Chapter 1245: The Great Immigration

White reined in at the dock’s edge and let the wagon creak to a stop.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, addressing the dozen people wedged onto his bench seats and running boards, “we’ve arrived. Whatever life you left behind, your new one starts today. Good luck to you — it’s been my privilege to be of service. And as a courtesy, I can offer one additional service before you go.”

He held the reins loose across his knee. Business had been excellent since the Graycastle ships arrived. Two runs a day from the surrounding towns and cities, ten silver royals per run, paid by the Graycastle men rather than the passengers. He needed only to present his stamped travel document at the sentry post and collect. The counting was done by head, the payment was prompt, and no one had yet delayed a single coin.

He could have done a third run at night if he had been willing to abuse his horse. He was not. Still, the income had already surpassed anything the church had ever offered him, and the stamped documents kept coming because the demand never slackened — every day more people came pouring south into the Kingdom of Wolfheart, and every day more people needed to reach the port.

Many others had discovered the same opportunity. Sailors, day laborers, anyone who could borrow a vehicle. They did not need customers because the customers found them. White did not worry about competition. He worried about distance, because the farther the townships, the worse the margins.

He studied the crowd around the dock: the registration lines threading between iron bars, the Graycastle soldiers in their identical uniforms, the ships that kept arriving and loading and departing with mechanical regularity. The King of Graycastle did not seem to care what kind of person boarded those ships. Rich or destitute, young or ruined — the terms were the same for everyone.

White had heard the rumors about the war in the north. He had also heard from Smarty that Baron Jean Bate, lord of the Sedimentation Bay, was moving his personal property to a ship in what looked very much like a private evacuation. When lords started loading ships, wars were no longer rumors.

So: earn while the earning lasted, then retreat. Simple arithmetic.

“What kind of service?” a voice asked.

“Useful experience,” White said, gesturing toward the dock’s registration area. “I’ve worked this port since before the Graycastle ships came. I know the system. The departure schedules. What the registration clerks are looking for. The second screening.” He paused to let that last word land. “A detail the Graycastle guides don’t volunteer.”

“Tell us, then.”

“One silver royal. It’s not much — and considering I didn’t charge you for the ride…”

From the corner of his eye he caught a snort. A well-dressed man with brown hair — middle-aged, diminished noble judging by the clothes, reduced to sharing a wagon with commoners — looked at him with the expression of someone who had played this game before and found it quaint.

“One silver royal,” the noble repeated. “The classic Rat’s gambit, executed with rather less flair than usual.” He snapped his fingers at his servant. A coin appeared, placed in White’s hand.

Another pause. Then, at the back of the wagon, a young man reached into his coat with visible hesitation. He produced a coin. Set it in White’s palm.

White waited. No one else moved. He was about to say his piece when the young man spoke instead.

“Stay,” he said to the other passengers. “I’ll share this with you. No charge.”

White went still.

“I paid for the information,” the young man continued, his voice carrying a mild formality that didn’t match the threadbare condition of his coat. “That doesn’t mean I can’t tell others what I learn. If you want to take issue with that” — he looked at White directly — “consider: you’ve already gained two silver royals. If you refuse to speak, you lose one of them. If you speak, everyone benefits and you keep both. The information reaches the port either way.”

White opened his mouth. Closed it.

The noble made a small sound of contempt. “What an astonishing waste of time. You’ve managed to argue yourself into doing his work for free. Congratulations. Can we proceed?”

White looked at the young man for a long moment. The argument was airtight and he hated it. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. All of you — stay.”

He told them everything. How the registration clerks moved fast and didn’t like embellishment — name, criminal record, skills, and done. How being literate was worth more at the desk than any title. The departure schedules at each trestle number. What to do with children and no papers. The second screening he emphasized most: a witch would assess new arrivals for honesty, and anyone who had falsified their application would carry a mark that followed them into every job search they made in Graycastle. Noble standing offered no protection there. On the contrary, parading rank tended to work against you; the Graycastle men had no patience for it. Anyone who could read and write, or had a useful skill, would not struggle.

As his passengers dispersed into the dock crowd, the young man lingered at the wagon step.

“Thank you,” he said simply. “That will save people real trouble.”

“Don’t mention it.” White bit the stem of his pipe. “Those people won’t thank you. They’re already gone.”

The young man shrugged. “That’s all right.”

“It isn’t. That’s my point.” White looked at him sideways. “Stop being so eager to give things away, son. Especially now. Someone will use it against you eventually.”

He said it without cruelty — from memory, more than anything else. He had been that person once. The kind who helped without calculating. It had cost him a leg.

“Perhaps,” the young man said, as though he was genuinely considering it rather than dismissing it. “But it’s my duty as a knight.”

White laughed — a short, weathered sound. “When did you last see an actual knight? Not the storybook version.”

“Everyone doing it doesn’t mean it’s right.”

“Yes?” White raised his brows. The man looked serious. “Are you actually a knight?”

“Not knighted, no. My father was, but he…” The sentence stopped there.

White understood that kind of trailing-off. A man with nothing left but a name he had not earned. He waved his hand. “I’m not interested in your family history. What’s your name?”

The young man raised his head. “Manfeld Castein.”

“Mr. Castein.” White exhaled a slow stream of pipe smoke and swung himself up onto the horse. “One last piece of information. No extra charge.” He looked down. “There are no knights in Graycastle.”

He clicked the horse forward and left the dock without looking back.

Chapter 1245: The Great Immigration

Translator: Transn Editor: Transn At the Sedimentation Bay in the Kingdom of Wolfheart. White drove his wagon into the busy dock area. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve arrived at our destination. No matter what life you used to lead, you’ll have a brand new life from today onwards. I wish every one of you good luck. It has been a priviledge being of your service! Now, I can offer you one more additional service as a courtesy,” White said as he reined in his horse. His business had been pretty good recently. After the arrival of the Graycastle ships, he had obtained more business opportunities, especially of short-distance transportation services. Every time he transported residents in the surrounding towns and cities to the port, he could earn around 10 silver royals, and normally, he could do that twice a day. He could have offered another ride at night had he not cared too much about the condition of his wagon. In that case, he would actually earn a little bit more than what he had got back in the church. Further, the compensation was not paid by the passengers but by the Graycastle men. He only needed to stamp on the traveling document before he proceeded to the sentry post to request for his remuneration. The compensation was based on the number of the passengers he carried, and the Graycastle men had never delayed any payment. Because of this, many people at the Sedimentation Bay started to provide similar transportation services, including sailors and handymen. Even though a lot of them did not know how to maneuver a carriage, they could ask someone who did to join them. The service was in such a high demand that they did not really need to worry about attracting customers. It was a job that allowed people to earn quick money. The only factor they needed to consider about was the traveling distance, as the farther the towns were, the higher expenses it would incur. Graycastle men would like to offer help to anyone who was willing to leave the Kingdom of Wolfheart, both rich and poor. Apparently, the King of Graycastle did not really care about money. White thus did not want to lose such a lucrative business opportunity. Everybody loved money. White had also heard of the war in the north. There was suddenly a huge influx of refugees in the Kingdom of Wolfheart, so the rumor could possibly be true. Also, Smarty had told him that the lord of the Sedimentation Bay, Baron Jean Bate, transferred a large number of his personal properties to a ship, in an apparent attempt to leave this place. In consideration of these recent events, White also had to find a retreat for himself. If he could earn a huge sum of money now, he would be able to live a better life in the future. “What kind of service?” someone asked immediately. “Some useful experience and kind advice,” White answered as he pointed at the port where a great number of large ships docked. “Look over there. Although everyone wants to leave for Graycastle, not everyone will have a pleasant journey. I had been at the Sedimentation Bay before they came here, so I know a lot. Perhaps, my advice could help you.” “Then… please tell us…” “Sure, but you have to pay me. Not much. One silver royal would do.” White knew poor people did not really care about what kind of situation they were venturing into. They only needed to be fed and clothed. Therefore, he mainly targetted at refugees who had a little bit of savings. They loved to hear little tips and advice. Since White did not charge much, and they did not even pay for the ride, they did not mind buying the information. Because White used to be that kind of person too. “Haha, that’s a game that Rats normally play,” a well-dressed man with brown hair sneered. “But this man is obviously not as daring as Rats. One silver royal only. Here you go.” Soon, the servant beside the man handed White the money. White smiled stiffly. It appeared that the man was a noble, a diminished noble actually, for he had to now share a wagon with civilians. “… Here’s my payment,” another young man said hesitantly and produced a silver royal from his pocket. White waited for a while. It appeared that only two people were willing to pay, but it was better than nothing. He then decided to let the customers go. Just at that moment, the young man said to the other passengers, “Don’t go just yet. I’ll share the information with you for free.” “Hey, what did you say?” White stiffened. “I paid,” the young man swelled up. “I paid for your information, but it doesn’t mean I can’t retell it to someone else. What? Anything wrong here?” “You—” “You probably want to bail out, but you won’t benefit anything from it. Even if I share the information to everyone at the port, it won’t affect your future business. However, you’ll lose one silver royal if you choose not to say.” White’s lips parted. He suddenly did not know how to respond to such a sharp argument. “You thickhead. You can do whatever you want. Why did you tell him?” the noble protested irritably. “You’re wasting our time.” “I’m not doing anything wrong. I have nothing to hold back,” the young man said flatly. “I think it’s unfair not to let the coachman know.” “Fair?” the noble echoed while casting a scornful glance at the young man as he looked at a fool, and then turned to White. “Oi, leave that man alone. I paid you. Are you telling me or not?” White glared at the young man. He had to amit that the young man was right. “Alright, alright. I’ll say. What bad luck… you guys stay here. I’ll tell you all.” Then White related the information he knew to his passengers. He told them what kind of people Graycastle men preferred, the departure time of the ships, some details they needed to pay attention to upon registration, as well as the second screening after their arrival. White particularly placed emphasis on the second screening process, for this was the information he had obtained from the soldiers and that the guide of the First Army would not reiterate. According to the Graycastle men, witches would partake in the second screening to detect lies. Once a person misrepresented in his application, he would be labeled as a “dishonest” man, and it would be a lot harder for him to find a decent job. Apart from that, the noble status would not give them any privilege. On the contrary, people in Graycastle hated those who always boasted about their noble status, so it would be more advisable to keep a low profile. As long as one could read and write, or have a specific skill, he did not need to worry about his life there. “Thank you for your kind reminders,” the young man said to White as he got off the coach at last. “This did save us a lot of trouble.” “Bah, don’t mention it. You paid me,” White grumbled and smoked his pipe deeply. “Those people should thank you, but they’re all gone.” “Young man, don’t always try to be nice, especially nowadays… Otherwise, people will take advange of you someday.” ( Updated by BOX NOVEL.COM) He used to be like that too. However, he had got nothing for being nice but only a fake leg. “Perhaps, but this is my duty as a knight.” “Haha, do you think I’ve never seen a knight? Or are you saying the knight on a book? Forget it. The last time I’ve heard of a knight was when I drank with a Rat in a tavern.” “Everyone doing it doesn’t mean it’s right.” “Yes?” White said as he raised his brows. The man looked serious. “Are you a knight?” “Er… No, I’m not knighted, but my father was, but he…” White gave the young man a look of comprehension. He now understood that this man had nothing but an ambitious dream. White waved his hand and said, “I’m not interested in your family. By the way… what’s your name?” The young man immediately raised his head and replied, “Manfeld Castein.” “OK, Mr. Castein,” White said as he exhaled a pipe of smoke and clambered onto the horseback. “An additional piece of information for you. There’s no knight in Graycastle anymore.”