Translator: AnubisTL
The fine rain continued to fall, its icy droplets striking the alchemy golem's steel shell with crisp, metallic clicks.
The fearless one stood silently before Tax Collector Brent, its red eyes coldly scanning the surroundings, ready to respond to any potential attack.
The lizardfolk boss's message stone lit up. After a few low hisses, it retreated to the side.
Moments later, steady footsteps echoed through the rain-soaked air.
Werewolf sorcerer Frostfang emerged, her gray-blue fur plastered to her lithe frame by the rain. Her eyes glowed with an eerie green light in the dimness, and the tip of her bone staff tapped lightly against her hip, emitting faint clicks.
"Humans," Frostfang said, "you shouldn't be here."
Brent forced himself to stand tall, despite the lingering pain in his chest. He glared at Frostfang, a flicker of contempt in his eyes. In his view, sorcerers among the monster races were nothing more than slightly clever beasts.
"We represent Viscount Ironthorn," the tax official said coldly. "The Scaly Earth Rift Road is the Viscount's territory. If you trade and profit here, you must pay the Viscount his due taxes."
Frostfang's gaze swept over the fearless one before returning to Brent.
"Taxes?" she asked in a harsh tone. "The wilderness knows no taxes, only trade."
As she spoke, the werewolf sorcerer's ears twitched slightly. Upon closer inspection, a tiny message stone could be seen embedded in her ear.
Frostfang was merely a mouthpiece for Garos, who had adopted an aggressive stance from the outset.
Garos intended to negotiate, but he knew that showing weakness to these creatures would only invite further exploitation.
Brent hadn't expected such defiance from a werewolf.
The faint glow emanating from the message stone in Frostfang's ear, which she made no attempt to conceal, made it clear to Brent that the werewolf sorcerer was merely a conduit for another speaker.
Brent himself was also acting as a representative for Viscount Ironthorn.
Backed by his noble lord, Brent showed no fear and adopted an equally firm tone. "This is the law of the Lothurn Federation! All trade conducted on the trade route must pay fees to the lord!"
Frostfang calmly relayed the dragon lord's will: "Your human laws have no jurisdiction in the wilderness."
The tax official's face darkened.
"You're challenging the Viscount's authority," he hissed, lowering his voice threateningly. "If you refuse to cooperate, the consequences will be severe."
"Is that so?" Frostfang tilted her head slightly. "Then you're welcome to try."
Brent clenched his fists, but ultimately held back. He knew this wasn't the time for a confrontation. The Viscount sought wealth, not destruction.
"Listen, beast," Tax Collector Brent said sternly. "The Viscount could send his garrison to wipe you out. We're offering you a dignified choice. We came here to negotiate with you in this rain, without an army, as a sign of good faith."
He produced the tax levy decree and displayed it before the monsters. Rain immediately blurred the Lothurn Federation's wax seal.
"As a branch of the Thousand Serpents' Trace, the Scaly Earth Rift Road is a source of profit for you. You must pay monthly taxes."
He raised two fingers. "Five thousand gold coins per month! Or the equivalent in magical minerals."
"Considering your years of illegal operation here, Lord Viscount has graciously waived the petty fines and late fees. You only need to pay one year's back taxes, totaling sixty thousand gold coins or the equivalent in magical minerals."
After a pause, he added, "If you choose to pay with magical minerals, their value will be assessed by our appraisers."
There was no doubt this was an outrageous demand.
Having received no further instructions, the werewolf sorcerer fell silent, her expression unreadable.
Across from her, the tax official smiled faintly. "If you find these terms unacceptable, the generous Lord Viscount has offered a second option."
He continued, "On the first day of each month, you may submit one copper coin."
"On the second day, two coins; on the third, four coins, and so on, doubling the amount daily for the entire month. This will be considered your annual tax payment."
The tax official's face radiated the condescending superiority of a civilized man. "Two methods, the choice is yours."
"Once you've made your selection, we will provide a detailed magic contract to guarantee cooperation between both parties."
Frostfang's eyes flickered at this.
Copper coins? This sounded like an easily met condition.
Compared to the previous demand of several thousand gold coins per month, this seemed much simpler. Frostfang wasn't particularly skilled at arithmetic, but the daily increasing amounts didn't seem excessive. Still, she suspected the humans had ulterior motives; there had to be a trap hidden within this offer.
Listening from behind the curtain to the tax official's two proposals, Garos shook his head almost imperceptibly.
Do they think I'm a fool? Do they truly believe the monsters of the wilderness are mindless creatures?
However, since this was a negotiation, there was room for compromise.
The initial unrealistic demands were merely a tactic to drive down the price.
This trade route had originally been established by Viscount Ironthorn's family. If proper negotiations could be conducted, Garos, with his long-term vision, wouldn't mind letting the other party gain some benefits.
Frostfang immediately received instructions and declared, "One hundred gold coins per month. This is our absolute bottom line."
Five thousand slashed down to one hundred.
The tax official's eyes widened, and he nearly erupted in anger, ready to berate these beasts for their ignorance of negotiation etiquette.
But remembering his mission, he took a deep breath, suppressed his frustration, and continued negotiating with the werewolves.
The rain intensified, and time ticked away relentlessly.
Both sides engaged in a relentless tug-of-war, probing each other's true limits.
After some time, the tax official's throat grew parched.
He stubbornly insisted on three thousand gold coins per month, demanding a lump-sum payment for a year's worth of taxes. Frostfang countered with a proposal of three hundred gold coins per month, with no back taxes required.
At this point, the tax official refused to budge.
The tax official represented Viscount Ironthorn, who had explicitly instructed him that the 3,000 gold coins in monthly taxes and the one-year back payment were the absolute minimum, especially the lump-sum back payment, which was non-negotiable.
Viscount Ironthorn knew these terms were exploitative, akin to draining a pond dry.
However, with the magic academy's entrance exams approaching, he needed a quick influx of cash. He was willing to sacrifice long-term interests, selling off not only assets in the desolate Scaly Earth Rift Road but also substantial portions of his more established holdings.
The tax official refused to budge.
Frostfang remained equally resolute.
After another ten minutes of fruitless negotiation, the tax official, his patience wearing thin, snapped, "Beasts! Enough! Don't bite the hand that feeds you! This is your most dignified option!"
Frostfang sneered, baring her sharp fangs.
"Humans! You're the ones biting the hand that feeds you! We've already shown ample goodwill. You're testing our patience."
"The wilderness isn't your territory. You have no special privileges here."
She stepped back, and the towering, heavily armed ogres surrounding them advanced, closing the circle.
The fearless one silently raised his massive greatsword inch by inch, the crimson glow in his eyes intensifying to a piercing glare.
The atmosphere instantly became tense, like a drawn bowstring.
The tax official stood in the rain, the icy water gradually calming his temper.
He exhaled slowly and said, "It seems we cannot reach a consensus."
"In that case, let your lord come and negotiate personally."
He said coldly, "I disdain negotiating with a low-level monster like you. I require a dialogue between equals."
How arrogant, Frostfang thought. A mere tax official thinks he's on equal footing with our dragon lord?
Frostfang paused for a moment before replying with a sneer, "Our lord has no interest in negotiating with a servant. If you truly intend to resolve this peacefully, send someone with more authority."
Brent wanted to retort, but Frostfang stepped back again.
The heavily armored ogres formed an impassable wall, while giant wolf knights circled around them, their fierce gazes fixed on the tax official and his entourage.
The first round of negotiations had failed.
The tax official snorted coldly. "We will return. Tell your lord to prepare for our arrival."
Brent didn't press the matter further. Escorted by the fearless one and several human warriors, he retreated back onto the Scaly Earth Rift Road, distancing himself from the monsters.
The two groups gradually moved apart, until they were no longer visible to each other.
"Damn monsters, they don't understand human words," Brent muttered under his breath.
He disliked dealing with monsters.
These creatures lacked the proper reverence for officials and respect for nobles, which irritated him.
"Sir, why not turn back and wipe out this monster force? Let them know our true power," a human warrior suggested in a hushed tone.
Brent's face darkened. "The viscount's orders were to negotiate, not declare war."
"But these monsters clearly don't take us seriously!"
"Hmph." The tax official sneered. "This negotiation was merely a test. Let them revel in their arrogance for now. Sooner or later, they'll learn the true meaning of 'respect.'"
He gazed into the rain-soaked wilderness, a flicker of ruthlessness in his eyes.
The group didn't leave the wilderness. Instead, they set up camp at the entrance to the Scaly Earth Rift Road. Brent stood inside the hastily erected tent, rainwater dripping from the canvas and pooling into small puddles on the ground.
He took several deep breaths, carefully weighing his words, before retrieving the message stone.
"Lord Viscount, these monsters are being stubborn and uncooperative."
"Their lord is willing to meet again, but only if we treat them as equals."
Brent contacted Viscount Ironthorn to report the outcome of the negotiations.
Meanwhile, in Needleleaf Valley:
The red-iron dragon rose to its full height, stretching its massive frame. Its hardened scales crushed the raindrops that landed on it before the creature settled back down amidst the wind and rain, silent and unmoving.
The iron dragon Solgorn, the red dragon Samantha, and the fairy dragon Vera were also present.
"They have no intention of negotiating in good faith," Solgorn growled, his pupils narrowing into dangerous slits. "These humans are too greedy, too arrogant, too self-righteous!"
Samantha snarled, "Insignificant vermin! How dare they try to extort and rob dragonkind!"
(End of the Chapter)
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