Conquering OtherWorld Starts With a Game - Chapter 177: Sleepless Night

News of Charlie Rex leading the undead army to capture and completely vanquish the Radiant Sun Church’s knightly order spread throughout Indahl City in half a day.

Weisshem was just one of the twenty-odd towns in Indahl territory, and despite the swirling rumors regarding it, the city’s populace hadn’t really paid much attention. A town with the least population and the poorest economy in the territory wasn’t worth the city folks’ concern… especially when the new lord was an illegitimate son.

Were it not for the recurring mention of undead, creatures that aroused both curiosity and fear, Charlie Rex wouldn’t even qualify as a topic of conversation among the city folk—city life, unlike that of rural towns, wasn’t so barren. The local Indahl Weekly, along with magazines and newspapers from the Rhine Kingdom delivered by steam trains every fortnight, provided ample intellectual nourishment.

Let alone the dignified nobility; even middle-class folk, when gathered together, delighted in discussing national affairs and bringing up a local rural town was tantamount to soliciting disdain for one’s short-sightedness.

This high-and-mighty regional snobbery wasn’t just a flaw limited to that of Earth’s people.

But now, no one dared to underestimate this bastard lord… Especially the local nobility.

While Yang Qiu was having a pleasant chat with the bishop and the night watchmen captain of the Church of Lady Gold Coin, Viscount Darcy, of the second most influential family in Indahl after the Bartalises, saw an unending stream of visitors at his home.

In Viscount Darcy’s study, landlords, who owned over 40 percent of the local fertile land, gathered to discuss the future of Indahl passionately.

Tuttle Joe, the most respectable-looking of the former bandit trio and a ranger, took advantage of the bustling Viscount Darcy’s estate to blend in, posing as a noble’s servant. He stationed himself at the study’s door, openly eavesdropping.

Inside, some noblemen believed that Charlie Rex, with his humble origins, could be easily appeased with a little recognition. Others saw tolerating a bastard in a high position as a disgrace to Indahl, calling for a collective effort to drive him out. Yet, some suggested waiting to see if Charlie Rex would willingly integrate into Indahl’s upper circles, in which case accepting him wouldn’t be out of the question.

These gentlemen were deeply engrossed in their discussion, much to the listening Tuttle’s chagrin.

No wonder Yang, that cunning old monster, put Rex forward as a figurehead while he himself lay low… The enemies are exhausting their efforts on Rex, sparing Yang much trouble!

Just as Tuttle was nodding off, a calm and steady voice of an elderly man emanated from the study. “Gentlemen, please heed my words. Adra III is the true master of Indahl. How we respond to the sudden rise of young Charlie Rex should be guided by His Lordship’s disposition.”

This was undoubtedly a trite statement—even a simpleton could deduce that Adra III would not be pleased to see Charlie Rex flexing his muscles, least of all happy about this upstart threatening their family’s domain.

Though trivial, it clearly reflected Viscount Darcy’s stance: he had no interest in helping the Bartalises fend off their adversary; rather preferring to see both parties suffer mutual destruction.

Even if Charlie Rex emerged victorious and became the new lord reigning over them, Viscount Darcy couldn’t care less. So what if he was a bastard? The illustrious and valorous ancestor of the Bartalis family, Adra I, had once moonlighted as a highwayman during times of familial financial strife!

With the nobility circle being so tight-knit, which family didn’t have secrets known to others?

The study fell into a hushed silence.

Viscount Darcy’s nonchalant attitude toward the superficialities of high society was something he alone could afford to display so openly. After all, in environments ruled by strict norms, those at the top of the power hierarchy needed not concern themselves too much with adhering to these conventions.

At the doorway to the study, Tuttle adjusted his bow tie, tilting his head up slightly so that passing servants wouldn’t catch the smirk on his face.

Tuttle’s comrades, Hal and Finley, had agreed to spy for Yang, seeing potential in aligning with him and recognizing that their status would elevate as Yang’s territory expanded. Tuttle’s motives, however, slightly diverged from theirs… He was keen to see how Yang, the madman capable of relegating a count’s nephew to work the sewers, would trample over Indahl’s elite.

No one knew the depth of Tuttle’s hatred for those born into an elite class, destined to only look down upon others. His father’s lifelong efforts and his family had been destroyed because of a noble scion dabbling in the lower ranks of the National Guard.

That madman definitely won’t disappoint me, thought Tuttle to himself in glee.

Meanwhile, Hal and Finley, who clearly didn’t look like decent beings and wouldn’t blend into an aristocratic setting, were hustling about Saint Joseph Street.

Yang Qiu had bluntly told them he needed more unpaid labor, and his intentions were immediately grasped by Hal and Finley.

“Yang’s really black-hearted,” Hal muttered as they stepped out of a tavern. Pretending to rest by the roadside, they casually marked the tavern’s wall with chalk. “He could mess around in a backwater place like Weisshem, but to cause chaos in a big city like this… Isn’t he worried about throwing the entire Indahl into disarray?”

Finley gave his comrade a surprised look… It was indeed rare for Hal to use terms like “mess around.”

“Anyway, it’s not our mess to clean up,” Finley whispered back. “Besides, Charlie seems pretty competent. It might not turn into chaos, after all.”

Hal frowned. “Why are you also seeing that fellow’s praises? Without those undead, I doubt Charlie could do anything at all.”

Finley got up and dusted off his hands. “That’s exactly my point. With those undead, Charlie can handle most troubles.”

Rising to his feet, Hal grumbled, “That guy’s just riding on his shady noble father’s coattails. Without that status, nothing good would come his way.”

Finley wisely kept his mouth shut. He knew Hal harbored some jealousy toward Charlie Rex.

Though a puppet lord, Charlie Rex was still a lord. Once Indahl was taken, the Rhine throne would have to begrudgingly grant him official nobility even if against it. Yang had no use for such titles, so the benefit would inevitably fall to Charlie.

Given that they all started off managing construction sites in the Taranthan wastelands, the disparity between their fortunes was bound to breed resentment.

Strolling past bars teeming with scantily clad hostesses, Hal and Finley marked over 80 percent of them, then diligently headed to the inn district.

After canvassing the inn district, they proceeded toward the Free Market.

The northern sections of Saint Joseph Street, with its red-light district and casino areas, didn’t need marking; not a single establishment there was clean, so they planned to have the undead simply storm in when the time came.

The southern end, near the Free Market and the church, had row houses and bungalows housing ordinary citizens. There were also numerous cheap brothels catering to the common folk, especially around the Free Market. At night, heavily made-up streetwalkers lingered near streetlights.

Hal and Finley didn’t bother with the aged prostitutes who had fallen on hard times and roamed the streets. Instead, they searched the alleys for hidden or conspicuous brothels, marking each one they found.

By dawn, the exhausted trio reconvened at their lodging.

“We didn’t have to work this hard when we hit Weisshem last time,” Hal complained bitterly. “Yang’s becoming less and less courteous to us!”

Tuttle and Finley had no strength to respond and collapsed onto their beds.

The trio weren’t the only ones to endure a sleepless night.

The white-robed bishop of the Radiant Sun Church branch in Indahl retreated into the prayer room and remained there all night after receiving news from the wasteland battlefield.

This bishop had considered the possibility of defeat, though he never imagined the knightly order would be defeated this badly…

Following this incident, the Radiant Sun Church’s reputation in Indahl was tarnished beyond repair. Their missionary work in the region was doomed to stagnation for at least a few years to come.

By dawn, the bishop, having spent a night of solemn contemplation in the prayer room, emerged to address several anxious young priests with a heavy sigh.

“Henceforth, all members within Indahl are to avoid any and all conflicts with the Nightmare Butcher and his followers,” the aged bishop advised the young priests with a heavy tone. “Until that man tires of his prolonged stay and departs… we shall merely serve as the church’s outpost here, a supply station for the faith.”

After pausing for a bit, the bishop added solmenly, “And everyone must remember… not to follow in Walton’s footsteps.”

“Yes, Your Reverence,” the young priests responded in unison.

With a nod, the bishop shuffled back to his quarters, regret gnawing at him for not having taken a firmer stand against Walton’s covert actions with the city defense force when he had the chance.

Now, not only had they lost everything, but he also had to figure out how to scrape together enough resources to ransom back those captured by the undead!

While the Radiant Sun Church mourned their loss of wealth and prestige, the Bartalis manor was engulfed in a far more personal and agonizing turmoil.

Upon hearing from his loyal steward, Gould, of Charlie Rex’s undead army’s resounding victory and the capture of the esteemed Radiant Sun Church knights—arguably more prestigious than his own city defense force—Adra III’s first instinct was to flee.

But at that crucial juncture, Gould, ever faithful, clutched at his sleeve, offering bitter advice tinged with concern.

“If you leave now, my lord, you may never return! Think about what happened to Baron Markus!”

Adra III, who had just shot up from his seat, sat back down.

He would have an itch to return to the royal capital from time to time ever since he reluctantly took over the lordship from his late father. But now, he was clear that if Indahl wasn’t a territory of his family, he would be able to afford a lavish lifestyle in the capital.

The annual steady influx of territorial taxes and the wealth garnered from the myriad of estates and farms scattered throughout Indahl were the very foundations of Adra III’s extravagant and indulgent lifestyle.

“That bastard is sure to come for us. What are we to do, Gould?” Adra III’s already indistinct features squished together in panic as he clutched at the old steward’s hand in desperate seek of counsel.

“You must summon the sheriff and the captain of the city defense force, instructing them to bolster our defenses,” Gould stated, his eyes bloodshot, his voice strained as he bit down hard. “Moreover, you must seek an audience with the Church of Lady Gold Coin’s Bishop Jene and implore for their aid… Offer them the largest estate in Neuen Town in exchange for the support of at least two of their knightly orders. Bishop Jene would consider such a proposal!”

Adra III gasped in horror. That was the Bartalises’ finest estate!

After a moment’s hesitation, Gould added, “Perhaps… it might be prudent to have Madam bring the young masters and visit her family… It has been years since she last paid them a visit.”

Adra III was utterly dumbfounded.