The Shady Checkpoint at Grace Bay
Was there always a checkpoint like that? From what I remembered of my last visit ages ago, there hadn't been anything like it at Grace Bay. I recalled it as an incredibly quiet, remote spot with no sign of people around.
I walked the Hell Horse slowly toward the checkpoint. As we drew closer, a few men emerged from inside to block the road. They were dressed lightly in thin linen short-sleeves, but each had a long sword at their waist.
To be precise, Grace Bay fell under direct royal jurisdiction. The Kekers Marquisate was nearby, but it barely skirted the coastline. So were these guards? No insignia made it impossible to tell their affiliation. But if they were official guards, they wouldn't be slacking off in such sloppy attire, no matter how hot it was.
If they weren't guards but armed men in royal territory, then who the hell were they?
"Halt. Halt."
They raised their hands lazily, as if we were a huge bother, and stopped us. Celereja, riding behind me, gripped my side hard and whispered anxiously.
"What are they...? They look like bandits from their outfits..."
"Never seen bandits set up a full checkpoint for business. Don't worry. I'll handle it."
They eyed the Hell Horse's appearance with obvious fear, glancing at each other before their apparent leader mustered the courage to approach.
"Headed to Grace Bay?"
"That's right."
"Then why not take the main road? Why this detour?"
"Main road? I'm just following the route I took before. First I've heard of any main road."
The man shrugged after a moment's thought.
"Eh, this way works too. Hmm. Let me see."
He turned to count the line of Hell Horses behind us, folding fingers as he calculated something, then held out his hand.
"Thirty silver coins."
I stared blankly at his outstretched palm, wondering what bullshit this was.
"What's that?"
"Beach entry fee. Three silvers per person, three per horse. Total thirty."
"What?!"
Beach entry fee? First time hearing that. Last time, we'd just walked in. Had it popped up since then? Charging citizens in royal territory...?
Not inherently wrong or unreasonable. If the royals designated it a tourist spot and managed it, fees made sense. But...
Looking at these slovenly thugs, it sure didn't feel like any legit operation.
"Sorry, are you guards? I don't remember any entry fee from my last visit."
"Guards? Nah. We're private soldiers from the Kekers Marquisate."
"Private soldiers? Isn't Grace Bay royal territory? Why are a lord's men collecting fees here?"
The man scowled irritably.
"Don't know the details. We just do what we're told. Been at this exact post for a year, and no one's complained. Got beef? Turn around."
"Turn around? You think it's normal for a lord's men to illegally shake down people in royal land?"
"Legal or not, that's above our pay grade!"
As the leader raised his voice, Celereja couldn't hold back and stuck her head out, yelling.
"Then what do you know?!"
"That you don't get in without paying—and if you force it, we beat the crap outta you!"
The man barked back, and his buddies gripped their sword hilts, the air turning hostile. Intimidation racket, plain and simple.
Fat chance.
These fuckers were about to learn a lesson...
"Here. Thirty silvers."
Just as I was about to leap off and school these brazen highway robbers, Francois had slipped forward and handed them a coin pouch.
The sudden appearance of the elegant, graceful beauty startled the soldiers. The leader absentmindedly took the pouch.
"Count it. Thirty coins."
Even hit with casual speech, he gawked at her face like he deserved the familiarity, grinning like an idiot.
"Count."
"Ah... right."
At her repeat, he snapped to, opened the pouch, and counted the silvers. Satisfied, he pocketed it and stepped aside.
"Move along."
I wanted to say something, but she shook her head to stop me, flashed the soldiers a smile, and headed back.
I glared at the roadside thugs as I urged the Hell Horse forward. They just snickered, peeking into their pouch.
Those bastards... That wasn't thirty for entry. Some was lining their pockets for sure.
If not for Francois, I'd have buried them headfirst in the dirt.
"Bertrand, what the hell's going on? Why are a noble's private troops pulling this crap in royal territory?"
"Beats me..."
Couldn't think of anything that fit. No way Kekers Marquis had lost his mind and swallowed royal land...
Shaking off the unease, we passed through the narrow path and exotic palm groves into Grace Bay.
"Whoaaaa...!"
Celereja gasped at the sudden expanse of white sand and horizon. Similar cheers rose from behind.
The flour-fine, soft white sand gleamed under the sun. Transparent seawater washed over it in sparkling foam, retreating with a cool wave crash. Tiny crabs on scattered black rocks scuttled sideways, digging into the sand and vanishing at the horses' approach.
Nearshore waters were crystal clear, shifting to emerald jade farther out. Beneath swam colorful fish darting through coral reefs, schools turning in perfect sync like ink blots, pursued by glossy-feathered seagulls wheeling overhead.
On the ruler-straight horizon, grand ships with white sails drifted leisurely west to east. Towering cumulonimbus clouds billowed like cotton above them.
Just as breathtaking as I remembered—eye-searingly beautiful.
"Bertrand... I never knew the sea could be this pretty until today..."
Celereja hugged my waist, murmuring dreamily. Her first time seeing it too, apparently. Even nobles rarely strayed far from home, let alone commoners. Plenty lived and died without knowing the world beyond their village.
In such an era, I'd been damn lucky. Chosen by the Goddess, summoned to the capital as a hero, roaming the world and seeing it all.
A few other people dotted the beach, but far from our entry point—no interference expected. Our spot was lush with palms and jagged black rocks screening the views nicely.
We eased onto the beach. The Hell Horses stepped lightly, leaving no prints.
The bay curved gently like a bow, fringed by dense palms offering shade anywhere. I picked a decent clearing amid them—perfect for tents, close to the sea.
The kingdom's southern tides had minimal ebb and flow, so pitching near water was fine. To the left, massive black rocks lined the sand like a wall, blocking sightlines and adding coziness.
"Everyone off. We'll camp here."
But only Francois, Pelle, and Celereja unpacked. The rest of the girls and the hunting dog bolted for the sea with excited howls.
"Hehe... come on..."
Della and Marim had already splashed in; Idwild chased them, her massive breasts bouncing wildly.
"Hey! Unpack first, then play!"
My shout fell on deaf ears. They waded thigh-deep, splashing wildly. Kali barked madly amid the sprays, more hyped than I'd ever seen.
"Let them be, Bertrand. We can manage."
Francois smiled kindly, carrying ingredient bags. Pelle unpacked methodically without expression; Celereja struggled with the Asenaris box still on horseback.
I lifted her by the waist; she blushed and clung tight. I gently pushed her away and asked Francois,
"Why'd you pay those guys? Obvious shakedown."
"It's fine. No sense ruining a trip over petty crooks. Right, Saintess?"
"Y-yeah."
Excluding the sea-mad kids(?), we set up camp. I ringed the clearing with four two-person tents—simple: poles front and back, triangular roof, stakes at corners. Done quick solo.
Celereja trailed me, laying mats and bags inside. Pelle arranged firewood and cookware centrally, wedging the Asenaris box between watermelons. Francois strung a hammock between palms—her height and reach made it effortless.
"Better on the sand."
I carried two large parasols spear-like to the open sun beyond the shade.
The beachgoers and Kali emerged dripping, water streaming off them.
"Hehe... so cool..."
"Whoa, Idi-sis's nips are showing."
"Oh my! Cover up, Idi!"
As I staked the parasols, someone tapped my back. Thinking it one of the girls, I turned to a total stranger staring down at me.
"Who're you?"
"And who're you?"
