Eamon and Lyra returned from the lake and back to the guild. It was later in the evening, and many students had already left. Ealdred had given Eamon a key to stay in the room above the guild.

“Oh, good you both returned,” Ealdred said when they entered the guild’s hall. “I tried clearing your room out, Eamon, but I’ve been busy with training and haven't had the time.”

“No worries, Master. You’ve done quite enough for me.”

“I’ll help him clean up a bit,” Lyra offered.

“Are you sure Edie is okay with you being here later?”

Lyra shrugged. “It’s fine. She’s working an overnight shift.”

Ealdred nodded. “In that case, I’ll see you both in the morning. Lyra, lock up when you’re finished.”

“Goodnight, Master,” they both said and headed upstairs.

•†•

The room was littered with boxes, and the air was filled with dust, so Lyra had to keep fanning away from her face to avoid sneezing. Unfortunately, she was unsuccessful.

They shifted through a few boxes and stumbled upon a radio. Lyra turned the dial to listen to a Valerian program in celebration of the anniversary of Cassandra Aegis’ achievements, the youngest woman to receive the title of the Praefectus Vigilum. As they went through things, they stumbled across remnants of the past that hadn’t been touched in years.

“Oh my gosh, look at this picture!” Lyra squealed, holding up the photo of a little boy with a bowler haircut and a petticoat. In other similar photos, the bowler haircut boy stood next to a wide-grinning girl, revealing a wire crib along her teeth and wearing two puff balls in her hair.

Before Eamon could intervene and point it out, the station was cut short, and an announcer spoke:

“We interrupt Valerian's scheduled program for a speech from Chancellor Viktor Radovinov…”

Lyra scrunched her face. Any trace of humor was erased. The picture was now forgotten as she sat it back in its box and walked over to the radio. The last person who had been in power–Chancellor Price Regnor V–had been a poor excuse of a leader. Seven years ago, he caused a worldwide financial crisis known to the world as the Seven-Year Strain.

He caused arguments with other nations and wars to break out. Ultimately, he formed a taxation to compensate for the damage he started. He even stole funds from the people himself. This emptied the treasury, and the war expenditures increased the debt by 1 billion Denaris.

When Chancellor Viktor was elected to take over, he thought he could make better changes by sweetening deals with locals with repayment.

Lyra’s fingers dug into her palms. She didn't register the pain until a moment later and hissed—her palm held crescent-shaped marks where she had imprinted red marks into her skin.

Eamon walked behind her.

“Maybe…it won’t be as bad as you think?”

Lyra snorted, putting her hand down. “Right,, because having an overbearing tax that caused thousands to lose their businesses and homes isn’t bad. Not to mention a strained debt in a war-torn country that’s still healing.” She gestured her hands in the air in exaggeration.

“Everyone’s livelihood was taken, and the Monarchs benefited when they emptied the treasury. Remember that warehouse from which we closed the Rift? That was an incident from Chancellor Price. All Chancellor Viktor is paying people off to make them forget so they can cast their votes for him for the next term. He's preying on their insecurities and vulnerability. I’m concerned about what he has up his sleeve and what he’ll do this time.”

Eamon saw how much it affected her, from her rigid posture and tightened shoulders to her crossed arms. Since he had been on the offensive in the military and cut off from civilians, he felt an alien feeling in the pit of his stomach that made him sick, knowing how that emotionless state was all wrong.

A shift in the air caused Lyra to look Eamon’s way, seeing him staring blankly into nothing. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked, hearing her voice and shaking his head. “Nothing, I was just thinking.”

Before Lyra could ask what it was he was thinking, the radio whirred to life, and Chancellor Viktor’s bold, guttural, and heavy accent came through on the other end:

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Greetings, esteemed citizens of Aurum; I speak to you not just as your Chancellor but as a humble servant of the people. Together, we embark on a journey to rebuild our beloved nation, to mend the wounds of the past, and to pave the way for a brighter future. Today, I bring forth a vital announcement that marks a turning point in our collective history since the Great Convergence Era and the ending of the period of darkness that the Primal Chaos had brought us. I bring a new era of hope and prosperity.

Lyra and Eamon give one another anxious looks in their darting eyes as they wait with bated breath.

“For too long, we have witnessed the hardships that plagued our land. The results from the Seven Year Strain at the hands of the previous Chancellor Price Regnor, left the country's citizens betrayed as it indebted thousands. We draw closer to the one-year Anniversary of the Veilfall tragedy at the hands of the Rifts. We have seen our brave Locksmiths struggle due to inadequate resources.”

Lyra grunted at the comment. Inadequate? Tch, I’d like to show him with my blade at his throat.

“…We have witnessed The Sanctum of Lumos and The College of Lumos, our bastions of knowledge and enlightenment, grapple with financial constraints in Saint Lumos’ name. And we have asked our brave military to face untold dangers with limited means.

But I stand before you to announce a transformation. A transformation that starts with a simple yet powerful concept: unity. Unity in the face of adversity, unity to mend what was broken, and unity to secure a future where our children can thrive without fear of the Veilspawn’s shadow.

We aim to achieve several noble goals through a balanced tax distribution to appointed states. First and foremost, this approach will ensure that resources are distributed equally, fostering economic growth across our great nation. It will provide the funding the Locksmiths need to protect us, the resources for the Sanctum and the College of Lumos to continue their invaluable work in Saint Lumos’ name, and funds for the betterment of our Imperial Military to become viable sources to be on par and assist Locksmiths so no tragedies have to befall us again.

Eamon looked from the corner of his eye to Lyra. He couldn’t see her whole face as she faced the radio; he couldn't read her expression. All he could go off on was how her shoulders stiffened and her hand clenched too tightly on a cleaning rag; thankfully, it was that instead of her palm again.

Eamon wondered how the common people would feel about taxes being taken from them after they were given money and having lands taken away after being promised a better start. Surely, this couldn’t be the unity he had heard in past rumors.

“But let us not forget, dear citizens, that taxes are not merely a burden. They are an investment in the stability and security of our homeland. By contributing to this cause, you become an active participant in shaping our destiny. You empower our Locksmiths to close the Rifts and our military to safeguard us from the insidious Veilspawns. Saint Lumos herself will rain praise and prosperity for enabling the Sanctum and College to advance our knowledge and bring light to the darkest corners of our world. Our military will stand tall, unyielding in the face of human and supernatural threats, for they are our fail-safe with everyday advancement and technologies.

In closing, I ask you to look beyond the immediate weight of taxation and instead see it as a beacon of hope. A hope that, together, we can heal the wounds of the past. A hope that, united, we can build a safer, more prosperous future for ourselves and generations yet to come. I thank you for your trust and dedication to the Argonian Empire. Let us stand as one, for our best days are still ahead. We shall forge a brighter tomorrow, a brighter Aurum!”

The live crowds cheered as they resounded through the radio. The announcer returned, concluding Chancellor Viktor’s speech, “You heard it here. The process of the ‘Harmony Taxation Act’ will be further discussed in the coming weeks—”

Lyra cut the radio off before they could finish.

“Lyra?” Eamon called out to her. “Say something. What are you thinking?” Eamon touched her shoulder. She released her cinched shoulders and relaxed at the touch. “Is it about the Harmony Taxation Act?”

She scoffed. “Yeah, I have a few choice words to say about that.”

She turned so he could see her face. Her eyes were narrowed, brows pinched, and lips firmly pressed together. It wasn't anger or sadness but fatigue.

“I can acknowledge the potential benefits of funding and would probably approach it with a more analytical mindset…”

“But?” Eamon pressed her to keep going.

Lyra curled a brow at him. “But, I’ve heard too many stories about the Empire's greed and corruption in the past. Then, Chancellor Viktor Radovinov came into power and repaid the people that Chancellor Price had wronged. NOW wants to throw more taxes in people’s faces after the Seven Year Strain caused the biggest debt in history and call it unity?” She shook her head. “It’s bad enough he’s using the Veilfall tragedy like that. Are they genuinely intending to use our taxes for the greater good? Aurum’s citizens should be cautious and keep a watchful eye on how funds are distributed.”

“How do you think the people of Lysandrian Kingdom will take it?” he asked, returning to cleaning, hoping the task would distract Lyra’s annoyance. He was grateful when she mimicked his actions.

“That’ll be some of our tasks to do early tomorrow morning. We'll reconvene and assess people's worries or problems throughout the town. It’s not just a Locksmith's job to close Rifts and destroy spawns but to be peacekeepers for the realm.”

“That’s very admirable of you, Lyra. Like a real Locksmith.”

She snorted, “Oh geez, thanks.” The silence lasted several minutes as they cleaned, and then Lyra spoke again, “Did you know about the Act? And what really happened during the tragedy?”

Eamon stopped cleaning and thought of how to address her best. “I…I’m not sure… It’s difficult to explain.” Once again, his eye twitched. He grabbed the side of his head as if holding back a headache.

She faced him and frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Lyra, you know I—”

She waved him off.

“Yeah, you said it a thousand times before, but it’s suspicious of you to come back after all these years; you tell us nothing, and then there’s this taxation act. What aren’t you telling us, Eamon?”

Eamon stayed silent as Lyra glared at him. He bowed his head and said, “I’m sorry.”

Lyra scoffed and tossed the rag at him. “Yeah, me too.” Before leaving and slamming the door behind her.

Eamon didn’t call her back either.