Chapter 11
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Capitalism Creates Barbarians
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Two days later,
We arrived at the gates of Sand Port in the Ayula Kingdom.
A grand stone wall built by meticulously shaping and stacking massive rocks.
Beyond it, round dome-shaped roofs came into view, and the lively clamor of the market reached our ears from afar.
It was the scent of civilization after so long.
Aila's eyes sparkled from beneath her hood as she marveled.
"Whoa... it's huge..."
Having lived her whole life with nothing but tents and sandstorms, even a three-story wall was enough to make her head spin.
"Don't act like a hick. It's just this much. The imperial capital is way bigger."
I boasted casually as I headed toward the gate.
Truth be told, my heart was pounding a bit at the sight of brick buildings after so long myself.
"Halt!"
Two guards with spears crossed them in an 'X' to block our path.
They took one look at our trio's appearance—more precisely, our grubby, unwashed state after two days and our tattered leather cloaks—and scowled deeply.
"Barbarians? The stench is wafting all the way over here."
The guard captain pinched his nose in mockery, sneering openly.
"Got a pass? Of course not, you uncivilized lot. Can you even read?"
"No pass. But I'll pay the toll."
As I reached into my pocket for a few silver coins, the captain smirked and held out his palm wide.
"Whoa, who said silver? Barbarians get a special tariff. One gold per head. Cough up three gold total."
'These bastards...'
I was furious, but the two beside me seemed oblivious.
Imperial currency meant nothing to them.
Three gold could keep a family of four living large for half a year.
This was blatant daylight robbery.
But Batu was quick on the uptake.
Sensing my darkening expression, he started reaching for the dagger in his pocket, but I grabbed his arm to stop him.
"Hold it. Don't."
Batu immediately stepped back at my word.
Did they even realize they'd just brushed death?
I slowly removed my hood, revealing my tousled hair and face.
Then, in a very polite yet icy voice, I asked,
"One gold each, huh? Since when did Sand Port's rates skyrocket like that? It's been a while since I was back, and you're treating me like a total sucker."
Perfect imperial capital common tongue accent and diction.
Any drifter worth his salt would recognize it.
"Wh-what? Who the hell are you? That way of talking... N-noble?"
I didn't answer and continued.
"As far as I know, Sand Port is a neutral city under the 'Free Trade Agreement' between the Empire and the Southern Kingdom Alliance. Right?"
"Th-that's true, but..."
"Sand Port Commercial Code, Article 4, Clause 2: 'No discriminatory tariffs based on race, nationality, or status shall be imposed on merchants or travelers entering or exiting the city.' Violators face immediate dismissal and fines for abuse of guard authority."
I stared straight into the guard's eyes, reciting each word deliberately.
"Furthermore, per Chapter 7, Article 3 of the trade treaty between the Empire and Ayula Kingdom, unjust toll collection is deemed 'trade interference,' warranting severe reprimand to the lord and compensation claims."
The guards' faces went blank.
They'd never dreamed a supposed barbarian would spout legal clauses—complete with jargon—from memory.
"Wh-who are you?"
"Doesn't matter. Didn't get it? What you're doing is straight-up illegal. Should I draft a formal complaint to the Sand Port lord's proxy right here? Or fire off a report to the kingdom's Commerce Ministry inspectors?"
I waved a pre-prepared document that looked official enough.
It was a trade receipt from a merchant I'd dealt with in the desert days ago.
"Heard there's an imperial inspector doing undercover rounds lately. If that guy shows up, your heads roll first. You cool with that?"
"Pl-please wait a moment!"
They huddled, whispering among themselves, leaving us aside.
'Oh, I can hear everything?'
My senses had sharpened after completing the second stage of Scars.
Seems stage two boosted senses more than raw strength.
"C-captain. Th-this guy's no ordinary barbarian, right?"
"Y-yeah... That accent's pure imperial nobility. What do we do...?"
No barbarian could speak flawless imperial standard and know the law inside out.
The answer was obvious.
The captain broke into a cold sweat and meekly backed down.
"S-sorry! We mistook you for barbarians because of your appearance and were rude."
I decided not to escalate.
Ting—
A single gold coin flicked from my hand.
My pouch had no silver anyway.
The guard snatched it cleanly.
"I understand. Guards are supposed to keep suspicious types out of the city, after all."
I gave them an out, and they lunged for it without hesitation.
"Y-yes, exactly! For the kingdom's safety, we have to, uh, conduct thorough inspections!"
I patted the guard's shoulder.
"Got it. Still, toll's toll."
"B-but that's more than the usual."
I said coolly,
"Should cover your evening beer, at least."
The guard's face lit up, impressed.
"Th-thank you!"
The captain hurriedly cleared his spear and made way.
I passed them leisurely.
"Keep up the good work. The kingdom's safety rests on you."
"Yes, sir! Don't worry!!"
Once through the gate, Aila tugged my sleeve with an incredulous look.
"...What was that...? Those laws real?"
"Basics. Servants need to know the law so their master doesn't get screwed."
The Empire and kingdom laws aren't identical, of course. Half of it was bullshit, but who cares? It worked.
Scams are all about confidence.
"Whoa... Kel Bark's so smart..."
"Feel free to respect me more.
Heh heh heh. Feels good.
We headed straight to the city center.
Priority one was set.
"That one. 'Golden Needle Tailors.' Looks solid."
It was one of the biggest, flashiest buildings in town.
Even the entrance boasted marble columns.
Ding-a-ling—
As we entered, a whiff of fine perfume hit us alongside luxurious interiors.
A neatly uniformed clerk spotted us and came running in horror.
"Th-this is for honored guests only! Beggars go outside! You're stinking up the place—out!"
I ignored him, plopping onto the premium velvet sofa in the center.
Then propped my filthy leather boots—caked in dirt—right on the gleaming glass table.
"Get the manager."
Ah, what a rush.
This was something I'd always wanted to do.
The clerk was on the verge of a meltdown.
"Sir! Have you lost your mind? I'll call the guards right now! I'll report you for disrupting business!"
I tossed a heavy leather pouch onto the table.
"Check this first before reporting. Think about what's smart."
Clink.
The pouch spilled open with a thud, golden light pouring out.
Gold coins rolling everywhere.
"......Gasp!!"
The clerk's eyes bulged.
"Just say I'm from the Empire. Here to get fitted. Best and priciest you've got. Money's no object."
I went all in.
When else am I gonna flex like this?
Moments later,
A stern-looking old gentleman in slippers—the manager—rushed out, adjusting his glasses.
"My apologies for not recognizing such esteemed guests! Welcome! I'm manager 'Delon'! What are you doing? Tea, now!"
Capitalism's power is mighty.
Barbarian or not, all equal before gold.
No— the one with gold is king and god.
"Order up."
I stood before the mirror.
"Suit to my build. No cheap warehouse crap—northern 'Black Spider Silk.' Low sheen, but subtle flow with movement."
"Ho... You know Black Spider Silk?"
The manager's eyes changed. He sensed I wasn't some nouveau riche hack.
"Jacket double-breasted. Peak lapels, sharp. Shoulders broad, so cinch the waist tighter. Sleeves for easy movement—high armholes, not sword fights... er."
I rattled off terms nonstop.
"Trousers plain hem, just brushing the shoe heel. Shirt 120-count cotton white, collar pin to puff the tie. Buttons all obsidian, no wood."
The manager jotted frantically, hand shaking in awe.
"My word... impeccable taste."
"And these two."
I pointed at dazed Batu and Aila.
"He's my servant—three-piece with vest, bow tie instead of necktie. Deep inner pockets for his dagger."
As Batu's order wrapped, the manager asked,
"And the lady...?"
I eyed grubby Aila thoughtfully.
Prime material. Dressed up, she'd devour high society.
Why not style her my way?
"Simple black evening dress. Minimal embellishments, plunge the back bold. One necklace for accent. Hair up."
"Right away! Measurements first! We'll craft masterpieces! Wash up while we measure—best for that."
"Bath around?"
"Of course! We're Sand Port's top tailors."
Two hours later.
The changing room curtain parted.
"How's this?"
The man in the mirror was no dust-covered barbarian.
Tall at about 185cm.
Jet-black suit hugging bursting muscles perfectly.
Slicked-back pomade hair, trimmed beard accenting manly charm.
And casually slung over one shoulder: the savage symbol, greatsword 'Kel Kar'.
A beast and gentleman fused—straight out of a noir film.
"......Insane."
Even I was impressed.
Damn, I look good.
Beside me, Batu stood expressionless in bow tie, exuding killer butler vibes.
Aila...
"Isn't this... too low-cut? Feels exposed..."
Unbelievable. Says the girl who parades in near-nude tribal gear.
Yet in the backless black dress, she was breathtakingly seductive.
Her healthy bronze skin and sleek muscle lines meshed insanely with the black fabric.
"Perfect. Exposed? Think of your old rags."
I grinned, tipping the manager ten extra gold.
"Keep the change as tip. Burn what we came in. Stinks."
"Th-thank you!"
As we exited, the street vibe shifted.
"Whoa... who are they?"
"High imperial nobility?"
"That aura... no joke. Chokes you."
Passersby stopped, staring.
No more contempt—just awe and curiosity.
Clothes maketh the man.
A little polish, and no one calls us barbarians.
Truly, with money, capitalism reigns supreme.
Behold: the perfect barbarian born of capitalism.
We strutted shoulders back, heels clicking proudly.
Two days later.
Three shadows appeared before a dingy brick building thick with ominous air.
'Ah, the last two days were bliss...'
I'd used "gathering intel" as an excuse to gorge, booze, and lounge.
Aila's nagging dragged me here eventually.
[Silver Fox Merchant Company]
The rough-looking doormen moved to block us, then froze.
"No reservation...? Huh?!"
Overwhelming presence and undisguisable bloodlust.
They instinctively stepped aside. Knew we weren't bored nobles slumming.
I kicked the door open hard.
Bang—!
Dusty old office.
Beyond hazy tobacco smoke, the info guild branch chief looked up startled.
I strode over, slamming Kel Kar onto his rickety desk with a thud.
The desk cracked.
Then dragged a chair crookedly, sitting with the world's haughtiest crossed legs.
"Here to buy intel."
The chief's eyes wavered.
"...Who might you be?"
I pulled a leaf cigar, nodding at Batu.
He lit it with a match from his pocket.
Exhale—
I blew long, then spoke.
"Get the boss out. I don't deal with small fry."
No-hesitation barbarian macho line.
I was fully, blatantly reveling in my barbarian turn.
Ah, this shit's fun as hell?