Chapter 44
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Translator: volt
Chapter: 44
Chapter Title: Taxes
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......Hoo.
"You've worked hard."
"Lord Nemo? You must be exhausted."
"Not at all."
I'd burned through it all white-hot.
It had ended like a storm.
The conference room had buzzed with discussions in at least three languages, leaving everyone drained.
No... I'd tried to keep my distance from the lawmaking process. I knew it would be exhausting.
But these people had all gathered because of me. It would've looked strange if I'd ditched them to play games alone.
Anyway, most of the issues were resolved now. We'd made headway on thorny problems like land ownership and differences in tribal customs.
Still, it wasn't total chaos.
I'd expected disorder with dozens from various tribes and sects, but the room had stayed surprisingly orderly.
When Eleanor or a few others spoke up, the dozens who'd been heatedly arguing would fall silent in an instant. Wondering what the common thread was, I thought it over...
They were all people who'd spent a long time with me.
Eleanor Dare, Thomas Huet, Manteo, Vicente Gonzalez, John White, Walter Raleigh.
I could see a religious authority aura enveloping them.
Hm... Looking back, this meeting foreshadowed who would become the core of our settlement later. I'll keep that in mind.
Anyway, that's how it went.
We'd wrapped up the tough issues today, so everything else should be fine!
We just need to sort out sectarian autonomy and precedents, the natives who still follow spirit worship, taxes, and worries about nearby tribes—especially the Powhatan!
Dozens debating nonstop for half a day? No problem at all! Ha, hahaha! Hahahaha...
'...This is just going in circles.'
We started with taxes.
- "Once the government is established, everyone pays a little in taxes..."
- "Hm? So what does this 'government' give us in return?"
- "Pardon? Give back?"
- "You're just taking without giving anything back?"
It wasn't like some isekai hero tale where explaining 'This is [taxes]. It's for public works' makes everyone flip in the air and accept it.
The natives couldn't grasp offering something to a '[government]' and caused an uproar.
- 'Haven't you all already offered labor or goods to Lord Nemo?'
- 'That's different!'
...I don't know what the difference is either.
It peaked with the Powhatan discussion.
Natives mixing Algonquin and English in convoluted tales made the English and Spanish dizzy, derailing the meeting...
Should we ally with the Powhatan? Fight them? Something like that—hard for me and the Europeans to follow.
- "No, if the Powhatan send gifts... we shouldn't accept?"
- "No. We must. But after accepting, return several times more."
- "Pardon? They say not to accept?"
- "They're wrong. Ignore them."
- "......???"
The hardest to understand was 'gifts.'
weren't we talking alliances? Why keep circling back to gifts?
And each tribe said something different. So I asked Manteo.
- "Should we be hostile to the Powhatan?"
- "Then refuse their gifts."
- "......If they send gifts first, doesn't that mean surrender? Just accept?"
- "No. Return several times more."
- "......Pardon?"
That's how it was.
I couldn't make sense of it.
"Manteo."
So at dinner, I asked him privately.
"What's going on here? Why is everyone saying different things?"
The diners were the so-called 'apostles.' Bacon and Harriot debated math a bit away.
Just looking at these faces showed who led the colony.
Those with the longest ties to me.
The 30 Croatoans, Manteo's tribesfolk, even Spanish sailors.
They were the settlement's leaders.
Plus a few brains from England aiding my rule.
Anyway. Manteo, somehow the natives' rep, glanced around then turned to me.
"As I said... whether Powhatan or others, to treat 'natives' as enemies means no gift exchanges."
I nodded roughly. Manteo continued.
"If they send lavish gifts first, Lord Nemo, reject firmly or repay several times over."
"Hm..."
As our talk started, others perked up ears. Seeing my half-confused face, Manteo tilted his head.
"You still don't grasp gifts among us?"
"Yes. Honestly, it's tough. You call it a gift, but if they send first, isn't it tribute of surrender? Just accept?"
"No. The enraged Powhatan will declare war."
"Pardon? Even after accepting the gift?"
"Because you accepted. No, this is..."
Manteo clutched his face, pondering where to start, then snapped his fingers.
"Ah. So you still don't understand why you're our great chief?"
"Pardon? Because I'm the richest?"
"No. Because you sent gifts to others."
"......Pardon?"
I rummaged through memories.
I'd traded Shine Muscats, which I had in excess, with Manteo.
He spread them to nearby tribes, who returned food, luxuries, etc., to us.
I thought that was it... but later Oiotan hailed me richest, great chief, etc. So I figured that was why.
"No."
"......Isn't it?"
"The 'trade' part is wrong. We've never bartered."
"......Pardon?"
"Think. Sending jewels, food, furs for one bunch of grapes—is that trade? Did Pamlico Sound tribes go mad for grapes?"
"......"
Manteo said,
"Gifts—putting it in your and Europeans' terms—are a display. A sign of friendship, but first a display."
"......"
"......"
"......"
First time hearing this.
Manteo continued.
"Why worship the sun? Because it endlessly gifts light.
People return offerings, but they pale against the sun's power and life force. The sun is that mighty. So they worship.
Did people trade offerings for sunlight? No. They're repaying the sun's gift of light."
"......"
"Understand?"
"Sort of... not quite."
"Giving a gift shows 'I'm this wealthy'—and invites 'Enter my sphere' as friendship.
Refusing means hostility. Disrespecting their power."
"Accepting means?"
"Respecting their power. So repay with a gift showing ours."
"......"
"If we're richer, we give more, they acknowledge our power.
If poorer, our lesser gift acknowledges theirs."
"When does gift exchange end?"
"Never. It goes eternally. While we live."
Giving gifts shows one's wealth and power before friendship.
Like my Shine Muscats to Manteo's tribe.
Rare fruit nowhere else. I showed my power.
Manteo spread them; tribes returned furs, jewels, food—as duty.
But lesser than Muscats. Couldn't find better.
Thus they acknowledged my superiority; I became great chief.
I hadn't known.
Now I got it roughly.
"Your European kings are strange. Leaders receiving gifts from led—how earn respect? Givers earn respect and lead."
"But offering gifts is surrender, right?"
"Why surrender, Mrs. Dare? It's generosity, power expressed."
Conversely, Manteo couldn't grasp our ways.
To him, leaders are richest.
Richest give most.
Give most, earn most respect and leadership.
To us, leaders are strongest.
Strong dominate and protect others.
Protected pay tribute for rule.
Somehow... totally different.
What am I?
I glance at the other apostles debating with Manteo. They eye me.
Ah.
I'm both.
Strongest, protecting from poverty and disease, earning loyalty.
Richest, giving much, earning loyalty.
...Taxes same issue.
Obvious to Europeans.
No madman asks a thug 'What do I get back?' for protection money.
Government, king, nobles taking taxes? Natural.
Not to natives.
Leaders naturally give.
Received gift? Return naturally. 'Gifting' labor/resources back fine; one-way taking is robbery.
Like the sun.
Sun endlessly shines warmth/light; expects no greater return.
"......So natives can't accept organized government?"
Huet sighed.
"Nonsense, Manteo. We must teach them taxes and obedience, make them colonists."
He's right. I nod; Manteo retorts.
"What about other natives? Will they accept rulers who one-way extort from ruled?"
"......"
"Mustn't we win them all eventually? Satisfied with just over 10,000?"
He's right too. I nod again.
Someone said premodern states no different from thugs.
Armed thugs collect protection, claim order-keeping—like states.
To natives, Europeans' 'state' looks like thugs.
...History proved it.
Suddenly appear, demand tribute/loyalty, disobey? Exiled or killed.
That was the 'state's' verdict.
"......"
Huet and Manteo keep arguing; I roll peas on my plate, then conclude.
"Manteo's right. Can't do that to win other natives."
"......Pardon?"
"Our government won't collect taxes."
Huet's eyes widen. Others stare astonished.
"However."
I nod.
"We can accept 'gifts' equal to government's givings.
That replaces taxes."
Sounds like wordplay at first.
But the wordplay needed now.
My words settled the apostles' debate.
Next day's meeting followed suit.
No taxes. Government doesn't extort. Only receives returned gifts.
Nothing changed immediately. I'd keep plowing, allotting land.
In return, they'd 'gift' taxes.
No real difference. But natives quickly accepted, all agreed.
We moved on.
We all felt oddly strange.
No-tax nation? Wordplay, but weird.
Well... nothing changes right away.
A starving boy reached Chesapeake Bay.
Famine scattered the tribe. Orphaned, he trailed others and got lost.
He became alone in the world.
Wandering days/nights, he headed east blindly—rumor said.
A wealthy great chief's tribe there; no hunger. Reach it, no food worries.
Clinging to that, the boy walked to the bay. Gaunt, strength failed.
The boy... staggered... collapsed.
"Th-there's a boy here!"
"Qu-quick, water and porridge!"
He was, simply, a stray.
In Spain, lifelong beggar, scorned. Strays aren't state's concern, but pitiable.
In England, apprenticed to soldiers, slaving in a workshop. Idle working stray harms state.
"What's your name?"
"Uh...... ugh......"
"Slowly, no strain. Just age, name, home."
"Ugh......"
But this was Virginia settlement.
Not extorting government, but giving one.
The boy soon 'received' food and shelter as gifts.
Recovering, he frantically picked berries, 'gifting' them to Eleanor who'd gifted him necessities.
Eleanor smiled, ate them gratefully, 'gifted' him land and seeds.
Boy tilled diligently, planted. Months later, harvest—he 'gifted' fruits to Eleanor.
She patted his head.
"Wait. 'He' will come to you soon."
Bewildered, the boy returned home. Days later, a strange roar rang out, pulling him outside toward an extraordinary sight.
Iron beast plowing his and neighbors' fields anew. No more work needed.
Before his hut, a basket: cheese, foods, goods stuffed.
"Uh......"
"Awake?"
Boy looks up at the man who'd driven the iron beast.
Sun shone behind him.
"I'm Nemo. Welcome to Virginia."
The boy realized he'd received gifts from this man insufficiently repaid in life, soon joined grown boys logging.
Now, the boy was Virginian.
Seemed nothing changed immediately.
Slowly, everything changed.
People didn't obey Virginia's government from fearsome boss.
The government gave endlessly like the sun, so they stayed near.
They didn't fear government.
Unknowingly, they loved their government.
Like loving their angel.