When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1091 You are not allowed to pass
The bow of the ship broke through the sea surface, and the red algae scattered like disturbed blood snakes.

Beneath the surface, there are countless fluorescent jellyfish.

Those translucent creatures glowed with a scarlet light, chewing greedily with red algae in their mouths.

As the waves gently swayed, they dyed the waters of Moonlight Bay a strange crimson red.

Since they were not flying the flag of any high-ranking clan, the Holy Alliance's spice ships had to remain anchored offshore, waiting.

Layers of gray clouds filled the sky, and sea fog rose, carrying a fishy smell.

The spice barge rested quietly in this area, its hull rising and falling gently with the waves.

The flags on the mast hung stickily, seemingly suffocated by the oppressive gloom of the overcast sky.

Tax collectors from the dock would arrive in small boats, board the ships to inspect the goods, and stamp them to determine the tax amount.

Goods bearing the seal can only be taxed by higher-ranking clans; otherwise, it would be considered a slap in the face to the seal-bearing clan.

Danio wasn't just sitting idly in his position during this period; he did do some research.

However, his studies stopped there. He was completely clueless about what each stamp meant, how to reduce taxes on stamps, and how to pass cargo inspections.

At this moment, he could only silently pray that the tax collectors wouldn't cause any trouble and that he could complete the task smoothly.

He held onto the gunwale and could see a small black boat moving back and forth between the boats in the distance.

It was very fast, and the tax collectors were quite efficient; they could arrange a ship very quickly.

"Strange, it was sunny just now, how come it turned cloudy as soon as we got here?" Ezuan muttered to himself, leaning on the gunwale and looking at the leaden sky.

The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, hit his face and was a bit colder than the wind from the Chains of Ventura, making him instinctively tighten his collar.

Picking up the brass binoculars, Ezuan aimed them at the distant coastline.

Within the narrow, circular field of vision, the first thing one sees is a ring-shaped mountain range.

Closer still, there's a hazy mist, but within the mist stand the silhouettes of a continuous stretch of Gothic architecture.

Pointed arches and slender columns, towering towers, appearing and disappearing in the mist.

As for the source of the smoke, it was dozens of towering chimneys, which were continuously spewing out thick, gray-black smoke.

The thick smoke gathered in the sky, like a huge curtain, completely blocking out the sunlight.

It's amazing that the sea breeze couldn't disperse the cloud cover.

“What’s with those chimneys?” Ezuan put down his binoculars, his brow furrowed. “They don’t look like ordinary workshop chimneys. Danio, you must know what’s going on!”

Danio leaned against the ship's railing, coughed, and gave a meaningful smile: "How can you casually comment on her ancestral land in front of others?"

Paolina, who was also waiting on the deck, flapped her wings slightly and explained with a smile: "Vampires are born with an aversion to sunlight. Not only will they feel uncomfortable all over, but they will also be unable to cast spells."

Prolonged exposure to strong light can even burn the skin.

Taking a step forward, she pointed to the chimneys: "So the cities of the Flesh and Blood Kingdom are mostly built in foggy, sunless places—deep valleys, lakesides, or foggy coastal fortresses like this."

These chimneys are actually a special kind of necromancy, specifically used to burn bones and wood to create smoke and block out the sunlight.

“I see.” Ezuan suddenly understood, but quickly frowned again. “But the royal territory is so vast, there must be some places that can’t be completely sheltered from the sun, right? What about those places?”

“Or entrust it to the daytime agents.” Paolina tried hard to recall the story her grandfather told her before going to bed. “To put it bluntly, they are tax farmers, mostly humans or alien races that are not afraid of sunlight.”

They managed the territory and collected taxes for the royal court, keeping a portion for themselves as payment.

Or hand them over to the ogre warlords; those monsters can move around in the sunlight.

If you give them enough benefits, they will defend their territory very well.

She paused, then continued, "In some remote and impoverished areas, we simply leave them to fend for themselves, letting the local tribes and villages live or die as they please. Of course, this excludes the most important transportation routes—those places will have underground or mountain fortresses built, with dedicated personnel stationed there to ensure the trade routes remain open."

“Oh—” Esuan drawled out, finally figuring out the key points.

He turned to look at Danio, only to find that the other man was also nodding, with the same look of sudden realization on his face.

Ezuan couldn't help but admire Danio in his heart; he was quite a gentleman!

How could he not know that knowledge of the culture and geography of the royal court was a required course at Clayton Business School?

Just then, two small boats rowed over from the shore, with two tax collectors dressed in black woolen clothing standing at the bow.

They wore tricorn hats, leather armor, and longswords at their waists; their faces were even more somber than the gloomy sky.

They look like blood slaves, or humans whose faces are pale because of the overcast weather.

The small boat approached the spice ship, and one of the tax collectors grabbed a rope ladder and nimbly climbed up.

The people on the ship immediately fell silent, and all eyes turned to Danio.

Ezuan nudged his arm quietly: "It's up to you now."

Paolina also stepped aside, clearly intending to let him handle everything.

Danio took a deep breath and stepped forward with a stiff upper lip.

"Whose ship is this?"

He forced a smile as natural as possible and spoke in Baroque, the language he had learned throughout his life: "Good day, esteemed gentlemen. I am a traveling merchant from the Empire. You have had a long journey. May I ask what brings you here?"

To his surprise, the tax collector knew the Imperial language. He looked at him with disgust: "Are you a bard? You speak such simple Baroque so nauseatingly. I know Imperial!"

“That’s great. We are free merchants, here to trade spices.”

The tax collector nodded: "Then you are not allowed to enter the port."

Danio was prepared; he took a cloth bag from the box behind him and handed it over.

But the tax collector only glanced at it and took half a step back, making it clear that he was going to refuse.

Danio's heart skipped a beat, and he quickly added, "Please tell me why we can't enter the port. This is spice, genuine Black Snake Bay pepper."

"Spice?" The tax collector's eyes lit up, and he pulled his foot back from the rope ladder.

He took the bag, weighed it in his hand, opened it, and smelled it. The seriousness on his face softened a bit: "It's not that we're deliberately making things difficult for you; something terrible has happened in the royal court."

The Thetis clan in the north launched a coup, and now the northern rebels are locked in a fierce battle with the allied forces of the southern clans.

He lowered his voice and leaned closer: "The city is cracking down hard now, afraid that spies might sneak in."

No one is allowed to enter Hong Kong unless guaranteed by a local business.

Danio's heart sank, and he asked again, "What about the Windmill Land Merchants' Alliance in the city? They should be able to vouch for us."

The tax collector scoffed and shrugged: "Those guys were expelled by royal orders a while ago for selling military intelligence."

Now we can't even find a trace of him; who knows where he's gone.

“This…” Ezuan couldn’t help but step forward, his tone urgent, but he still tried to control his temper. “Sir, do you know where they went? We have a very important business to discuss with them.”

The tax collector weighed the spice bag in his hand, glanced at the distant coastline, and finally mumbled, "Never mind, I'll give you directions."

"You should head south. There's no fighting there, and the ports are less guarded. You might find the person you're looking for there."

(End of this chapter)