Chapter 48: The Tax Evaders!

“Manager, I said there’d be a large quantity of furs today— the Storm Lord’s people have really come!” Nel’s face glowed with excitement.

“Stay sharp—if we meet today’s quota, I’ll give you a bonus!”

“Yes, Manager!”

The Storm Lord’s party pushed through the crowd and drew near. “Who is the caravan manager here?”

“Your Excellency, we are the Tulip Caravan’s manager, Doro!” Doro stepped forward quickly.

“Manager Doro, I’m Thomas, civil administrator of the Storm Lord’s domain; this is our lord, Gervas!”

“Greetings, Lord Gervas!” Doro bowed warmly—after all, this man was his savior.

Otherwise, on ordinary days, the Tulip Caravan, as a branch of the Tulip Duke’s family, wouldn’t need to be so eager.

Gervas nodded; Thomas continued: “Manager Doro, our Storm Lord’s domain has brought over a thousand furs. Have you agreed to raise your purchase price by ten percent, as promised yesterday?”

“Of course, Your Excellency!”

What followed was simple.

The Tulip Caravan’s purchase list was posted publicly in the town square, so they only needed to verify quantities against the listed prices.

Notably, since all of Gervas’s furs were intact, with no extra wounds or damage, they were priced at the highest tier.

“Lord Gervas, your Storm Lord’s hunting team must be extraordinarily skilled—these furs are not only fresh but completely undamaged. How is this possible?”

Verifying the furs took time, so Doro invited Gervas to sit at the inn and ordered tea and snacks from the innkeeper.

During this time, the oddities of the Storm Lord’s furs became Doro’s primary curiosity.

For instance, the furs were uniformly fresh—indicating the animals had been hunted simultaneously.

Second, the furs were unnaturally intact, nearly flawless.

Even a seasoned man like Doro couldn’t fathom how this was achieved.

Gervas had no intention of answering every question Doro asked.

He changed the subject: “Manager Doro, besides this purchase, will your Tulip Caravan continue buying furs in the future?”

Though disappointed by the lack of answers, Doro dared not show it: “Of course, Lord Gervas—but premium pricing isn’t always offered. This time, it’s because one of our major clients urgently requested furs, so we put up a reward.”

“So we can establish long-term cooperation?”

Doro’s eyes lit up. “Lord Gervas, will your Storm Lord’s domain continue producing so many high-quality furs?”

Fur products never lacked buyers among the kingdom’s nobility—the finer the fur, the more the lords and ladies desired it.

So if Gervas could consistently supply such quality, Doro would gladly cooperate.

“Correct. Quantity can’t be guaranteed, but quality will mostly match today’s—each fur intact.”

“Lord Gervas, if that’s true, I can petition the Southern Regional Headquarters in Eagle City to establish a dedicated caravan route to your Storm Lord’s domain!”

“Of course. The frequency depends on volume—each trip requires at least four to five hundred furs to be worthwhile.”

Gervas understood. This was his goal.

In this world, trade and communication relied entirely on caravans.

Regular caravan traffic would make the Storm Lord’s domain prosper.

Even if a caravan came only once every month or more, given the four-to-five-hundred-fur requirement, it was still a good start.

Next, the two discussed details of caravan operations: minimum guaranteed fur quantities to prevent wasted trips.

Also, tax concessions for trade within the Storm Lord’s domain.

In the end, Gervas reduced the Tulip Caravan’s trading taxes in the Storm Lord’s domain by two-thirds.

From ten percent down to four percent.

Just as their negotiations neared completion, the furs were fully counted.

The total value reached eighty-three gold coins.

But Gervas had no intention of taking the gold back—he exchanged it all for goods.

In an instant, the eighty-three gold coins returned to the Tulip Caravan’s hands.

In exchange: dairy cows, oxen, sheep, chickens, and ducks.

Also iron ingots, seeds, medicinal herbs, cultivation potions, and more.

In short, not a single copper coin remained—clearly, developing a domain was extremely costly.

After the transaction was complete, Gervas prepared to leave when he noticed the caravan member named Nel entering the room.

“Manager, another group has arrived with over fifty furs. They say they have more—at least two hundred—but they insist on trading outside the noble territory!”

“Which domain are they from?”

“Manager, they didn’t say, but I overheard slaves whispering they saw the group traveling near the Storm Lord’s border.”

“Could they be refugees from the Chaos Wastes? Tell them we’ll go outside the territory to trade—but we’ll bring sufficient guards.”

“Manager, I told them. They have no objections—only insist on trading outside the territory.”

“Good!” Doro nodded, then turned to Gervas. “Lord Gervas, I apologize for dealing with fugitives.”

“But we’re not the only caravan that trades with them—even if we refused, others would.”

“Manager Doro, no explanation needed—I understand.”

Then Gervas loaded the goods and departed from Cain Town.

But upon reaching the town’s outskirts, Gervas split his party into three groups.

Laurence led fifty soldiers to escort the cart train back to the Storm Lord’s domain.

Migen, disguised with another knight, returned to the town.

Gervas himself, with Lei Meng and three remaining knights, headed toward the Viscount of Beckert’s territory.

“Migen, remember—only follow the trail from afar. Those men are likely professional hunters; get too close and you’ll be spotted.”

“Yes, Lord!”

Then Migen and the other knight turned back toward the town.

Their task: track and observe the Tulip Caravan’s trade with the hunters.

Manager Doro assumed the hunters were refugees from the Chaos Wastes.

But Gervas, with intelligence at hand, suspected they were the hunters rumored to hide southeast of his Storm Lord’s domain.

After all, few refugees could produce such a large volume of furs at once.

They were too poor—they’d trade their haul immediately for food, never hoard it for long.

And such a group of “tax evaders”—Gervas would surely root them out.