Excessive Taxes, Wheat Yield Manipulation, Tax Evasion (3)
I arrived at the village headman's house before long.
Lena stood gazing at the exterior of the house, then let out a hollow laugh.
"It's rather lavish."
"Yes. Hard to believe it belongs in the same village."
The headman's house was lavish in the truest sense of the word — incomparable to the crumbling dwellings all around it. I had no need to ask where the money had come from.
The Empire was rotten straight through to the bottom. As they say, when the upper stream runs clear, so does the lower — once the nobles stood upright, these sorts would vanish without a trace.
"…Who goes there?"
I was about to open the iron gate and step into the courtyard when someone suddenly blocked my path. A large man with a rough face. Unlike the gaunt villagers, his cheeks were plump, his skin glistening from how much greasy food he had shoveled into his mouth. The sight of him soured my mood.
"Step aside."
"Hey now— I asked who you were."
"Am I under any obligation to answer your questions?"
"This is the residence of someone His Lordship Marquis Geneva personally holds dear. You can't just barge in like that…"
So that was how it was. The words were practically a confession, and a hollow laugh escaped me.
Meanwhile, a scrawny man darted into the mansion. The lookout at the gate had not been alone, it seemed. Not that it mattered. Having come this far, I had no intention of letting them go easily.
"Clear the path by the count of three."
"You really don't listen…"
He reached out to seize my shoulder. I could not allow that. I caught his wrist and collar instead and flipped him over. His heavy body rose into the air—
Thud! — and slammed hard into the ground. The impact bounced him slightly before he settled again.
"Gah—?!"
I had not killed him. He needed to serve as a witness to the collusion between the headman and Marquis Geneva.
As I stepped into the courtyard, Lena hurried after me.
"Was there really any need to go that far…"
"They used the Imperial family as an excuse to collect excessive taxes. Because of that, the Imperial family's prestige has fallen among the commoners — this is clear treason."
"Ah…"
"I left him alive because he has value as a witness. Without that, I might well have drawn my sword."
Of course, some might call my measures excessive. But that is nothing but the hypocrisy of those who never witnessed the Empire's fall. Had they lived through what I had, they would have no choice but to despise and detest those who gnawed away at the realm.
Treason was a crime that permitted summary execution, and inspectors held the authority to carry it out.
Bang!
I kicked open the mansion entrance and stepped inside. Just then, the scrawny man was coming out of a second-floor room. There was no need to ask where the headman was.
"Lena, may I leave that man to you?"
"It's no difficult task."
"Thank you. Then I'll go meet the headman."
I gave Lena a light bow and continued on. When I reached the second floor, the scrawny man who had been watching warily from the corner scrambled down the stairs. He seemed to think he could manage so long as he avoided me alone—
"L-Let me go! I haven't done anything wrong! I only did as I was told!"
"Whoa, whoa— calm down. If you cooperate, I have no intention of harming you."
Unfortunately for him, Lena was downstairs. She flicked her fingers, and chains erupted from a magic circle drawn on the floor, wrapping tightly around his body.
So only the headman remained.
Instead of kindly opening the door, I chose to kick it. Kindness did not suit these bastards.
Bang!
A kick laced with Aura blew the door open like an explosion. Stepping inside, I found a man who appeared to be the headman standing there, thoroughly terrified. His face was just as greasy and glossy. He had even been leisurely enjoying teatime. His appearance, his demeanor — everything about him made me want to retch.
After drawing a deep breath and collecting himself, the headman spoke.
"W-What on earth is the meaning of this? An innocent, upright…"
"I don't know what you're talking about. You are a criminal. A traitor who sold the Imperial family's name, no less."
"I have never done any such…"
"If you open your mouth before I permit it, I'll personally take your head."
Before I knew it, the sword drawn from my hip was resting against his throat. Of course I did not intend to kill him. Not yet.
"Your head is too high."
At my brief words, the headman knelt without hesitation. He had realized that the sword before his eyes was more terrifying than the power of Marquis Geneva, who was living it up somewhere far away.
I withdrew the blade from his neck and said,
"You collected excessive taxes from the villagers under the false pretext that the Imperial family had raised them."
"I-I was merely…"
"I wasn't asking you. I'm simply reciting the crimes you've committed. Or do you hope to lose your head?"
"N-No, sir."
"You also manipulated the wheat harvest yields to help Marquis Geneva evade taxes. This is clearly an act of treason against the Imperial family, the very foundation of the Empire."
Perhaps the word treason had shocked him. His gaze, previously fixed on the floor, turned toward me. He looked quite wronged.
"Hard to accept?"
"Y-Yes! I have lived honestly! You can check the ledgers recording the wheat yields!"
It was always the same. Criminals believed their crimes were perfect. But they ought to know: the moment you commit a crime, you become a fool. A normal person would not even think of committing one in the first place.
"Bring every ledger you wrote and follow me."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
He moved as if he had been waiting for the order, pulling a bundle of papers from a drawer. The sight of that fat body trying to hurry was rather comical.
He had almost certainly already doctored the ledgers. He could not be this confident otherwise. Fine. That was enough. There was more than one person who could prove his guilt.
Sometimes a human voice was more valuable evidence than a single sheet of paper — he needed to learn that.
I set off with the headman clutching the documents to his chest. When we came down to the first floor, Lena asked as if she had been waiting.
"Did it go well?"
"This man refuses to admit his crimes. So we're going to prove them ourselves."
"May I come along as well?"
"Yes, of course."
I resumed my steps, crushing the shattered fragments of the wooden door underfoot as I went outside. Lena came with me.
"Th-They're out."
"What's going on…"
"I knew that pig would be like this. His eyes were disgusting."
A large crowd had already gathered outside — all people who made their living farming in this village. The racket of demolishing the house earlier must have had some effect.
"Headman, hand those ledgers of yours to them."
"What…?"
"I'll ask them directly whether the ledgers you wrote are true or false. After that, we'll compare the taxes set by Imperial law with the taxes you collected from them. Of course, those answers will also come from their mouths."
"Inspector, surely you're not saying you'd believe their words over mine?!"
I could scarcely believe my ears. Had this man truly just said that? Looking at his eyes, there was no room for doubt. They were thoroughly impure.
I gripped his collar and yanked him hard. The ledgers he had been holding scattered across the ground.
"Are you different from them? Are you a noble? A member of the Imperial family? Or does being a headman confer some special power I'm unaware of?"
"Th-That's…"
"You're the same as them. A commoner, just like they are. You merely represent them. I don't know what Marquis Geneva told you, but under the heavens, commoners are of the same class."
While I was having this conversation that was not a conversation with him—
"Here— everyone, please take a look. Read these ledgers, and if anything comes to mind, feel free to speak up."
Lena handed the fallen ledgers to the villagers. One by one, they began to read.
"Oh dear, my eyes are so poor…"
"I can't read. I don't know letters…"
Confused voices rose among them, when suddenly someone's voice rang out clearly.
"Th-These are fake ledgers! We didn't harvest this little wheat!"
"Wh-What do you mean? Tell me too."
"It says this year's harvest was only two hundred sacks!"
"We harvested at least twice that this year! These are pure forgeries!"
"Not quite that much — more like three hundred sixty sacks or so."
"Same difference! They're fakes either way!"
These were people who had devoted their lives to farming. In this field, they would be experts above anyone else, and their pride in their work would be just as great.
Of course they would grumble about how hard it was, but they still worked under the sun day after day. What the headman had done, setting the crime aside, trampled on their pride.
"Sh-Shut up! What do you know?! Illiterates who can't even read…"
The headman shouted at the villagers, his face flushed red. The guilty party always gets the angriest — that was exactly it.
Unable to watch any longer, I lightly kicked the back of his knees. His knees hit the floor once more.
"We're not finished yet."
Now it was time to ask about the taxes.