Chapter Sixteen: Care

Time flew by like water. Although war raged on the kingdom’s northern borders, with bad news of orcs breaking through the defenses almost daily, the lives of the people in Sepulus seemed unaffected. After all, they were in the southern part of the kingdom, separated by the vast Central Plains, so they didn’t think the orcs could truly break through all defenses and reach the south. Accustomed to peaceful times, the people of Sepulus preferred to see it as a spectacle unrelated to them. Meanwhile, the daily *Homer Morning News* carried more news about the northern battles, becoming the best topic of conversation for the city’s nobles and merchants during meals. At the king’s repeated requests, Duke Philip, after declining several times to send Sepulus’s knight order to the northern front, finally agreed to fund the recruitment of mercenaries for the kingdom’s northern campaigns and donated two million gold shields as military funds for this campaign.

Ramla Resser had been a bit troubled lately, not because of work. As the duke’s chief finance officer, his expertise in finance allowed him to manage the fiscal affairs of the duke’s territory efficiently. The tax revenue in the duke’s territory increased every year, and his skill in budgeting kept necessary expenses under control. Even the picky duchess had to admit that Ramla was an excellent financial manager.

Sitting at the top, looking radiant, was the actual ruler of the Homer region—Duke Philip. His white silk robe was impeccably neat, and the beautiful emblem stamped on his luxurious cowhide belt caught the eye. A sword scabbard adorned with turquoise and lapis lazuli hung beside him, shining brightly, while a red ribbon with golden embroidery draped across his body, signifying his noble status.

Seizing that his finance officer seemed distracted, the duke frowned slightly, his neatly trimmed mustache trembling. “Dear Ramla, you seem a bit unhappy. Is there something on your mind?”

“Oh, Duke, it’s nothing. I was just thinking whether we should raise the tax rate on tobacco leaves. According to the latest research by the renowned medical expert Mr. Helley, smoking is harmful to health. Tobacco leaves contain harmful substances that can damage a person’s throat and lungs. Excessive use of tobacco leaves can even weaken the body’s ability to resist diseases, making one more susceptible to various illnesses. But now, more and more tobacco from the south is flowing into the Homer region, and the city of Sepulus is almost turning into a tobacco city.” Ramla was startled and quickly shifted his focus back to his work.

Before the Duke could respond, a fat man next to him spoke up, “Mr. Ramla, aren’t you exaggerating a bit? Helley is nothing but a bookworm; he doesn’t understand medicine at all. His so-called research findings are worthless. Be careful not to fall for his tricks, Mr. Ramla. From what I know, many people who are actually sick just use smoking as an excuse.”

The fat man was Count Klin, a talkative petty man but a distant relative of the Duke. He had close ties with the tobacco merchants in the city and must have received quite a few benefits from them secretly. Ramla knew he would definitely get involved in this matter.

“Hmm, Ramla, Helley’s research findings cannot serve as a basis for raising taxes. Even if there’s some truth to his findings, smoking is a voluntary act. No one forces them to smoke—it’s their freedom, and we shouldn’t interfere,” said Duke Philip, his expression serious. He also disagreed with his treasurer’s opinion. Raising taxes might increase revenue in the short term, but it could also drastically reduce the flow of this commodity, which might not be a good thing.

Ramla had anticipated such an outcome and wasn’t surprised. He nodded silently without saying more.

The meeting ended quickly. As the nobles and officials began to leave, the Duke called back his treasurer.

“Ramla, I can tell you’ve been preoccupied lately. Is there something wrong?” Philip clearly valued his treasurer greatly and asked in a concerned tone.

“Nothing much. I’ve just been feeling unwell lately. I’m sorry to trouble you,” Ramla hesitated for a moment but avoided the topic. However, his brief hesitation didn’t escape the Duke’s sharp gaze.

“Is it your son who’s in exile returning that’s troubling you?” That casual remark immediately sent shivers through Ramla Reiser’s heart. She raised her gaze to meet his icy eyes.
“Your Grace, my son has indeed returned, but I’ve ordered him to stay at home and reflect on his actions,” the treasurer replied in defeat, lowering his head.
“Ramla, avoidance isn’t the solution. I heard he’s gotten involved with the Luxes and the Modos again. It seems those three are truly persistent.” The duke wore a cold smile; the events of the past still seemed vivid in his mind. His younger daughter’s sorrowful gaze still filled him with rage. Not only had that damned troublemaker returned, but he’d also allied himself with those two again. “By the way, I believe your son is due for his coming-of-age ceremony, isn’t that right?”
Facing the duke’s question, Ramla seemed to grasp the implication in his words. Her facial muscles twitched as she forced a smile. “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you for your concern.”
“Ramla, if your son continues to stay in Sepulus, I’m afraid he’ll bring more trouble to the Reiser family. Have you thought about it? Sometimes indulging him only harms him. Perhaps you should consider giving him a better path forward?” The duke’s smile was eerily sinister, and even the room’s temperature seemed to drop.
Ramla lowered her head again, unable to meet the duke’s once bright and gentle eyes. She knew what he meant. Komer had to disappear—otherwise, even the Reiser family might be dragged down. But Ramla couldn’t think of any better way to deal with her worthless son.
“Ramla, I have a nice piece of land in the south that I’d like to grant to you. Since your son has traveled abroad for a few years, he must have learned a lot. Perhaps living independently would be better for him. How about sending him there to become a lord?” The gentle voice spoke again.
“Your Grace?” Ramla looked up at him, puzzled.
“Caucasus. What do you think?” The duke’s smile was utterly sinister at that moment.