Winters was about to be driven to tears by the foolishness of his dear classmate Andrea Cherini. He finally understood how Major Moritz felt a few days ago during the boarding combat, when he saw him and a few gunnery sergeants huffing and puffing as they moved the cannons.
He and Bard exchanged a grave look, confirming that they both realized Andre's intelligence was beyond saving. "Think about it. Three people need to get ashore, and one has to row the boat back. That's just two people ferried ashore per trip. Consider the longer return trip with only one person rowing, and it's likely we won't all be ashore by tomorrow."
"Yeah, we might as well wait to enter the port. We've got luggage too, and if we load that, this little boat can only carry two people." Bard was always thorough in his considerations, adding the luggage Winters had overlooked. "Didn't the new captain say so? The wait won't be long, we should be docking by tomorrow at the latest."
But Andre clearly wasn't listening to the latter part. He was incorporating the elements of "luggage weight" and "rowing back alone" into his primitive mathematical model and was lost in thought over a new plan.
By now, two customs taxation officers had boarded the ship. They wore wide-brimmed hard hats and were draped in black leather armor, its vulnerable parts reinforced with thin iron plates, and chainmail protecting the joints.
The two tax officers were tall and rugged, with swords hanging from their belts. From their appearance, they seemed less like customs officials from Vineta and more like a band of thieves or mercenaries.
Had it not been for one of them holding a ledger, Winters might have mistaken them for mere bodyguards of the tax officers. Fresh chapters posted on novelFirｅ.net
"Is this what customs tax officers look like? Why do they seem tougher than pirates?" Winters said to Bard in surprise. He sized up the two tax officers and felt that even in one-on-one combat, he couldn't guarantee victory.
Bard laughed softly, leaning relaxed against the ship's rail, and replied, "Since ancient times, tax collectors have had a more dangerous job than being a soldier. The emperor was gone by the time I was born, but I've always heard rumors of United Provincials tax officials found dead in the wilderness."
"Is your hometown that wild?" Winters laughed heartily. As someone raised in the city, he had never heard of merchants or craftsmen rebelling over taxes to the point of death—excluding sovereign wars, since sheriffs and city guards could handle any citizens who didn't want to pay taxes.
"The Federated Provinces Republic was founded by city militias, so the government's control over rural areas isn't strong, and they lack interest in the countryside," Bard said, still with a slight smile on his face.
As someone who grew up in the countryside, attended a military academy in the city, and was well-educated, Bard's understanding of the political system of the United Provincials was far deeper than Winters'. "For citizens, the Alliance forces broke the emperor's shackles, allowing cities to develop freely. But in rural areas, the Federated Provinces Republic inherited all the rights of the old nobility—what was there before, remains. So for ordinary farmers like my parents, it's just a change of emperor."
"It's still different," Winters instinctively wanted to argue upon hearing his friend seemingly criticize the Alliance Country. To him, the Alliance, the militia alliance army, stood for Marshal Ned, General Antoine Laurent, and was not to be tarnished. But he didn't understand politics and couldn't immediately think of any counterargument.
"Hahaha, indeed, it's somewhat different," Bard said, seeing that Winters was struggling to find a difference. He began to counter his own point, "After all, the Republic did abolish demeaning noble privileges like the marriage tax, so it's not without progress. But when it comes to economic rights, the government is uncompromising."
"Right, there are changes," Winters said, his typically optimistic nature shining through. Being naively unaware of what a "marriage tax" was, he added, "Any progress is a good thing, right? What ever happens overnight?"
Hearing the tax officers had boarded, the acting captain of the Bandit Gull hurried out of the cabin, trying his best to imitate his old leader, scurrying forward with a bowed back and shuffling steps to greet the two customs officers.
"What's being carried on this ship?" one of the tax officers asked curtly, holding the ledger. He had seen too many such sycophantic performances to be affected by them anymore.
"Tobacco, and sugar," the acting captain answered, while stuffing packets and parcels into the tax officer's arms. "Try our fine tobacco, and the sugar, white like clouds. Have a taste."
"What are you doing? Trying to bribe me?" the tax officer snapped, not accepting the items offered. He thought to himself how clueless this man was, offering a bribe in full public view.
His demeanor grew even worse, "You dare try to bribe a tax officer, want to lose your hand? Don't pull this useless stunt! Take me to review the cargo. You do know the tax rates, right?"
Scared sweat poured from the acting captain at the tax officer's words. Bribery of an officer was legally punishable by amputation of the right hand, but the portly captain had done this every time, and his chubby hand still intact, had something gone wrong on his end? Hearing the tax officer inquire about the rates, he answered hurriedly, "Yes, yes, I know."
"Sea Blue Port doesn't take goods in kind, you understand?"
"Take me to check the cargo."