette."

"One type inherits their position from their family. They must constantly display their adherence to the rules to establish their status, because they don’t actually possess the requisite talent. The other type is propped up by other powers. They must follow someone else’s rules to show their loyalty, allowing them to hold on to wealth that isn’t truly theirs."

"You, however, have none of these burdens, so you needn’t worry about it. If you have diplomatic affairs with other kingdoms or even empires in the future, we will provide you with the necessary training beforehand. We absolutely will not let you be embarrassed in front of them."

"Hmm..." Ron had just been making small talk; otherwise, he wouldn’t be multitasking at the dinner table. At that moment, he flipped over a page in a report and saw something new. "’A request to build a shrine for the worship of Tyr’? What’s this about?"

"What do you mean, my Lord?" Quest paused, a bit taken aback. "Tyr is the God of Justice, though he doesn’t have many followers in this region."

"You don’t think they’re implying you lack fairness and justice, do you? We can reject the request..."

"Don’t be ridiculous," Ron shot Quest a look. "I don’t worship any Deities from the domain of Order, so they can build it if they want. What I find strange is the person who applied:"

"Tyr Paladin Andre. He has the same name as our Civilian Militia Captain."