I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 344 The Giant Rat of Spring

Winter has gone, and the spring breeze has silently swept across the Tavitsky Plain. The earth is like a brand-new, emerald-green velvet carpet, dotted with tiny, colorful wildflowers, stretching from our feet to the horizon, blending seamlessly with the clear, boundless blue sky.

Chris pulled on the reins, and his horse came to a stop with a snort. The dozen or so light cavalrymen behind him also stopped as if pulled by the same thread, leaving only the military flag fluttering slightly in the spring breeze.

His gaze swept across the distance, where the Blue Flag Army's garrison farms were scattered across the plains. The endless wheat seedlings had just begun to sprout, and the neat rows of fields resembled the veins of the earth, with deep and light green intertwined, like a vast green sea.

This scene made Chris's lips unconsciously curl into a slight smile.

Just looking at this scene, one can't help but have the illusion that... this land has achieved peace, free from the strife of war.

However, the reality was quite the opposite; Tavitsky was not at peace, and fighting was raging a hundred kilometers away.

"so good."

Chris heard his followers behind him sighing, which made him jump off his horse. He reached out and pinched a handful of soft black soil. He inserted his fingers into the soft, warm soil and gently picked up a piece. The soil spread out moistly on his fingertips, black and shiny, like crushed black jade.

Chris took a deep breath, letting the earthy smell fill his lungs, awakening his Chinese genes... This kind of soil makes it easy for anything to grow.

"You can squeeze oil out of this soil."

He softly repeated his earlier exclamation.

"No wonder that no matter how many times the Bagnians came down the mountain to rob, the Miniese people living here would rather die than move away."

Just then, the soft sound of approaching hooves drew near. His personal attendant rode up to his side and rear, nimbly dismounted, and strode forward, holding a flat leather tube sealed with black sealing wax. The wax was imprinted with a circular cross and skull emblem... the mark of the Inquisition.

"Your Highness."

The attendant's voice was low, yet it pierced the spring breeze clearly, bringing a chill.

"Urgent dispatch from the court, just delivered by the messenger team."

Chris's eyes narrowed, the gentleness he had shown when facing the fertile land vanished instantly, leaving only a calm and unwavering composure.

He didn't turn around immediately, but took another deep look at the black soil beneath his feet before slowly turning around and reaching out his hand.

The attendant respectfully handed over the leather tube.

Chris skillfully unscrewed the cap, pulled out a thin roll of parchment, unrolled it, and quickly scanned the delicate handwriting written in coded language and ciphers... This handwriting is rather delicate, has a female player joined the Inquisition?
The surrounding air seemed to freeze. Only the sound of the military flag fluttering in the wind and the carefree chirping of larks in the distance formed a jarring contrast with the silent reading.

The attendants and the knights behind him held their breath, their eyes fixed on the prince's back.

After watching for a while, Chris's facial features tightened.

"granary……"

Chris's fingers unconsciously traced the rough edge of the parchment, his expression somewhat irritated, because he had been away from the country for a long time, and some people in Bagnia were clearly harboring inappropriate thoughts.

One night, a player who couldn't sleep logged on and was wandering around the city accidentally discovered unusual activity inside a strategic granary. Curious, he climbed onto the roof and found many people busy moving things into the warehouse.

According to this player, the strategic granary was already full, with no extra space to store anything else. Furthermore, there was no need to work at night for normal storage and warehousing.

There must be something fishy here.

So the player went to the tax office to report the behavior... Theoretically, this matter falls under the jurisdiction of the Tribunal, because the Tribunal of Bagnia also has the responsibility of fighting corruption.

But who can blame them when tax officials at the tax bureau, in order to improve their business, have established a system of rewards for whistleblowers?

Upon receiving the report, the tax official player immediately intervened, leading his men to the scene and uncovering a corruption case involving the resale of grain and the filling of strategic warehouses with sand and cotton.

The player from the Inquisition, who only discovered this the next day, was furious about the situation and thus submitted this report. The Inquisition player attempted to demand that Chris clearly define the responsibilities of the department and not allow the tax bureau to interfere in the work of the Inquisition.

However, the squabbles between these departments, and the disputes between the court and tax bureau players over territory and credit, were like the occasional breeze that swept across the plains, stirring up a few blades of grass, and did not stir up the slightest ripple in Chris's heart.

He didn't even frown at this part; in his eyes, it was nothing more than the minor friction noise that inevitably occurs when a massive bureaucratic machine is in operation.

What truly chilled Chris’s eyes, as if covered by a layer of winter frost like Tavitzky’s, was the core fact revealed in the report… the strategic grain silos had been hollowed out!

"Fill the strategic warehouses with sand and cotton..."

Chris's voice was soft, almost a soliloquy, yet it made the attendant standing nearby feel an invisible pressure, causing him to involuntarily lower his head. There was no rage in his voice, only a heavy, cold scrutiny.

Strategic granaries are the lifeblood of the nation, the foundation supporting the soldiers fighting on the front lines, and the reward Chris earned for his hard work serving the players. But now, right behind him, on what he thought was a solid foundation, there are giant rats gnawing at it!

"Some people within Bagnia have harbored inappropriate thoughts?" Chris's lips curled into a cold smile. These thoughts were probably more than just the greed of some individuals.

His gaze swept over the words "abnormal activity" and "secret collusion" in the report again.

The tribunal's agents had a keen sense of smell. Although the report originated from departmental friction, the snippets of information about the situation within Bagnia were like needles piercing their most sensitive nerves.

A corruption case involving a strategic grain depot, viewed in isolation, is a case of dereliction of duty and corruption.

But at this point in time, with the war raging fiercely a hundred kilometers outside the border and the old Baghnia forces stirring, it was immediately tinged with a completely different color.

Where did the grain go?

Did corrupt officials secretly divide up the spoils?
That's just a minor ailment; we can make an example of it to deter others.

But... is it possible that the stolen food, which should have been supplied to the front-line troops, ended up in the hands of people who needed more supplies to support their "unwarranted thoughts"?
Chris sensed danger, but since he was not in the country, he was a little unsure of the specifics.

It's okay, if we don't understand, we don't understand. We can just cut it off. If someone wants to die, let them die. Chris doesn't need evidence, he only needs to suspect.

"Secretary!"

He wore a gray robe, faded from washing, just like any other ordinary office worker, without any markings.

His face was ordinary, without any memorable features, like a piece of paper that had been crumpled and smoothed out repeatedly. However, it was precisely this extreme ordinariness that, against the backdrop of the knights in bright armor and exuding a fierce aura, gave off a chilling eeriness.

He stopped about three steps behind Chris, his movements as precise as if he had measured the distance. There was no bow, no questioning, just a slight bow of the head, like a lifeless stone statue, awaiting instructions.

The knights around, including the squire who had delivered the secret report, all held their breath.

Their gazes tried to avoid the clerk, yet they couldn't help but linger on him briefly, carrying a mixture of fear, apprehension, and an indescribable sense of alienation.

The scribe had no social life. He never spoke a word to either Bruno, the captain of the guard protecting Chris, or the other newly rich nobles of the court. He also had no family. He ate, drank, and relieved himself in the military camp, always by Prince Chris's side and never leaving him.

As a result, many people believe that the clerk is a tool of Prince Chris, and that the former must control many secret agents, and is a third-party intelligence and assassination agency outside of the court and intelligence agency.

Chris had heard of such rumors but remained noncommittal... The rumors were half true and half false, so there was no need to clarify them; they were just good for scaring some people.

"Record: The number of judges has been increased from one to ten. Immediately dispatch personnel to send my order back to the country."

There was only one judge in the courtroom. After completing his mission by hacking down an entire street, he became tired of the job and resigned, not knowing what to do next.

Now Chris has increased the number of slots to ten, leaving nine open slots... To compete for these slots, the players who join the Tribunal will definitely be highly motivated and work very hard.

What will happen if the players in the Tribunal work hard?
Chris had no idea that he had simply dropped nine bombs onto the seemingly calm surface of the lake, and he didn't care what would be blown up by the explosions.

"Yes."

As soon as he finished speaking, the clerk made no unnecessary movements. Just as when he appeared, he silently took a step back and disappeared back into the shadows of the entourage, as if he had never been there at all.

Because of this little incident, Chris lost all interest in his spring outing and turned his horse around, heading back the way he came.

The sound of horses' hooves rang out from not far away, and three riders galloped swiftly from the end of the dirt road.

Bruno led his men to intercept him, but he returned shortly afterward.

"Your Highness, it's an emergency."

"What emergency?"

"Your Highness, the Kingdom of Minicia has released both princes and their families... They are now in Tavitskyi."

……

Chris had to return to Tavisky because the situation was indeed urgent, but it didn't seem to be anything life-threatening.

Therefore, he needed to return to Tavitsky to deal with the matter, but it wasn't in a hurry.

Chris slowly rode his horse through muddy trenches and barbed wire defenses, as well as several sentry posts, and finally returned to Tavitsky.

This ancient city has now been turned into a huge construction site.

Chris reined in his horse and paused briefly before the dilapidated city gate of Tavitsky.

The air was no longer filled with the earthy fragrance carried by the spring breeze, but with a pungent smell mixed with dust, lime, burning wood, and some kind of... excrement that had been forcibly cleaned up.

The obstructive walls of Tavitsky are being demolished; there are no steel behemoths, only ant-like crowds and primitive yet efficient tools.

The massive logs were used as battering rams, pushed by dozens of strong men shouting slogans, striking the weathered stone foundation again and again.

Each impact was accompanied by a teeth-grinding scraping sound and a deafening roar as bricks and stones tumbled down, raising clouds of dust that blotted out the sky. The pulley system creaked and groaned as it lowered the heavy stone blocks from above.

Wearing uniforms, the civilian laborers, like tireless worker ants, gradually dismantle the city's old barriers with crowbars, hammers, ropes, and sheer manpower, all under the players' flags.

A simple cloth banner that read "Demolish walls and widen roads, give the old a new look" was stuck in the dust and fluttered in the wind.

On the dusty streets, crowds of people bustle about like ants.

Wearing uniform, coarse cloth work clothes and simple masks, civilians are waging a massive "clean-up war" under the shouts of "sanitation specialists".

The streets were piled high with garbage, rotting organic matter, broken rubble, and filth that had accumulated for countless years. This garbage was shoveled up and loaded onto handcarts or oxcarts and taken away.

The murky, clogged sewage ditches were roughly dug open and widened with shovels and picks, and the players directed the laying of huge ceramic pipes or the construction of ditches with stones to establish new drainage systems.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of quicklime disinfection, which mingled with the stench of rotting garbage, the sour smell of sweat, and the fishy smell of freshly turned soil, creating a strange atmosphere that was both suffocating and full of the meaning of "breaking the old and establishing the new".

The city is undergoing massive infrastructure development, and this decision was not made by Chris, but by the Tavisky City Hall... and the decision-makers in the City Hall, including the current mayor, are all players.

When they attacked Tavitsky earlier, Chris made a promise to the players who were doing the mission: if they took Tavitsky, the city would be theirs.

Chris kept his promise. The players made the decisions about Tavitsky, and the shares were evenly distributed among those who had completed the missions. Each of them had the right to vote and could elect the mayor and deputy mayor of Tavitsky.

The election just ended yesterday... Oh, what were the names of those two players, the mayor and the deputy mayor again?

Well, that's not important. What's important is that the election just ended the day before, and the newly elected mayor is already eager to give Tavitsky a thorough cleaning and a major overhaul.

Where does the money for the event come from?
The original city of Tavitsky was certainly poor, and this place was a huge military camp. The people living here were either Bagnians who served the soldiers or Minisian refugees who served the soldiers and players. They simply didn't have the money to pay taxes to Tavitsky.

The newly appointed mayor did something big... He put the shops, warehouses, and residential areas of the Tavitsky commercial street, which were still on paper, up for auction!

Furthermore, only players with shares in Tavitzky are allowed to participate; those without shares should not even think about it.

You know what, this trick actually worked. If it hadn't, the new mayor wouldn't have had the money to hire construction teams and local migrant workers to carry out the major project in Tavitsky.

That's great, the players are really enthusiastic.

Chris was very satisfied with this. Tavisky belonged to the players, but also to him. When the city prospered again, as long as it still belonged to the Kingdom of Bagnia, Chris would receive a share of the economic benefits generated by the city.

(End of this chapter)