Lord of Caldera - Chapter 238

Chapter 238: Chapter 238

The innkeeper hesitated, but seeing the group’s understanding expressions, he finally nodded and began to explain.

“Thank you, my lord. Well… you’re right about the general prosperity in the West thanks to trade with the elves. The Bindeln estate has seen its share of profits, too. But the problem is that most of the wealth doesn’t seem to reach the people.”

“What do you mean?” Sylas asked, frowning.

“On the surface, you’d think things are booming here. New buildings, renovated roads… it all looks good. But most of that money goes to projects that don’t benefit us common folk directly. It’s all about appearances,” the innkeeper said with a bitter smile. “And the people? We’re still struggling. Prices are rising, but wages haven’t followed. The trade profits… well, we rarely see them.”

Rey listened intently, nodding as she took it all in. “So, even with all these improvements, the lives of the common people haven’t improved at all.”

“Exactly, my lady. It’s as though they’re trying to show off wealth without truly investing in the people who live here.”

Sylas considered this, glancing around the inn. The food, while plentiful and extravagant, was made with ingredients that were clearly past their prime. The innkeeper had tried to put on a show for them, but even he struggled to meet his guests’ expectations.

“Is that why everyone seems so down?” Sylas asked.

The innkeeper sighed again. “Yes, my lord. The frustration is simmering, and morale is low. People here feel overlooked. They see the riches flowing through the estate but realize that little of it trickles down to them.”

Sylas exchanged a glance with Rey, both of them understanding that the Bindeln family’s mismanagement of wealth distribution was hurting their people’s spirit. It was clear that Bindeln’s recent actions were sowing seeds of resentment.

Toby, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “So, the Bindeln family is using the profits to beautify the city and line their own pockets instead of supporting their people.”

“Seems that way,” Sylas agreed. “They’re using trade with the elves as a way to strengthen their own status, but they’re neglecting the ones who make this place function.”

The innkeeper nodded, glancing nervously toward the door as if he feared someone might overhear. “There’s talk among the townsfolk about this… some are even wondering if they’d be better off in another estate. It’s a dangerous mindset. But when hope fades, people start to lose loyalty.”

“I see,” Sylas replied, thinking carefully. He hadn’t expected such unrest in Bindeln, but the innkeeper’s words painted a clear picture. If this discontent continued, it could undermine the stability of the entire region.

Turning to his companions, Sylas gave a slight nod. “Looks like we’ll need to have a word with Lord Bindeln.”

As they prepared to meet with the lord, Sylas was already forming a plan. It was time to make sure the Bindeln estate understood the importance of balance—not only for their people’s welfare but for the stability of the West as a whole.

In the office of Bindelern Castle, a stern-looking middle-aged man was reviewing documents. His beard resembled that of a goat, but his eyes were sharp, more like those of a bird of prey. This man was Willem Bindelern, the current head of the Bindelern family.

“How are things in the estate?” he asked.

“They’re not good,” replied the administrator, wiping the cold sweat from his brow. He wasn’t afraid of Willem himself but was alarmed by the staggering losses they had incurred.

“Many of the townsfolk who borrowed to expand their businesses have reached their limit, and rumors that no more supplies will come in have driven outsiders away. The estimated losses are already at this level.”

“Hmm,” Willem murmured, frowning as he read the papers handed to him. He had expected this, but seeing the concrete figures made his stomach churn. How much profit would have poured in if the supplies had been properly circulated in the estate?

“This loss will be restored later anyway,” he said, averting his gaze from the numbers with a determined belief. Yes, all these losses could be recovered. Once that Winslow family whelp was removed as Count’s deputy, and the Bindelern family took his place, their profits would multiply.

“Keep storing all incoming supplies in the secret warehouse. They’ll be used later to recover these losses.”

“My lord, wouldn’t it be wise to release at least some of it to the market? People are reaching their limits.”

“Silence. If we’re going to handle this clumsily, then what’s the point of all this trouble?”

“But the situation is getting dire. If things continue like this…”

“Tell them to endure a little longer. This won’t go on for more than four months at most.”

The administrator lowered his head, despair evident. It had been three months since the supplies destined for the market had been withheld, and the estate was already in chaos. How could he ask them to wait longer?

“This is madness. The estate’s economy is bound to collapse,” he thought, barely swallowing his words. Having served his lord for many years, he knew Willem’s character well. No matter how logically he explained, Willem wouldn’t change his mind. He’d be lucky not to face an outburst for challenging his master’s decision.

The administrator, shoulders slumped, left the office just as another person entered.

“Father!”

“Lower your voice,” Willem muttered, clearly irritated.

It was Walter Bindelern, Willem’s only heir and eldest son. But Willem’s gaze held nothing but disapproval as he looked at Walter.

“It feels like only yesterday that I sentenced you to a week’s confinement. Time flies.”

“Father, please stop this.”

“Be quiet. Do you want to be locked up for a month this time?”

“Even if I have to stay confined for a year, I’ll say what needs to be said.” Walter met his father’s sharp gaze, his expression resolute. Despite Willem’s hawk-like glare, Walter did not waver.

“Stop this foolishness immediately and release the supplies to the market. If you persist with this stubbornness, you’ll regret it.”