As dusk fell upon the world outside of Grey Tulip, a bell chime sounded throughout the shelter and at that moment the bustling of the streets immediately faded. Residents and refugees all began to close up shop and head home.

Hearing the bell Ilven turned to Old Wugou, “Who’s on duty for the first half of the night?”

While it was usually safe indoors on the Crimson Night it was not wise for everyone to be asleep in case something happened.

“I’ll do it for the whole night. You can have tomorrow.” The old man said in a muffled tone his lips not leaving his smoking pipe.

Ilven simply nodded in response.

“I’ve spoken to Old Winchester, the trouble from Galdor should be nothing, he has a good relationship with his sister but she’s having a spat with her husband for taking in a new younger mistress. It should be fine in the short term, Galdor also could never have imagined that you picked up something so crazy.” Old Wugou burst out into a fit of laughter thinking about it.

Even now days past, he found it hard to believe that Ilven had such great luck.

Grace be to the White Sun, maybe even wilderness hunters have never encountered such luck.

“Quick give it to me, now!” The old shook with excitement, the mere anticipation had him shivering like a winter night.

Ilven rolled his eyes in exasperation and gave the old man the bank card to oogle again for the nth time.

“Ah~ So beautiful. I’ve only ever heard of these things without seeing them, now not only I can touch it but also taste it!” The old man rubbed his dry cheeks against the smooth texture of the bank card. Why couldn’t he have had such luck in his youth?

Hearing his words, Ilven was worried he would actually lick it.

“Thousands of silvers, thousands, all in one delightful rectangular package. Your luck really is something, not only did you wind up with such an outrageous windfall your luck burst through the seams meeting the Mad lions of all teams, not only did they not rob you, but they also gave you what was probably the standard price which is such a rarity!” Old Wugou’s eyes glittered with the light of gems, completely enamored. He had never seen so much money in his entire lifetime.

“Hey, whatever you do don’t lick it, that’s gross, wait… what do you mean rarity?”

Ilven quickly zeroed in on something weird.

“You didn’t know? Ah, it’s something that isn’t widely spread and you have to be around a while to see the clues and also travel enough. Stupid kid, ahem.”

Old Wheeler was about to lecture the kid on being more observant but then he remembered that he was his teacher, so it was actually his fault for not teaching him.

He cleared his throat with a hint of embarrassment, “The prices here are artificial.”

“???”

“Not just here but in most wisp shelters, it’s a bit looser for the ember shelters but it’s there as well.”

Ilven looked confused. Manufactured? How could prices be manufactured.

Old Wugou quickly explained, “Let’s say something is sold for 300 kimber, the actual selling price for those who need it in higher shelters is around 500 kimber but they only give us 300 Kimber. The excess is pocketed and paid upwards, normally a little bit is to be expected yet it’s such a large amount. Furthermore, all shops selling things somewhat valuable do this within Grey Tulip and work together to maintain this price. It’s a thick web of interests.”

Low level shelters were typically only producers of raw materials incapable of processing special materials. This task was left to those with the knowledge and ability to do so in higher level shelters.

“That’s why I said you likely got the real value of your loot from Mad Lion, sure I’m guessing they took a kind of transaction fee but from the amount you received I’m guessing it’s the standard amount or lax, not like the blood sucking leeches here.” Old Wugou took a puff of his pipe. In fact, Ilven can be said to have gotten a very generous deal. Old Wugou had travelled enough to have a vague idea of the real prices so he could spot this at a glance.

!!!

Ilven was absolutely flabbergasted, to think something like this was happening each time he sold his loot.

Loot he earned with his life! His blood, sweat and tears!

His calloused hands couldn’t help but clench tightly.

Seeing this Old Wugou sighed. His turbid pupils seemed to dim even more.

“What did you expect from these greedy fuckers. The protection fee they charge from refugees is specifically set at an amount where they take the most profit and they can barely survive.”

“Methods including special traps to catch desolate beasts like the Flightless bird were only sold to us at exorbitant prices after they used it so much in our area that even those stupid birds caught on and wouldn’t fall for the same trick so many times.” Thinking of this pitfall that had affected even him Old Wugou slammed down his stick and grit his teeth in fury, those heartless bastards!

Desolate beasts were a force of nature and the embodiment of power yes, but they were not perfect. It was impossible for there not to be any flaws.

Over time many flaws were discovered in certain common species in the area, but this knowledge was kept secret, for instance the Flightless Birds were 2 meters tall with three legs, thick bodies, iron skulls and large claws, their intelligence was the lowest of the low and their weakness was a spot underneath their belly which they normally protected quite well.

But they didn’t have hands and possessed long necks, so a unique trap was engineered using special leaves combined with sharp sticks to make a cone like object that when used with bait and properly placed could block their field of vision and create opportunities to stab their weak spot.

However, there were only so many Flightless birds within the area, they could be fooled a dozen times but not forever so this method was obsolete by the time it was known to ordinary scavengers

“Still, it’s a both a curse and a blessing.” The old man sighed after a while.

Blessing? How could such an evil act be considered a blessing, it was clearly a vicious curse!

Ilven, whose face had now turned incredibly dark spoke, “Blessing, they give with one hand and take with the next, you call this a blessing? What’s more they throw a curtain over your head!”

They already had to pay 10% of their earnings as tax periodically but this evil trap was already in place?

He felt understandably outraged. Old Wugou shook his head.

“You’ve heard of how unhinged the Red Dog gang is and you know people like Galdor, Dwhite, Chipmunk and so on who have ingested gene potions and have powerful equipment at their disposal, in the shelter there is law yes, but outside, why don’t they rob us en masse? Let us do the work and they safely collect the profits? Why do the wealthy families allow us to buy land? Why not keep it for themselves? Why…” He asked several questions one after the other.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Suddenly, Ilven realized he had never thought of these before. Scavengers were a cruel set of beings, the ‘fake nobles’ even more so. How could they even allow scavengers to make any money at all without signing a contract to share profits?

Before he thought they were scared, most scavengers joined the profession when at a dead end with nothing to fear, nothing to lose so they were scared of pushing them too far.

Now it all seemed weird.

This was unlike those greedy trolls. Very much unlike them while they had set up different methods of exploitation successfully taking money from their products legitimately like the prices for rice, weapons and so on…it was still not enough.

It might sound weird saying this despite the cruel layers of suppression they suffered but the higher ups and powerful didn’t have any semblance of a conscience, if they could stand to benefit, they would do anything, if they could keep you wriggling on the ground they would.

Yet they allowed you to explore and hunt in the wilderness possibly getting lucky and earning a fortune even they would envy. Such a thing was rare but it has happened a few times. Ilven was a ripe example.

It was suspicious now that it was brought to his attention.

“It’s to maintain the status quo.” Old Wugou voiced his conclusion.

“Not just us but even the refugees, you’ve experienced it firsthand, think about it. Who would come to shelter where refugees were forced to do labour for nothing, killed for nothing, robbed repeatedly… sure all these happen, by the lower level gangsters and scum as well as the Red Dog gang but they never overdo it, a family might suffer here and there but not everyone, wives might be robbed but not killed, wages might be withheld but not always.”

“This is why even the residency permits are sold otherwise without hope why would refugees like us bother. Hope is one, profits is another, why kill or rob us once and for all when they can do it forever until we die? The profit of the latter is much greater than the former! So that’s why even clashes between scavenger teams are rare, they don’t want their precious sheep to die and stop producing wool. Sure, a lot of robberies, extortion and so on happen but you can keep living afterwards so in the end it means nothing.”

“Galdor and a few others throw their weight around a lot and even scavengers die as a result but unless it surpasses the ‘hidden’ threshold its allowed, Afterall scavengers die a lot, what does it matter if one or two die in the shelter now and again.”

Ilven felt his worldview was turned upside down.

The shelter itself collected taxes every three months which was a substantial sum each time. If you couldn’t pay up, then you were punished or conscripted for forced labour.

The Red Dog gang collected protection fees every month. If you couldn’t pay up then a beating, some property damage and other harms were unavoidable.

If you had a shop where you sold items or services, then you had a stall fee to pay as well.

To top it all off due to strict class divisions, even if you managed to obtain certain precious items and basic necessities you were not allowed to sell or resell them to others. For instance, the Hallmares had a monopoly on water.

Yet despite these many layers, there was another hidden layer where they profited off every single transaction while sitting back twiddling their thumbs!

This was beyond outrageous! It was deplorable! It was inhumane! It was…

Very on brand for them.

“Ha, so we’re like sheep to them, we already know we’re destined to be slaughtered one day and still try our best in hope of a better future, yet all the while they’ve been peeling off our wool. How…”

Ilven was at a loss for words, every insult imaginable had already been regularly hurled at the big families and shelter management behind closed doors for ages.

They were already deplorable bastards so adding another greedy act was nothing, the only ones to weep were they the peons.

It seems the secret to the longevity of the big families is clear now.

What a world… what a world…

“Let’s start sealing the windows and blocking the gaps in the doors.” Old Wugou suggested as he took a cloth from somewhere and headed to the nearby window.

Ilven nodded in response.

The Crimson Night described the peak cycle of the Red Moon unlike the two other moons in the sky, this troublemaker had a direct effect on sentient beings.

Legend has it before the Second Epoch there was only a single moon and the two crimson and azure moons came afterwards. The azure moon is said to be the slumbering body of some divine beast like the sun’s golden crow and the object of worship in certain areas just like the white sun.

Much of human history was lost from the first epoch until the fourth, even much of the fifth epoch was a mystery, only a few tales were passed down whose truth could not be verified.

What was certain was that since the crimson night humans had a new enemy, themselves.

Fortunately, for residents of Grey Tulip they were underground so the effects of the moonlight were significantly reduced although not obscured, due to this paranormal incidents were very low in the settlement. This extra edge was the reason Grey Tulip was so popular.

Not all shelters were at maximum capacity and had the honor of having a superior shelter to rely on, many wisp shelters had no choice but to keep the population as low as possible to avoid attention and reduce internal troubles as well as expenses. Not all wisp shelters could support wilderness hunters.

Thus, Grey Tulip was actually at the upper limit of wisp settlements in every possible area. To that fact, the reason Ilven migrated here from far away was due to the unique situation of the shelter.

Still, it wasn’t like there hadn’t ever been incidents so preparation was very much necessary, the products of the crimson night were not something ordinary mortal means could handle.

“Did you buy blue shelled rice? This is expensive, very unlike you. Was it widow Kelsie?” Ilven stared at Old Wugou seeing a neatly packaged sack embroidered with another shelter’s symbol.

“Ahem, I understand I may seem like a true lover of the delicate and graceful mounds, but I think my image has been distorted in your head. I only bought it as a celebratory food, as well as a parting gift, the journey to Black Rock takes two weeks on escort but the journey back… well let’s just say it’s not easy or even possible unless you have money, which you do, but if you buy anything worth a lick then you will still be broke in the end.”

Old Wugou beat his chest for a little protesting the injustice but quickly had to give up from the pain.

“Does that mean it’s going to be a one-way journey for most?” Ilven asked in surprise.

Old Wugou was still pondering how to transform his image to a more noble one when Ilven voiced his surprise.

“Hm? The distance is too great, even the three families’ descendants can’t afford it. It’s one thing to escort you to Black Rock but they won’t waste time bringing you back. Most from wisp shelters and a majority of ember shelters as well will be stranded outside Black Rock. It’ll take a few years to make it back, but most will take the risk for a chance of a better future. I’m not sure about the specifics but recently the churches help somewhat otherwise it would be almost impossible to make it back.”

Old Wugou had done quite a bit of travelling in his younger days but that was within their small corner of the map, even then it took him several months to travel from place to place in each instance. This was the case even when on foot or in the rare cases he hitched a ride on a caravan or travelling group.

While he had gone to Black Rock years ago for the same reason, he was lucky enough to do so on the Holy Sage’s Festival, so he was lucky enough to get a rare express trip home, Ilven wasn’t so lucky.

“I’m going to bed, check on Stupid Egg I think I saw her swallow a piece of rusty metal.”

“What?!” The old man shot up from his seat as if a fire was lit under him.

He quickly found the adorable goblin trying to eat a wooden bowl as a follow up.

“Spit it out!”

“Wi.”

“I said spit it out!”

“Wii.”

“Cough it up now”

“Wii~! Wii~!”

She wasn’t having it, however.

“Roland be damned! How did you start acting like a Garaq Worm!”

“Wi!!!”

The two small imps, one larger than the other, began a tussle.

***

Ilven made it to his room with the noise in background.

“So much is different that I first expected.”

He let out a sigh.

It might be my fault though.

Years ago, in training the treasured experiences taught by Old Wugou were filled with small intricacies and it was hard to follow, the old man also couldn’t fight as best as he used to, so he had to teach himself a lot of that.

All of this burdened by the occasional starvation left him with limited energy and many places to use it.

Other than the hidden faces and masks others in the shelter kept on their faces and close to their chests, this was another reason he wasn’t good at social activities.

For the longest time his personal ability was the most important for his survival, getting along with others was never a necessity so these crucial bits of information were foreign to him.

Well, I doubt a lot of scavengers are as knowledgeable as the old man.

Ilven mused as he lay in his bed. Old Wugou was a rare 68-year-old retiree, quite an oddity for a scavenger or in general. Even in the big families few were as old as him.

I shouldn’t have to worry about it for a while though.

Old Wugou liked to talk to people and keep himself active, he always complained when alone at home, ‘Oh my mouth is dry’, ‘Ah why did Lady Falcon have to get married and move away’, ‘Oh I was so handsome when I was young’, ‘Oi kid, massage your old man’s back.’, ‘I hardly ever ask you for anything, sob, you can’t even do me this favour, sob’…

He didn’t even cry but said the word sob.

“I should pay my info broker a visit too, turns out he was partially right at least.”

Ilven thought of what he would do tomorrow then shut his eyes.