Chapter 66: Viscount Bolen’s Countermeasure

The tense atmosphere made Roden catch his breath.

Although he was Viscount Bolen’s adopted son, both were well aware that they only stood together because their interests aligned. Or rather, he had simply been lucky to be chosen, as Viscount Bolen always held the absolute upper hand. Consequently, he was subservient in the Viscount’s presence, terrified that any mistake might provoke the man’s annoyance.

This was also the reason he lived at the temple rather than at the Viscount’s manor—Viscount Bolen, a man of noble lineage, looked down on his family from the bottom of his heart.

He swallowed hard, stepped into the luxuriously decorated room, and closed the door.

“Father, what is the matter?”

“Look at this.”

Viscount Bolen, a middle-aged man with a thin face, turned around. His index finger tapped heavily on a newspaper on the desk. Roden hurried forward and picked it up to examine it.

The first thing that caught his eye was a portrait of Ino. Although the engraving was a far cry from her actual appearance, the unique iris hair ornament and the exquisite silver cross-sword in her hand were depicted with enough likeness that anyone familiar with her could recognize her at a glance.

He frowned, wanting to ask the Viscount, “What is this?” but seeing the Viscount’s grim expression as he puffed on his pipe, he shrank back and closed his mouth, continuing to read. In the process, he noticed a mark on the upper right of the paper that read “Kingdom Times, Issue Two.”

The Kingdom Times? He had never heard of it.

However, wasn’t it a waste to transcribe such beautiful handwriting onto a thin sheet of paper? In Roden’s experience, nobles believed that beautiful script should be written on parchment intended for long-term preservation.

The rest of the newspaper contained reports of a gang fight in the western suburbs, stories of love and hate among noble students at St. Estel Academy, and similar topics. The writer clearly knew how to manipulate the reader’s emotions. If Viscount Bolen hadn’t been standing right there, Roden would have wanted to sit on the sofa and read it with relish.

That was, until his gaze swept over the “Letters to the Editor” column.

[Letter to the Editor: I don’t believe it. How could the father of my most respected Holy Son of Black Stone be a common thug from the western slums? How is that possible? Yet my neighbors insist it is true, even claiming that the Holy Son of Black Stone’s father raped his mother to conceive him. This is absolute nonsense! But my neighbors laughed at me after seeing my letter. Could I really be wrong? Is the Holy Son of Black Stone truly as lowly as people say?]

[No, they must be lying to me. I have always been a supporter of Lord Roden, now and forever. Even if the rumors of the assault are true, those were the actions of Lord Roden’s father and have nothing to do with Lord Roden himself. I hope the newspaper can bring justice to Lord Roden! Signed: John.]

◎

“Tsk.”

Visibly, Roden’s face turned pale. After he was adopted by Viscount Bolen, the Viscount had strictly forbidden any discussion of these matters. Who had dug them up again?

And it appeared to be one of his own supporters. Which idiot had asked such a question?

He instantly understood why Viscount Bolen had summoned him home. With a “thwack,” he slammed the newspaper onto the table. His usual frivolous expression vanished, replaced only by anxiety.

“Father, what is this thing?”

“It is called a newspaper,” Viscount Bolen said, taking the pipe from his mouth. The swirling smoke obscured his face, making it impossible to read his expression. “It became popular in the last two weeks. An issue comes out every week, and each one covers the recent events of the kingdom, big and small. Many people in the Noble District are buying it.”

“M-Many people are buying it?”

It felt as though Roden had missed a step while walking down a staircase; his heart skipped a beat. He had just experienced the newspaper’s allure firsthand—he had been so absorbed in reading it that he momentarily forgot about his fearsome adoptive father. In the eyes of those gossip-loving nobles, wouldn’t his family’s scandals already be common knowledge and the talk of the town?

“The nobles on the street… they all know?”

“Hmph,” Viscount Bolen snorted coldly. “Which noble doesn’t already know your family’s dirty laundry? It’s just that no one wanted to drop the facade; they were giving you face. The point is, this newspaper isn’t just sold to nobles; it’s sold to commoners as well. Look at the first issue.”

Viscount Bolen tossed out another paper. Roden unfolded it and went straight to the Letters to the Editor. There, in the same section, he saw another letter from the person named John. The content of the first and second issues actually connected.

He stood up abruptly.

“Investigate! Father, we must investigate! This concerns whether I can be elected as the Holy Son. As long as we catch this ‘John’—”

“Catch him? Where are you going to catch him? There are thousands, if not tens of thousands, of people named John in the capital. Are you going to search for them one by one?”

“Uh…”

Seeing Roden at a loss for words, Viscount Bolen let out a disdainful sneer, took another puff of his pipe, and sat back down.

After considering for a moment, he asked.

“Who have you offended lately?”

“Who have I offended?” Roden wasn’t a total fool; he dealt in the business of slandering people behind their backs himself. Therefore, with Viscount Bolen’s hint, he immediately understood the man’s intent. “Father, you mean… someone is targeting me?”

“There is no other possibility. Why would this ‘Letters to the Editor’ thing mention you specifically and no one else? This is nothing more than a paid shill. The name John is too common; even if we wanted to find him, we couldn’t. Dead men tell no tales. This was written in the newspaper to intentionally poke at your sore spots and expose them to the nobles as a joke.” This was the most common trick used at the docks.

Viscount Bolen crossed his legs and went into thought. He wasn’t as impulsive as Roden. The Bolen family operated in shipping, textiles, orchards, and magic workshops; he had long been accustomed to the ways of the world. This newspaper business was merely a trivial matter.

He had felt something was wrong the moment he saw the letter. At the docks, there were often times when one needed to hire shills. Whether it was hooting to lower the purchase price from foreign merchants by creating an atmosphere that their goods were unwelcome in the capital, or ordering subordinates to mingle with a crowd and claim a competitor’s shop was dishonest with weights, these were all methods of using plants to gain profit.

The so-called “Letters to the Editor” were just a scholarly mask over the same dirty tactics.

That being said, going from the one setting the trap to the one caught in it made Viscount Bolen quite unhappy. This was the reason for his grim expression. He always acted with caution and left no traces. Now that the letters were aimed directly at Roden, it was certainly caused by Roden’s frivolous behavior provoking trouble outside.

He looked up with dark eyes, sizing up the trembling Roden.

“Who did you provoke?”

“I… I don’t know. I have always followed your instructions, Father; I have never provoked a noble. The only one I’ve been at odds with recently is that arrogant half-vampire, but that was at your command…”

“Are you certain?”

Viscount Bolen narrowed his eyes. His middle-aged face, beginning to show wrinkles, was full of overwhelming pressure, as if he would snap the moment Roden gave an incorrect answer.

The air became bone-chillingly cold. Roden felt a weight like a mountain pressing down on him. A string of fine sweat beads broke out uncontrollably on his forehead, and even his speech became hurried.

“I am certain! I truly have only had unpleasantness with Holy Son Ino. Even if the other Holy Sons look down on me, I haven’t offended them. You—you can ask the magic automaton assigned to me; she has been monitoring me the whole time!”

“Hmph.”

What Roden said was true. If he really had done something untoward, the magic automaton Viscount Bolen had placed by his side to monitor his every word and action would have reported back long ago.

A slave might risk deceiving their master for some self-serving outcome, but magic automata were born with the attribute of absolute obedience; they would never betray their master—correct, the magic automaton by Roden’s side only called Roden “Master” in name; in reality, she was Viscount Bolen’s subordinate.

“Then has Holy Son Ino made any unusual moves lately?”

“She… she has been very close to that Lant from the Tambur family.”

“…The Tambur family.”

Viscount Bolen seemed to think of something. He clicked his tongue, his brows knitting tightly together.

The Tambur family also operated in the river transport business and had conflicting interests with the Bolen family. This grudge had been established as far back as the Viscount’s grandfather’s generation and had continued to this day. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call the two sides blood rivals.

If it were the Tambur family, they indeed had both the motive and the strength.

Viscount Bolen swayed his crossed leg, thinking to himself.

But if they wanted to spread rumors, the Tambur family wouldn’t have waited until today, nor would they have gone through the trouble of creating a newspaper. Simply sending people to spread rumors at the docks would have been enough. Why do this? Just to let the nobles know what they already knew?

Or did they think this “newspaper” thing could make money? Did they want to develop a new product?

Thinking of this, Viscount Bolen couldn’t help but laugh, leaving Roden beside him confused.

The servant who bought the newspaper said it only cost one silver coin. Even if every family in the Noble District bought a copy, they wouldn’t sell a hundred. An industry worth less than ten gold coins? Ridiculous.

Not to mention the countless transcribers they would need to hire.

Look at the handwriting on this paper; it wasn’t some crude copy but a neat, refined script. To produce such a newspaper, the wages paid to the transcribers alone would likely exceed one silver coin.

They really were willing to spend. The Tambur family was going all out to bet on that half-vampire.

However, this newspaper thing did have a unique effect. No matter how powerful rumors at the docks were, they could only circulate among commoners. Nobles rarely interacted with commoners, and news from the docks often took a considerable amount of time to reach their ears. The newspaper was different; it was born to be read by nobles. One could only say the Tambur family had found a good breakthrough point, and the person who came up with this idea was a genius.

But so what? If the Tambur family could do it, why couldn’t he? Since they were no longer willing to play pretend and had issued a direct challenge, the Bolen family would simply accept.

Countless thoughts surged in Viscount Bolen’s mind. As the head of the family, he was absolutely unwilling to let the family fall behind the Tambur family under his watch. That would leave him with no face to meet the spirits of his father and grandfather in heaven.

“Father, it must be the Tambur family making trouble,” Roden reminded him irritably.

“I need you to tell me that? When will you ever fix that impatient temper of yours?” Viscount Bolen frowned impatiently. He uncrossed his legs and commanded.

“First, send someone to investigate who is behind this newspaper office. Find out their background. Then, go and contact a group of transcribers. If other magic workshops have magic automata for copying books, contact them as well.”

“If the other side isn’t from the Tambur family and has no real backing, we’ll play some tricks. Have people from the docks go to their door and cause a scene, saying their reporting is false. Let them stir up trouble for ten days or a month so they can’t do business, then take them in as our dogs. If the other side is indeed the Tambur family, and they used this newspaper to target us indirectly, we will simply use the same method to hit back!”

Hearing Viscount Bolen’s order, Roden’s eyes instantly lit up, and he dropped to one knee.

“Yes! Father!”

“Wait,” Viscount Bolen called out to Roden, who was about to leave. His expression had brightened slightly. “There is a sparring match between the Holy Sons next week. How is your preparation?”

“Although I cannot be compared to the Holy Son of Dragon Heart, if I face Lant, I have a sixty percent chance of victory.”

“Good!” Hearing that his adopted son could suppress the Tambur family, Viscount Bolen’s face immediately broke into a smile. He brushed his right hand over his storage ring and took out a crest. “Go find the steward. Have him take you to the workshop to find some handy magic tools. If you run into that boy from the Tambur family, you know what to do—remember, you can lose a battle, but you must have grace. A battle between nobles is not a brawl between thugs. Do not embarrass me.”

“Yes! I will follow your instructions, Father!”

“Do well, and I naturally won’t mistreat you in the future.”

Seeing Roden’s obedient manner, Viscount Bolen gave an encouraging smile, patted his shoulder, and slowly walked out of the smoke-filled room.