Episode 87

Ian arrived at the bank in the heart of Portroga, accompanied by Romandro. It was near the official residence where Moline and his group had stayed, the same neighborhood where Ian had met Filia in the park.

As soon as Ian stepped down from the carriage, the bank manager waiting at the door bowed deeply.

“Lord Ian, good to see you.”

“Good to see you as well. It’s been a while. I hope you’ve been well.”

“I heard there was a deal with Count Merellof and Gula, but is all of this really gold coins?”

The bank manager adjusted his monocle, looking a bit taken aback. It did seem a bit rough to be hauling around large crates filled with gold coins, not exactly like moving ordinary cargo.

“Yes, that’s right. One thousand gold coins.”

“You didn’t pay by check?”

“Exactly. You’d think someone who handles money would have better manners. Tsk, tsk.”

Romandro muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue. If they had just used three gold certificates, they wouldn’t have had to go through all this trouble.

Ian and his servants stepped inside the bank. The sign above read “Haiman Bank,” its surface scratched and worn. Those marks were scars left by the refugees from the Central and Derga battles who had taken shelter here.

“Things have been manageable, I hope?”

“Of course. Thanks to you, my lord, no problems at all.”

Click.

Behind the bank manager, guards clad in black armor approached. These black-armored guards were both the symbol and the security force of Haiman Bank. More than their skill, the armor itself—crafted from magical stones—was a deadly weapon.

“Shall we move them now?”

“Yes, please.”

“Not at all, my lord.”

There were four crates, each holding 250 gold coins, so it usually took two grown men to carry one. But the armored guards lifted two crates at once, one in each hand.

“…!?”

Beric’s reaction was priceless. He froze instantly, his eyes rolling in disbelief. What kind of strength was that? Even the Celestial Tribe wouldn’t be that strong.

“What is that?”

“Oh, Beric, is this your first time seeing them?”

Romandro explained on Ian’s behalf.

“They’re armor made from magical stones. The Haiman Bank’s main branch is in Central, so support arrives quickly there, but in border regions like this, it’s different.”

Still, not just anyone could wear them. Only those who monopolized Bariel’s financial world could afford such a display of wealth. Just one set of that armor alone…

“So that’s why.”

“What?”

“Portroga’s security was the best in Bratz, but even so, thieves wouldn’t dare pee near the bank.”

The armor’s power could crush a person’s skull with ease. It was fire-resistant, shockproof, and even resistant to low-level magic.

“Beric, if anyone had tried to harm the bank, Derga would have killed them before the guards even moved. And if the Central army and Derga had been fighting and a third party threatened the bank, they would have stopped fighting and joined forces to defend it.”

“Is the bank manager some kind of emperor?”

“It’s treated like a sacred sanctuary in Bariel.”

Inside Bariel, it was a third domain. If a mistake was made and a deal rejected, one would have to personally handle the transfer or management of vast wealth, effectively being excluded from the core economic powers.

Of course, that applied mostly to nobles and merchants.

“So if someone had actually robbed the bank during all that chaos, there’d have been less fighting.”

Beric said bluntly, causing the guards to hesitate briefly before realizing he meant no harm and continuing to move the crates.

“Who’d risk their life for that?”

“Besides, since it was used as a refuge, there were crowds right up to the door. If anyone had tried to rob it, they’d have been robbed first.”

The bank manager laughed heartily and brought out some tea. The sofa and table were worn but well cared for. Compared to the banks in Central, Bratz was truly a frontier town—more like a rustic tavern.

“You said it’s a total of one thousand gold coins?”

“That’s right.”

“I’ll need a moment to count. Please have a seat and wait.”

Romandro sipped his tea and glanced around the bank.

“We made about 3,500 gold coins in revenue, so part of the tribute is covered. Taxes will be higher than usual, but the amount is small. Overall, no immediate problems, but next year will be a challenge.”

The problem was that expenses were about to skyrocket.

First, traveling to the capital for the New Year’s gathering would cost money from the moment they left. Then, mingling with the Central nobles would require maintaining a certain level of dignity—and that came with its own expenses.

“Do you know that before becoming a mage from a magic user, only the minimum living expenses are guaranteed?”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“If you don’t mind, why not live with us?”

“Hahaha, but you’re newlyweds, aren’t you?”

“We don’t even sleep in the same room, so it’s no big deal. What do you think?”

“Thank you for the offer, but look—before leaving, we already secured about 40% of the tribute. Everything will be fine, so don’t worry.”

While Ian and Romandro talked, Beric just kept munching on the snacks, clearly unconcerned about money.

“Raising taxes is the easiest and most convenient method, after all.”

“It might be easy for you, but it’s the hardest thing for the peasants. We’ve already raised next year’s tax rate a bit while distributing Gula.”

“Why not just pool more together? If you give them more time, they’ll come up with countermeasures. It’s not like you’re demanding payment by tomorrow.”

Romandro’s advice was met with a weary smile from Ian as he caught his expression.

“You’re not really listening, are you?”

“What do you mean? I was just agreeing with you.”

“No, no—I mean, I have no intention of raising taxes.”

Ian just smiled gently.

It was certainly the easiest and most reliable way, but they had only just begun recovering from the war’s aftermath, and the Gula distribution had just finished preparing for winter.

And above all, once they reached the palace, who knew what Ian’s plans would be…

“There’s no need to add to their burden.”

“You know I’ll be away from the territory for a long time, Romandro.”

“That’s true, but…”

“They’re so focused on surviving winter that they don’t realize that when spring comes, they’ll start having all sorts of negative thoughts.”

A former commoner who became the head of the family, granted a title but never returning, only raising taxes.

People who commit sins even with the gods watching. So imagine how much harder it would be for a lord so far away… The servants in the manor would surely suffer.

“I appreciate your concern, Romandro. Your points are all valid, but this is my stubbornness. Please don’t worry too much.”

Hearing this, Romandro sighed and sipped his tea. While the gold was still being counted, Ian suddenly remembered and looked over at Beric.

“Beric, Count Merellof has a younger sibling who’s holed up in some old mansion in the territory.”

“And?”

“I want you to find out more about them.”

“Ughhh.”

Beric grimaced and kept chewing on the Gula. He was a strange mix—passionate yet lazy.

Clatter.

“Ian, everything’s sorted. We’re just verifying the counterfeit gold coins now. Would you like to sign the certificates first?”

At that moment, the bank manager reappeared from inside, wiping his wet hands with a towel—probably after checking the coins with magical water.

“Go ahead. Any problems?”

“No, none. One thousand gold coins—it’s been a long time since I’ve handled this much. The vault will be full by the time the collection team arrives.”

“The certificates?”

“Please sign here.”

Ian sat on the sofa and lightly signed the documents, officially depositing the gold under his name.

‘…Has he ever done banking before?’

Both Romandro and the bank manager wondered simultaneously but exchanged a knowing glance, assuming they had already explained it to each other.

“All done. Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you. Good work. Within three days, Count Merellof will send an additional 2,500 gold coins. It’d be good to prepare the checks in advance.”

“Ah, understood. Oh! Here’s a notice. Because it’s winter, transport routes are often blocked. Especially the Karenna, Longin, and Zylkuf branches are currently inaccessible. Karenna’s security is so bad that even thieves rob each other.”

“Not sure if I’ll have to go there. Anyway, thanks.”

“Thank you.”

The branch manager bowed deeply, signaling that all business had been completed smoothly. Ian returned to the manor with a light step. Clearly, a hundred sacks was no small matter—everyone was still busy.

“Ian, you’re back.”

“How’s the progress?”

A servant wiped sweat from his brow, glancing at Count Merellof’s group in the back.

“Luckily, thirty sacks were packed in advance, but now they’re all being unpacked and inspected.”

Sorting through each one carefully was tedious and time-consuming. Ian shook his head as he watched Count Merellof fuss over every detail among his subordinates.

“You’re making a lot of trouble.”

“Yes, but we should finish before dinner.”

“Understood. I’ll come down again after I finish my own work.”

As Ian stepped into the mansion, he presented Romandro with a proposal—something related to the roasted gulla that Hana had mentioned.

“Even if Count Mereloff plants gulla today, it’ll take at least a month before it’s ready,” Ian began.

“That’s true,” Romandro agreed.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking: we should allow the sale of gulla in Mereloff. At first, only roasted gulla would be sold, but once Mereloff reaches harvest season, fresh gulla could be sold as well.”

Since Mereloff’s estate wouldn’t produce any gulla immediately, the locals who wanted to eat it would have no choice but to buy from this side. The count probably planned to distribute gulla seeds like Ian had done, then raise the tax rate next year…

“Count, my blood pressure’s about to skyrocket,” Romandro muttered.

But if Ian started selling fresh gulla, the locals would have no reason to accept higher taxes in exchange for rations.

“Don’t worry. Lady Rien will handle it before that happens,” Ian replied.

Romandro gave a hesitant smile, unsure whether he should laugh or not.

“As soon as Count Mereloff leaves the estate, inform the locals that restrictions on trading roasted gulla will be lifted soon.”

“Understood. I’ll do that.”

“And one more thing.”

Ian paused as he was about to head upstairs to his office.

“Have you received any instructions about Lord Morin yet?”

It had been quite some time since the news of his ennoblement arrived. If Prince Marib had any intentions, a letter should have come through the courier by now. Yet strangely, there was no word on how to proceed with Morin’s situation.

“I checked again recently, but all I got was to wait. Seems like they’re just busy with other matters.”

Ian frowned, puzzled. Was something going wrong? He tilted his head, unsettled by the silence.