"This town's taxes are the responsibility of my squad. Why? Do you have an objection?"
Moon sized up the Cuckoo Knight before him, his voice cool and steady.
"Objection? How could I? I support you wholeheartedly!"
Seeing Moon address him directly, the Cuckoo Knight shook his head so hard it looked like a rattle. He quickly gave a thumbs-up, signaling that he didn't have a single complaint.
"Even if the Academy had an objection, I wouldn't. As you know, I have always been a staunch supporter of the Royal Family."
The knight rubbed his hands together and bowed slightly, his posture even more sycophantic than it had been when he was speaking to Igor.
Standing to the side, Igor's eyes widened. He clearly hadn't expected this man to be so utterly shameless and spineless. However, Igor didn't share the knight's lack of dignity; he stepped right past the Cuckoo Knight and stood directly in front of Moon.
"I don't care who you are, but I am here representing the Academy to collect the appropriate taxes. So... regardless of who is technically 'in charge' of the collection, you should hand over the Academy's share to me immediately."
Moon narrowed his eyes, turning his gaze toward the Glintstone sorcerer.
His eyes flicked rapidly over the man—taking in his stance, the condition of his palms, and the distance between them.
He reached a swift conclusion: a bookworm. A scholar from the Academy who knew only how to study magic and had no idea how to fight.
The lack of any defensive posture and the careless distance between them proved the man had zero combat awareness. Furthermore, there were no calluses on his hands from long-term handling of a Glintstone staff. It was clear this sorcerer was likely an insignificant character within the Academy's hierarchy.
Realizing this, Moon's interest vanished. He had been hoping for a formidable opponent to help him pass the time while stationed in this boring town.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!"
Seeing Moon's distracted look—as if he weren't even worth noticing—Igor felt a surge of fury.
How dare a mere Carian soldier treat me like this?! He was a noble student of the Raya Lucaria Academy, a recognized sorcerer, not one of those "failed stones" cast out into the dirt!
Anger boiling over, Igor gripped his Glintstone staff tightly. A pale blue light began to glow at its tip.
But before Igor's light could fully manifest, a blade of shimmering blue magic tore through the air with far greater speed. It stopped abruptly, the tip pressing firmly against the soft skin of Igor's throat.
Gulp.
Feeling the slight sting and the trickle of blood where the magic blade met his skin, Igor froze. Extreme tension caused him to swallow hard against the cold edge.
The Cuckoo Knight was startled as well. Then... he stood there, paralyzed by indecision. He couldn't afford to offend either side. Moreover, looking at the situation, he seriously doubted if he could intervene without being carved up like a piece of meat by Moon.
Better him than me, the knight thought. It's that idiot sorcerer's fault for causing trouble anyway. The Academy can't afford to provoke the Royal Family right now. I'll just report back later and play dumb...
"I believe a man's worth lies in his self-awareness. Don't you agree?"
Moon allowed the magical greatsword at the tip of his staff to slowly dissipate. He tilted his head slightly, watching Igor.
Igor's head bobbed frantically in agreement.
Satisfied, Moon released Igor's collar and even reached out to straighten the sorcerer's robes for him.
"Now then, Master Sorcerer, tell me... what is your true purpose here?"
Though Igor was fuming, he understood that he was in no position to argue. He stood up straight and behaved himself—after all, he was used to being scolded by professors back at the Academy.
"Y-yes... the Academy sent me here, as per usual, to collect the town's taxes. The funds are used to supply the Academy's resources and fund magical research..."
His voice had dropped to a soft, polite tone, completely devoid of his previous arrogance.
The townspeople watching from the sidelines exchanged bewildered glances. It was the first time they had ever seen a "Master Mage" act so submissively. It was an incredible sight.
"See? Isn't it better when we speak properly? Though, I must admit, I rather liked your defiant look from a moment ago."
Moon's lips curled into a smirk as he patted Igor on the shoulder.
Igor looked toward the Cuckoo Knight in a panic, but the knight simply averted his gaze. As long as the sorcerer's life wasn't in danger, the knight had no intention of getting involved.
"Hey. You won't be getting any taxes from this town."
"On what grounds?! No... I mean, cough, may I ask why?"
Igor's anger flared up again, but the moment he caught Moon's cold gaze, his momentum collapsed. he asked the question in a small, polite voice.
"The Academy is now a vassal of the Carian Royal Family. Therefore, all tax collection zones are being consolidated under Royal control. Once the Royal Family has collected the taxes, you are no longer permitted to make your own demands," Moon explained calmly.
"Furthermore... the Royal Family has already allocated the necessary funds and stipends for the Academy's expenditures. I imagine... you have no reason to demand more."
Igor clenched his teeth so hard they ached. He seethed with a silent, burning hatred for the Royals.
It was true that the Royal Family provided funding, but those resources were limited. Once the professors took their cut of the "basic survival funds," the remaining budget was split among the elites. Ordinary students like him no longer had the lavish research budgets they once enjoyed.
And where had that extra money come from before?
Partly from official Academy stipends, and partly from "skimming" a portion of the taxes they collected. It was the unspoken rule of the Academy's tax collectors. Even if the numbers were slightly off, they would just make another trip to the town to demand a "supplement."
But now... these Carian bastards were actually forbidding the Academy from collecting its own taxes?!
Igor could not accept this.
The atmosphere turned cold. Moon noticed Igor's hand, still gripping his staff, trembling with suppressed rage.
Slowly, Moon shifted his own hand toward the hilt of the sword at his waist.
Seeing this, the Cuckoo Knight silently took a few steps back. He had no desire to be caught in the crossfire if an "accident" happened. That would be a truly pathetic way to die.
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