Chapter 331: Do You Want To Do Something About It?
With a quiet chuckle, Cassius shook his head.
"The orphanage already has enough money. We don’t need more. What I do want..." His voice hardened, though his smile remained. "...is to know if you’ve already complained about the bandit situation to the Valheim family. And if you have...did they do anything in response?"
The fat merchant shifted his weight uneasily, the coin pouch still in his hand. His earlier gratitude gave way to a more cautious, almost guarded expression.
"We...have complained." He admitted after a long pause, his voice dropping in volume. "Many times. Not just me, merchants, farmers, caravan masters...anyone who travels the trade roads."
"The bandit raids have been getting worse for years now. We’ve sent letters, petitions, hell, we’ve even gone to their seat in Valheim City ourselves."
Cassius tilted his head. "And?"
The merchant’s lips twisted in something halfway between a bitter smile and a grimace.
"And nothing. Oh, they’ll listen, or at least pretend to. You get a chamberlain, maybe a scribe if you’re lucky. They’ll nod, write a few notes, and tell you the issue will be...’looked into.’ Then you go home, you wait...and nothing changes."
"The bandits get bolder, the patrols stay just as scarce, and the guards they do send are either lazy or crooked."
Julie folded her arms, her expression sharpening. "Lazy or crooked?"
"Both..." The merchant said bluntly. "Sometimes the guards are in on it, working with the bandits. Sometimes they just don’t want to risk their necks for a wagon of grain or bolts of cloth."
"One of my friends, Garen, a spice trader, he lost half his shipment last year on the west road. He reported it, even gave the names of the bandits because one of them used to be a hired hand of his. Do you know what the Valheim officials told him?"