Fief Tax (5)
"Damn it! What kind of lunatic is this guy?!"
The moment he returned to his office, Count Richmond overturned his desk and spat curses.
A lowly civil servant of bastard birth, throwing his weight around in a place like this? How dare he.
Even if he was nothing more than a hollow count whose influence had long since dried up, this had gone too far.
Not content with the fief tax, now he wants a tax audit? That bastard. So he wants to take this all the way? Fine. If that's how it is, I won't just sit here and take it.
Count Richmond's entire body shook with the fury rising in his chest.
There was insult, and then there was this.
The Richmond family had devoted itself to the Imperial family for generations, pouring everything into the Empire. He himself had left his daughter alone in the fief and led the northern mages into the war against the Coalition.
And this was his reward?
It could not stand. It simply could not.
If only I had stayed in the fief instead of going to war…
He looked up at the portrait of his late wife, tears welling in his eyes.
He knew full well that he had already crossed the line. The House of Richmond would likely vanish into the footnotes of history. But even so, he had no regrets. If time were rewound, he would make the same choice again.
Lilia. My beloved daughter. This father of yours would do anything for you. If it takes my life, so be it. Just live. Please, just live.
The count clenched both fists and steeled himself once more. Even if ruin was the fate waiting for him, he was not afraid. He had already made his peace with it.
"Steward. Seal the gates at once and reinforce the palisades. Tell the knight order and the garrison to prepare for battle."
The Emperor, the Church, destiny itself—it did not matter who stood against him.
He would fight until his last breath.
"Ahem. Rhea. My throat's a bit dry. Fetch me some water."
"Yes, sir! Right away!"
"The air in here is terribly stale. Could you open a window?"
"Yes, sir!"
"There's an awful lot of dust on this floor. When exactly were you planning to clean?"
"……"
As I sprawled luxuriously across the bed all day, doing nothing but running my mouth, Rhea's face grew steadily more contorted.
"Senior Secretariat Rhea. Your expression looks rather poor. Don't tell me you're feeling unwell too?"
"Ah—no, sir!"
"Well, the north is freezing. Easy enough to catch a cold. Still, I doubt you're in worse shape than someone who got hit by a shield."
"You ran into it yourself…"
"Hm?! What was that just now? Were you muttering to yourself?"
"Ah! I was muttering that the Tax Collector's words are a hundred—no, a thousand times correct, sir!"
Oh-ho. Look at this one.
So she'd picked up a little attitude, had she? A kid who hadn't even been on the job a full year developing that kind of mindset was dangerous.
Looks like I'll need to schedule another round of attitude adjustment soon.
I was briefly dumbfounded by Rhea's first-ever bout of grumbling. Then I watched her scrubbing the floor with furious diligence and let out a quiet snort.
Between the scarce food, the miserable conditions of this unfamiliar place, and a workload heavier than usual, the stress was clearly getting to her. She must have been desperate to get out of here.
But what could she do? A civil servant does as she's told.
You think I'm enjoying this either?
Deliberately ramming myself into a shield like some insurance fraudster, then lying here pretending to be injured—all of it was buildup. Buildup so I could force through an "excessive" tax audit. A way of raising the stakes, you might say.
"Huh? Tax Collector, sir—it looks like people from the capital are here? Why so fast? You need to get up!"
Sure enough, Rhea, who had been wiping the window frame, suddenly went wide-eyed and called out to me in a panic.
Heh. Speak of the dragon and it appears. What impeccable timing.
Barely two days since I'd sent word by carrier pigeon that I'd been injured, and people from the capital were already here? Right. Nothing gets the bureaucracy moving like a fire under its feet.
Good. Time to get this show properly started.
I curled one corner of my mouth into a smirk and sat bolt upright in bed as if nothing had ever been wrong with me.
"The moment we have the permit, we head for the lord's castle."
Except—what was this?
Despite my orders, Rhea stood frozen at the window with her mouth hanging open, not moving an inch. What on earth was she staring at like that?
I walked over to where she stood rooted like a stone statue. And the moment the scene outside unfolded before me, I froze in place exactly as she had.
"Forward, march!!"
"Advance on the lord's castle!!"
I had kicked up a fuss begging them to send the permit quickly—and instead of a permit, what arrived was a musketeer corps that looked to number in the hundreds at a glance.
But it was still too early to be shocked.
"Treasury personnel, comb every inch of this fief immediately! Find the Special Tax Collector and secure his safety!"
Behind them, leading a contingent of Treasury officials, appeared Minister Elena—and I clutched the back of my neck and nearly keeled over.
What are you doing here?
"Rohan! Are you all right? How badly are you hurt?!"
"No—I only needed you to send the permit. Why did you come in person…"
"Are you kidding me?! Is that seriously what you're saying right now?! Why on earth did you go to the lord's castle in the first place?! Don't you know safety comes first?!"
Elena latched onto me in front of every staff member present, scolding me at the top of her lungs as if she were about to burst into tears. Her sudden appearance left me so flabbergasted I couldn't get a single word out.
She dragged this many people all the way from the capital in just two days?
Even granting her everything else, how had she managed to move this many people across that kind of distance in so little time?
The answer to that question was written in the dark circles under everyone's eyes.
You've got to be kidding me. They force-marched for two days straight without camping?
Not across open plains, either—over those winding, narrow mountain roads, through the night? And not just soldiers, but civil servants too?
She had lost her mind.
"Count Richmond—I won't let this stand!"
Paying my thoughts no mind whatsoever, Elena finished inspecting me from head to toe, her face flushed scarlet as she ground her teeth. Then she stormed straight up to the tightly shut gates of the lord's castle and began to raise hell.
"Count Richmond! I am Elena Astoria, Minister of the Treasury! Open these gates at once! Refuse, and I will proceed with forced entry!"
The instant the words left her mouth, the musketeer corps leveled their guns as one.
As if he had been waiting for exactly that, Count Richmond appeared atop the palisade—and his soldiers drew their bowstrings taut.
"Silence! Not one of you sets foot inside until you kill me first!"
"We do not want bloodshed! But if you insist on this course—"
"Silence! Do I look like a fool to you?! How dare some wet-behind-the-ears little wench threaten me!"
"……!"
Count Richmond's shout left everyone stunned beyond words.
For all her appearance, Elena was a Minister. More than that, she was the daughter of House Astoria—one of the most prestigious noble families in the Empire.
And he had just called her a wench.
We're screwed.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed a hand to my forehead.
My plan had started going off the rails the moment Elena showed up with a musketeer corps in tow—but at least until now, there had still been a chance. With that single remark from Count Richmond, whatever slim possibility remained had dropped straight to zero.
"Treason! Musketeers, what are you waiting for?! Prepare to fire!"
Of course.
At the word "wench," Elena's neck veins bulged as she branded Count Richmond a traitor on the spot. Thanks to that, this was no longer a matter of taxes.
"Treason?! Kahahaha! Yes! I knew it! That's what you people wanted all along, isn't it? Fine! I'll be the traitor you so desperately wish for!"
Count Richmond threw his head back and roared with laughter—as if he had known from the beginning that things would come to this. His shoulders shook like a madman's.
A taut, brittle tension settled between the two sides. It would not have been strange if gunfire erupted at any second. The situation was a hair's breadth from catastrophe.
—Bwooooooh!!
And then, from far off in the distance, the sound of a war horn rolled across the land.
At the same time, flames erupted from every corner of the village we had passed through on the way here.
Caught completely off guard, both Count Richmond and Elena whipped their heads around, faces etched with open alarm.
"Judgment of Radiance! Purification Work begins now! Burn away every evil rooted deep in this land!"
"By sacred flame shall evil be purged!"
"All is as the Goddess wills!"
The Church.
Ah. Those damn cultist fanatics.
They'd been quiet for a few days, and of course they'd pick this exact chaotic moment to dump another ladleful of madness into the pot. Honestly, the count's brand of insanity was the cheap imitation. These people were the real thing.
Why the hell did they have to lose it at this timing of all times.
Count Richmond, who had thrown away all reason and chosen the path of treason. Minister Elena, who had dropped every scrap of work the instant she heard I was hurt and dragged an army out here. And on top of that, a pack of arsonists—excuse me, cultist fanatics—who had started torching the fief without so much as a warning.
This wasn't a mess. This was five minutes past total disaster.
Resignation, retirement, all of it—right now I needed to set everything down and empty my mind.
I give up. I honestly have no idea anymore.
I shook my head slowly and pressed my throbbing forehead.
Hell? What was hell supposed to look like, exactly?
This place already was.