Chapter 181: Chapter 181: A Baronet’s Monologue

A big swig of pale ale is taken from a mug that is almost overflowing. A man with a clump of his brown hair funnily pointing forward.  

This is a beverage he had no chance of obtaining back in his demesne, so Stanley has to drink it here, in Lloyd Tavern which is on a hill at the part of Redcliffe Village that is nearest to the Redcliffe Castle. The denizens often call it as noble tavern as every week it is frequented by aristocrats after returning from their business in the castle.

He noisily belches out the sweet fragrance of the ale as he set down the large mug, with half of its contents remaining, back onto the table. If this is one of those wooden mugs other customers are so used to, he would’ve slammed it on the table without a thought, but he wouldn’t dare do so with the porcelain stuff.

However, even if he does break the mug, he wouldn’t have problem to pay for it, after all, he could easily afford the cost of a mere porcelain mug. Same goes to other noble members who do the same thing.

This kind of expenditure to be expected for someone who’s is a hard-pressed lower noble like him, Baronet Stanley Barclay. To a noble, debt owed to a commoner like Lloyd could be bilked, it is an easily exploitable situation. But alas, doing so would make him no different than a common thief. As a noble of nobles, such an act was utterly despicable, so it’s best to pay him back as much as possible soon.

All he had to do was to apologize and repay the owner, Lloyd for drinks or damage at subsequent week after the weekly noble gathering, for tonight everything is kept on tabs. At times, he and other nobles or baronets would drink with the viscounts here. It seems the viscounts have it easier. They just drink and Lloyd would go their house to collect the payment.

As things stand, even viscounts, whose position is above Stanley’s, is still lower aristocrat and had to bow before the likes of the lady marquess of Redcliffe, Isolde Guerrin. Perhaps that was the reason why they were trying so hard to please that inept widow by giving her gifts during the last meeting.

This is what separates the strong from the weak in this world - the difference in status.

Still, he still looks up to the senior viscounts for their exploits and faculty. The newly appointed viscount, Jascha Alatt who is at the same age as him, in particular, might have a lot of potential. Stanley is reminded to Jascha’s look; the messy grey hair, the spectacle, and serious face.

As a gentleman who is high-esteemed, Baronet Stanley Barclay who is at the bottom of aristocracy rank, only higher than knights, hope to improve his social standing as soon as possible. His mother should also be expecting him to obtain the rank of baron at the very least.

But-

“Why is nothing going my way!”

He could longer hold in his true feelings. Stanley surveys his surroundings. This bar is not a regular peasants’ bar. The commoners are made aware when the aristocrats meeting is held so commoners avoid entering Lloyd Tavern at that time. There are only the ugly owner, Lloyd and his waitress, a beautiful woman with straight orange hair, reaching both her shoulders. Bella. She is new here but she quickly becomes well-known due to her good look.   

After confirming that no one is looking towards him, Stanley calms down.

To allow others to find out that he had cursed would be disgraceful.

That’s right - he is hard-pressed now. “Die, you’re all trash!”

Stanley gulps down ale as if it could literally put out the fiery emotions in his heart. This only agitates him further as in his hurry, drops of ale have leaked from the corners of his lips, causing his skin and clothes to feel sticky as a result.

Stanley’s expression twists in his anger.

If all had gone according to his plans, the output of his demesne would have been multiplied and he should have been surrounded by villagers grateful that he is their lord. His name should’ve been known to all after his neighbouring nobles caught wind of his accomplishments. So, how did it end up like this?

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Not only had the grain productivity of his lands started to fall, but he also feels as though the villagers he had visited were all staring at him with contempt.

“Insolent scumbags!”

He is the head of the house of Barclay, a family that owns the wheat field, those villagers should’ve known full well how they should pay their respects. Could it be possible that the villagers were all slacking off to weaken his position?

It is certainly possible.

He reckons. The world is filled with simpletons who would be envious of others’ talents after all. They couldn’t even understand his talents and only scoff at and get envious of those with talents. In that way they could create an illusion of megalomania.

No, it is not as though that is the only type of people in the world. There are so many villagers back there, there had to be some other reason for it. For example, they are overworked due to lack of labourers. Stanley had conveyed this issue to higher-ups during the recently adjourned meeting, but he is shunned.

In general, if one focuses production on more valuable goods, revenue will naturally rise by huge proportions. This should’ve been common sense. Wouldn’t it make sense to dedicate all the available manpower to the more valuable industry such as wheat and import the others?

He believes it is so obvious yet all viscounts and him were at loggerheads.

“Some of the viscounts must be seeing eye to eye with me but they could be trying to curry favour with the lady marquis!” Stanley talks to himself, in self-denial.

“The question is, what would be the best way to work out this problem?” His self monologue escapes from his mouth again.

If he’s going to gain wealth, he would have to collect gold from the increased export of his land, but that’s obviously not possible - neigh, it would be difficult to do so at the moment.

So what is something that he could do that will both demonstrate his brilliance and also leverage the baronet’s power to benefit his family?

“I say that but I am only a lowly baronet with over a hundred subjects……”

As a member of the Eamon faction, Stanley had the opportunity to connect with all kinds of people mainly in Redcliffe.

The head of lower noble houses around his age often drink together. They often discussed the solution in their demesnes. They had aided him in that pursuit, but considering his age, social standing, et cetera, there were still some major hurdles they had to overcome. In the couple of weeks lately, however, they have started to lash out their frustration towards the new marquis, Lady Marchioness Isolde Guerrin.

They had the experience in working under the late Eamon Guerrin and Teagan Guerrin. The deceased lords had the charisma in their speech and action. The same speech by Eamon’s widow would not be convincing to the same degree.

Being members of the new generation, they could not act like some aging organization but rather introduce radical changes into the system. As men with the courage to experiment and innovate, he believes they will do well in the future. But still the problems have been dawdling.

Blinded by his feelings of irritation, Stanley Barclay does not notice his mug has somehow become empty.

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