Extortion like this had become a common sight. However, the situation had worsened recently. Many merchants were forced to borrow money from the Tang family's pawnshop just to survive. Ironically, those debts became a new trap. Every time they tried to get back on their feet, the Black Tigers would return, pushing them deeper into a cycle of despair.
The merchants began speaking in hushed tones filled with complaints. They could no longer earn enough to pay off their debts, let alone sustain their lives. Their faces told stories of resignation, a burden too heavy to bear alone. They once placed their hopes in King Bernault, paying steep taxes with the belief that the king would protect them. But that hope was now nothing more than a fairy tale. The promised protection never materialized, and the royal guards were nowhere to be seen.
When the Black Tigers arrived, they acted without opposition. The merchants could only watch as their hard-earned profits were seized, bowing their heads in helplessness. King Bernault remained silent, as if deaf to his people's suffering.
Elsewhere in the city, the Tang family's pawnshop stood grandly, contrasting sharply with the crowd of desperate people kneeling before its doors. Their faces were haggard, their voices hoarse as they begged Master Tang for leniency, but no one truly listened. Tang was a businessman, not a philanthropist.
"We can't pay, Master Tang. Please give us more time," an old man pleaded, his trembling hands clutching his knees. But his words were drowned out by the bustling activity of the pawnshop, where clerks busily counted money and recorded new debts.
Malik, one of the shop's workers, stood in a corner, observing everything with a heavy heart. He saw the faces filled with sorrow and fear, and within him grew a mix of pity and anger. Why wasn't anyone doing something? Why was this injustice allowed to continue?
Amid the crowd, a hooded figure approached, moving calmly yet standing out amidst the panic. With a nearly imperceptible motion, the figure handed a folded note to Malik. Malik's eyes narrowed as he received it. Slowly, he unfolded the note and read it carefully. The words within made his brows furrow.
Malik's expression turned serious. He folded the note carefully before raising his gaze to the crowd. The people kneeling before him looked at him with fading hope, waiting for any words he might say. Within Malik, a decision began to take shape, though he knew the next steps would not be easy. Something had to change, and that change might have to start with him.
In a firm voice, Malik announced, "Merchants who can't pay yet, go home and return next month. I'll find a solution to this problem."
The statement echoed through the crowd. Some faces that were once gloomy now appeared slightly calmer, though their eyes still carried the weight of exhaustion. Malik could feel the heavy tension in the air, oppressive and stifling. In the distance, shadows of government officials seemed to move. A few of them stood stiffly, taking notes with suspicious gazes fixed on him. Malik knew he was just following orders, but in his heart, a desire to do more was boiling—a hope that might be too much for someone in his position.
Meanwhile, Tang sat near the window of his tea shop. His gaze was vacant, directed outside, but his thoughts wandered far elsewhere. The thick silence around him was broken only by the sound of his deep breaths and soft murmurs from his lips. "Bernault, Jones," he muttered, almost spitting the names, quietly but with meaning. "When two whales fight... the shrimp benefits, as long as it can survive," he said, barely audible.
Tang took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decisions settling in his heart. With a calm motion, he lifted a cup of tea Sana had made for him, sipping it slowly while contemplating his next steps. "Initially, I planned for six more months... but seeing the people's condition now..." Tang fell silent again, as if measuring the strength left within him. Finally, he stood, clenching his fists, and made up his mind. "Alright, this has to be done now," he muttered with determination.
Wasting no time, he wrote a letter, penning word after word with speed and precision. Once finished, he rolled it up neatly and handed it to a dark-robed figure whose hood obscured much of their face. Without a word, the figure stepped out of the shop, carrying the letter to a destination known only to the two of them.
The night passed quietly. Stars sparkled brightly in the sky, as if signaling messages only nature could understand. As dawn approached, Tang, once known as Malik, stepped toward King Bernault's residence with two pouches full of money. The scent of morning dew enveloped his determined stride, carrying a burden that was more than just coins.
At the entrance, the servants greeted him with respect. "Welcome, Master Tang. Please come in; King Bernault has been expecting you," one of them said, bowing deeply.
Tang nodded, his face impassive, though his eyes held a storm. With slow yet steady steps, he walked through the grand hallways adorned with massive paintings—silent reminders of a history that kept repeating itself. Before him, a grand door opened, leading to the chamber where King Bernault awaited. Tang took a deep breath and stepped inside, ready to face whatever awaited him.
Tang offered a respectful nod before entering the banquet hall. Inside, the room exuded warmth and opulence, illuminated by large candles whose light reflected off gold-lined walls. King Bernault was already seated at the end of a long table laden with luxurious dishes—roasted meats, the finest wines, and meticulously chosen fruits.
"Welcome, Master Tang. Please, take a seat and enjoy the feast I've prepared for you," Bernault said with a wide smile, one that seemed to mask the intensity behind his gaze.
Tang sat calmly, picked up a glass of wine, and sipped it slowly before speaking. "Your Majesty, I've received word that Kashgar is no longer willing to sell us their food supplies. They claim that bandit attacks along the border have disrupted their peace. Additionally, they've openly expressed dissatisfaction with your policies, particularly regarding the oppression of the common folk."
Bernault listened, his expression growing stern as he took a sip of his wine. Tang continued, his voice lowering as if speaking solely for the King.
"In my opinion, they've gone too far. Kashgar needs to be taught a lesson, and I believe our strength is sufficient to make them submit."