“Why hello, Thale,” Uncle Edwin said as he saw me. He carried a contemplative scowl on his face as if he was wrestling with a difficult question. “Come in, come in, we were just talking about… Nevermind, it doesn’t matter.”
Edwin gave me the kind of paternal smile one would give to a particularly precocious child. I had not spoken extensively to Edwin before this point, so he still believed me to merely be an intelligent seven-year-old. After the night my mother died, the rest of my family knew better.
“Actually, I would like to hear his input,” Solana said. “Thale might have an interesting perspective on the matter.”
“Okay,” Edwin said, uncertain. “We’re talking about the taxation of adventuring parties throughout Northwind. Of the thirty-nine adventuring parties based in our realm, only five regularly pay their tithes to the state. Northwind probably loses five thousand gold coins per year to their tax dodging. Plus, we can’t chase them down because none of them have a permanent address.”
That wasn’t where I thought the conversation would start, but I figured I might as well make a suggestion. I said, “Why don’t you make it a competition?”
“Excuse me?” Edwin asked, confused.
“At the end of the year, have these mercenary companies declare their ‘hoard.’ When they declare this ‘hoard,’ they’ll simultaneously pay the 10% tithe they owe. Then, in the middle of Northwind, you’ll put up a list of the top ten highest-grossing adventuring parties in the Realm.” I put some thought into this in the past. I had briefly joined a guild, and they used this method in order to get smaller parties to pay their fair-share of taxes to the guild.
“If we have them declare their own hoard, won’t they just lie?” Edwin asked.
“Yes,” I said, “but they’ll lie upward. They’ll pretend to make much more than they actually made in order to go up on the leaderboard.”
Edwin paused for a long time, deep in thought. Even though the idea came from a prepubescent child, he gave the idea its due consideration. “Well…” he muttered, “adventurers are famously fickle and competitive. It just might work. You know what? That’s a better idea than anything we’ve come up with so far. Let’s give it a shot. If the adventurers start paying their taxes after this, we’ll write it into law.”
With that short conversation, the tax policy for Northwind changed. That was the primary benefit of feudalism; laws could change instantaneously if someone in power wanted to change them. I did not know it at the time, but that short conversation would come back to bite me in the ass in the future.
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“Where did you get this idea?” Solana asked with a frown. “You’ve never met any adventurers. How do you know how they think?”
“Adventurers commonly feature in some of my favorite books,” I lied. “I’ve read about them so many times that it’s almost like I’ve met some of them in person.” These two sentences were such bald-faced lies that I was quite glad neither Solana nor Edwin had the [Lie Detection] Talent.
“I’m not here to talk about tax policy, however,” I said with a sigh. “I’m here because I have to tell you something. Both of you, actually.”
“What’s that?” Solana said, worry starting to enter her tone.
There was no use beating around the bush, I thought. I decided to just rip the bandaid off immediately. “I’m going to leave Northwind tomorrow.”
“What!?” Solana gasped. Her expression was not one of surprise. She looked as if all her greatest fears had just been confirmed. A part of Solana had feared that this day would come. She was terrified that the same motivating force of revenge that had gripped Armond would one day take me as well, and she was right.
“I will not allow it,” Edwin said with a furrowed brow. He attempted to project the image of a disapproving father, but it had no effect on me. Edwin did not possess the undercurrent of strength that Count Armond had. When Edwin spoke, his voice lacked clear authority. “Your father charged me with your protection. I am hardly going to allow a ten year old boy to wander out of town alone.”
“My father does not care if I leave home or stay,” I said, a simmering anger entering my voice. I did not expect any anger to register in my tone as I said that. Before that point, I would have said that I felt no anger toward my father for leaving the family. The abandonment would certainly bother a child, but I was a fully-grown man. What reason would I have for resenting Armond? After I heard my own voice, I realized that I felt some anger toward my father.
“More to the point, I will not be alone. I intend to travel with Beltane and, most likely, Eadric,” I said simply. “A war mage and a knight should be more than enough protection on the road.”
“It does not matter how well protected you would be, Thale!” Edwin said. “You cannot go because I will not allow it.”
“Hmm,” I grunted, my expression darkening. “Unfortunately, this is not a request, Uncle, but a notification of intent. You do not have the authority to stop me. As the liege lord of Gwynedd, there are only two men in the world who can give me orders in the Realm of Northwind: Count Armond and King Theophrastus. Neither of them are here right now.”
After a moment’s shock at my response, Edwin continued to speak. “I am your guardian and regent! You must do as I say for those two reasons alone!”
“A regent is only necessary in the case of absence or incapability. I think my [Intelligence] score of eighteen proves my capacity,” I retorted. “Plus…” for a moment, I intended to say more, but instead I sighed and decided against it, “oh, nevermind. I will leave tomorrow. If you intend to stop me, you can challenge me to a duel and try to stop me yourself, or you can order the militia to seize me and see where their loyalties lie. Both of those courses of action will end poorly for you.”