When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist-Chapter 768 - 723: Dawn Island’s White Sugar Smuggling
The garrison of the Shattered Stone Plain was still struggling in ice and cold, but if you looked west, past the forests and hills of Thorn Garden, all the way to the banks of the Nao'an River, it was already a scene of spring blossoms.
To the north of Thorn Garden, the Noli Mountain Range and the Shattered Stone Plain squeezed out a Roaring Corridor between them, which is the Bear Castle Territory.
Winds from the Ice Sea crossed the strait but couldn't enter the great plains of the Leia Kingdom and the Falan Kingdom, only roaring with snow and ice along the Roaring Corridor.
However, breezes from the Xilan Sea and the Jade Sea could freely carry warm air repeatedly over the fertile Golden Plains.
The people of Dawn Island had just donned their winter clothes when they changed into cheap ready-made clothes with the Falan label produced in the Thousand River Valley.
These rough and simplistic but very affordable clothes gained the favor of a large number of middle- and lower-class citizens and artisans.
They wanted cheap and durable clothing while also distinguishing themselves from ordinary farmers.
Thus, they naturally became a hot commodity in the market and a product strongly resisted by the guilds.
This was even more so in the largest city on Dawn Island, Fort Virginia.
Everywhere on the city's public notices, one could see the fury and contempt of the Tailors' Guild, the Hat Guild, and the Sugar Trade Association towards the "inferior counterfeit" ready-made clothes.
But economic laws have never changed because of personal wishes.
The reeds of the Nao'an River's tributary swayed in the spring breeze.
The withered yellow reeds that had not yet recovered from winter trembled spasmodically in the dusk, breaking through the sour smell of decomposing organic matter with a strange scent of rusty iron.
A flat-bottomed barge slowly emerged from the reeds, its water-soaked oars scraping along the rib-shaped planks, while the shoulder blades of twelve oarsmen moved like waves.
Behind the reeds, however, pairs of eyes watched closely.
Viscount Ravel, with one eye, turned his head and whispered to the person behind him, "They're here. Keep the outer sentries alert, report any suspicious individuals."
"Rest assured," seven or eight ragged refugees crouched and dashed through the reeds.
Using a cane engraved with a blurred noble crest to push aside the reeds, the barge had already docked slowly, and a man in a short woolen cape stood at the bow, signaling to Ravel.
"Long time no see, Viscount," the man in the cape took off his hat and twirled it around.
The one-eyed man before him was this area's former Viscount of Leia, or rather, a bankrupt Viscount.
In fact, the title of Viscount did not traditionally exist among landed nobles; they only held ranks of Duke, Count, and Baron.
Viscounts were always positions conferred on courtiers of Dukes, equivalent to hereditary official ranks.
A strong Viscount could suppress a Count, while a weak one might not even be as significant as a Knight.
Yet Viscount Ravel, who was once a manor Viscount, helped the Dukes of Dawn Island manage estates and estates in Windmill Land.
But since Windmill Land opened its port, local grain prices plummeted, inflation soared, and all five estates his father owned went bankrupt.
Thus, Viscount Ravel's house moved from the inner city of Fort Virginia to the outer city, surviving by colluding with Robber Knights for looting.
But as his title of Viscount still resided in the Noble Coat of Arms Institute, the man in the cape still referred to him as Viscount.
Viscount Ravel was not as courteous, bringing along more than ten private soldiers and refugees, and he dashed up to the man in the cape, "The goods?"
The man in the cape smiled nonchalantly and stepped aside.
A lame boy burst out of the cabin, clutching a pottery jar, wobbling as he ran, and suddenly lost his footing, crashing into a boat nail.
Through the split seam, the white sugar cascaded onto the plank like a waterfall, causing extreme distress to Ravel.
He raised his chin, and immediately a refugee pounced over, slavishly stretching out his tongue to lick the sugar on the plank.
"How is it?"
"Ahhh," the emaciated refugee rolled his eyes, his whole body twitching, only exhaling a breath of refreshing air after a long time, "Very high purity."
Ravel nodded, his greasy beard shaking up and down, "And what else?"
Before the man in the cape could speak, another boatman emerged, holding a bundle of ready-made clothes, wrapped in bundle-dyed indigo.
The man in the cape drew a skinning knife, and the burlap covering the clothing package slipped off like a snake shedding its skin.
The indigo dye gleamed with phosphorescence in the twilight, thirty shoddily made Knight jackets suddenly unfolded.
The collar, which should have been stitched with silver threads, was instead overrun with centipede-like coarse hemp threads, and the rose on the left lapel looked more like a cornflower.
"The latest style." The man in the cape picked up a piece and shook it, "In the Thousand River Valley, a beggar wearing it can blend into a lord's wedding, but guild masters on Dawn Island would burn down entire warehouses over it."
Ravel was an expert in this field, as soon as he touched it, he knew this was superior Thousand River Valley Krasibu, abundant and affordable.
"How is it? Are you satisfied?" The man in the cape's cloak trembled as he laughed, "If you are satisfied, may I inspect the goods?"
"This is hurting our Leia people's guild," Viscount Ravel looked at the man in the cape with a conflicted gaze, "Another Falan conspiracy."
"You can't say that. Haven't Leia people worn cheap, fitting clothes? Haven't you profited handsomely from it?"
Viscount Ravel's face twisted suddenly, for, as a noble of Leia, he utterly despised what he was doing.
The cheap sugar and ready-made clothes produced in the Thousand River Valley were not consumed by the Falan themselves but instead shipped through the Nao'an River to be sold in Leia.
These inexpensive fabrics, papers, sugar, and ready-made clothes became hugely popular in Leia over three months.
Each guild, the City Hall, and even the Leia Royal Court issued prohibition laws.
But one domestically made garment could buy two or three Thousand River Valley garments, and everyone knew what to do.
Perhaps even these guilds, for once, allowed tailors to supplement their household income in the face of Thousand River Valley garments' invasion.
Of course, if you sew two garments to sell, it's supplementing your household; three garments, and it's Thousand River Valley short wool.
"Viscount, according to the time, the patrol should be here soon," before Ravel could ponder a conclusion, a refugee beside him reminded him.
Now there was no room for hesitation, Viscount Ravel sighed lightly, took out a bag of gold pounds, "Half the money now, and I'll give you the rest after you unload."
"We trust your credit," The man in the cape pressed down his hat, and the boatmen started unloading.
Meanwhile, Ravel roared softly, and thirty steps away, sixteen pack horses were being pulled out, snorting in the mudflat.
The sugar strained with the sound of accumulating snow breaking under pine branches, and the pack horses' saddlebags bulged sharply with the clothes.
As the final garment was placed on the horse's back, the Nao'an River was about to enter the night, the best cover for a smuggling boat.
"Pleasure working with you," The man in the cape extended his hand proactively.
And Viscount Ravel extended his missing-fingertip right hand in return, "Pleasure working with you."
As the iron finger thimble and the man in the cape's silver ring were about to touch.
A strange sound echoed in everyone's ears: "Whiz!"
The sound of a crossbow arrow penetrating a body was like ripping a piece of oil-soaked silk.
On the other side, the blood spraying from the man's neck was brighter than mink fur; his attempt to cover the wound pushed the silver ring into the ruptured blood vessel.
"The patrol, it's the patrol!"
