Translator: AnubisTL
A steady drizzle persisted as Brent wiped mud splattered on his face for the third time. His expensive calfskin boots were already soaked and caked with mud.
The tax collector of the Lothurn Federation, a viscount himself, grumbled under his breath, "Damn this wilderness... even the air reeks of beast dung!"
Behind him, five warriors disguised as merchant caravan guards stood with their armor linings soaked through by the rain.
"Move faster!" Brent snapped. "If the rain ruins the 'gifts' for those beasts, we'll all pay the price."
He cast a cold glance at the blurred outline of the wilderness through the rain.
The wooden crates on the wagon didn't contain trade goods at all, but rather copies of the Scaly Earth Rift Road Tax Decree, sealed with the golden lion's fire lacquer. His master, Viscount Ironthorn, desperately needed the taxes from this trade route to cover his financial losses.
The Lothurn Federation was a confederation of numerous principalities and kingdoms.
The Duchy of Raymond, primarily populated by human citizens, was one such member state.
Viscount Ironthorn, a noble lord of the Duchy of Raymond, was renowned for the abundance of Ironthorn magical plants in his territory.
The Scaly Earth Rift Road, a branch trade route through the Sierre Wilderness, had been developed by his family and assigned to him during his coming-of-age ceremony.
Initially, Viscount Ironthorn paid little attention to this branch route, neglecting its management entirely.
However, in recent years, as his lifestyle grew increasingly extravagant and his children matured—their own lives becoming equally lavish—the industries under his command gradually struggled to sustain the escalating expenses.
Viscount Ironthorn spent considerable time meticulously examining the current state of all his holdings.
To his surprise, he discovered that the Scaly Earth Rift Road, a branch of the trade route he had long neglected, was unexpectedly thriving. Numerous merchant caravans traveled the road, and the profits were substantial.
He immediately dispatched scouts, instructing his men to disguise themselves as merchants and operate along the Scaly Earth Rift Road.
As the intelligence gathered, he uncovered the truth.
It turned out that an overlord of unknown identity had united the monster clans surrounding the Scaly Earth Rift Road. Under this overlord's governance, the road had gradually prospered.
Having learned the truth, Viscount Ironthorn faced two choices:
1. Launch a full-scale war to eradicate the increasingly powerful monster clans, thereby reminding merchants who truly controlled the Scaly Earth Rift Road.
2. Turn a blind eye, allowing the overlord to continue managing the Scaly Earth Rift Road, fostering its prosperity, while he profited by collecting road tolls from passing merchant caravans.
Viscount Ironthorn chose the second option.
He had discovered this situation two years prior and had deliberately turned a blind eye, allowing the monster clans to control the Scaly Earth Rift Road for an entire year.
This was the best approach: a steady stream of income for sustainable development.
However, Viscount Ironthorn's eldest son, whom he cherished most, was obsessed with magic and possessed remarkable innate talent.
Coincidentally, Holden, a top-tier magic academy in the human empire, had opened enrollment slots for foreign students.
Driven by immense financial pressure and high expectations for his heir, Viscount Ironthorn began exploiting his estates and even selling off significant portions of his holdings to send his son to the empire's magic academy for advanced studies.
The Scaly Earth Rift Road once again came into his sights.
After a year of steady income, he decided to exploit the monsters by imposing taxes on the monster clans.
The Lothurn Federation's road tax had a fixed upper limit. While numerous merchant caravans passed through, they couldn't generate significant wealth for Viscount Ironthorn in the short term. The monster clans, however, were different. In theory, if he had the means, he could seize all their wealth without legal repercussions.
Leveraging his connections and resources, Viscount Ironthorn confirmed that the overlord behind the Scaly Earth Rift Road had no ties to the Lothurn Federation and lacked powerful backing. He then dispatched a tax official to negotiate with the monsters.
Successful negotiations would be ideal.
If negotiations failed, deploying the trade route garrison would be difficult. However, Viscount Ironthorn's years as a viscount hadn't been for naught; he maintained his own private armed forces.
Letting those ignorant and backward monsters feel the iron fist of the civilized world would be a worthwhile endeavor.
As for the overlord who had united the monster clans, Viscount Ironthorn paid him no mind.
The fact that this overlord dared not show his face meant his wings were still unfledged. If he were a truly formidable monster, the solution would be even simpler: the viscount could simply request military intervention from the Lothurn Federation to suppress and eliminate the threat.
Dark, leaden clouds blanketed the land, casting the air into a gloomy twilight.
Brent and his party traveled in a disguised cargo truck, gradually approaching the Scaly Earth Rift Road. After driving slowly along the road for about half an hour, they spotted a tent pitched by the roadside.
The tax official narrowed his eyes and waved his hand, signaling the convoy to approach.
When the lizardfolk boss pulled back the animal hide flap of the tent, Brent nearly recoiled from the overwhelming stench of blood and decay.
The towering, three-meter-tall creature, covered in scales and armed with claws and fangs, scrutinized him with amber-colored vertical pupils. Its forked tongue hissed, "A new face?"
Despite being a monster, its Common tongue was surprisingly fluent. The words were pronounced clearly, with only a slight lisp that didn't obscure the meaning.
Five human warriors stood silently behind Brent.
The tax official puffed out his chest, showing no trace of fear toward the monster.
Brent introduced himself with arrogant pride: "The man standing before you is Brent, tax official of Viscount Ironthorn."
The monsters exchanged blank glances, showing no reaction.
Tax official? They didn't understand the term.
Feeling ignored, Brent grew indignant. As a tax official, he was accustomed to obsequious smiles and fawning flattery from humans. He had never encountered such blatant disregard.
Suppressing his anger, he huffed and repeated his explanation:
"This road beneath your feet belongs to Viscount Ironthorn."
"All merchant caravans passing through must pay road tax to Viscount Ironthorn."
After a pause, the tax official continued in a stern voice: "And you, monsters profiting from trade on this road, must also contribute your wealth to Viscount Ironthorn!"
His tone was uncompromising.
But the lizardfolk's tails were even more uncompromising. One lashed out, striking Brent's chest like a broken sack, sending him flying into the muddy water, covered in filth.
The lizardfolk boss didn't understand terms like "road tax."
But being chosen to trade with merchant caravans proved its intelligence.
It understood the tax official's meaning: robbery!
If not for the Iron Dragon Regent's strict orders against wanton killing, the blow would have been a spear piercing the human's heart, not a mere tail strike.
"You... you!"
The tax official staggered to his feet, his face ashen.
The warriors finally snapped out of their daze.
Lacking experience with monsters, they hadn't anticipated the lizardfolk would resort to violence so quickly. Now that they'd recovered, they immediately formed a defensive line, shielding the tax official behind them.
"Ignorant, barbaric monsters! Do you have a death wish?!" the tax official roared, coughing up a mouthful of blood.
As his shout echoed, two crimson lights flickered to life beneath the tarpaulin covering the cargo truck, like a pair of eyes.
Rip! The tarpaulin tore to shreds.
A humanoid metal construct, six meters tall and forged entirely from steel, emerged into the storm. Rainwater struck its icy metal body and shattered instantly.
It drew a massive steel greatsword from its back, runes glowing across its frame as crimson light scanned the lizardfolk from its eyes.
Alchemy Golem—the Fearless One.
The tax official's true guard on this journey.
The Fearless One's colossal, heavy frame strode forward, taking the lead.
Every lizardfolk sensed the danger, their spines tensing as they flicked out long tongues and hissed. In the deeper shadows beyond the tents, towering figures gradually materialized.
Armored ogres, armed to the teeth, lumbered into the tax official's line of sight.
The fearless one's crimson eyes glowed with increasing intensity, while the ogre and lizardfolk tightened their grips on their weapons.
The tax official took a deep breath, forcefully suppressing his rage.
These damned monsters! They have no concept of etiquette! Rude, barbaric, and utterly detestable!
Yet he couldn't simply order an attack.
Viscount Ironthorn hoped to resolve the situation through negotiation, avoiding bloodshed. They were not monsters; only as a last resort would they tear away the veneer of civility and resort to violence.
The tax official glared at the lizardfolk boss who had injured him earlier. "Summon your overlord, the higher-ranking boss in charge," he snarled. "You foolish, lowly creature! You have no idea what you're doing! You can't bear the responsibility for starting a war!"
The lizardfolk boss's eyes flashed with savage fury at the insult.
These creatures were inherently dark and evil, warlike and brutal—no pushovers.
But when it saw the steel giant standing steadfast in the rain, a flicker of fear stirred within its heart. Remembering the clan's strict protocols, it reluctantly suppressed its murderous intent.
The fact that these humans had brought an alchemy golem meant they were no ordinary group, beyond its authority to handle.
The lizardfolk boss activated its message stone, contacting its superiors.
Cold rain poured from the sky as humans, monsters, and the steel construct stood silently waiting beneath the downpour.
(End of the Chapter)
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