"Hmm?" Arthur bit the tip of his quill, clearly dissatisfied with the answer.
However, before Arthur could retract his nasal sound, Bakarjin immediately pivoted: "But you say, is Druiysk really a pure land? Not necessarily! When it comes to this kind of work, there are clerks—ah, there's no shortage of them! Because it's their duty; they're born to do this. People like us, who hope to advance further, who wouldn't want to keep their records clean and untarnished? I'm still thinking of serving Russia for thirty-five years in peace and then exchanging it for a Fourth Class Vladimir Medal!"
Regarding local work, if you think I would personally invite a peasant to squeeze him for his profits, that's absolutely impossible. Did you forget, he has a smell that only God knows what it is? I am absolutely unwilling to bother myself with that. At most, I'll call a clerk or someone else. Then, alright! It's done! As for how he does it? That's none of my business.
