Chapter 1899 - 521: A Third Level Conference Even More Perplexing Than the Colin Family_3

That fellow is a maverick, sitting in the corner to his left.

Newcastle remembered that the gentleman's name seemed to be Ferguson, a Scholar from some Church School, said to be quite reputable in the academic circles of the Ryan Kingdom.

At this moment, this stocky "Raidog" had his arms tightly crossed over his chest, his face dark as he stared fiercely at those noisy Nobles, with a defiant look.

Newcastle's lips involuntarily curled into an odd smile, recalling the speech given by this Scholar gentleman at yesterday's "warm-up conference"—

"In our Kingdom, more than ninety percent of the population are commoners, yet I only see six chairs! Gentlemen! Only six chairs, and one of them even belongs to a Campbell person! Commoners' seats only occupy 3%!"

"Baron Wickton, you don't need to pretend you care about us, and there's certainly no need to put on a show by inviting me here to humiliate me!"

At that time, the entire room fell silent for a second, and was then drowned by the laughter of the Nobles, even the most solemn Priest couldn't help but curl his lips.

An interesting commoner indeed.

Mr. Wickton was quite embarrassed by that remark, his face turned blue, but luckily the Chairman of the Stone Masonry Guild came out to save the day and the meeting continued.

Though Professor Ferguson "roused the grass," Newcastle wasn't angry, but rather appreciated the frankness of this old gentleman.

He had to retract his stereotype of the Ryan people; this ancient Kingdom does have true gentlemen, not everyone is like a goblin.

The wide theater gradually filled up, the actors in their finery were already in place, and the performance called the Third Level Conference was soon to begin.

Newcastle glanced around, thinking of the task entrusted to him by Baron Wickton, and silently prayed to Saint Sis.

In the presence of Saint Sis, the hawk on the King's shoulder actually wants to rely on a few "pigeons" to peck out the eyes of a flock of raptors?

This is no longer naive—

It's simply a dream.

Unless the King has a backup plan.

...

The bell of noon had just tolled, and the heavy wooden hammer struck the chairman's podium heavily, declaring the formal start of this meeting that would decide the fate of the Ryan Kingdom.

Baron Wickton, Minister of Economy, walked heavily onto the podium.

Facing the countless eyes focusing on him, he had no speech script, and spoke passionately.

"Honorable gentlemen, holy Priests, I do not wish to awaken you from your beautiful dreams, but please look at the land beneath our feet. The Kingdom's treasury has already run dry, and the King's subjects are crying under heavy burdens!"

"They have to pay rent, tithing tax, salt tax, head tax... and still strive to survive. Our citizens are not affluent; with every hard piece of bread they eat, they must part with one-fifth to contribute to our Kingdom! Not only that, they also give their sweat, and even their Life!"

The sound of murmurs spread among the seats in the round theater.

The Priests fell into deep thought, while the expressions on the faces of the Nobles varied, gradually losing the ease they had at the beginning of the meeting.

They heard that the King called the Three-level Council, thinking that Your Majesty would ask the citizens for money, so they gathered here to see if they could get a share.

But somehow...

The speech of the Minister of Economy sounded somewhat off?

Nonetheless, they did not act out, believing any dinner needs an introduction; they planned to give this Baron Wickton a chance to finish his speech before making a decision.

However, their silence seemed to be understood as weakness.

Baron Wickton not only did not stop his passionate voice but also forcibly linked the Kingdom's survival with the fate of those numerous families.

Even using sharp moral weapons!

"Look at the citizens of Roland City, they survived the Winter Moon fire, and now have nothing left! Right now, our Kingdom is in peril, only if you honorable gentlemen stand together can we pass through this difficulty!"

"In honor of Saint Sis, I implore you to shoulder the ancient duty, and I also beseech you to stand with our Kingdom!"

These words were truly full of emotion.

Although Baron Wickton never sympathized with the commoners of Roland City for even a second, and the catastrophe during Winter Moon was indeed his own malicious plot, this did not prevent him from using those mud-legged individuals, whom he did not regard at heart, to force the Nobles to make concessions in order to achieve his goals.

He believes the Ryan Nobles still care about their reputation; after all, even the King's Imperial Chef cares about face, how could these noble figures not cherish their own feathers?

If it doesn't work, he has plan B—diverting disaster Eastward.

Just let the Ryan Nobles believe their Kingdom stands at a crossroads of destiny, with no wool left to shear.

At the very least, he can unite these Nobles for His Majesty, to plunder those fat, weak, and exploitable Priests, thus sharing the obligations they need to bear.

However—

Baron Wickton still thought too well of matters; even the Divine's plans often include unexpected arrangements, not to mention a mere Mortal?

Perhaps he has been sitting high for too long, overestimating the moral bottom line of the Ryan Nobles and underestimating the shamelessness of these feudal lords.

Surrender halves the losses?

Ridiculous!

It's the weak who yield, while the truly strong should naturally eat every morsel within reach!

"Duty?"

A voice full of derision suddenly interrupted Wickton's speech, as the Powerful Earl rose from the right seat at the conference table.