Chapter 31: The Caravan

Chapter 31: The Caravan

Trailing the Delegation by several days came a huge Caravan, flaunting themselves everywhere. The most hateful part was their refusal to pay lawful taxes. This time, Bran was preparing to give these people a thorough lesson on paying taxes according to the law.

Disorder and chaos were the impression the Northlands gave most people. Bran wanted to change that. He borrowed all his Sister’s and brother’s Attendants, and also recruited a bunch of idle people from the Castle – mostly sons of this Knight or nephews of that Knight. After their Coming-of-Age Ceremonies, they hung around the Castle day in and day out. Besides daily martial training, they were mostly idle. As the reserve force of the Northlands’ top fighters, matters on the surface had little to do with them.

What Bran did was demarcate specific areas and collect management fees according to zone boundaries, while giving these idle young men and women in the Castle something to do. Given the backward transportation conditions, Bran didn’t expect much profit. Commercial fortunes are built on abundant population and convenient transportation. With primitive oxcarts and packhorses, and limited carrying capacity, it’s hard to quickly accumulate funds. Merchants coming here mostly traded by barter; these wicked merchants exchanged cheap textiles for fine furs, and still picked and chose relentlessly. Bran had to set rules for them – the goods were dead on arrival. Wishing to demand exorbitant prices freely this time was out of the question.

The Duke never dealt with these merchants. In fact, most Northlanders didn’t interact with them, which meant the Caravans that slipped into the Northlands with the Delegations had the attitude of ‘don’t open for three years, but prosper for ten when you do’. Caravans able to enter the Northlands alongside the Delegation had backing from powerful Nobles, so they inevitably had some arrogant, luxurious airs, especially evident among some of their guards.

Accustomed to the Northlands’ lax state, where there had been no customs tariffs or city entry taxes, this Caravan had galloped in unimpeded and carefree. But the good days were over. Today, the Caravan encountered Bran’s checkpoint. A large banner stood by the road with simple characters: ‘Pay Tax to Pass’. Under it was a table, a chair, and Danny along with three other Attendants stood flanking Bran. Twenty Northlander youths, arms folded, stood behind them. Oh, and his cat lay on the table, seemingly quite enjoying the sunlight.

Habits are immensely powerful and hard to suppress. Even reasonable or customary actions met with immense resentment and resistance.

A leading manager from the Caravan walked up to Bran. With a brief acknowledgement, he said, “The Northlands have never levied taxes. May I inquire how this tax is collected?” Bran looked up at this middle-aged man, polished remarkably smooth by worldly experience. Even facing a child, he remained carefully cautious.

“Ten percent.” Danny answered in Bran’s stead.

The manager bowed slightly and retreated cautiously. “I will prepare accordingly.”

Not long after the manager retreated, unease spread through the crowd. Then, arranged by instigators, some caravan guards gradually gathered at the front, and shouting erupted.

One yelled, “This isn’t fair! We’ve never had to pay tax!”

Another shouted, “If push comes to shove, we’ll turn back!”

Despite the clamor opposite, Bran’s side remained silent. Bran tugged Danny’s hand. Seeing her lean down, he whispered, “How many can each of us fight?” Facing the large combined Caravan, their mere twenty-plus Northlanders seemed way too few.

Danny smiled. It was that unique Northlander smile brimming with disdain and scorn for life and death. She disdained to answer Bran’s question and straightened up.

…

Perhaps it was their silence, or perhaps Bran’s act of pulling Danny’s hand just then – interpreted as cowardice – gave the Caravan the wrong signal. A loud cry rose: “Charge past them!” A bare-chested, heavily scarred brute, shield raised, charged straight at Bran. Several others followed close behind.

Danny stepped forward. Her Single Blade flashed from her waist with a faint whistle. The charging brute possessed good reflexes; he blocked the blade light with his shield just in time. But the expected impact never came. Like a shadow, the blade light flashed past. Danny’s stride didn’t falter. Blade light crisscrossed as she passed through the group and appeared behind them. Then, Danny drew another Single Blade and walked towards the rest of the Caravan, a Single Blade in each hand.

A breath later, the figures that had lunged at Bran slowly began to separate. The cries of those not instantly killed reached everyone’s ears.

Confronted with the tall Northlander woman now right before them, everyone in the Caravan sharply drew breath and scrambled backward chaotically. Panic spread as everyone desperately tried to get away from this fear-inducing figure.

Looking back at Bran’s group, the ones with folded arms kept them folded. The protectors beside Bran remained perfectly still, impassively watching the scene.

The huge crowd made trying to back away from the front ranks incredibly difficult and nearly impossible to achieve. Several exposed guards sensed the danger. Their life spent licking blood off blades spurred them to instinctively raise their swords. Sadly, this bravery didn’t earn them or their comrades a pause or a chance to live. Instead, it became their death warrant…

Finally, the timid and cowardly were the first to throw down their weapons and drop face-down on the ground. Finally, some remembered the Northlands legends: that once battle began, Northlanders would kill everyone who dared pick up a weapon, everyone who dared stand before them. Following the Delegations had been too smooth these past several cycles; they had forgotten the warnings and lessons of their forebears. Now, amid the approaching slaughter, everyone finally remembered. More and more people threw themselves to the ground until no one remained standing in sight.

Years of freely roaming other lands had made these merchants forget why they dared only enter the Northlands alongside the Delegation. Time erases everything and builds habits. So entering the Northlands with the Delegation every three years became a routine habit, the original purpose completely forgotten.

Seeing no one left standing before her, Danny sheathed her blades. Like a lioness surveying her Territory, she calmly strolled back.

Looking at Danny nearby and then back at the group of young men and women with folded arms just watching the excitement, Bran felt he had brought too many people today. Another thought arose in his mind: Was this the power gained in the Coming-of-Age Ceremony?

…

The Caravan members still lay prostrate. Bran decided to let them stew there longer to learn the lesson well.

For now, Bran stood with a group of the Northland men and women, examining the bodies. Not because Bran was peculiar, but because he was curious about the human body’s structure in this World. Thus, Bran finally completed his understanding of human anatomy in this World today.

Guided by several skilled young Northlander anatomy masters, Bran personally participated in the dissection and study of several bodies. Under his tutors’ expert direction, he gained a more comprehensive understanding of human structure and life’s Fragility. The tutors all concluded that Bran was surely a child of the Northlands and would become a true Northlander man.

And the Caravan? They still lay face-down on the ground, exceptionally quiet. Their large gathering seemed more like a chaotic burial ground, with only the occasional snort from a mule or horse breaking the silence.