Excessive Taxes, Wheat Yield Manipulation, Tax Evasion (2)
"What is it that Your Lordship wishes to ask of me…?"
"I'd like to ask a few things about taxes. Has the amount you've been paying jumped sharply over the last few years?"
"H-how would Your Lordship know about that…?"
His eyes went wide. He seemed genuinely startled that I already knew their circumstances.
In truth, the question had only been a matter of confirmation. Marquis Geneva's crimes were all written down in Lydia's diary. I remained nothing but grateful that she was still helping me.
"Explain a little more carefully."
"Even if you say carefully, I don't know much…. We simply paid whatever the village chief told us to."
The village chief….
Even if a man held the post of village head, he was still a commoner at the end of the day. Could such a man have arbitrarily overtaxed the villagers and lined his own pockets with the difference? It wasn't impossible, but the odds were low.
That sort of thing was the province of nobles whose heads had swollen far too large. Odds were high that the chief was connected to Marquis Geneva.
"Where is the village?"
"If you go straight along this way, you'll find it."
"I see. Then take this."
I took something from my coat and held it out to him. His eyes nearly popped from his head when he saw it. Money—to be precise, a single silver coin. The silver piece glittered in the sunlight.
"Your Lordship, this is…."
"Information is money."
"B-but this is something anyone would know. I don't deserve such a luxury all to myself…."
"The world was never equal. What I mean is that opportunity is not given to everyone. As a father, shouldn't you use this to feed your wife and children?"
Perhaps the words "wife and children" swayed him. In the end, he took the silver coin with a trembling hand.
Thud.
The hoe he had been holding toppled over, and his knees hit the ground.
"Thank you. Thank you so much. Truly…."
"I'll be going, then."
I started walking, leaving the endlessly bowing man behind me. I hadn't given him the money out of pity. It was the price of the information that some collusion existed between the village chief and Marquis Geneva. I was an inspector, not a philanthropist who went around helping the needy.
…Though Lydia might have been a little different.
Once I was back in the carriage, Lena asked as if she had been waiting for me.
"What did he say?"
"Apparently taxes have shot up over the last few years. They only paid what the village chief ordered, so there seems to be some connection between the chief and the marquis."
"Good. Then we go dig into the village chief."
"He said the village is down this road."
Lena opened the small window connected to the driver's seat and passed on the information. A moment later, with a faint vibration, the carriage began to move again.
We arrived at the village a short while later. Rows of shabby single-story houses made for a typical rural scene. And yet something was off. The villagers watching the carriage did not look at us kindly.
"It seems something is going on."
"Well, we'll find out once we check."
At last the carriage stopped. The moment Lena stepped down, she headed for the nearest villager. I followed her.
"Excuse me. I'd like to ask you something."
"Th-the taxes have already been collected, haven't they…?"
"Hmm, so you're already paying quite a lot in taxes. Has the tax gone up sharply over the last few years?"
"Yes, it has. The village chief said the amount demanded by the Imperial Family had increased."
That was not something I could let slide. Of all things, to dare use the Imperial Family as an excuse—his guts had truly spilled out of his belly. Lena's thoughts were probably much the same as mine. The atmosphere turned distinctly serious.
"There had better not be a single lie in what you just said."
"I swear it's the truth. What reason would I have to lie?"
"We'll be going, then. Thank you for answering."
With that the conversation ended, and the middle-aged man bowed deeply before hurrying away. He hadn't shown it openly, but I could tell the exchange just now had frightened him considerably. The moment he vanished completely from sight, I spoke.
"It seems certain enough."
"Yes, it does."
"Still, better safe than sorry. I'll do a little more questioning."
"Good. Let's each question five people and meet back here."
We set off in different directions. Not long after we split up, I came across a woman. A gaunt woman was out for a walk, holding a small child's hand.
"Pardon me for a moment."
"Y-yes…."
She looked reluctant to talk. Given what I had already heard, I supposed that was only natural. To commoners, a neatly dressed noble was an uncomfortable presence at the best of times.
"Has the tax gone up sharply over the last few years, by any chance?"
"My husband handles those things, so I don't really know…. From what I happened to overhear, I think it might have."
"I think it might have" was hardly solid evidence. It was only a statement that left room for possibility. If her husband handled all outside affairs, she probably wouldn't know about the wheat yields either. A pity, but I would have to find someone else.
"I see. Then I'll be—"
I was about to turn away when I heard the sound of someone running hard. When I looked, it was the man I had met earlier in the wheat field. He came to a halt in front of me, panting for breath.
"Y-Your Lordship, this is my wife and daughter. Have they done something wrong…?"
"I only asked them a few questions, the same as I did you."
"I-I see…."
I could see the relief settle over his face. It was only natural. Ordinary nobles were extremely authoritarian, and to commoners those nobles were nothing short of villains. Even if I had given him a silver coin, that perception was not going to change overnight.
Of course I was an authoritarian myself. Lydia had merely softened that side of me considerably.
"Since you've arrived at just the right time, I'll ask. What has the wheat harvest been like over the past five years? An exact figure isn't necessary."
"There were differences in degree, but most years were good harvests."
"When you harvest the wheat, is a ledger kept?"
"Yes, as far as I know the village chief handles that."
The village chief again…. It seemed nothing would be resolved until we tore into the chief. He clearly held every authority in this village.
"I see. Then I'll be going."
I left them behind and walked on. After that I put the same questions to four more people I met while walking through the village. Had taxes risen excessively of late? What had the wheat yields been like? Was a ledger being kept?
Everyone gave the same answers. Taxes had risen excessively over the last few years. The wheat harvests had been good—there had never been a bad year. The wheat ledger was written by the village chief.
That was enough. No further verification was needed. It was certain that the village chief was colluding with Marquis Geneva and dipping his hands into the money. And using the absurd excuse that the Imperial Family had raised taxes, no less.
I turned around at once and found Lena at the meeting place. She had arrived early, arms crossed and brows furrowed deeply. The idle tapping of her foot betrayed that she was deep in thought. Sensing my presence, she opened her eyes.
"Caenderic, how did it go?"
"They said taxes have risen excessively of late. The wheat harvests have never had a bad year, and the ledger is written by the village chief."
"Same as what I found. At this point, I think we can call it certain."
"Yes, I think so too."
"Let's go. Time to grab that chief, or whatever he is."
We set off. At the end of the road stood the largest and finest house in the village—none other than the village chief's residence.
Saha, a small village in the Geneva Marquisate.
Gordon, the village chief there, was leisurely enjoying tea in his room. And then—
The door suddenly slammed open with a bang!
"Brother—! We're in trouble—!"
"You little shit, you're gonna make my ears fall off. What is it this time? Your wife run off again?"
"Th-that's…. They say people from the Inspectorate are here."
"What?! Why the hell would the Inspectorate come he—you thought I was going to say that, didn't you?"
Gordon shot to his feet with wide eyes, then cackled and sat back down.
"Look, the ledgers and everything are all taken care of. There's nothing to catch us on. And even if we somehow get caught, we've got His Lordship the Marquis on our side."
"As expected of you, Brother…!"
"Yeah, yeah. Now go fetch the inspectors and treat them with the utmost courtesy. I'll handle the rest after that."
Gordon waved him off, and the noisy fellow left the room, restoring peace once more.
Slurp.
He was a man who believed tea should be drunk in quiet.
Not long after that—
Crash!
A sudden roar reached Gordon's ears. Along with it came a tremendous vibration that felt as if the house might collapse. Gordon sprang up from his seat in shock. And just as he was about to leave the room to see what was going on—
Crash!
The door shattered to pieces, and someone stepped into view. A neatly tailored suit, a single sword at the hip. Those cold eyes alone made it hard to breathe.
Gordon took a deep breath to calm himself and spoke.
"Wh-what is the meaning of this? I am a perfectly innocent, law-abiding…."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. You are a criminal. A traitor who sold the name of the Imperial Family, at that."
"I have never done any such—"
"If you open your mouth before I permit it, I will personally take that head of yours."
Gulp.
Gordon swallowed hard. A sharply honed blade was already leveled at his throat.