lerbook #324 - Without your 250, 500 wouldn't be enough.
#324 - Without your 250, 500 wouldn't be enough.
Only when the afternoon sun shone on his back did Grossion finally set foot on Jeanne d'Arc Fortress.
Walking through the early market formed by vegetable vendors and stepping on the bumpy dirt road, he felt inexplicably emotional.
When he read the declaration of war, Grossion was quite excited and shouted, "The end of the Ibe Knights is here!"
But the response was sparse, unlike the villagers on Autumn Twilight Island, who still had no concept of the other citizens of the Papal States as a collective.
Although Hohn had made a big splash in the Pious Special Zone, almost everyone knew his name.
Were the villagers grateful to Hohn? Yes, they were grateful.
Were the villagers willing to fight for the so-called faith? No, they were not.
My gratitude does not equal my willingness.
After all, the Jeanne d'Arc Fortress regime had only been established for less than half a year, and neither public credibility nor collective consciousness had been formed.
The faith of the Holy Father Society had not yet spread, and the remnants of the Knights and the Church still existed in their minds.
In other words, they were not fighting for their compatriots or for the Papal States, they were only fighting for their "new lord," Pope Hohn.
This was completely different from the Old Black Hat Army Guards.
Eight young men timidly looked at the clean streets in front of them and the clock tower standing not far away.
They probably had never left their villages in their lives, but now they had to follow the legion to the front line.
"The engineering registration point is ahead," Grossion turned around and looked at the young men, "You can still turn back if you regret it."
Despite the fear of the future in their eyes, they still firmly shook their heads.
"We are monks now, and monks cannot desert before battle."
The villagers only seemed foolish because of their limited knowledge, but they were actually very clear about the important things around them.
Many knights did not understand that they could own a manor not because they were born noble, but because they proved that they could protect the manor.
But the villagers had always understood that Yorkshire terriers that couldn't catch mice would be slaughtered and eaten.
The reason why armed farmers could enjoy many privileges was because they could fight, right?
If Hohn did not conscript them into the army, they would instead suspect that the Pope would take back the newly divided fields before the harvest and give them to the war monks who participated in the war?
When the traveling monks brought the news that Hohn had really summoned them, even if it was just to dig soil and transport grain, they were relieved.
Leading the young men to the gathering point, Grossion greeted Archbishop Madelaine and walked towards the Holy See Bank.
In addition to sending these young farmers to transport grain, his most important purpose this time was to withdraw money.
After the abolition of the public account system, Grossion and his cousin Palak created a small two-acre fish pond together.
In these two acres of fish ponds, he raised 800 mirror carp, 600 of which survived, and were bought by the Guards to improve the new recruits' meals, selling for 620 denarii.
After deducting the costs of digging the pond and labor, the two could still split and earn 262 denarii.
That was equivalent to two gold pounds, which was about the income of an ordinary farmer for a year.
They earned it in just three months.
Standing in front of the Holy See Bank with the legion scribe, Grossion's calves trembled a little.
This bank was built entirely of pure white marble, and seven Aelonian-style columns were carved with seven saints.
The saints had serious faces, staring at everyone present as if supervising them.
The predecessor of the Holy See Bank was actually the Pope's agents in various places, responsible for managing his property and making financial investments.
After these agents united with the local wealthy monasteries, they formed a bank with the functions of exchange, pawning, and lending.
The Holy See Bank was originally only open to citizens and nobles. A mud leg like Grossion would be driven away by the hired hooligans with sticks before he even got close.
"Don't be afraid," seemingly seeing Grossion's fear, the legion scribe grabbed his arm, "It's an era of equality for everyone, what are you afraid of? You are also a fellow monk."
Grossion swallowed and was dragged inside by him.
His fear did not actually come from awe of the Holy See Bank, but from this transaction.
Those 800 mirror carp were not fish fry at all, but two-year-old adult fish!
They were not bought fish fry at all, but came from a monastery's fish pond.
The Papal States could not send manpower to manage the fish pond, and the managing monks had all gone to the Holy Trinity for education and reform, so it had been left unused.
Palak thought it would be a waste to waste it, so he secretly transported 800 mirror carp in one breath, pretending that he bought them himself.
He handed them over to Grossion, who had experience in fish farming, to raise them for a while, fatten them up, and then sell them to the Salvation Army.
This behavior somehow felt like fleecing the Pope's palace, which was the reason for Grossion's unease.
The young men were going to the battlefield, and he was still doing this kind of thing.
"Grossion?" After walking forward a few steps with his head buried, Grossion suddenly heard a familiar name.
He raised his head and saw Squire staring at him with wide eyes.
"Squire? What are you doing here?"
"I'm literate, so I'm working here as a scribe."
Squire straightened his hunched back. He pretended to be solemn, and said with three parts pride, three parts reserve, and four parts carelessness: "Eating the Pope's grain, I'm considered half a citizen."
"Ah," Grossion exclaimed politely, "That's really great. When the constable went to your house..."
"Shh--" Squire snapped, very quickly, and jumped out from behind the table.
He took two steps forward, covered Grossion's mouth, and dragged him to the corner with a fake smile. "What are you here for? A loan or a pawn? We don't accept pawns anymore.
Can you write? If you can write, go directly to the counter. If you can't write, I'll help you."
Grossion turned to look at the legion scribe. He spread his hands: "Let the scribe help you. I don't know much about how to handle it either."
This legion scribe was just a small bookkeeper in a shop a few months ago, so naturally he couldn't know much about the bank's affairs.
"Oh." Grossion turned around. "Withdraw payment from the Second Guards Legion account."
"Payment? You're doing business with the legion." Re-sitting down, Squire crossed his legs. "Let me see."
Taking the voucher from each of their hands, Squire's gaze quickly moved across the contract, then his neck stiffened.
A bright red number was printed on the contract.
"524 denarii, how is this possible..." Rubbing his eyes, after confirming that he had not misread, Squire almost cursed.
His monthly salary was only 20 denarii. He had only left this kid for three months, where did he get 524 denarii?
Without even feeling it, he must have been greedy!
Centurion is good, if only I could have...
Gritting his teeth and showing a flattering smile, Squire respectfully sent the contract back: "I'll write the application form for you now..."
"Since I'm here, I'll buy a Holy War bond, the 5 denarii kind," the legion scribe said to Squire.
Obediently taking the money and registering, Squire handed the certificate to the legion scribe: "You have priority processing with your military status, just go to the counter."
Looking at the legion scribe's light footsteps with confusion, Grossion asked: "What is this Holy War bond?"
Squire said irritably: "It's equivalent to lending money to the Salvation Army to fight. This is an IOU, no different from a donation.
It's a worthless thing, if it weren't for the Pope's sake, no one would buy it..."
As if thinking of something, Squire's eyes lit up: "What? Do you want to buy some?"
"Yes." Thinking of his fish stealing behavior, in order to reduce his guilt, Grossion nodded.
"How much to buy? I'll write it for you together."
"Um, 24 denarii, withdraw 500 denarii to make it a round number."
Grossion decided to talk to his cousin. If his cousin agreed, they would split the Holy War bonds in half. If he didn't agree, he would buy them all himself.
Squire didn't say anything more, seemingly afraid that Grossion would expose his scandal, and quickly prepared the application, without even doing the usual extortion.
"Sign or put your fingerprint here. Whichever finger you put on the contract, put that finger here. This, this, this, and this all need to be pressed.
You have to fill in the numbers yourself, you can write numbers, right? Fill in 24 here and 500 here, then here and here..."
Grossion didn't expect it to be so difficult to get money from the bank. He was dizzily directed for a long time before he barely completed it.
At this time, the legion scribe was already yawning.
Handing the application form to the teller behind the iron counter, the teller glanced at the two forms and then looked at Grossion: "Are you sure you want to buy so many Holy War bonds?"
"Sure." Grossion didn't want to be as troublesome as before.
The teller's expression immediately became respectful.
He snapped his fingers, pulled out a full 40 Holy War bonds, and counted out 24 silver coins, handing them to Grossion.
Looking at the thick stack of Holy War bonds and the scarce silver coins in his hand, Grossion looked up at the teller and then looked down at the silver coins, feeling his brain crash.
"This, how are there only 20-odd denarii, where's the rest of the money?" Grossion asked, his mouth dry.
"Where is it," the teller pointed to the bonds in Grossion's hand, "Didn't you write yourself that you bought bonds for 500 denarii and withdrew 24 denarii?"
The legion scribe was also stunned. He stepped forward and carefully read the form twice: "You, how did you fill out the form backwards!"
"I, I didn't..."
At this time, Squire clicked his tongue and came up: "Oh dear, I told you again and again, how did you still fill it out wrong, you, oh dear..."
"You, is it... what to do? What to do?"
Although he suspected that Squire had done something, there were no surveillance cameras in the hall, and Grossion couldn't prove it at all.
He was so anxious that he was about to cry. 500 denarii, what a huge sum of money, all turned into waste paper.
"What's the hurry? The money isn't gone," the teller looked at him strangely, "The bonds in your hand are worth 2000 denarii."
Harboring the last bit of hope, Grossion said tremblingly: "Then, can I return them? Can I return half?"
The teller said with embarrassment: "You have already signed and registered, unless the Holy Vault Chief comes, you cannot return them."
"Hiccup--"
A strange wail rolled out of his throat, Grossion's eyes darkened, he closed his eyes tightly, and fell straight backward.