Uncollected Trade Taxes, Bribing Officials, Smuggling (4)
Lydia and I slipped out of the shadowed alley together.
I had already placed a tracking spell on the crate, so there was no reason to linger.
A scrawny man walked at our side.
His name was Carlson—the one who managed trade goods at this harbor.
I spoke to him.
“I heard it from the man who records the ships’ comings and goings. Carlson, you’re the one who manages the cargo here.”
“Ah, you mean Deon. Yes, as he said, I handle the trade goods in this place.”
Managing the trade goods.
In short, every item that entered this port passed through his hands.
Which meant that if someone had brought goods in without paying the tax, he was almost certainly involved.
“Show me the records you made today.”
“Y-yes…? I-is there some sort of problem?”
“That’s exactly why I’m asking to see them. Don’t worry yourself too much. If there’s nothing wrong, I won’t do a thing.”
“They’re ordered from the front, newest first…”
He handed over the bundle of papers he was carrying.
The documents listed every item that had come in today, packed tight from top to bottom.
Fortunately, reading them was not difficult.
They had been sorted by ship.
Now then…
I read slowly through the information written on the pages.
Before long I found the discrepancy.
The very ship that had been missing from the entry logs was missing from the cargo list as well.
If only one man had done it, I might have granted a hundred excuses and called it a mistake.
But two men was another matter entirely.
It could only be deliberate.
Perhaps that thought showed on my face.
Carlson asked in a voice thick with panic.
“I-is something wrong?”
“Would it be possible to check the records from other days as well?”
“I keep them in the office, but…”
“Then kindly show us the way.”
“Ah… yes. Follow me, please.”
Carlson set off with a distinctly unwilling look.
Lydia and I followed close behind.
The place we reached was a small building not far away.
When we opened the door and stepped inside, we were greeted by battered furniture and stacks of documents piled here and there.
Why were places like this always so disordered?
Then again, from their point of view, old papers were nothing more than dead weight.
A nuisance the law forced them to keep.
I supposed I should be grateful they had stored them at all.
Did he even realize how filthy it looked?
Carlson scratched his head awkwardly.
“Ah, aigoo, this is… Let me at least pour you some tea.”
“No need. We’re only here to check the papers, then we’ll be on our way.”
With that I went straight to examining the documents.
Perhaps from long exposure to the salt air, every sheet had yellowed and stuck together.
The stiff, brittle feel of them was oddly fascinating and unpleasant at the same time.
At least one mercy: the cargo lists and the ship-entry records had not been mixed.
If those two kinds of papers had been jumbled together, that would have been a nightmare of its own.
It was then that Lydia whispered in a low voice.
“Cain, what are you looking for? I’ll help.”
“Anything related to the Caldea from the past year. Bring it to me if you find it.”
“Got it.”
Lydia nodded and moved a short distance away to start sorting through the stacks.
The Caldea was the name of the missing ship.
The man who managed the harbor traffic had told me the name, yet when I searched the records it was nowhere to be found.
So my plan was to examine every record from the past year, then go ask the crew of that vessel myself whether the information was correct.
If a ship had entered the harbor and left no record behind?
Then the only proper conclusion was deliberate concealment.
Probably to avoid collecting taxes from them.
Well, first things first—I had to finish checking all of this.
Rip—.
Pages that had glued themselves together tore free with a loud sound.
We finished examining the documents much later, deep into the night.
We had only arrived at the harbor around dusk, so it was only natural.
Inside the harbor manager’s office, only Lydia and I remained.
Carlson had left, saying he needed to go home for the day, and never returned.
I had asked whether it was all right to leave the office unlocked; he said there was no particular need to lock it.
Lydia stretched her stiff body this way and that as she spoke.
“The Caldea’s last entry record is from a year and a half ago. Nothing after that.”
“Same as what I found. On the cargo lists, a year and a half ago is the final entry as well.”
I had only meant to check one year’s worth, but once I got absorbed I went further.
Thanks to that I had uncovered more solid evidence, so it was just as well.
I picked up the lamp I had set on the table.
It cast the characteristic yellowish glow of a Magic Stone.
“Let’s get out of here.”
The moment we stepped outside the office, the cool night air welcomed us like an old friend.
Given the hour, there was nothing more we could do today.
Better to sleep and leave the rest for tomorrow.
The problem was that Lydia was with me.
“Lydia, can you sleep at an inn?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“It’ll be nothing like the rooms you’re used to. Even if I flattered it, I couldn’t call the facilities good.”
“Cain, what exactly do you take me for? I’ve slept on the roadside before.”
Was that really something to say with pride?
The thought crossed my mind, but I chose not to voice it.
In the end, sleeping at an inn presented no problem at all.
Fortunately, even at this late hour many inns were still open.
We chose the one that looked the most decent and decided to spend the night there.
…In separate rooms, of course.
Being engaged did not mean we could share a bed.
Lydia would have thought the same. Society’s conventions were clear enough.
I hadn’t asked, but I was sure of it.
The long night finally passed, and dawn arrived.
When I opened my eyes, the sky outside the window was already brightening.
Paying a little extra for a room with a view of the sea had been worth it.
I met Lydia a short while later.
“Cain, good morning.”
“Yeah. Good morning.”
Her claim that she could sleep on the roadside hadn’t been a lie.
Lydia looked thoroughly well-rested.
After that we went straight to get a meal.
We had skipped dinner the night before while working, so both of us were starving.
Not long after we ordered, dishes began to cover the table.
Across from me, Lydia moved her utensils with elegant precision as she spoke.
“So today we go to the Caldea?”
“Right. We’ll find a crewman or the captain and ask whether the ship actually entered the harbor.”
“In that case, wouldn’t a disguise be better? Anyone can see our clothes look suspicious right now.”
She had a point.
Immaculate formal wear with swords at our hips—ordinary people might feel pressure just meeting our eyes.
And if we dressed more like them, it would be easier to draw them into natural conversation.
The fact that this suggestion came from none other than a duke’s daughter left me half-amused, half-astonished.
Most people in her position would find even eating in a place like this distasteful, let alone putting on commoners’ clothes.
Yes. Lydia was that sort of person.
A noble who looked at the world more equally than anyone.
Perhaps that perspective itself was a luxury born of being a duke’s daughter—
but given how rare such people were, she remained exceptional.
Not long after, we finished the meal.
We stepped out onto the street at once.
“Cain, how about this?”
“…You’re really going to wear that?”
“It’s a disguise. If you want to hide in the forest, you become a tree.”
Lydia held up a set of clothes.
They were a riot of vivid colors mixed together.
Wearing them ought to make anyone stand out, yet the opposite was true.
In this trading hub, such flamboyant outfits were the fashion.
Most of the people walking the streets wore something similar.
What country dressed like that, I wondered.
They clearly didn’t understand the quiet charm of subdued colors.
“Look. How is it? Suits me, right?”
“…Yeah.”
“You look good too. So straighten those shoulders.”
In the end I had no choice but to follow Lydia’s lead.
Her reasoning hadn’t been wrong, after all.
My pride had simply taken a small bruise along the way.
Disguised at last, we headed straight for the Caldea.
It was the largest vessel moored in the harbor—blue deck, white sails.
Just as we arrived in front of the Caldea, several men were climbing down a rope ladder from the ship.
I approached them at once.
“Excuse me—mind if I ask one thing?”
“What is it.”
“Feels like I haven’t seen this ship in ages. How long’s it been since you last put into port?”
“About five or six months, I’d say. We’re busy, so if you’ll excuse us.”
Five or six months…
So the harbor officials had indeed been deliberately erasing the Caldea’s entries.