Chapter 87
Chapter 87
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: Waiting for the Verdict
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Ian headed to the bank at the heart of Portroga territory with Romandro. It was near the government guesthouse where Molin and his group had stayed, the same neighborhood where he'd linked up with Philia in the park.
As soon as Ian stepped down from the carriage, the bank manager waiting at the entrance bowed deeply at the waist.
"Lord Ian. Good day to you."
"Good day. It's been a while. I hope you've been well?"
"I heard you had a deal with Count Merelrof, but... all of this is gold coins?"
The manager lifted his monocle slightly, asking in a flustered tone. It wasn't like they were moving scrap; the large chests divided up inside looked rather brutish.
"Yes, that's right. 1,000 gold coins."
"You're not using checks?"
"Exactly. A man who deals in money, and he has no manners at all. Tsk tsk."
Romandro grumbled and clicked his tongue in Ian's place. Three gold certificates would have saved them all this trouble.
Ian entered the bank with the servants. The 'Haiman Bank' sign overhead bore clear scratches. They were marks left by evacuees who'd used it as a shelter during the Central forces' clash with Derga.
"You're managing all right, then."
"Of course. Thanks to you, Lord Ian, no issues."
Clank.
Black-armored guards approached behind the manager. They were the symbol of Haiman Bank and responsible for security. In truth, those mana stone-forged armors were more lethal weapon than guard.
"Shall we move them?"
"Yes. Please do."
"No need to mention it."
Four chests, 250 gold coins each—heavy enough that it took two grown men to haul one. Yet the armored guard lifted two at once, left and right, without strain.
"......!?"
Berik reacted the most stunned, freezing on the spot and rolling his eyes wildly. What kind of strength was that? Even the Cheonryeo Tribe probably couldn't match it.
"W-What is that?"
"Ah, first time seeing it, Berik?"
Romandro explained in Ian's stead.
"It's armor made from mana stones. The central branch has Haiman Bank's headquarters, and support arrives fast there... but not so much in the borderlands."
That said, not just anyone could pull it off. It was a show of wealth reserved for those who monopolized Bariel's finance world. One set alone would cost...
"So that's why."
"Why what?"
"Portroga had the best security in Bratz, but thieves wouldn't even piss near the bank."
Power enough to smash a man's skull outright. And it wasn't just that—resistant to fire, physical blows, even low-level magic.
"Berik. If someone tried to harm the bank, Derga would've killed them before these guards even moved. And if, say, Central forces and Derga were fighting and a third party threatened the bank? Both sides would've paused the battle to defend it first."
"What, is the bank manager the emperor's grandfather or something?"
"It's treated like a sanctuary in Bariel, like a temple."
The third domain within Bariel. Screw up and get blacklisted from transactions? You'd have to haul and manage your own massive wealth, effectively shut out by the economic powers.
Of course, that applied to nobles and merchants.
"Then if someone had actually robbed the bank during all that chaos, they would've fought less."
The guards paused at Berik's blunt words but soon realized no insult was meant and resumed carrying the chests.
"Who'd risk their neck for that?"
"Plus, with people packed out front using it as an evac spot, they'd have gotten robbed first the moment they tried."
The manager laughed it off amiably and brought out tea. The sofa and table were worn but well-kept. Bratz being the borderlands, it was like a rural tavern compared to central banks.
"So, a total of 1,000 gold coins, correct?"
"Yes."
"We'll need a moment to count them. Please have a seat and wait."
Romandro sipped his tea and glanced around the bank.
"With 3,500 gold in profits, you've covered part of the tribute already. Taxes will rise above average this year, but it'll be negligible overall. No immediate strain, but next year could be tight."
The problem was money flowing out everywhere from here on.
First, heading to the capital for the New Year's gathering meant expenses from the moment of departure. Then, rubbing elbows with central nobles required maintaining the proper dignity—and costs.
"You know mana users only get basic living expenses covered until they become full mages?"
"Yes. I'm aware."
"If you're okay with it, live with us at my place."
"Hahaha. Aren't you newlyweds?"
"Not like we'd share a bed. What do you say?"
"I appreciate the offer. But look—we scraped together nearly 40% of the tribute before even heading up. It'll be fine, so don't worry."
While Ian and Romandro talked, Berik just scarfed down the snacks. Money worries? Not his problem.
"Raising taxes is the easiest, most convenient way, after all."
"It might be easy for me, but nothing's harder on the locals. I've already raised next year's rates a bit while distributing gula."
"Why not go all in and collect more gradually? Give them time, and they'll prepare accordingly. It's not like you need it by tomorrow."
Romandro chattered advice, then checked Ian's face and laughed helplessly.
"You're not even listening."
"What? I was agreeing right up till now."
"No, no—you have zero intention of raising taxes."
Ian just smiled brightly.
It was certainly the simplest, surest method. But they'd only just recovered from the battle's aftermath, and winter prep was barely done with gula.
And above all, once he reached the palace... who knew how his plans would play out.
'No need to burden them further.'
"You know I'll be away from the territory a long time, right, Lord Romandro?"
"Yes, but..."
"With winter coming, they're focused on not dying—but come spring, negative thoughts will creep in."
A lowborn family head gets a title, doesn't even return, and jacks up taxes?
Humans sinning under the gods' watch. And a distant lord? The mansion staff would suffer for sure.
"I truly appreciate your concern, Lord Romandro. It all makes sense, but it's my stubbornness—please don't mind it."
At that, Romandro sighed in resignation and sipped his tea. While the gold count continued, Ian suddenly turned to Berik.
"Berik. Count Merelrof has a sibling holed up in some old mansion in the territory."
"And?"
"Go find out more."
"Ughhh."
More work. Berik scowled and crunched gula loudly. Seemed enthusiastic yet lazy no matter how you sliced it.
Rattle.
"Lord Ian. All sorted, but we're checking for counterfeits. Shall we do the certificate first?"
The manager reappeared from the back, where he'd been counting gold. He'd used mana water for verification, wiping wet hands on a towel.
"Yes. Any issues?"
"No, none. 1,000 gold coins—haven't handled that much in ages. The vault'll be full till the collectors come."
"The certificate?"
"Please sign here."
Documents in a leather case. Ian sat on the sofa, pen flying lightly, and soon deposited the gold under his name.
'...Has he done bank business before?'
Romandro and the manager shared a puzzled glance but dismissed it with eye contact. Someone must've clued him in.
"Yes. Complete. Thank you."
"My line. Good work. Count Merelrof will send another 2,500 gold within three days. Best prep checks in advance."
"Ah, got it. And here's a notice. Winter blocks transport routes often. Karenna, Longin, and Zailcuf branches are closed for now. Karenna's security is so bad, bandits rob each other."
"Not sure if we'll need it. Thanks anyway."
"Yes. Thank you."
The branch manager bowed at Ian's words. All business concluded smoothly. Ian returned to the mansion light-footed. Clearly, 100 sacks weren't trivial—even now, everyone was still at it.
"Lord Ian, back already?"
"How far along?"
The servant wiped sweat, glancing toward the back at the Merelrofs.
"Glad we prepped thirty sacks, but damn—they're inspecting every single one before taking them."
Picky selection meant it took time. Ian wove through the subordinates to see Count Merelrof personally checking each, then shook his head.
"You've got a tough job."
"Yes. Should wrap before dinner, though."
"Got it. I'll sort mine and come back down."
Ian entered the mansion and made a proposal to Romandro as they went. About the roasted gula, as Haina had mentioned.
"Even if Count Merelrof plants gula today, it'll take a month."
"Probably."
"Here's the thing—we allow gula trade in Merelrof. Start with just roasted, then fresh when they harvest."
Merelrof mansion had no gula yet, so locals wanting to eat it had to buy here. The count planned to distribute seeds like Ian and hike next year's taxes...
"The count'll blow a gasket and die."
But if Ian sold fresh gula too, locals wouldn't need to accept higher taxes for rations.
"Lady Rien will handle it before then."
Romandro gave an awkward laugh at Ian's reply. Laughable or not?
"Announce it to the locals the moment Count Merelrof leaves. We'll lift roasted gula trade limits soon."
"Understood. Will do."
"And one more thing."
Ian paused midway up to the office.
"No word yet on what to do with Lord Molin?"
It'd been a while since the title appointment news. If Prince Marib had intentions, a messenger bird should've arrived ages ago. Strangely, nothing on their disposition.
"I checked again recently—they just said wait. Seems busy up there."
Not some twisted mess? Ian frowned and tilted his head.