Westminster Bank

Chapter 259: Chapter 162: Yes, Brother, This Is a Deal.

Meanwhile, Jack, who was once again being led on a mad dash through the manor by Baron, panted, "Constantine Brothers, why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Why did you tell that Attendant all that? Now they’ll just beef up security at the event, won’t they?"

"That’s the point," Baron said. "If they tighten security at the ceremony, it means they’ll be weaker everywhere else. A lot of guests will be at the Dragon Hunting Ceremony tomorrow. We can use this guy to blend in with the chaos and escape."

He hefted the unconscious Chief Steward in his hands, gesturing.

"You exposed your identity as L. That was the cover identity Westminster Cathedral gave you. Aren’t you afraid they’ll follow the trail right to us?"

"By then, I’ll either be dead or I’ll have successfully cleared my name. I’m a young, Bronze Tier Dragon Knight. I imagine other Law Enforcement Organizations besides Westminster Cathedral wouldn’t say no."

Baron had a very clear sense of his own worth. Jack thought about it and couldn’t find any fault in his logic. He said with mock solemnity, "When you make it big, don’t forget me."

Baron pursed his lips, thinking that this was exactly the kind of shameless thing only Jack would say.

The two then carried the unconscious Chief Steward back to the solitary confinement cell, where the two Guards were still out cold.

Baron slapped the Chief Steward awake.

"Who is it? Who dares to slap me?"

The Chief Steward had only just woken up, but he was already putting on airs.

Baron slapped him again. The man sobered up, recognized his situation, and groveled on the floor. "Don’t kill me."

Jack let out a laugh, clearly amused by the sheer speed of the Chief Steward’s change in attitude. How quickly he adapted. "Tell us how to get out of the Beowulf Family estate," he said, "and we’ll let you live."

The Chief Steward’s lips trembled. "Leaking the family’s secrets is Taboo. All chief stewards swear an oath by their faith when they come to work in the manor. I cannot go against my faith!"

’Well, look at that. A man of religious principle.’

Baron said, "One chance. Tell us how to get out of Beowulf Manor, and we’ll let you live."

But with his faith on the line, the Chief Steward was no longer so pragmatic. "If I betray my faith, I won’t receive blessings in death. I’m sorry, but even if I have to die, I can’t die like that."

’Then there’s nothing more to say.’

Baron sighed and nudged the two Guards on the floor with his foot. "No need to pretend you’re asleep. Do us a favor."

The two Guards remained motionless.

Jack made a feint towards their groins. The two "sleeping" Guards instinctively covered themselves, then, realizing they’d been exposed, stood up with embarrassed smiles.

At Baron’s direction, the two Guards hauled the Chief Steward to his feet.

Jack muttered behind Baron, "L, is this really going to work?"

"I learned it from a guy," Baron said. "He told me even a man of iron couldn’t take it."

He watched Baron stand before him, his expression cold, as if he were plotting something.

The Chief Steward was drenched in a cold sweat but still managed to say, "I can give you money, just let me go... I can’t betray my faith!"

"The soundproofing in this cell is excellent."

Baron said, doing a few simple warm-up stretches.

The Chief Steward’s face darkened. "You don’t scare me."

Baron ordered the two Guards, "Hold him up."

The Chief Steward roared, "Aren’t you Guards?! I’m the Chief Steward! Those men are bandits who have invaded the manor! Instead of doing your duty, you’re helping them... Is this what passes for the honor of a Guard?"

The two Guards said nothing, only lowering their heads.

Not out of shame, but because they were sweating profusely.

Judging by how Baron had effortlessly floored them both and left them coughing up blood with a single move, they knew they were no match for him.

Combine that with the fact that they were in a pitch-black, isolated cell with no hope of backup... and that their salary was a meager two hundred-odd pounds a week, mostly supplemented by extorting the very Attendants locked up in here... It just wasn’t worth dying for.

Dripping with cold sweat, the Chief Steward watched as Baron, now warmed up, settled into some kind of preparatory stance.

Their eyes met.

Baron unleashed a vicious kick.

"AGH!"

The scream of pain made the other men in the room instinctively clench their jaws and break out in a cold sweat.

The Chief Steward shrieked, "May Allah protect my balls from the tip of this Heretic’s boot..."

"THWACK! How do you get out of Beowulf Manor!"

"AGH! ...Bless my jewels to be like a mountain of silver and a wall of iron..."

"THWACK! Are you going to talk or not!"

"AGH! Bless my pillar to be as an ancient tree reaching for the heavens..."

"THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Talk, damn it!"

"Allah is great..."

"Hssss..."

Everyone present, except for Baron, drew in a sharp breath. They were likely moved by the Chief Steward’s unwavering resolve.

"He’s practically a talking steel plate!" Jack exclaimed.

Under this kind of assault, an ordinary man would have either had his jewels shattered, been forced to "surrender his weapon," or suffered a severe case of... shrinkage. This just went to show that the physical fortitude of the Inner Old Race was indeed on another level compared to ordinary people of the Outer Side.

No wonder these people were so obsessed with bloodline discrimination. As Baron saw it, after a few kicks like that, nobody—save for those legendary, iron-willed revolutionaries of old—could have possibly endured.

The Chief Steward gasped through the excruciating pain, "I will never betray my faith!"

Seeing this, the look in the two Guards’ eyes changed. They were likely frightened by the Chief Steward’s willpower.

’We’re all just salaried grunts,’ they thought. ’Is it really worth dying for the job?’

Baron nodded, sighed, and from his Holding Ring, he withdrew an Iron Knee Cap—a friendly gift from Morey.

It was mottled with bloodstains, a testament to the Blood Loss Knight’s countless nights of depravity, and the shattered jewels and sorrows of others.

Right in front of the Chief Steward, Baron strapped it to his knee.