“How are the people reacting to the new tax reforms?” Arthur asked, turning to Ben, the man overseeing the Keldoria Tax Office.

Ben adjusted the documents in his hands before responding. “For the most part, the people have remained silent on the matter. Those in the lower income brackets seem relieved—many are grateful that their tax burdens have lessened or disappeared entirely. Some have even mentioned that they can now afford to set aside food for the winter rather than worrying about tax collectors taking what little they have.”

Arthur gave a small nod, unsurprised. “And the merchants? What about the business owners who weren’t present at the banquet?”

Ben’s expression grew more serious. “They’re displeased, of course. Many see this as an unnecessary shake-up of a system that benefited them for years. However, they’re confused as to why the higher-ranking nobles and influential figures have accepted the reforms so easily. Without their support, the merchants and lesser nobles lack the power to resist. That being said, if a count or marquis were to take a stand, I have no doubt they would rally behind them.”

Arthur leaned back slightly, considering Ben’s words. “You’re right. For now, they’re disorganized, but that won’t last forever. if I don’t maintain my grip, they might grow bold enough to challenge me. For now, let them fume—without the backing of the higher nobility, they lack the power to resist.”

Ben nodded, adjusting the papers in his hand. “Should we keep a closer eye on them, Your Majesty?”

Arthur leaned back slightly, his fingers drumming against the armrest of his chair. “Yes. Have our informants monitor any gatherings or meetings between discontented merchants and lesser nobles. If they start forming alliances, I want to know before they make a move.”

“Understood,” Ben affirmed. “I’ll ensure the tax office stays vigilant.”

Arthur exhaled slowly. The tax reforms had been a necessary step, but he knew that resentment would linger in some corners of the kingdom. Change was never welcomed by those who thrived under the old ways.

“Anything else?” he asked.

Ben hesitated for a moment before responding. “There’s been an increase in requests for tax adjustments from smaller businesses. Some are struggling with the transition, claiming that their margins are too thin to handle the new structure.”

Arthur furrowed his brows. “Are these genuine concerns or just excuses to avoid taxation?”

“Some are legitimate,” Ben admitted. “But others… well, let’s just say certain merchants have a long history of underreporting profits.”

Arthur smirked. “I expected as much. Implement a case-by-case review. If a business is truly struggling, we can make temporary adjustments, but for those trying to deceive us—make an example of them. Let the public see that we reward honesty and punish deceit.”

Ben grinned. “A fair approach, Your Majesty. I’ll have my men handle it accordingly.”

Arthur gave a firm nod. "Good. Keep me updated."

With that, Ben exited the library, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.

As the door clicked shut, Arthur leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting to the flickering gemstone atop his desk. The soft glow danced across the polished wood, casting shifting shadows across the room.

It's only been three weeks since I introduced the tax reforms. For now, the high-ranking nobles remain compliant, but that won't last forever. If I don’t deliver tangible results soon, resentment will fester, and unrest will follow. Even with the support of the two dukes, there's no guarantee the nobility won’t eventually turn against me.

And while I might be able to crush any rebellion that rises, the cost would be devastating. A civil conflict would only weaken the military, leaving the kingdom vulnerable to invasion. Our enemies wouldn't hesitate to exploit the chaos.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

At best, I have a year—maybe two—to prove that this system benefits them before opposition solidifies into something far more dangerous.

His fingers tap against the armrest of his chair. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, I need to focus on the most immediate concerns.

With winter fast approaching, the kingdom's resources would soon be stretched thin. Tax revenues wouldn’t fully come in for several more months, and even when they did, a significant portion would need to be reinvested into maintaining stability. On top of that, funding was required for his planned industrial projects.

Road expansions and proper sewage systems will have to wait until winter ends. But once the snow clears, infrastructure improvements must take priority—better roads will boost trade, and proper sanitation will improve public health.

Arthur reached for the latest budget report from the Keldoria Treasury Department, scanning the document with a sigh.

Hhhh… Even before winter sets in, we barely have enough funds to construct a proper sewage system. He frowned slightly, tapping his finger against the numbers. However, road-building isn’t as costly here as it was back on Earth. With mages capable of earth magic, construction requires far less manpower and fewer resources. That means I won’t have to allocate too much of the kingdom’s budget for it.

Since those projects will have to wait, I need to shift my focus to—

A sudden knock at the door interrupted his train of thought.

"Enter," Arthur said, straightening his posture.

The door creaked open, revealing Owen, the man overseeing the development of the linotype prototype. His expression was composed, but there was a hint of urgency in his eyes. "Your Majesty, we've encountered a problem with some of the parts required to construct the linotype machine."

Arthur had anticipated challenges. After implementing the tax reforms, he had personally recruited a team of skilled mages and blacksmiths to bring his blueprint to life. The linotype would revolutionize printing, but innovation was never without its obstacles.

"Lead the way," Arthur said, rising from his chair. "I'll assess the issue myself and see what can be done."

Owen nodded and swiftly turned, leading Arthur through the palace halls. As they walked, Arthur’s mind raced through possible complications. Is it an issue with the precision of the parts? The type molds? Or perhaps the enchantments needed to automate the process?

Arriving at the workshop, Arthur was met with the rhythmic clang of hammer against metal, the scent of molten iron mixing with the faint traces of enchanted ink. Blacksmiths toiled over glowing forges, shaping gears and frames, while mages stood nearby, their hands guiding wooden components into precise shapes with spells that far outmatched the skills of even the finest carpenters.

At the center of the room stood the half-assembled linotype machine, its skeletal frame a mix of cast iron and meticulously carved wooden parts. Arthur’s gaze swept over it before turning to Owen.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

Owen rubbed the back of his head, frustration evident in his voice. "We've hit a snag with the assembler and distributor mechanisms. The way the matrices are supposed to be automatically arranged and sent to the casting mold—it's proving more complex than we anticipated. We’re unsure how to synchronize the distributor with the keyboard input while ensuring the matrices return to their proper place after casting."

Arthur nodded, stepping closer to inspect the machinery. The assembler and distributor were crucial components of the linotype—one arranging the letters in the correct order, the other ensuring used matrices were properly sorted and recycled. Without them functioning seamlessly, the machine would be inefficient, negating its entire purpose.

He exhaled, then began explaining. "The assembler needs to work in tandem with a carefully timed mechanical escapement—something that can regulate the release of the matrices one at a time. As for the distributor, it must rely on gravity and properly aligned channels to ensure that each matrix returns to its designated slot after use. If we fine-tune the spacing and adjust the angle of return, it should resolve the issue."

The blacksmiths and mages listened intently, nodding as Arthur sketched out minor adjustments on a piece of paper. After some back and forth, refining the details of the mechanism, a sudden knock on the door disrupted their discussion.

Arthur glanced up. "Who is it?"

"Klein, Your Majesty," came the voice from the other side.

"Enter," Arthur said.

The door open, and Klein stepped inside, holding a sealed envelope with the royal insignia. With a respectful bow, he extended it toward Arthur.

"This arrived from Solarny Magic Academy, Your Majesty," Klein announced.

Arthur's gaze sharpened. Solarny Magic Academy—renowned as the most prestigious institution in Keldoria—rarely sent correspondence unless it was of significant importance. Without hesitation, he broke the seal and unfolded the letter. As his eyes skimmed over the neatly penned words, his expression stiffened.

His grip on the envelope tightened slightly. "Alice and Aaron… they’re returning to the palace for the winter?"