Chapter 219: Must Have a Reason
Ashley shook her head. “It’s not easy unless Isolde comes to Zloimond.”
“Can you get someone to sneak into Argentum? Spending more money will attract brave men,” Kamari said.
Ashley pondered, then replied, “If you insist, I can think of a way to lure her here.”
“Ashley, I believe you.” Kamari looked at her with admiration. Ashley had always been resourceful, finding solutions to any difficulty. Although she could be his subordinate, she could not be his wife.
Kamari mused, What a pity. With her beauty and intelligence, she is more than qualified to be my concubine. He looked at Ashley, lost in thought.
“How do you plan to lure her?” Kamari asked.
Ashley smiled. “I have my ways, Mr. Conway. Just wait.” With that, she bowed and left.
Hattie, Hazel, and Keith remained in Zloimond, continuing their ascent of the mountain. Little remained to investigate; they were certain they couldn't identify Oliver's corpse amongst the pile. Everyone awaited Isolde's instructions. They had received a letter from Argentum yesterday, personally sent by Doug's guard, instructing them to remain in Zloimond and assigning them a mission.
Currently, launching a campaign against Kamari would be unjustifiable, as he hadn't yet raised an army. Isolde needed a legitimate reason; to wage war against a prince required a justified and unforgivable crime.
In bustling Zloimond, the Twin Bliss Café was always packed, making it nearly impossible to find a seat. Its popularity stemmed not from exceptional pastries or luxurious furnishings, but from its audacious storyteller. With a voice full of fire and conviction, he denounced the realm's injustices, striking at the heart of the people's grievances. His tales stirred the audience—some applauded, others clenched their fists in righteous fury, their blood boiling with the urge to rebel.
Every day, he spent four hours at the Twin Bliss Café, delivering two captivating sessions. The café was always filled to capacity. That day, he was recounting a tale of the so-called golden age under the current king, describing how the monarch's folly—favoring commerce over agriculture—had left the common folk struggling to survive. Worse, the taxes bled from the people fueled endless wars. A ruler obsessed with conquest, he declared, would inevitably lead his nation to ruin.
Finnian Charlie had said this many times before, but today, his fury was particularly intense. He had overheard two soldiers who had entered the city say the king was mobilizing a large-scale army. With border conflicts recently concluded and Pablo having just returned from a triumphant campaign, the kingdom had barely enjoyed a few days of peace before war loomed again. Finnian vehemently opposed it. In the past, his pronouncements had been met with excitement; today was no different, until a sharp voice cut through the air. “I’ve heard that Mr. Charlie is very knowledgeable and highly respected in Zloimond. I didn’t expect you to be a despicable person who speaks nonsense!”
The voice, sharp and acerbic, cut through the wave of indignation, drawing everyone's attention. The speaker, a young man in his early twenties with sharp features, was dressed in a fitted doublet with a high collar. His attire conveyed sharpness and vigor, yet his face now displayed only disdain and disappointment. It was as if he were silently declaring that his former admiration for Finnian was as profound as his current disappointment.
“You brat, how dare you insult Mr. Charlie like this?” A burly man strode from the door towards the young man. This young man was Keith.
Keith sneered. “I’m telling the truth. How can it be considered an insult? Can’t I comment? If that’s the case, Mr. Charlie is a hypocrite.”
Hearing Keith repeatedly denigrate Finnian, the crowd grew angry, urging the burly man to attack him. Goaded, the burly man angrily declared, “If I don’t teach you a lesson, you won’t admit your mistake!” He threw a punch at Keith’s abdomen, but fell himself. Everyone saw only a majestic punch from Keith, followed by the burly man's sudden fall. Someone helped the slightly dazed burly man to his feet. He looked at Keith with confusion, wary and hostile, but hesitant to act.
Finnian sipped his coffee, then slowly asked Keith, “You said I’m spouting nonsense. What basis do you have? If you can point out my lie, I’ll apologize.”
Keith let out a cold laugh. “Very well, Mr. Charlie, don’t blame me for speaking bluntly. You claimed the king favors commerce over agriculture. But hasn't the king significantly reduced agricultural taxes while increasing commercial levies by twenty percent compared to previous years? Isn't that a clear policy to encourage farming? Though, I can’t blame you for not knowing—after all, the people of Zloimond have never had to pay taxes, so naturally, you wouldn’t be aware of it.”
Finnian was taken aback. “Nonsense! What do you mean Zloimond doesn’t pay taxes? Over the years, the Royal Court has imposed increasingly heavy agricultural taxes. The farmers here are barely managing to survive!”
Keith sneered. “You’re wrong, Mr. Charlie. In lands governed by a prince, the crown doesn't collect taxes—taxation is entirely at the prince’s discretion. I’ve only been in Zloimond for a few days, yet even I know the king cherishes his people as if they were his own children. Even when he levies taxes, it’s merely symbolic. How could it possibly be so burdensome that the people are struggling to survive?”
A middle-aged man in simple, worn clothing stepped forward. “That’s nonsense! How could Zloimond not pay taxes? Every spring and autumn, we pay our dues on time. Even in years of drought or disaster, we must find a way to pay, or else our land will be taken—”
Keith cut him off with a mocking laugh. “Oh, spare me your tales. Everyone knows that lands governed by a prince don’t pay taxes to the Royal Court. The king holds mining rights—his coffers fill with silver every day. Why on earth would he need to tax you?”
He found it boring. “There’s nothing special about Mr. Charlie. It’s a wasted trip.” He turned to leave.
“Wait!” Finnian stopped Keith.
Keith turned, asking indifferently, “Mr. Charlie, are you still not convinced? Shall we continue?”
Finnian’s sharp gaze swept across his face as he asked in a low voice, “Was what you said just now true?”
Keith laughed. “Interesting. You can ask anyone for that answer.”