CHAPTER 96…………………………….
To explain why Yannick pretended to be the blind man Adem,
we have to go back two days.
“Boss! We’re in trouble! Our ship’s been seized—they said we didn’t pay the port tax!”
The one shouting as he burst into the tavern was Vallon, the accountant of the Atheists’ Trading Company.
Their small ship had been impounded at the port of Girgaia.
“What? Hey! Who in Girgaia ever pays those taxes anyway?!”
Nicholas was flustered. The story was simple enough.
Ships from Poldenbach that crossed between Girgaia and the Religious Strait were required to pay a “Blessing Tax” at both ports, regardless of their purpose.
It was slightly different from a regular port tax — it was one of the Erydran Church’s collection schemes.
Under the pretext of “blessing the voyage for safe travel,” priests would perform a ritual and collect money in return.
Naturally, Nicholas hated that kind of thing. “Priests’ blessings? What rotten luck!” So every time, he would just bribe the harbor officials and sneak out instead.
It was cheaper than paying the tax anyway, and under normal circumstances, there was never a problem.
But this time, there was. A high-ranking noble from Poldenbach had suddenly arrived in Girgaia.
“The noble wanted a few Poldenbach locals who knew about Til Neve Cedric,” someone said.
Apparently, the “noble” had slipped the harbor master a hefty sum and told him to use that money to hire local guides — generous pay included.
The harbor master, greedy for the reward, didn’t want to go himself.
So instead, he decided to pocket all the money and pick the easiest targets among those who hadn’t paid their taxes. That turned out to be the Atheists’ Trading Company.
Of course, he didn’t explain any of this in detail. He just twirled his mustache and bragged,
“Hey, what can I say? The noble wanted people who know this area best — so I recommended you lot!”
“So now we have to pay the port tax and act as guides for some highborn? He’s holding our ship hostage, basically!”
Nicholas was furious, but Vallon just shook his head.
“He said if we run away and he’s short on manpower, he’ll lose face. So we can’t.”
“What? And he’s ruining our business over that? Great, maybe I should just become a noble myself!”
Of course, wanting it didn’t make it happen. Nicholas rubbed his forehead in frustration.
Then Adem, who had been quietly sitting nearby, spoke up.
“Couldn’t we just pay the tax and refuse to guide them?”
Yannick snorted.
“If we did that, the harbor master would blacklist us. We’d never be allowed back in Girgaia.”
Every Poldenbach ship passing through Girgaia had to go through that man. Nicholas clicked his tongue.
“Where’s this noble going anyway?”
“The desert. The big canyon city.”
“Oh, Saruin?”
Unlike Poldenbach, Til Neve Cedric wasn’t divided into fiefs or nations.
There were about eight ethnic groups, each centered around their own major city, spread loosely without fixed borders.
They were governed by leaders called “Sages,” who created laws and strictly enforced them.
Every three years, the eight Sages gathered to discuss the state of Til Neve Cedric.
Among them, the Saruins were known for having the most severe laws — fitting for a desert people, where discipline meant survival.
“They said they’re going to meet the Sage of Saruin.”
“Are they out of their minds? You can’t just meet a Sage! Vallon, didn’t you tell them that?”
Vallon shrugged.
“I did. But apparently, that noble is a Saint.”
“A Saint??”
“What, that Saint? What’s she doing there?”
Everyone’s eyes went wide. Of course they did — what was the Saint of Windrock Monastery doing here? Was she going to the desert to pray or something?
Vallon shook his head.
“Who knows? I guess they figure a Saint can get an audience with a Sage.”
In short, they didn’t just need any guides.
Saruin welcomed trade because they lacked resources, but they still had a deep dislike of Poldenbach — after all, the Saruins were the ones who had clashed most fiercely with them in the last expedition.
Now Nicholas understood why the harbor master picked them. He clicked his tongue again.
“So basically, they mean me and Adem, huh?”
The Atheists’ Trading Company was the only Poldenbach merchant group allowed to trade in Saruin.
How they got that permit was a long story — but mostly thanks to Nicholas and Adem.
And for another reason.
“Besides, we only have two identity passes anyway!”
Merchant passes required registration fees, and since the company was poor, they only made two — one for Nicholas, one for Adem.
So of course, those two had to go.
But there was another problem.
“I’m sorry. Please leave me out of this.”
Adem refused to go. Nicholas was shocked — since the day he had taken Adem in, the man had never once refused an order.
Why now?
“I… have difficulty being around highborns.”
“Ha! Who doesn’t? Come on, let’s just go.”
“I’m sorry. This time, I really can’t.”
No matter how much Nicholas insisted — even offering him 20% of the pepper sale profits — Adem wouldn’t budge.
“Even if you give me all of it, I can’t.”
Finally, Vallon snapped.
“Hey! We saved your life, didn’t we? The least you could do is this!”
As the company’s accountant, he was understandably irritated — if the ship stayed seized, their pepper cargo could spoil in the humidity and become worthless.
But Adem only pressed his lips shut. Nicholas smacked Vallon on the back of the head.
“You idiot! We didn’t save him for free — Adem paid us!”
“Well, yeah, but still—!”
“I’ll go. I’ve always wanted to see that Saint anyway.”
In the end, it was Yannick who volunteered.
He figured he could use Adem’s identity pass since his hair was black too.
“The scar on his mouth? I can draw that on. And since he’s blind, I’ll just keep my eyes closed,” he joked — which made everyone laugh.
And that’s how we got here.
“So when the Saint healed my face, I thought — this is it! Genius, right?”
Yannick snickered, boasting to Nicholas.
Of course, pretending to be blind meant he couldn’t see where he was going and kept bumping into everything — it was torture.
(And yes, his skin really did break out yesterday from eating bad shellfish.)
Nicholas just spun a finger beside his temple.
“You’re completely insane.”
No wonder the Saint had been so flustered — she must’ve thought she’d performed a miracle.
“But she even declared the area sacred afterward. Guess she really believed she’d done something divine.”
At Yannick’s shameless words, Nicholas just laughed in disbelief.
“Congrats on getting your sight back, you lunatic. And your back straightened too.”
“Thank you kindly, my lord.”
Yannick bowed exaggeratedly with a grin. In any case, they had to head to the governor’s mansion.
At that very moment, inside the governor’s guest chamber—
“Uugh…”
The Saint, Erysi Ahen, had been suffering from a high fever and nausea ever since her arrival.
