Chapter 57: The Cry for Help

Chapter 57: The Cry for Help

TL: Etude

Since a series of agricultural decrees were announced, Paul Grayman spent his days in a busy and fulfilling life. He reviewed the construction reports of agricultural associations from various local officials and occasionally rode to the villages near Lakeheart Town for inspections.

A letter disrupted this routine, sent by Lord Malron Ganard of Baylding, who was also his childhood friend.

The letter was written on the new type of paper produced in Alda. Paul felt a sense of pride touching the letter; the paper he invented was gradually becoming a part of peoples lives.

At first glance, the content seemed ordinary, offering warm greetings and sharing amusing incidents from his domain. However, some sentences were awkwardly phrased, causing Paul some discomfort.

Really, one would think it was written by a child just learning to write.

Count Paul shook his head and mercilessly critiqued his childhood friends writing.

Wait a second, Paul thought. In his memory, they had corresponded before, and his friend wasnt this poor at writing.

Unless, it was that situation

He hurried back to his bedroom, rummaging through his belongings until he found what he remembered a box containing several thin wooden pieces with irregularly arranged rectangular holes.

This was the secret code he and Malron had agreed on, used to hide messages in their letters that only they could understand.

Messages like Got spanked again last night, father is a tyrant, I secretly poured out the butlers wine, his shocked face was hilarious, or Today I saw father touching the maids behind things that would spell trouble if seen by their parents.

To write a coded message, they would place a wooden piece over the paper and write words in the holes, then remove the piece and fill the rest of the space with filler words, forming a seemingly ordinary letter.

However, this also resulted in somewhat disjointed sentences, or unrelated contexts, which could seem bizarre to an outsider.

To prevent the same patterns from being recognized, they created many such wooden pieces, each with a different arrangement of holes.

The writer would choose a piece at random, and the receiver had to try each piece until the message made sense.

Chandelier flying into the river not this one.

Butler knight falling fire not this one either.

Delicious rat fell into a ditch lets try another.

The owner glanced at him but didnt respond.

The customer reached into his pocket and slapped something on the table, loudly announcing, Time to pay!

When he removed his hand, a silver coin was left on the table a sum far exceeding the cost of two beers.

The owner quickly scanned the tavern, which had only two other patrons in a corner, unlikely to notice them. He swiftly pocketed the silver coin.

As the customer stood to leave, the owner said, We also have our special homebrew beer. Would you like to try a few more glasses?

The customers lips curled into a smile, and he sat back down. Then Ill try your special brew. If its good, Ill come back. He tapped the bar, leaving another silver coin visible between his fingers.

The owner brought over a large glass of beer. The customer, his right hand still on the table, started sipping the beer with his left.

The owner, lowering his voice, said, Did you hear about Count Old Ganard a few years ago? He planned to confiscate his vassals lands, making many enemies.

The customer nodded in acknowledgment.

Then the Count drowned, but his death was too suspicious. I know for a fact that the Count was an excellent swimmer since he was a child.

Surprised, the customer asked in a low voice, Are you implying his vassals killed him?

The owner shook his head, Thats your guess, not mine.

The customer probed further, What happened next? How does this relate to the private soldiers on the streets?

After checking their surroundings again, the owner continued, After the Counts death, his son Malron inherited the title. But since then, the young Count hardly ever leaves his home. He used to be so outgoing, often visiting Alda to play with the young master of the Grayman family, and suddenly he became reclusive.

As the customer sipped his beer, the owner added, Now, several of Ganards vassals gathered in Butuya are his relatives. The Count only has one son, and his soldiers arent around. He then stopped, leaving the implication hanging.

Putting down his glass, the customer asked, If something happens to young Ganard, would the title fall into one of the vassals hands?

The owner replied with a sly smile, Thats still your guess. I only know so much.

After finishing his drink, the customer retracted his hand, leaving the shiny silver coin on the bar.

The beer here is great; Ill come back for sure!

Saying this, he leisurely walked out of the tavern.