The Cycle of Fate

Chapter 56: The Stranger

A roughly 3-meter-high gray-white city wall stood ahead, extending to either side until it disappeared from Lumian's view.

Numerous carriages—compartment carriages, four-seaters, open carriages, tandem carriages, and cargo carriages—lined up, waiting to pass through the city gate.

There, uniformed tax officials in blue and police officers in white shirts and black vests inspected each vehicle, occasionally asking pedestrians for identification or to open their luggage.

Holding a brown suitcase, Lumian gazed in that direction, occasionally looking around for a way to avoid the checkpoint.

Before long, a man who had noticed Lumian's behavior approached him.

"What's the matter, friend? You seem troubled."

This man was slightly shorter than Lumian but nearly twice as wide, with cheeks so fleshy that they squeezed his blue eyes into slits.

As he approached, a mix of sweat and cheap cologne assaulted Lumian's nose, causing him to wrinkle his brow.

Lumian pointed at the gate with a puzzled expression and asked, "What are they doing there? Looking for fugitives? But why are they only checking people entering Trier and not those leaving?"

The man, whose yellow hair was somewhat messy and whose blue jacket strained to contain his bulk, sized Lumian up. "My friend, you're from a small city or a village, right?"

When Lumian nodded, the man sighed, "They're collecting taxes! An entry tax!"

"Customs duties to enter Trier?" Lumian asked in return.

The man nodded. "Yeah, the walls surround the entire city of Trier, with 54 gates. Every gate has tax officials and police officers, and they occasionally catch a fugitive or two."

"Do they tax everything?" Lumian asked, intrigued.

The man rubbed his canvas blue jacket. "Almost everything, except grains and flour. They used to tax those too, but a few years ago, after the war, the price of bread in Trier skyrocketed, and many citizens protested and rioted, forcing the government to cancel all food taxes."

"Why don't the drinkers do the same? The taxes on spirits, wine, and champagne are the highest. Many people head to the suburbs on weekends to find small taverns where they can drink untaxed alcohol. They call it 'border booze.'"

"I see..." Lumian nodded thoughtfully.

The man looked around before lowering his voice and saying, "If you've got something you don't want taxed, I can get you into the city for a small fee."

"You're going to bribe them?" Lumian asked, gesturing toward the tax officials and police at the gate with his chin.

The man scoffed, "Their appetites are bigger than an elephant's."

"I'll take you through a checkpoint-free route into the city."

"Isn't the entire Trier surrounded by walls?" Lumian asked, unable to hide his skepticism.

The man chuckled. "You'll see soon enough."

He then adopted a mocking tone and said, "Honorable sir, would you like my services?"

Lumian thought for a moment. "How much?"

"Three ferrkins," the man replied with a warm smile. "If you're willing, we can leave now, and you can pay once we're in the city."

"Alright." Lumian adjusted his dark wide-brimmed hat, picked up his brown suitcase, and followed the stout man away from the city gate.

After a quarter of an hour, they arrived at a hillside where the vegetation and soil had been disturbed, revealing gray-white stones beneath.