Chapter 1

A grayish-white wall, about three meters high, stood ahead, extending to both sides until it reached the end of Lumian's line of sight.

Many enclosed carriages, four-seater carriages, open carriages, tandem carriages, and cargo carriages were lined up, waiting to pass through the city gates.

There, tax officials in blue uniforms and police in white shirts and black vests were checking each vehicle, occasionally asking passersby to show their identification or open their suitcases.

Lumian, carrying a brown suitcase, looked at the scene, occasionally glancing around, trying to find a way to bypass the checkpoint.

Before long, a man who had noticed his behavior approached.

"What's wrong, friend? I feel like you're troubled?"

This man was slightly shorter than Lumian but twice as wide, with chubby cheeks that squeezed his blue eyes into slits.

As he approached, a mix of sweat and cheap perfume wafted into Lumian's nose, making him wrinkle his brow.

Lumian pointed to the entrance and asked, looking puzzled, "What are they doing there?

"Looking for wanted criminals? But why only check those entering Trier, not those leaving?"

The man with messy yellow hair and a blue short coat that was somewhat bulky looked at Lumian and said, "My friend, are you from a small city or a village, a small town?"

Seeing Lumian nod, he sighed and said, "This is for tax collection! Entry tax!

"Entry tax for the Trier market?" Lumian asked in return.

The man nodded, "Yes, this wall surrounds the entire Trier, with 54 gates. Each gate has tax officials and police, and they also catch wanted criminals on the side."

"Is there a tax on all goods?" Lumian asked curiously.

The man touched his canvas-made blue short coat and said, "Almost. Only grains and flour are exempt from the entry tax." In the past, there was, but a few years ago, wasn't there a war? The price of bread in Trier skyrocketed, causing many citizens to protest and riot. In the end, the government canceled the entry tax on all food.

"Well, why don't the drunkards dare to do the same? Now, the tax rate on spirits, wine, and champagne is the highest. Many people go to the outskirts on weekends to find small taverns to drink tax-free alcohol, which they call 'gate wine.'

"Is that so..." Lumian nodded thoughtfully.

The man looked around and lowered his voice, "If you have something you don't want to pay tax on, I can take you into the city for a small fee."

"You want to bribe them?" Lumian pointed to the tax officials and police at the gate.

The man chuckled, "Their appetites are more exaggerated than elephants."

"I'll take you through a small path without a checkpoint."

"Isn't the entire Trier surrounded by walls?" Lumian didn't hide his confusion.

The man smiled, "You'll see soon."

He then said in a teasing tone, "Noble sir, do you need my service?"

Lumian thought for a moment and said, "How much?"

"3 Ferkins." The man smiled warmly, "If you agree, we can start now. You can pay me once we're in the city."

"Alright." Lumian pressed his dark wide-brimmed hat, picked up his brown suitcase, and followed the fat man away from the city gate.

Fifteen minutes later, the two arrived at a hill where the vegetation and soil had been dug up, revealing grayish-white stones.

There were scaffolds, rotten sleepers, and many obvious pits, as if it were an abandoned mine for a long time. The fat man led Lumian through piles of messy stones to the entrance of a mine tunnel.

"Is this the small path?" Lumian asked, looking wary.

The fat man in the blue short coat laughed, "You really don't know much about Trier.

"Have you never heard the saying? The underground Trier is larger than the above-ground Trier!"

"No." Lumian shook his head.

The man explained simply, "The old Trier was much smaller, surrounded by quarries used to build the city. Later, as the population grew, the city had to expand outward, incorporating these quarries. The underground is full of hollows and mine tunnels." Plus, the Trier from the Fourth Age that sank underground, the sewers, subways, and gas pipelines built by the government, isn't this larger than the above-ground part?

Lumian looked enlightened, "You're taking me through the underground Trier?"

"Yes." The man turned his body, bent down to enter the mine tunnel, and asked casually, "What's your name?"

"Charles." Lumian touched his golden hair at the temple, "And you?"

"Just call me Lamaye."

The man, who was almost twice as wide as Lumian, fiddled with a pile of stones in the corner of the mine tunnel and pulled out a black iron lamp.

The lamp was clearly made of metal, with rust on its surface, and was cylindrical in shape. The upper part was slightly narrower than the lower part by about the width of a finger, and the bottom was a black rubber base.

At the junction of the narrow and wide cylinders, there was a trumpet-shaped metal object, which was very clean and polished, but still had a few rust spots.

Lamaye took out a matchbox, fiddled with it for a while, and a flame with an orange hue and a hint of blue appeared at the metal trumpet, illuminating the depths of the mine tunnel.

"What is this?" Lumian asked, looking puzzled.

Lamaye held the black iron lamp and walked into the underground, saying, "A carbide lamp. The Cave Association people came up with it, and many miners use it. I don't know why it lights up, but you just put some stones and water in, in separate compartments, and when you need to use it, press this, and light the flame at the trumpet." "Calcium carbide reacts with water to produce acetylene, which burns and emits light?" Lumian recalled the chemistry he had reviewed a few months ago.

He was silent for a while, until he followed Lamaye into the underground and walked along a leftover mine tunnel, then continued to ask, "Cave Association?"

"The Trier Cave Association, a group of people who like to explore and study caves. They seem to be involved in mines now." Lamaye turned his head to look at Lumian, who was walking beside him, and asked with a smile, "Why didn't you take the steam train to Trier? The checkpoint at the train station is not very strict, just random checks." Lumian recalled and said, "I mainly wanted to experience the last bit of romance from the classical era."

"Stagecoach?" Lamaye laughed, "This is much more expensive than the steam train. From your accent, you sound like you're from Lim or Lester. From the far south to Trier, it would cost about 120 Ferkins and take four and a half days! If you took the steam train, a third-class ticket would cost less than 50 Ferkins and take no more than 20 hours. Ha, what's the last bit of romance from the classical era? It's just a trick to fool people like you... Uh, you spent a lot of money, didn't you?"

Lumian answered honestly, "Yes, quite a lot. I only have 267 Ferkins left."

Lamaye turned his head to look at him again and said, "What a waste..."

He held the metal carbide lamp, and with the illumination from the orange and blue flame at the trumpet, he passed through a place that looked like an arch and turned into another path.

Lumian looked up and saw the high ceiling, where the stones were sleeping in darkness, occasionally dotted with moss and dripping water.

The road under his feet was bumpy, with stone pillars on both sides supporting the cave ceiling.

Between the pillars, there were piles of stones and other objects, forming a "street" wide enough for six or seven people to walk side by side.

Due to the light from the carbide lamp, a steel plaque on a stone pillar appeared, with the word "Right Street" written in Intis.

"Are there street names here?" Lumian asked, puzzled.

Lamaye, holding the carbide lamp, chuckled, "Didn't I tell you? This is the underground Trier."

Well, it was actually done during the municipal renovation a few decades ago. The people in charge thought the underground was too chaotic, like a maze, where rioters, murderers, smugglers, and cultists all hid. They needed to manage it. Also, many houses collapsed or sank due to the hollows from the underground quarries, so the municipal hall spent about ten years building pillars, foundations, and connecting the independent quarries, underground ruins, tombs, and sewers.

"To prevent the workers from getting lost, they made the underground correspond to the above-ground during the renovation. Roads, squares, and alleys were all replicated here, and the corresponding street names were hung on the plaques. In the future, if repairs are needed, they can just report the location."

"In other words," Lumian pointed to the ceiling with his right hand, which wasn't holding the suitcase, "the real Right Street is above?"

"Yes." Lamaye continued walking, "This is the underground Trier. Um, there are anti-smuggling walls ahead, and the quarry police often patrol. But don't worry, I'll take you through a small tunnel to bypass it. Ha, those people in collars and full of lies think they can manage the underground Trier like the above-ground, but they only know about half of the entrances and renovated paths..."

As he spoke, he led Lumian to the end of a dead-end, found a narrow gap, and crawled through it, with Lumian following closely behind.

A few minutes later, they emerged from the small tunnel, and in front of them were stone pillars forming "walls" and a "street" between them.

At that moment, a tall figure holding a carbide lamp stood by a stone pillar and said to Lamaye, "Is this our guest?"

Lamaye turned and smiled at Lumian, "Outlander, I've changed my mind. The fee is 265 Ferkins. How about it? Am I being merciful, leaving you enough for today's bread and lodging?"

"What if I, I don't pay?" Lumian looked fearful but also stubborn.

Lamaye's face jiggled with laughter, "What do you think will happen?

"Didn't your mother tell you not to trust strangers easily when you're out?"

He and the tall man approached Lumian from two directions.

Lumian also smiled, bent down, and put his suitcase aside.

He walked toward Lamaye and his companion.

In the flickering light, a few seconds passed quickly, and the carbide lamp was in Lumian's hand.

He squatted next to Lamaye, whose face was bruised and trembling, and took all the bills from his wallet, counting them carefully in the orange and blue light.

He then used the stack of bills to pat Lamaye's right cheek and said with a smile, "Now I only have 319 Ferkins left."

After saying that, Lumian put away the bills and walked toward a path that seemed to lead to the surface.

There, a stone pillar had a plaque with two rows of Intis text: "Honest Market District, Chamber Pot Street."

Among them, "Chamber Pot Street" was scratched out with a stone, and "Chaos Street" was added next to it.

PS: Normal update today, adjusting, extra updates tomorrow and the day after. Please vote for the monthly ticket.