Old Hugo commanded deep respect among the residents of White Bird Town. With just a few simple words, the two or three thousand people gathered in the square began to disperse, and within half an hour, only a few dozen idle men with nothing better to do remained.
"My lord, please follow me to the town hall and take a seat," Old Hugo said, pointing to a three-story brick-and-timber building not far away.
The interior of the town hall was quite spartan. On the ground floor, the main hall held several worn-out desks and an old sofa covered in patches.
"My lord, I normally reside on the second floor. The ground floor serves as the office for handling the administrative affairs of White Bird Town and the villages under its jurisdiction. The third floor is a storeroom and warehouse—there are some assets accumulated over the past five years. I'll bring the ledgers for your inspection right away," Old Hugo said.
"There's no rush, Old Hugo. First, tell me about the situation on Hilowas Island over these past five years. I must apologize—our family's old territories are on the Northland frontier, and with the poor transportation, I haven't been able to tend to this new domain of Hilowas Island at all. I've been remiss as lord, and I've truly let the people here down."
"My lord, please don't say that. I spent many years in the military, so I've naturally heard of the
"Transportation is no longer a problem. The family has built a port in Northland, and I came directly by ship this time. In the future, a round trip will take less than a month. Now, Old Hugo, please tell me about the situation here."
"Very well, my lord." Old Hugo thought for a moment. "I returned to White Bird Town in March of 1765 after the White Lion Legion was disbanded. I was already fifty-three at the time of my retirement. Hilowas Island was still the
Many of the Second Prince's people boarded ships and left. They took everything with them—even the garrison was dissolved, and all their weapons and equipment were removed. Hilowas Island was suddenly left without governance and descended into chaos. It went on like this for a month. White Bird Town became a heap of rubbish with no one managing anything—fights broke out daily, and the residents could no longer go on living.
Then something happened. A small cargo ship arrived here to resupply, and the sailors, finding no one in charge, began running amok. Within three days, they had killed seven residents and seized several women. When I discovered three of those sailors breaking into my neighbor's house to loot and attempting to violate the mother and daughter, I couldn't hold back any longer. I grabbed my sword and killed those three scoundrels. After that, the townspeople followed me to eliminate the rest of the sailors on that cargo ship, and they elected me as the temporary mayor of White Bird Town to manage affairs until the lord arrived.
I felt that since I'd returned to my hometown, I should contribute what I could. So I reorganized the White Bird Town garrison, restored order, and arranged the town's various positions—such as the sheriff, clerk, tax collector, and accountant. The desks you see, my lord, are where they normally sit.
When Hilowas Island was still the Second Prince's domain, the tax rate he set was fifty percent. I didn't know what your family's rate was, and there was no one to ask, so I collected taxes according to the rate the Second Prince had established. From the tax revenue, I covered public funds and civil servants' salaries. All the ledgers list detailed income and expenditures, and you may review them at any time.
Under the Second Prince, besides the fifty percent tax rate, there were only seven types of taxes: poll tax, liquor tax, shipping tax, fishing tax, land tax, salt tax, and commerce tax. White Bird Town's total annual revenue from these was around two thousand gold Forde, and the residents could get by reasonably well—as long as one worked hard, there was no worry about going hungry. That Viscount Aslan was actually quite proper the first time he came to collect taxes—he only took ten percent. But in the second and third years, he raised it by ten percent each year, and even seized control of the poll tax and liquor tax for himself.
The year before last, Viscount Aslan raised the tax rate to fifty percent. He not only took over those seven miscellaneous taxes but also imposed six additional ones—supposedly a 'Restoration Tax.' I protested, but Viscount Aslan said I wasn't an official appointed by the lord but merely a mayor elected by the residents, which was illegitimate. I had no choice but to demand that he itemize the tax bill and issue receipts, and only then did we pay the full amount.
My lord, according to Viscount Aslan's calculations over these two years, the total taxes for all of Hilowas Island come to over five thousand seven hundred gold Forde annually—nearly double what it used to be..."
"Hold on, Old Hugo. Didn't you say White Bird Town's annual tax revenue used to be only around two thousand gold Forde? On what basis did Viscount Aslan calculate this figure of over five thousand seven hundred?" Lorist asked.
"Oh, it's like this, my lord. To be precise, White Bird Town is the administrative center of the entire Hilowas Island. Before the Second Prince arrived, Hilowas Island had only three villages and one town. But after His Highness came, nearly four thousand people followed him—half of them settled in White Bird Town, doubling its size, and the other half established a new village elsewhere on the island.
When the Second Prince left, most of his people departed as well, leaving only about a thousand who refused to leave and continued living in that village. Over the following years, more immigrants arrived, and by now the population of Hilowas Island has reached over twelve thousand. Starting the year before last, tax revenue increased dramatically to around four thousand gold Forde. Add in the miscellaneous taxes imposed by Viscount Aslan, and the total comes to roughly six thousand gold Forde. But we simply cannot collect that much. By Viscount Aslan's accounting, we're short by over seven hundred gold Forde every year," Old Hugo explained.
"Why is there a discrepancy of over seven hundred gold Forde between what should be collected and what actually is? What's going on?"
Old Hugo shook his head helplessly and pulled out a map of Hilowas Island. "My lord, look here. Not far to the east of White Bird Town, there is an estate called the Sea-Gazing Estate. It's the most picturesque place on all of Hilowas Island. Every evening, under the glow of the setting sun, the vast beach in front of the Sea-Gazing Estate shimmers with golden light—almost comparable to the White Sand Beach in West Degele Province of the Duchy of Madras, though much smaller. Still, it's a wonderful spot for summer swimming.
This estate was originally where the Second Prince resided. But after he left, several nobles from the Kingdom seized it and turned it into their private playground. We can't even approach it. My lord, you must have seen those ornately decorated ships at the dock when you arrived—those are the ships those nobles use to visit and transport their goods.
And here, half a day's journey from the Sea-Gazing Estate, is the village of Farama—that's where the people the Second Prince left behind have settled. They occupy the most fertile fields on Hilowas Island, but they've consistently refused to pay taxes. They claim to be the Second Prince's people, that they risked life and death for him, and that anyone demanding taxes from them is showing disrespect to the Second Prince. We've never been able to do anything about them.
But Viscount Aslan doesn't care about any of that—he simply added the taxes that the Sea-Gazing Estate and Farama Village should have paid onto our bill. We protested in every way we could, but to no avail. Eventually, Hickod came up with an idea: we organized a fishing fleet and sold the catch to merchants. That's how we've managed to cover the tax shortfall and even have a little left over to pay everyone's salaries and provide some room and board subsidies for the garrison..."
"My lord, we've captured that Viscount Aslan,"
"Where'd you catch him?" Fatty Shi asked.
"He was trying to flee on a ship with two attendants. But the ship's sailors had all gone to the town's taverns to drink, so he couldn't set sail. When I went to the dock to notify Captain Wilson, some sailors spotted them boarding the ship. I went to check and caught them," Jim reported.
"Bring that damned viscount in. I'd like to hear what he has to say for himself," Lorist ordered.
"I protest! I am a noble—you cannot treat me with such discourtesy!" Less than a minute after Jim left, he returned dragging in a thin man in formal noble attire. Perhaps hearing Lorist call him a "damned viscount" had put Jim in a foul mood, because he grabbed Viscount Aslan by the front of his formal jacket and hauled him into the room.
"Old Hugo, who is this Hickod you mentioned earlier?" Lorist ignored the loudly protesting Viscount Aslan and continued chatting with Old Hugo.
"My lord, Hickod is our clerk. He graduated from the Mober Academy in the Imperial Capital and served as a probationary instructor there. Later, when the academy was destroyed in the war, he brought his family and followed the Second Prince to White Bird Town, where he became a steward managing cargo transport. After the Second Prince's people left, he chose to stay. Since he was well-versed in official document writing, I hired him as White Bird Town's clerk," Old Hugo replied.
"Old Hugo, you've all done wonderfully. I'm gratified that Hilowas Island had you here to keep it from descending into complete chaos. As your lord, I wish to express my gratitude and respect. Thank you for your efforts and dedication—the Norton family will not forget this." Lorist stood up and gave Old Hugo a formal salute. Fatty Shi, Erle, Pat, Jim, and the others still in the room all snapped to attention and saluted Old Hugo as well.
"This... my lord, this is..." Old Hugo was flustered, not knowing what to do.
Lorist waved his hand, signaling him not to stand on ceremony, then turned to face the pale, terrified Viscount Aslan with a very gentle smile. "Viscount Aslan? I've heard so much about you. I am the lord of Hilowas Island—Norton Lorist. I'm truly delighted to meet you."
Lorist's smile gave Viscount Aslan the wrong impression, perhaps making him think that Lorist was easy to deal with—just some backwoods lord from the northern frontier who hadn't seen much of the world. The scrawny Viscount Aslan straightened his wrinkled formal jacket and raised his voice: "So you're Count Norton from the northern frontier? As a noble, you owe me an apology and compensation. Your family's soldiers have rudely offended me—this is an intolerable offense among nobility. You must punish your soldiers in my presence and earn my forgiveness, or I will report your Norton family to the Kingdom's noble court for lacking all noble decorum, for trampling on the dignity of the aristocracy, and spread word of your barbaric conduct to every noble in the Kingdom..."
"Oh my, that's terrifying—truly an outcome we cannot accept!" Lorist exclaimed dramatically, then turned to Jim. "So you're the one who offended the venerable Viscount Aslan? Come here, I must punish you!"
He gave Jim two light slaps on the cheek. "You fool! How could you let the distinguished Viscount Aslan appear before me looking anything less than immaculate? Now look—he's getting carried away. You should have stripped him naked, smeared him with horse manure, and dragged him in here. That way, he'd be begging for just a rag to cover himself to preserve his noble dignity, instead of making outrageous demands."
Lorist slapped Jim's cheek twice more. "Remember this lesson? These two slaps are your punishment."
Jim grinned. "I've learned my lesson, my lord. I won't make this mistake again."
Lorist nodded. "Good. Step aside."
"Yes, my lord!"
Everyone in the room burst out laughing, leaving only Viscount Aslan standing there dumbfounded.
"I protest! I protest!..."
Lorist strode over and delivered a vicious backhand slap. The scrawny Viscount Aslan spun a full 180 degrees on the spot—his face swelling, the corner of his mouth split open, and as he opened his mouth, several teeth tumbled out as blood gushed from the corners of his lips. Then, completely dazed, Viscount Aslan collapsed to the ground in a heap.
"Protest my ass! I haven't even settled accounts with you yet and you're already squawking. Let's start with your crimes. First—I am a territorial noble with the rank of Count. You're nothing but a titular viscount. In both status and rank, I tower over you. And yet you dare gesticulate in front of me, showing no respect whatsoever, and even dare to accuse me of offending your noble dignity? Are you joking? What dignity? You have the dignity of a dog's ass! In my eyes, your little viscount title is worth a pile of shit!"
Lorist extended his right foot and stamped on Viscount Aslan's face. "How dare you protest to me! You're challenging the honor and dignity of the Norton family. It's only been a few years, and the Roaring Bear's growl has already been forgotten by the Kingdom's nobles—how regrettable. I think it's necessary to remind the Kingdom's nobles what the Bear's fury truly means."
Viscount Aslan flailed on the ground, garbling: "I... am His Highness's tax inspector... I have an appointment letter..."
"You dare talk back?" Lorist couldn't hear clearly what he was saying and pressed down harder with his foot, drawing a scream from Viscount Aslan...
"Right, where was I?" The interruption made Lorist forget what he'd been saying.
"My lord, you were listing Viscount Aslan's crimes. First, he disrespected you and provoked our Norton family," Schward reminded him from the side.
"Oh, that's right. Second—what the hell gives you the right to collect taxes on my family's territory? Who gave you the nerve? I'll hang every last member of your family..." Lorist cursed viciously.
Underfoot, Viscount Aslan suddenly went quiet. His right hand fished out from somewhere inside his clothing a small scroll of animal hide bound with gold silk cord, which he waved in the air.
"What's that?" Fatty Shi snatched the scroll, untied it, and looked. He clicked his tongue. "My lord, this viscount really is here to collect taxes. Look—this is his appointment letter as Tax Inspector from the Second Prince."
Lorist kicked Viscount Aslan away. "Get up. I have questions for you."
He took the scroll from Fatty Shi and read it. It stated: "Hereby appointing Court Viscount Aslan Robiosen as Tax Inspector for the Kirin Port region and the Norton Count's domain of Hilowas Island under the Andinak Kingdom. May this official faithfully fulfill his duties, remain upright and incorruptible, and dedicate his efforts to the restoration of the Empire."
At the bottom of the scroll was the Second Prince's name, Krisen Ogsero, dated May 23, 1768 by the Galentean Common Calendar. The signature and date bore the seal of the Regent of the Andinak Kingdom and the Second Prince's personal seal.
"Well, well—so Viscount Aslan really was appointed as Tax Inspector by the Second Prince. I thought he was just a fraud!" Lorist now realized that when Viscount Aslan had been lying on the ground earlier, he'd been saying "I am the Second Prince's tax inspector, I have an appointment letter"—not talking back as Lorist had assumed. It was just that after being slapped, the viscount couldn't speak clearly.
"You—you dare treat me like this! Y-you Nortons had better wait for His Highness's thunderous wrath! His Highness's three hundred thousand troops will grind your Norton family to dust!" Viscount Aslan crawled up from the floor, clutching his face, his eyes burning with hatred as he stared directly at Lorist.
"Three hundred thousand troops? Oh my, I'm so scared. I never imagined this damned viscount of yours was held in such high regard by the Second Prince that he'd deploy three hundred thousand troops just to destroy our Norton family. How terrifying. Since you claim the Second Prince will send three hundred thousand troops for your sake—does that mean you came here to collect taxes on his orders, which is why the rate keeps climbing? Speak!" Lorist barked, and Viscount Aslan practically leaped in fright.
"Didn't you see my appointment letter?" Viscount Aslan was still being stubborn.
"Heh heh, if you really are a Tax Inspector sent by the Second Prince, then why were you trying to run away in the square earlier?"
"I wasn't running—I was going to retrieve my appointment letter from the ship to prove my identity. Your family's soldiers barged in and offended me without warning."
"Is that so? Even if you refuse to admit your guilt, it doesn't matter. In a few days, I'll bring you to the Imperial Capital to confront the Second Prince face to face. We'll see whether he really ordered you to raise the tax rate, and then we'll know. Erle..." Lorist called out.
"My lord, at your command," Erle stepped forward.
"...If he gave Old Hugo three lashes, we repay him tenfold. After that, coat him in glue and stick chicken feathers, duck feathers, and the like all over him. Don't forget how Northland handles swindlers..." Lorist drawled.
"Understood, my lord. I know the Northland custom for swindlers is to feather them and parade them through the streets. We'll handle it properly," Erle replied.
"At once, my lord," Jim said crisply.
Then came Viscount Aslan's pig-squealing screams: "No! You can't do this! I am a noble! I am His Highness's Tax Inspector..."
...(To be continued.)