In the Name of Empress

Chapter 668 378: Turning Back at the Brink (Part 3)

This kind of spiral ramp in human society would be nothing less than a hazard for the old, weak, women, and children. In winter, it's particularly slippery—this is the difference between human architecture and Centaur architecture.

This difference is reflected in all aspects.

As Roland toured around, he marveled at the wisdom of the Centaurs.

They might not be as intelligent as average humans, they may not have received education, have carpenters, masons, and even saws are rare, but they have managed to build a...

Metropolis!

After seeing the public restrooms and sewage system, Roland acknowledged this term.

A willingness to meticulously craft the unseen details, this is civilization.

Roland recalled the scenes when he surveyed the remote areas of the Jin Yuan Kingdom and Sussex Country.

Toilets? What toilets? Isn't relieving oneself addressed as it comes?

Remembering that small town in Jin Yuan which turned into a waterlogged mess after torrential rain, where falling into the water meant swimming amid filth, Roland's evaluation was that it was not even as discerning as the Centaurs.

Reading ten thousand books and traveling ten thousand miles are both ways to broaden one's horizons.

Without coming in person, Roland could never imagine that south of the Ogaden Line, there was a group of "Four-legged Barbarian Race" creating civilization in their own way.

A tribe aspiring towards civilization deserves a wonderful tomorrow.

When Roland conversed with Ironhoof, the term Chiron gradually became a habit rather than a compliment.

Mr. Ironhoof had a keen sense of observation, able to detect Roland's emotional changes. In his pride, he was somewhat embarrassed, rubbing his big hands and grinning modestly:

"Northern traveler, you must be joking. You've been to big cities like Sussex City, West City, Saint Rurik Palace, and you must find our countryside place backward."

Roland, with a serious face, said earnestly: "Mr. Ironhoof, when humans first descended from the trees, they couldn't even make fire or cook. No one is born civilized. In my view, this city is worthy of being called a metropolis."

"The Chiron Race fully deserves to stand in the Civilized World."

Roland was not flattering, yet Ironhoof blushed, smiled awkwardly, scratched his head, and, taking advantage of the harmonious atmosphere, hastened to apologize to Roland.

"Honorable traveler, in fact, I initially wanted to collect a toll, but seeing your extraordinary skills, I gave up such a stupid idea. I hope you can forgive my rudeness."

He believed Roland could see through their initial malice, so he decided to speak openly.

Some things, if left unsaid, become thorns in the heart; once said, they often just result in mutual smiles.

Roland looked at Ironhoof with newfound respect.

Toll? It was clearly robbery, yet he could use such a sophisticated term—worthy indeed of an official in charge of external affairs.

But he wasn't angry.

After all, who hasn't indulged in a bit of robbery before?

The Sussex Empire, spanning over twenty overseas territories across many time zones, wasn't gained by mere negotiation; it was all taken from the hands of the indigenous peoples.

Roland felt more goodwill towards Ironhoof. Smiling, he said, "Since it's about borrowing the road, collecting a bit of toll seems reasonable. I'm curious, how much were you originally planning to collect?"

Ironhoof's old face flushed slightly red, he chuckled and said, "Your wagon is of considerable value, so I was intending to charge 100 Nubian Dinars or 50 Su Pounds."

That really is quite steep, but Roland thought he couldn't say anything.

Compared to murder and robbery, the Tolsen tribe still had some standards.

"I can give you 100 Su Pounds, but I want to know where you spend your money. I noticed earlier that in the tribe, only a few esteemed elders and women with children have clothes, while others just cover themselves with animal hides for modesty."

Roland's gaze fell on Ironhoof, the implication obvious—even as an official for external affairs, his clothes were ragged, showing that their living conditions were quite poor.

"Pots, iron pots. Pots are very expensive, but they are essential. Apart from that, there's salt, and these things are really too costly."

Ironhoof laughed in embarrassment, quickly explained.

Roland suddenly understood, iron pots and salt are indeed life necessities that surpass what's available to these primitive societal levels.

With iron pots and salt, they could stably cook cooked food. Access to quality protein allows brain development to continue, ensuring a future for them.

As to why pots are expensive, it's naturally because middlemen earn a cut.

After pondering for a moment, Roland seriously said, "If you have iron ore, I can refine it on the spot and make you three thousand large pots and more small pots."

"How, how many?" Ironhoof was so shocked his four legs went limp, he could hardly believe the number.

His breathing became somewhat erratic.

Roland shook his head with a smile, "I see your tribe has at least fifty to sixty thousand people, three thousand large pots might even be a bit too few."

"It's enough!"

Ironhoof suddenly spread his limbs, with all four hooves and a fifth foot hidden by his leather garment touching the ground simultaneously.

This was the highest form of Centaur etiquette—five-body prostration.