Friends through a Fight

The Bohemian army struck Chris as greedy. They blocked the roads to collect tolls, charging caravans without noble backing a Gray Tax of one-third.

But for all their greed, they did follow certain rules. Once the Bohemian soldiers took the money, they let the caravan pass without hurting or killing anyone, and even gave them a receipt.

With that receipt, a caravan could avoid paying the Gray Tax again if it encountered other Bohemian troops within a certain period. In dangerous areas, it could even receive a military escort.

On the other hand, if a caravan dared forge a Gray Tax receipt, the Bohemian Patrol Unit would show no mercy... At best, they would confiscate all the goods. At worst, they would massacre everyone.

Isaac's Caravan obediently took its receipt and continued deeper into El Province, heading toward the border of the Kingdom of Bagnia.

After surviving the horse bandits and obtaining a Gray Tax receipt, Isaac's Caravan had a much easier journey. They finally stopped at a small town fifty kilometers from the border between the two countries.

By then, winter had passed and spring had arrived.

The Bohemian Empire's El Province lay fairly far south. Although the transition from winter to spring was cold, it had not snowed that winter. The chill came from the region's damp climate.

But often, damp cold drained body heat more readily than snowy weather, making it harder to endure.

Isaac, who had extensive experience with both military marches and trading journeys, believed they had to stop now. Everyone's stamina and mental endurance had reached their limits. They needed ten to fifteen days to rest and recuperate.

Chris knew nothing about such things, but he was willing to listen to advice. Since Isaac thought so, he would not object.

Besides, after two months of nonstop travel, even with good food and drink throughout the journey and hardly any heavy work, Chris himself felt exhausted.

His body was tired, and his mind was worn out as well.

They really did need a rest.

Besides recuperating, the caravan needed to sell its remaining goods for cash and distribute the money to its workers. Finally, Isaac would have to take some men to a nearby large city and help everyone send their money back to Inyama.

Most of the caravan's forty-odd people had wives, children, elderly relatives, or siblings still struggling to make a living in Inyama. They needed money.

Only after sending home all the money they had earned trading could the forty people in the group wholeheartedly follow Chris in pursuing great things.

There were also plenty of other tedious matters to handle, all of which took time.

So Chris felt that stopping for ten to fifteen days was perfectly reasonable.

"Hey, come take a look! Finest homespun cloth from Inyama, just ten silver coins a bolt! Quality goods at bargain prices!"

"Come on, ma'am, how much for that chicken? How about twenty copper coins? The quality of the coins? They're good copper, I promise! Nothing chipped or damaged, and the surfaces haven't been shaved!"

It was noon, and the caravan's camp bustled with people. Sales pitches and haggling rose and fell all around.

This was the second day since Isaac's Caravan had camped beside a small town called Tack. With no cooking duties today, Chris had slept until noon.

He could hardly stay in bed any longer. It was too noisy outside.

Chris dressed, put on his shoes, and lifted the tent flap. Before he could step outside, he saw a big white pig with lovely pale skin and three folds in its eyelids, vigorously rooting through the dirt and chewing grass roots.

His appearance startled the pig. Grunting, it backed up several steps and knocked over the girl standing behind it.

The girl, dressed in a long gray homespun dress, landed on her backside in the grass. She scrambled up and angrily struck the white pig several times with her stick.

The pig did not seem to think this was any great matter and went right back to rooting.

The girl, however, stopped midway through her beating. She had caught sight of Chris, and her gaze immediately fixed on him. She stared dreamily, her eyes locked on his face.

She was a brown-haired girl with freckles and a small nose. She was short, and her loose, long-sleeved homespun dress hung on her frame, billowing emptily whenever the wind blew.

Her bold, undisguised stare made even Chris feel shy, leaving him at a loss.

"Uh, hello. Do you need help?"

"You're really handsome!"

"Well, thank you."

Seeing her expression, Chris abandoned any thought of continuing the conversation. He gave her a polite smile, stepped around her, and headed into camp.

Many people were moving around the caravan's camp. Judging by their plain clothing, they were clearly locals who had come shopping early that morning.

The workers under Connie stood beside the wagons, calling out as they sold needles, thread, and other sundries to the visiting townspeople.

Chris picked a wagon stall at random and, taking advantage of a lull in customers, approached the worker beside it.

"How's business today?"

"Pretty good. Our goods are reasonably priced. Once the nearby villagers hear about us and come over, we reckon we should be able to clear everything out within three days."

That was good news.

"Where's the food wagon? I'll go cook myself something."

The worker pointed, and Chris followed his directions. Soon, beneath an open-sided tent erected in camp, he found five large iron tubs, with Isaac and Connie standing beside them holding large iron ladles.

More than twenty workers and townspeople were queued in front of the tent. They approached carrying all sorts of dishes, and Isaac scooped up a large mound of mashed meat and potatoes and dropped it into each bowl.

A quick glance told Chris that each portion weighed at least a pound, with meat and potatoes in equal proportions.

The meat was probably from the bandits' horses that had died a few days earlier. Isaac had taken men to butcher the carcasses and salt the meat. Even after feeding the caravan's fifty people for several days, plenty remained.

After Isaac served the mash, Connie ladled thick soup into the recipient's bowl and handed over two flatbreads the size of volleyballs.

Once served, caravan workers could simply leave. Locals had to give the worker beside them two copper coins or a dozen iron coins.

This was practically charity.

Chris raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He picked up a clean, large wooden bowl and a spoon from a bucket nearby and stepped over.

Despite being busy, Isaac gave Chris a ladleful, then turned back to his work.

"How are things going?"

"Very well, and very badly..."

Isaac stopped and craned his neck to look behind Chris.

"Found yourself a little girlfriend?"

"Huh?"

Bewildered, Chris turned around. Only then did he notice the big white pig following him, along with a girl whose gaze remained unwavering.

"Why are you following me?"

"You're handsome."

"But you're making me uncomfortable. You..."

"Not my problem."

The girl's blunt words cut like a knife, leaving Chris speechless. Behind him, Isaac, Connie, and the others waiting in line could not help laughing aloud.

Chris had no answer. All he could do was fetch a clean bowl from the large bucket, have Isaac fill it with meat mash and soup, and hand it to the girl with two large flatbreads, using food to distract her for a while.

Sure enough, once she had the mash and flatbreads, the girl stopped paying attention to Chris. She wandered off with the grunting white pig.

"Tell me what happened with the caravan."

"The good news is that our goods are very popular. We should sell out in two or three days."

Isaac handed his work over to another worker, then walked away with Chris to an open spot where nobody could eavesdrop.

"The bad news is that the local tax collector came this morning. He wanted to levy a heavy tax on us."

"How much?"

"Five hundred silver coins."

"How much?"

Chris wondered if he had misheard, but Isaac nodded.

"Five hundred silver coins."

"Is he insane?"

"No idea. I've already given him a beating."

Isaac coughed hard twice, then drew the dagger at his waist and inspected it.

"We'll probably have to move camp tonight."

"Then let's go. Why not leave now?"

"There's no rush. The nearest large city is some distance away. Even if that tax collector goes for reinforcements, it'll take him two days. Besides, he's so greedy that I doubt he'll necessarily find anyone willing to come make trouble for us."

"You decide."

Chris offered no objection.

Yet things never went quite as expected. Chris and Isaac had barely finished talking when a rapid clatter of hooves sounded outside the camp.

Like a school of sardines sensing a baleen whale, the townspeople in camp seemed to anticipate danger. In one sudden rush, they scattered with their purchases and fled the camp.

Then a man dressed in gaudy finery, with a wheel-shaped ruff that made him look like a rooster, rode into camp with his head held high.

More than a dozen cavalrymen in blue followed him, with still more outside the camp.

"Aha, you damned bastard! We meet again!"

The man shouted arrogantly at Isaac. Watching from the side, Chris could see the bruises around his eyes despite his efforts to tilt his head back.

A cavalry captain wearing a tricorne followed behind the tax collector. Clearly, he was the source of the man's confidence.

Isaac, standing beside Chris, said nothing. He merely reached quietly behind his back and gripped a flintlock pistol.

Whatever happened, he had caused this trouble himself. Even if it cost him his life, Isaac was determined to get Chris out safely. He could never let the Bohemians capture him.

Isaac had once been a Bohemian soldier. He knew better than anyone how brutal the army's unofficial punishments could be.

Seeing Isaac remain silent, the tax collector grew even more smug. He rode closer and raised his whip to lash Isaac across the face.

Inside one of the camp's tents, Lin Ruoyu quietly raised his musket, preparing to fire.

At less than twenty meters, he was confident he could kill the cavalry officer beside the tax collector with a single shot... Yes, the officer.

Lin Ruoyu understood the situation perfectly. Killing the tax collector would achieve nothing. Though the man had caused the trouble, the real source of his arrogance was that officer and the hundred-odd cavalrymen.

Without their backing, the tax collector would never have dared enter the camp and attack anyone, no matter how much courage he mustered.

So taking out the officer first was unquestionably the right move.

Just as Lin Ruoyu was about to pull the trigger, his target rode forward and grabbed the tax collector's hand.

"Wait."

"Ah, why are you grabbing me? What do you mean, wait... Urgh!"

The officer wasted no words. The moment the tax collector turned back indignantly, he raised his fist and delivered a clean punch. The gaudy rooster swayed twice like a drunk, then pitched headfirst off his horse.

The sudden turn of events stunned both Isaac and Lin Ruoyu. The player stopped his finger on the trigger, granting the captain a temporary reprieve.

After punching the tax collector, the cavalry captain turned his horse to face Isaac.

"I remember seeing you five days ago, beardy. You paid the Gray Tax then, didn't you?"

Only now did Chris recognize the captain. The man had a rather unremarkable face, and their meeting had been brief. After five days apart, Chris had forgotten him.

Isaac had forgotten him too. Only the captain's words jogged his memory.

"Yes. Here's the Gray Tax receipt."

As he spoke, Isaac pulled a small triangular blue flag from inside his clothes.

"Mm."

The captain did not examine what Isaac held. Once he had confirmed that his memory was correct, he waved a hand without looking back.

Another man in an officer's uniform behind him drew a pistol and fired at the unconscious tax collector lying on the ground.

The lead ball struck the tax collector squarely in the back of the head. His hair twitched, and blood soon welled out beneath his face, filling a shallow depression marked by two hoofprints.

Chris could not understand why the cavalry captain had done that. He knew the Bohemian army acted arrogantly outside the cities, but casually shooting a tax collector seemed far too ruthless.

At that moment, the captain looked down and explained to Isaac.

"This fellow said your caravan refused to pay taxes. But once I came here and recognized you, I knew he was lying."

"I did refuse to pay the tax."

Isaac answered honestly.

The cavalry officer's expression changed at once.

"He wanted five hundred silver coins."

"Oh... Then he certainly deserved to die."

The captain immediately relaxed. As he spoke, he even drew his own flintlock pistol and fired another shot into the tax collector, whose body was already beginning to cool.

"Filthy bastard. Five hundred silver coins? Damn him! My cousin clearly set the tax at five silver coins per wagon, and you charged ten times that!"