When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 723: Sugar Smuggling in Dawn Island
The defenders of Gravel Plain were still struggling in the ice, snow and cold, but if you looked west, through the forests and hills of the Thorn Garden to the banks of the Nauan River, it was already spring and flowers were blooming.

The Noli Mountains and the Gravel Plains to the north of the Garden of Thorns squeezed out a Roaring Corridor between the Furnace Plateau, which is the Bear Castle Territory.

The wind from the ice sea crossed the strait, but could not enter the great plains of the Kingdom of Leia and the Kingdom of Fran. It could only roar in the Roaring Corridor carrying ice and snow.

The sea breeze from the Xilan Sea and the Emerald Sea can wrap the warm current and blow freely across the golden plains of this fertile land.

Not long after the people on Dawn Island put on their winter clothes, they changed into cheap flange OEM clothes produced in Qianhe Valley.

This rough and simple but cheap ready-made clothing was favored by a large number of middle and lower class citizen craftsmen.

They wanted to wear cheap and durable clothes, but also wanted to distinguish themselves from ordinary farmers.

So naturally, it became a hot commodity in the market and a product that was strongly boycotted by the guild.

This is especially true in Fort Virginis, the largest city on Dawn Island.

In city ordinances posted everywhere, one can see the hatred and contempt of the Tailors Guild, the Clothing Guild, and the Sugar Guild for "inferior counterfeit" ready-made clothes.

But economic laws never change because of personal wishes.

The reeds in the tributaries of the Nauan River sway in the spring breeze.

The withered yellow reed stalks that have not yet recovered from winter trembled spasmodically in the twilight. The sour smell of fermented humus was pierced by a strange smell of rust.

A flat-bottomed barge slowly emerged from the reeds, its oars soaked in river water scraping against the rib-shaped planks, and the shoulder blades of the twelve rowers rising and falling like waves.

But behind the reeds, there were pairs of eyes watching closely.

The one-eyed Viscount Laville turned his head and whispered to the people behind him, "Here they come. Be careful at the outposts outside. If you see any suspicious people, be sure to report them."

"Don't worry." Seven or eight ragged refugees bent over and rushed through the reeds.

Using a cane with a vague noble family crest engraved on it to push aside the reeds, the barge slowly came to a stop, and a man in a short velvet cloak stood at the bow and gestured to Ravel.

"Long time no see, Your Excellency the Viscount." The man in the cloak took off his hat and turned around twice.

The one-eyed man in front of him is the former viscount of Leia, or the bankrupt viscount.

In fact, the title of Viscount does not exist among traditional feudal nobles. They only have three levels: Duke, Earl and Baron.

Viscount has always been a courtier position conferred on the Duke, equivalent to a hereditary official title.

A strong viscount can suppress an earl, while a weak viscount is not even as good as a knight.

Viscount Klavier, as a former viscount of the manor, helped several dukes of Dawn Island to manage the manors and palaces in Windmill Land.

But since the opening of Windmill Land, local grain prices have plummeted, prices of goods have skyrocketed, and all five estates of Viscount Ravel's father's generation went bankrupt.

So, Viscount Ravel moved his house from the inner city of Fort Virgines to the outer city, and made a living by robbing and looting with the bandit knights.

But his title as a viscount still exists in the House of Heraldry, so the cloaked man still has to call him Lord Viscount.

Viscount Laville was not so polite. He brought a dozen private soldiers and refugees and rushed to the cloaked man: "Where is the goods?"

The cloaked man smiled indifferently and stepped aside.

A lame boy rushed out of the cabin, staggering out holding a pottery jar, and accidentally bumped into the boat nail.

From the cracked space, white frosting cascaded onto the diving board, causing Ravel great distress.

He raised his chin, and immediately a refugee pounced on him, greedily licking the icing on the plank with his tongue.

"How about it?"

“Hiss, oh, oh, oh.” The skinny refugee rolled his eyes and twitched all over. He exhaled a breath of fresh air after a long time. “It’s very pure.” Ravel nodded, his greasy beard shaking up and down. “Anything else?”

Before the cloaked man could say anything, another boatman came out with a bundle of ready-made clothes, the bundles of clothes were sticky with indigo dye.

The cloaked man pulled out a skinning knife, and the sack wrapped in clothes slid off under the knife like a snake shedding its skin.

The indigo dye glowed like phosphorescence in the twilight, and thirty shoddily made knight's jackets suddenly unfolded.

The collar, where silver thread should have been sewn, was covered with coarse linen thread like a centipede, and the rose on the left lapel looked like a cornflower.

"The latest style." The man in the cloak picked up one and shook it. "A beggar from the Thousand Valley could sneak into the lord's wedding wearing it, but the guild masters from Dawn Island would burn down their entire warehouse for it."

Ravel was an expert in this area. He reached out and touched it and knew that it was the best Thousand River Valley Krasbu, which was large in quantity and cheap.

"How is it? Are you satisfied?" The cloaked man laughed, and his cloak trembled. "If you are satisfied, can I inspect the goods?"

"This is damaging our Leia guild." Viscount Lavelle stared at the cloaked man with complicated eyes, "Another Farlan conspiracy."

"You can't say that. Didn't the Leia people wear cheap, fitted clothes? Didn't you make a huge profit from it?"

Viscount Laville's face was suddenly full of confusion. As a Leia noble, he absolutely despised what he had done.

The Thousand River Valley produced cheap white sugar and ready-made clothes, which the Franks did not consume themselves but instead transported from the Nauan River to Laia for sale.

These cheap cloth, paper, sugar and ready-made clothes became popular in Laiya within three months.

The various guilds, town halls, and the Royal Court of Leia issued prohibitory decrees.

But one piece of locally produced garment can buy two or three pieces of garments from Qianhe Valley, so everyone knows what to do.

Perhaps in the face of the invasion of Thousand Valley ready-made garments, these guilds even made rare concessions and allowed tailors to subsidize their families.

Of course, if you sew two pieces of clothing and sell them, you can supplement your family income, but if you sew three pieces, you will be a Thousand River Valley Shorthair.

"My Lord Viscount, the patrol will be here soon according to the schedule." Before Ravel could hesitate to come up with a result, the refugees around him reminded him.

There was no chance to hesitate now. Viscount Laville sighed and took out a bag of gold pounds: "Half of the money, I'll give you the remaining half after you unload the goods."

"We believe in your credit." The man in the cloak pressed his hat, and the boatmen began to carry the goods.

And Ravel gave a low cry, and thirty steps away, sixteen pack horses were being dragged out of the mud flats, snorting.

The white sugar was squeezed and made a crisp sound like the snow breaking the pine branches, and the saddlebag of the packhorse was gradually bulged into an angular lump by the clothes.

When the last piece of clothing was loaded onto the horse's back, the Nauan River was about to fall into darkness, which was the best cover for the smuggling boats.

"It's a pleasure to work with you." The man in the cloak extended his hand.

Viscount Ravel also extended his right hand with the missing little finger: "Happy cooperation."

When the iron knuckles were about to touch the silver ring of the man in the cloak.

A strange sound rang in everyone's ears: "Shh!"

The sound of the crossbow arrow piercing through the body was like tearing a piece of oil-soaked silk.

On the other side, the blood bursting from the cloaked man's neck was more colorful than the mink wool. His action of trying to cover the wound happened to push the silver ring into the broken blood vessel.

"Patrol, it's a patrol!"

(End of this chapter)