The Law Is What I Say It Is
"The law is whatever I decide it is."
Four of the ten days had passed when a man came to the courthouse from the temple.
"I was told to deliver this to the Inspector."
He was a young priest. He was holding something wrapped in cloth, which Lysias unwrapped.
A jar of oil. And beside it, a sheaf of wheat.
"What is this?"
"...I beg your pardon?"
"This. Why are you giving it to me?"
"W-well, the Senior Priest said you must be working very hard, Inspector."
Ah, this.
Lysias lifted the jar. It was heavy.
"Is this a votive offering?"
"...Pardon?"
"Did it come through the temple? Was it entered into the temple's records?"
"...That, I wouldn't—"
"Ah, you don't know. Understood."
Lysias picked up his brush.
"Then what should I write this down as?"
The young priest had a sudden, sinking feeling that he had come to the wrong place.
"Um, Inspector... you're going to write it down?"
"Yes. Of course I am. A jar of oil and a sheaf of wheat don't record themselves, you know. This is roughly what a single household in Agria pays in an entire year."
"..."
"If I take it without recording it, that becomes a problem in itself. So recording it is the correct procedure."
Lysias began writing on his wax tablet.
Western District Temple — one jar of oil, one sheaf of wheat, delivered to the Inspector.
Purpose unknown. Unconfirmed whether a votive offering.
Date and recipient of receipt recorded.
"Um, then... I'll just take it back with me."
"No. Leave it and go."
"...I beg your pardon?"
Lysias raised his head.
"If you take it back, that's stranger than leaving it. You came — that happened. Taking it back after coming means hiding it. Leave it, and I'll assign it a purpose and process it properly. That's cleaner for everyone."
The young priest simply stood there, unable to think of a single thing to say.
"...What purpose, exactly?"
"Hmm. Shall I record it as the temple's pledge of cooperation with the investigation? That would be the safest option."
"..."
"Then that's what I'll write. Please convey it to the Senior Priest just that way."
The young priest left.
Lysias looked at the jar.
What do I do with this?
He stared at it for a long while, then added one more line to the tablet.
Items held in court custody. Disposal pending conclusion of investigation.
That should do it.
Not accepted, and not returned. It simply sat here — and the fact that it sat here was on record.
Well, someone will figure it out eventually.
Lysias gazed up at the sky with a perfectly clear conscience.
That afternoon, Dion came sprinting in, out of breath.
"Hey. ...Are you insane?"
...Huh?
"What did you do at the Western District temple?"
"Conducted an investigation."
"You conducted an investigation?"
"Yeah. That's my job, isn't it?"
Dion dropped into the chair in front of Lysias's desk. No — he collapsed into it.
"...Hey. The whole courthouse is talking about you right now."
"Yeah. So?"
"Not 'so'—"
Dion lowered his voice.
"You served documents on a priest, didn't you."
"Yeah."
"...Four pages of them?"
"Five."
"..."
"...You're actually insane."
"Hey, just hear me out."
Dion pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Here's what we are, right? Inspectors. And what do inspectors do? They verify things and write them down."
"Right. So I verified and wrote it down."
"That's not the point!"
Dion dropped his voice again.
"That's the temple over there. Without them we can't do anything. If they refuse to cooperate, the investigation itself dies."
"Yeah."
"So if you go out there acting like that, how do you think they'll respond?"
"...They won't cooperate."
"Exactly! And then what happens?"
"...I won't be able to do anything."
"Exactly!"
Dion slapped the desk with his palm.
"So go easy on them, is what I'm saying. Huh? We're the ones who need them."
"..."
Lysias set down his brush.
"Hey. Where did you learn that?"
"...Learn what?"
"That we're the ones who need them."
Dion blinked.
"...It's just... common knowledge."
"Just something everybody knows?"
"...Yeah."
"They know it too. And that's exactly why they behave the way they do."
Lysias held up one of his tablets.
"Agria's votive offerings doubled last year. The year before, they didn't. So why do you think they didn't do it two years ago?"
"..."
"Because back then, they didn't have to. But then they tried it once, and it worked."
Lysias set the tablet down.
"Once becomes twice, and twice becomes three times. And by about the third time, it's just the way things are. Look at all the things they call tradition now — the re-measures, the skimming. Every single one of those was a first, in some year or another."
"..."
Dion said nothing.
"And if we keep being the ones who need them, next year it'll be triple. And they'll have some reason ready for that too, of course. So cutting it off now means less work for me later."
...That's not— what kind of conclusion is that?
Dion was struck speechless for a moment.
...What is this guy?
They'd spent three years at the academy together. He knew exactly what this guy memorized, and what he cooked up the night before exams.
But none of what he was saying now had come from the academy.
"...Hey. Where did you learn all that?"
"..."
Lysias picked his brush back up.
"...Well. You live long enough, you pick things up."
...Not something an eighteen-year-old should be saying.
Dion swallowed the words.
"...But hey. So what's your plan? If they refuse to cooperate, you really can't do anything. What happens when the ten days are up?"
"They won't come."
"...You knew?"
"Yeah."
...'
"...Wait, then—"
"That's why I looked into something else."
Lysias pulled several tablets out of his drawer.
Dion had no idea when he'd made them.
"...Now what's this?"
"Jurisdiction."
"...What?"
"Do you know why Agria belongs to the Western District?"
"...Because it's close?"
"Right. That's the whole reason."
Lysias spread a tablet open.
"Which village pays its votive offerings to which temple — I couldn't find a single rule anywhere that decides that. They just pay to whoever's closest. It's always been that way."
"..."
"But if it's not a written regulation—"
Lysias tapped the tablet.
"—then it can be changed."
"..."
Dion's mouth fell open.
"...Hey. Has anyone ever actually tried changing that?"
"Nope."
"...And you're going to?"
"Just because no one has doesn't mean no one can."
...This guy. Seriously, what is he?
"...Hey. If you actually pull this off, what happens?"
"No idea. It's my first time too. But from their side of the table, it's going to be rather inconvenient, I'd think."
"..."
"Until now, Agria was theirs, period. The village had nowhere else to pay, so whatever number the temple named, they paid. But if there are two places they could pay to?"
Dion swallowed dryly.
"...They can't name a price anymore."
"Right."
Lysias shrugged.
"I'm not the one setting the price. I'm just making it so no one can set a price. That's much easier. And it means I won't have to march out there every single time."
...No, why does every conclusion somehow come back to that?
Bong—
The sixth bell rang out.
Lysias put down his brush.
"Huh? Six o'clock already."
"...What?"
"Quitting time."
Lysias began tidying his tablets, squaring each one up edge to edge.
Ah, this is the good stuff.
He'd never known a bell could sound this beautiful. In his past life, six o'clock had meant nothing. Nobody left at six.
But here, a bell rang.
Do you know what a bell ringing means?
It meant someone else was officially telling you it was over.
...Ah, this is a genuinely excellent institution.
"Hey. Hey, hey, hey."
Dion stood up.
"You're going home? Now? After dropping that bomb?"
"Yeah."
"...What if the priest shows up?"
"He'll come tomorrow."
"He could come today!"
"If he comes today, I'll tell him to come tomorrow."
Lysias slid the stack of tablets to one side.
"Ah, and one more thing."
"...What."
"Don't look for me tonight."
"...Why?"
"It's a strike."
"...A what?"
"Well, not a strike. A day off."
Lysias stuck his brush back in the jar.
"Count me as dead until tomorrow morning."
"...Hey."
"Even if a goddess comes looking, I'm dead. I'll come back to life tomorrow, so tell her then."
Dion opened his mouth to object, but Lysias was already halfway to the door.
...Ah. Finally, a day off.
...Loo loo la la.
His steps were light.
Two nights without sleep. Temple people to deal with since morning. An afternoon spent drafting tablets that would flip district jurisdiction on its head — and not one of those things occupied the man's mind right now.
Wash up and sleep.
...No, eat, then wash, then sleep.
...Actually, should I just sleep and eat when I wake up tomorrow?
Dion called after him from behind.
Lysias didn't turn around.
He just waved a hand over his shoulder.
...Tomorrow's me can handle it.
"Inspector, they've all gathered."
It was five days later.
Lysias looked up from the tablet he'd been flipping through.
"Where?"
"The Western Temple. The district priests gather there around this time every year. To coordinate the votive schedule before planting season."
"Ah, so that's a thing, is it?"
"Yes. All six districts attend."
...'
...Oh.
Lysias set down his brush.
...They're all gathering in one place?
Then he wouldn't have to trek around to six districts separately.
...This is an absolute gift.
Lysias gathered his tablets and stood.
In the temple's back courtyard, a long table had been laid out. The priests of the six districts sat around it while wine made its rounds. It was a yearly gathering, and everyone's face was loose and easy.
Then Lysias stepped in, and the courtyard went quiet.
"..."
"..."
"...What is that boy?"
"A courthouse inspector, I heard."
"The eighteen-year-old Sir Anton kept going on about?"
...'
Ah, the rumor's already spread.
"...Inspector. What brings you here?"
"Business."
"This is a gathering of priests."
"Yes. Which is why I've come. I heard all six districts would be present."
Lysias stood at the head of the table and opened his tablets.
"This won't take long. Feel free to keep eating while you listen."
...'
...What manner of brat is this.
"This concerns an adjustment of jurisdiction."
"..."
"The village of Agria currently belongs to the Western District. I intend to reassign it."
There was the sound of a cup being set down.
"...I'm sorry, what?"
"...What did you just say?"
"I said I intend to reassign the jurisdiction."
Lysias turned over a tablet.
"The method is simple. Each district names its terms. The village goes to whoever names the best terms."
"..."
"I'll accept three terms: the number of re-measures, the cap on skimming, and whether collection is done in person or by delivery."
"..."
"Well then — let's begin."
Lysias set the tablet down on the table with a firm thock.
"...One moment."
One of the priests rose to his feet.
"...Inspector, are you saying you're putting the Western seat up for grabs?"
"The seat?"
"Agria. The village in the western territory."
"Ah — yes."
Lysias nodded.
"Exactly what I said."
"..."
"And to be precise, you're not surrendering anything — you're bidding for it again. The Western District is welcome to enter the bidding like everyone else."
"...Bidding?"
"Yes. A bidding."
...'
...What in the world is he talking about?
The priest had never heard the word used like this in his life.
Lysias, meanwhile, was speaking as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"...Inspector."
It was the eldest priest.
"The matter of which village falls to which temple — it has not changed once since this nation was founded."
"Yes. I looked into it, and indeed it hasn't."
"And you mean to change that?"
"Yes."
"...On what grounds?"
Lysias opened his tablet.
"On the grounds that there are none."
"..."
"There is no regulation anywhere that assigns a village to a temple. Not on the pillars, not in the registry."
"..."
"If there's no regulation, then it was never settled. And if it was never settled, then it can be settled now. And if no one has been appointed to settle it, then it falls to whoever holds the registry."
Lysias tapped the edge of the tablet with his fingertip.
"The registry is in our keeping."
...'
The old priest said nothing.
And it was Lysias who spoke first.
"Ah — and one thing I'll say in advance."
"..."
"You're welcome to all declare that none of the six districts will take the village."
...'
That was exactly what they'd been on the verge of saying. The glances the priests had been trading with their neighbors this whole time had meant precisely that.
"If we all refuse, then that village—"
"Can't pay its votive offerings. And if it can't pay, it can't sow seed. And if it can't sow, there is no harvest year."
"..."
"I'm aware. I heard all of it when I visited the village myself."
Lysias picked up his brush.
"In that case, I would simply record the following."
Agria — votive offerings unpaid, due to absence of a jurisdictional temple.
Sowing commenced while in arrears.
"..."
"...What is that supposed to be?"
"You refused, so the village couldn't pay. It couldn't pay, so it simply sows its seed. That's what gets recorded. And when the harvest comes in this autumn, that gets recorded too."
The table went silent.
Lysias set down his brush.
"Once it's on record that a village managed a full harvest without paying a single offering — what do you suppose the other villages will demand the following year?"
"..."
"I don't know. But I imagine all of you do."
...'
The old priest's hand froze above his cup.
...Is this a threat?
It was not.
This boy was not threatening them. He genuinely intended to write exactly that.
Because that was his job.
"...Inspector."
The old priest spoke again.
"...Are you proposing that we haggle over the gods' share?"
...'
Ah, now he's coming at me hard.
Lysias lifted his eyes from the tablet.
"No. The gods' share is already fixed, isn't it? One part in ten."
"..."
"That's what they taught us at the academy. Or is that wrong?"
"...That is correct, but—"
"Then there's nothing to haggle over. I'm not touching the gods' share."
Lysias turned over his tablet.
"What I intend to decide is who receives that tenth. That's not the gods' share — that's the temple's share."
"..."
"And the temple's share is fair game, isn't it?"