Horace reluctantly used "silver pounds" to pay the salary.
When the workers received those flimsy paper notes from the accountant's hands, everyone stared wide-eyed in astonishment.
"Thirty... silver pounds?!"
"Did I see it right..."
"Elsey, did you miscalculate?"
A textile worker in his thirties stared incredulously at the accountant handing him the money, as if everything before him was a dream, afraid to speak too loudly for fear of waking up.
But he was worried that if things weren't cleared up, the fierce guards would rush into the dormitory to reclaim the salary he "snatched" from the boss.
"Don't worry, it's correct! I counted every one's money carefully!" The young man named Elsey stood with a straight back, a confident smile on his face, stuffing the counted bills into the textile worker's palm.
His straight posture wasn't out of pride for his boss; it was purely because he too received his wages, giving him confidence.
The workshop was filled with incredulous voices.
The textile workers simply couldn't believe that the miserly man had suddenly become so generous!
Considering it was thirty silver pounds!
In Thunder City, where copper coins are constantly devalued, this huge sum now had a purchasing power equivalent to 5,000 Imperial copper coins!
This was practically a disguised salary raise for everyone!
And a substantial one indeed!
In the past, that guy would have settled their wages with copper coins, reluctantly handing over the money bags, as if performing some great kindness, feeling taken advantage of.
The group exchanged excited looks, discussing how to spend the money, making the entire workshop lively as if celebrating a festival.
Horace's textile mill was the most miserly example in the Thunder City industrial zone, yet today Mr. Horace seemed to lead all factories, becoming the first in the area to fully allocate salaries in "silver pounds" like a generous benefactor.
At this moment, some older employees recalled the "good deeds" this gentleman had done—such as the three-story employee dormitory considered outstanding in the new industrial zone.
They suddenly felt the stingy and sarcastic fellow might not be so detestable after all.
"Perhaps... we misunderstood him." The awakened textile worker murmured softly, looking at the banknotes in his hand.
Having finished distributing the money, Elsey remained silent for a moment, showing a helpless expression.
"I must say something fair, this time it wasn't originally Mr. Horace's fault, the salary couldn't be distributed mainly because of the King."
Everyone paused upon hearing this.
"The King?"
"What does this have to do with the King?!"
Elsey summarized Horace's offhand story, explaining it in language more logical for the worker friends.
"Of course it does, the merchants of the Ryan Kingdom owe our factory a huge sum, and Mr. Horace is powerless against them. You know who's backing those chambers of commerce, that's someone even our Duke wouldn't dare to easily offend."
"As for our Mr. Horace, indeed he is a devout follower of Saint Sis. I always hear him mention Saint Sis, how could such a devout good man willingly harm us?"
This indeed made sense.
Horace was just stingy, stingy to the point he wouldn't throw away his worn coat, but he never had harmful intents, let alone malicious ones.
However, the accountant clearly didn't explain properly; behind the Ryan Kingdom's chambers stood the King, but that didn't mean the King was doing business with them.
Understanding this was too demanding; those counting money bills would prefer the simpler and more direct version—
The Ryan King was fighting the Duke Campbell, with the Duke supposedly being on the weaker side, so the King confiscated wages meant for Campbell textile workers, as a pressure tactic against the Duke.
The drowsy King added another mask of greed, while Horace's reputation unknowingly reversed.
Even if only in his textile factory.
In truth, Campbell people are quite simple, especially those Campbell people working at the factory, with thoughts as pure as a blank sheet.
If someone told them the sky was green and the sun cold, as long as the person ensured they were fed, they would firmly believe.
In contrast to this simplicity, their demands are few, in face of the crowns of Kings, even as insignificant as mere dust.
What the Nobles desire is stability, which is also their deepest longing.
They just want a shelter from the elements, a partner to share life's ups and downs, and one or two promising children, fulfilling basic survival needs.
If having some spare money, they could buy a few new clothes for the wife's wardrobe, send the children to school or to a shop as apprentices, and have some beer to enrich their lives... this would already be a heavenly existence.
If they lack all these things, having some hope for the Future might suffice.
Earl Derek always thought they desired much, but their ambitions were the smallest in this thriving Duchy.
Even a careless glance from a Lizardman Messenger from the Gana Continent would resolve their unsolvable troubles.
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