Chapter 104
Chapter 104
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: Salt-Grinding Millstone
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“That guy over there—he was here earlier. Same smell.”
Roca grabbed my sleeve and whispered. Sure enough, the people who had taken a huge load of salt earlier had returned for more.
But good things were meant to be shared. There was no shortage of salt, no limit on the amount, so they were welcome to take as much as they needed.
“I heard you’ve got a millstone that makes salt. Looks like it’s true.”
“Hey, hand over that millstone. Now!”
But some people always wanted to hog everything for themselves, even when there was enough for everyone.
The thugs arrived—crowbar, knives, and spears fashioned from sharpened bamboo in hand. They didn’t look like mere bandits so much as organized muscle.
“You’re welcome to take as much salt as you want. But with all these folks lined up, we can’t send them away empty-handed, can we?”
“What the hell are you talking about!”
“Damn, this guy’s lost his mind.”
They flexed their muscles, trying to intimidate us. The man who’d been preaching Grimudo Cult doctrine seized the moment and pointed us out, shouting from the platform and taking their side.
“It’s those bastards! That’s them! Even with our eyes wide open, there are liars and cheats among us! Tell me, folks—isn’t that right? Or am I wrong?”
The scrawny, monkey-like man next to the apparent boss nocked an arrow and yelled.
“No good, boss. Let’s shoot!”
“Hey, Horon. Hold up. I’ll talk him down.”
The man who seemed to be the leader of the group approached me with a friendly smile.
He was holding a crossbow, though.
“Sir, why not sell us that millstone while we’re being nice?”
Did he think adding a crossbow to polite words got him more than polite words alone? If so, he was sorely mistaken.
“Take as much salt as you can carry and be on your way.”
Roca stepped in front of me as if she’d been waiting for my cue. As the child drew her crescent blade, a fierce aura radiated in all directions.
The men who’d been strutting in front of me suddenly shrank back, as if feeling the bite of a blade across their throats. There was a snap as the crossbow string broke.
Once Roca fully unleashed her presence, the men clamped their mouths shut. Solar mana gathered behind her, blazing fiercely, and beads of sweat formed on the boss’s face.
It didn’t look like sweat from the heat, though.
“Eek! Ex, Expert?!”
The monkey-like man who’d aimed the bow earlier yelped in shock.
“Oh man... looks like I’m gonna have to bow to another big sis I never asked for.”
“Big sis.”
The boss suddenly grinned wide and dropped to one knee.
I’d met plenty of people, but this was a first. Roca looked baffled too—her eyes darted around.
“Naorod kneels before you here. That good enough?”
“Should I kill them?”
Roca glanced at me and whispered. I shook my head.
By myself, I could only clear a tiny bit of the ash blanketing the city.
But if all these people pitched in just a little, we could uncover much more. Solving the ash problem wouldn’t drive off the Immortal Phoenix, but it would end the chaos in this pitch-black city where you couldn’t even see.
“Everyone, this is salt. Bring a container and take some, then sprinkle it on the roads and all over the city. Scatter it where the smoke and ash are thickest—the salt will purify the area around it and keep the ash at bay for a few days.”
And after those few days? No need to worry about it.
Either the Immortal Phoenix would die first, or the city would. One way or another, the ash problem would resolve itself.
Thud. I set down the millstone, and it kept grinding out salt, forming a little mound around it. Right now, it was about the size of a sandcastle built by a child, but it would grow.
The gang scooped up armfuls of salt, bowed to Roca at a perfect right angle, and left. I didn’t care if they spread it at home or around the city.
A quick glance showed the man from the platform had vanished. No telling if he’d fled or just gone home, too hoarse to shout more.
The crowd grew much more polite after that. New arrivals approached respectfully.
“Can we really take it?”
“Of course. Help yourselves.”
“No limit on how much?”
“Take as much as you can carry.”
Humans’ greed never ended, though—that was something I’d always noticed.
I figured they’d bring small bowls, but they showed up with huge ladles. I hadn’t said to take only a little, so ladling it out was fine.
Roll, roll, roll...
Then someone rolled in a massive oak barrel and shoveled salt into it. Another hauled a sack and stuffed it full.
Even holy salt probably wasn’t needed in such quantities, so I looked around and spotted a man staring intently at the millstone, scribbling notes.
While others fetched containers for salt, he’d been there the whole time with a notebook, jotting things down.
‘Wasn’t he here from the start?’
Our eyes met. Dressed in a uniform from top to bottom, he didn’t strike me as low-ranking. He might explain why everyone coveted the salt so much.
“Sir, is salt really that scarce in the Citadel Republic?”
“Asking that? You’re definitely not a Republic citizen. Your accent says Empire.”
It was called Imperial tongue now that the Empire dominated the continent, but strictly speaking, it was the continental common tongue.
Even the demonkin spoke it like humans, so “continental common” might be more accurate. The one exception: the reclusive elves.
“The Republic monopolizes salt through the government. Heavy taxes make it pricey, but it’s essential for life, so people buy it anyway. It’s one of our key revenue sources.”
“I see... I thought a coastal nation like yours would have plenty.”
“We are coastal. Valles City’s right by the sea. But building ports destroyed a lot of salt flats. Still, salt itself isn’t scarce. As the continent’s trade hub, goods flow through here constantly. We import from the southern salt fields, no problem.”
He gave a wry chuckle.
“Salt’s a necessity. Can’t live without it—which makes it perfect for a state monopoly gouging profits.”
“That much tax?”
“Worse, actually. There’s a middleman. The Republic issues salt trading licenses to select merchants, who become the big salt traders. Those firms are tied to council members.”
Salt in the Citadel Republic seemed tangled in more politics than I’d imagined. Small nation, tight control—even something as basic as salt wasn’t just bought at market.
“The state could profit tenfold just selling direct. But with big traders in the mix? They’re not taking losses. To keep their spots, they grease palms and pay hefty taxes. Guess who foots that bill?”
“...Consumers.”
“Talking to someone like you is refreshing. The girl beside you? She looks lost.”
Sure enough, Roca stared blankly, deep in thought about where we were and who I was.
Tsk. He clicked his tongue.
“The markup can hit forty times cost. Prices? Set by merchants’ greed. They’ve got excuses ready: bandits on the road, warehouse fires, whatever.”
“You think the Republic doesn’t know it’s bullshit? But those traders have friends. Powerful ones. So we look the other way.”
Now it clicked. Salt might cost more here than in the open plains, where the only “salt” was livestock blood.
How obsessed must people be with salt to grab it first, even with doom knocking?
“That Naorod—or whatever—the girl chased off? One of our watched salt smugglers. Merchants risk it for fifty percent profit, ignore laws for double. Triple? They’ll bet their lives. Smuggling’s usually hanging, but guys keep trying.”
“If salt sold at fair price, smuggling would vanish.”
“Sure, but the treasury would empty. Not like the top brass would allow that.”
He sneered at the people fixated on salt, ignoring our talk.
“Funny, though, right? How much salt do they even need now? A few days’ worth, maybe a day or two. Yet they eye that mountain like they’re sure they’ll survive.”
Maybe. I saw it differently. Greed in a situation like this? A good sign.
If they’d truly despaired to their core, they wouldn’t crave salt.
Wanting salt didn’t mean they had hope, but it showed a raw desire to live. They said the world was ending, but no one here was truly ready for it. Not really.
Did this man before me have that spark to struggle?
“I’m Robert Wesker, head of the Citadel Revenue Service. Normally, I’d have arrested Naorod—and you too. Even if you weren’t selling the salt, I’d pin smuggling on you and throw you in jail.”
“Catch salt smugglers? Big rewards from above, promotions, and fat bonuses from the traders. Not now, though—their money’s long gone with them. Still, seeing this miracle millstone before I die? Lived a full life.”
So that’s why he’d been watching me...?
“You were staring earlier to decide whether to arrest me.”
“No. Something else. Just got word from the Empire side. While everyone fled through gates, one priest came this way. I was waiting to confirm if it was you. Probably is, right?”
Not many priests traveled with a blue-haired wolf beastkin.
I nodded. Rowena must have kindly sent word. Maybe Elvenhome even had an ambassador here.
“One question.”
He asked with genuine curiosity.
“Why come here? Place full of people desperate to flee, people broken by failure, and folks just waiting to die.”
“We came to slay the Phoenix.”
His puzzled look turned to one reserved for madmen.
“If you’re just waiting to die anyway, why not bet on one last hope?”
“Ha.”
He laughed in disbelief.
“Don’t need your hopes, priest. Just tell me how to screw over that Phoenix. If there’s a real way, I’ll gladly guide you to my superiors.”
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