Taxes! Taxes! Taxes!
Translator: Cinder Translations
...
After having a meal at merchant Adrian's shop, Kevin wandered around the town square selling the salt he had brought. At first, no one was buying, so they had to repeatedly lower the price. By sunset, they had managed to make a little money, but it was definitely a loss.
Even so, they still had to face an unavoidable reality.
"Tax officer, please, we only made this little money this afternoon. Please, for the sake of mercy, waive our tax."
Kevin and the others pleaded with the tax officer who came to collect the money.
The tax officer shook his head and said firmly, "I don't care how much you earn. As long as you do business in this town, you must pay taxes to the lord. Don't think you can escape my eyes."
"Sir, we are salt workers. With the rise of the salt fields, we had to lower the price of the salt we produce to sell it. The little we earned is already a severe loss. If you take some as tax, this trip will have been in vain."
The tax officer remained stern. "I don't care about your situation. As the tax officer of Frand Port, I can't break the rules for one or two people. Rules are rules. Without them, how could Lord Grayman govern his territory?"
Kevin and the others continued to plead, but eventually, they annoyed the tax officer. He waved his hand, and several municipal tax officials surrounded them.
"I don't have time to waste with you. You have two choices: either pay the tax obediently, or serve labor as a substitute. Choose."
Faced with this ultimatum, the group had no choice but to comply. After paying the tax, their purses felt noticeably lighter.
The tax officer snorted and led the officials away. "What a bunch of paupers. If Lord Grayman hadn't driven away the pirates, you'd still be able to do business in the town safely?"
Kevin and the others clenched their fists in anger but dared not voice their frustration.
They discussed among themselves and walked towards the new church in Frand Port. Only Kevin seemed a bit out of place.
When they arrived at the church, Kevin, in frustration, said, "I'll wait outside. Hurry up!"
His companions shook their heads and entered the church.
...
"O Almighty Lord, please bless us and show us the way..."
The villagers prayed earnestly before the statue of the deity. After praying, they handed a bag of salt to the priest standing beside the altar.
"This is our village's offering to the Lord of Light this month. Please, take it on behalf of us."
Their "offering" was actually a form of tithe—believers were required to give one-tenth of their produce or income to the church.
Handing over the bag of salt was painful since it was the result of their hard labor. However... if they didn't pay, who knows what divine punishment they might face? The priests said that it's better to believe and not take chances.
Moreover, the church's collection of tithes was also acknowledged by the lord's manor. If the church found out someone didn't voluntarily pay, the tax officials would come to collect. Refusing would surely lead to trouble with the lord.
The priest weighed the salt bag, revealing a satisfied smile, and said in a gentle tone, "The Lord of Light will surely bless those who believe in Him."
The villagers bowed and left.
...
Seeing his companions coming out of the church, Kevin, who had been waiting outside impatiently, scoffed, "I bet the Lord of Light didn't get any of that offering. It all goes into the pockets of His loyal servants."
Most of his companions showed helpless expressions, knowing the church was not entirely clean.
Only one devout person's face changed abruptly. "Kevin, if you keep spouting nonsense like this, I won't come sell salt with you next time."
His warning had no effect, and Kevin continued to mock, "You're so eager to pay tithes, but you haven't received any blessings from the Lord of Light, have you? You're just as poor as me."
"You... you..."
The devout believer, unable to argue back, grew angry and was about to lash out.
"Alright, alright, let's not fight over a little argument. Don't make a spectacle for the townspeople," other companions quickly intervened, separating the two who continued to shout at each other.
The devout believer exclaimed, "The servants of the Lord work hard for us every day. It's only right for them to receive some reward."
Kevin countered, "Their 'reward' is far more than just a little. Their living standards are almost comparable to the nobles, which doesn't align with the 'Saint's Teachings' at all!"
...
The group, dispirited, began their journey back to the village, chatting idly as they walked.
"It looks like relying solely on salt production won't sustain our livelihood. We need to find another way to make a living."
"Why don't we check out the salt fields in Frand Port? Maybe our traditional skills can be useful there."
"What? You're going to compromise and become a traitor?... Actually, I was thinking the same."
"You're dreaming. If we had acted months ago, there might have been a chance, but now they're not hiring. They said they'll be expanding production in a few months and will be hiring a lot of people. I heard they'll be selling salt south by sea."
"A few months? I can't wait that long. We're almost out of food at home."
"There are other options. Although the salt fields aren't hiring right now, many other workshops are hiring—pottery, paper-making, canning. There are more and more such workshops."
"Sigh, we haven't worked with these things before. We'd have to start as apprentices from the bottom. Leaving our ancestral craft behind is really hard to accept."
When the group returned to the village, many villagers were eagerly awaiting their return. Upon learning that merchant Adrian was leaving Frand Port and the salt had to be sold at a loss, the entire village fell into despair.
Kevin, exhausted after a long day of salt selling, hastily ate a few bites of food and fell into a deep sleep. He had left early for Frand Port and didn't return until after dark, so he was utterly worn out.
...
A commotion woke Kevin up. He opened his eyes to find it was already morning.
Rubbing his sleepy eyes, he asked his parents, "What's going on outside so early?"
His father remained silent, sitting at the table with a gloomy expression, puffing on a pipe—actually filled with some unknown plant leaves instead of tobacco since the family's income had dwindled.
His mother, preparing breakfast, sighed deeply. "You can hear for yourself."
An extremely unpleasant voice reached Kevin's ears.
"Fellow villagers, it's time to pay this month's head tax…"
Damn taxes!
No matter where or when, he couldn't escape them.
(End of the Chapter)
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