The Butcher of Gadobhra

Chapter 123: Civic Duty

Chapter 123: Civic Duty

As the cock crowed over Sedgewick, an Imperial Courier delivered a message to the rooms occupied by Procurator Smythe, handing it to a bodyguard in crimson armor. The Procurator read the missive with his morning tea.

"William, Baron of Gadobhra wishes his Imperial Majesty's tax collector a good morning and a productive day.

We have much to discuss about the payments of taxes owed. I shall be attending to this task at noon, in a room set aside for that purpose, at the tavern in Sedgewick. A light luncheon will be available on the sideboard."

Smythe refolded the piece of parchment, replaced it in the envelope, and handed it to a clerk to be placed in the Baron's records. One never knew what could be useful at a later date. Turning to his staff, he gave the days orders. "The game is afoot. Rather than delay more, the Baron wishes to bargain a bit. Let's go dash his hopes and collect what is owed."

At a quarter ‘til noon, the Imperial Procurator and his staff walked into the tavern. At the door was a large, smiling man - the butcher. He greeted them without ceremony, except for Huck who he greeted by name. Sanguine and Ebony clutched their weapons tighter. Something about the man was triggering their instincts to protect the agent with whose safety they were charged. The butcher simply gave them the same smile he gave everyone else and led them upstairs to a nicely decorated dining room.

The Baron was seated at one end and rose as they entered. To his right was the Baroness, and to his left was a smartly dressed man in a pin-striped suit, with a serious look on his face. Huck sniffed furiously and growled low in his throat.

The tavern keeper curtsied and went back to arranging food on the sideboard. Standing against one wall was an Imperial Courier. Smythe knew one of them was stationed here and that the Baron provided his food and lodging. But it was odd that he was here. Few of the nobility actually wanted an official witness to their dealings.

After the appropriate bows, the Baron spoke, "Nice to see you all again. I know it's an inconvenient time, feel free to get a bite to eat or drink and we'll get down to haggling over a few points."

Smythe chose to not take the bait and let the Baron keep his delusions about haggling. The man had been practically poleaxed yesterday. A tugging at his sleeve made him aware that Huck needed his attention. Walking to the hallway, he sighed and said, "Yes Huck? Report."

Huck looked over his shoulder to check for listeners, then spoke in a whisper, "This just got harder boss. That guy next to the Baron? He smells strongly of slime and twisted tongues. He's got papercuts on two fingers. And he frankly reeks of sulfur, broken promises, and crushed souls."

Smythe looked at Huck. He was dead serious, "Are you saying he brought in a tax advisor?"

Huck twitched at the words, "Yes, and worse. He smells of 'down there' and 'up there'. It's mixed with other things. I think he's using the smell of those ugly cows to disguise it all. My nose is still sore from those damned peppers, but some things you just can't hide, or wash away."

Smythe pondered this implication. He wished he had the complete briefing of what occurred in this village lately. All he knew was that gods had been involved, and a fallen had been here. Did the Baron cut some sort of hellish deal to open Gadobhra?

The presence of the Imperial Courier was explained. Someone was using him as a watchdog to keep an eye on Baron William. This case got more and more interesting, "Write it all up while the scents are fresh in your nose, Huck. And thank you for the warning. Good job." Huck seemed pleased and went off to a corner of the room to begin writing up his notes. Smythe availed himself of the food laid out on the sideboard, including a tasty imported escargot. It seemed the Baron had expensive tastes.

As he was sitting down, four more people entered the room. Centurion Marcus had rolls of parchment under one arm and seemed quite excited. The second man Smythe had met briefly one time before. Inquisitor Diego waved and smiled, heading immediately to the food. The third man was a heavily muscled blacksmith who didn't seem daunted at all by the assembled people in the room. He simply grabbed a beer from the sideboard and took a place against the wall. The last to arrive was the butcher. He loaded up a plate of food and went to sit under one of the windows and ignore everything but his food.

The late arrivals seemed to be a signal for the Baron to begin, "I'm sure no one minds if we keep this casual and friendly. Why don't you trot that tax bill out and we can get to work on it."

The man next to the Baron cleared his throat, "Oh yes, I should introduce my new tax advisor to you. Lord Roland had some time in his schedule to give me a little help sorting things out. I think you'll find his presence helps streamline the process and gets us finished by dinner."

The man in the pinstriped suit gave a small, friendly smile. Huck growled in the corner. "Thank you, your excellency. I'm at your service, of course."

He continued, "After a bit of research, I'd like to address points about each of these tax charges. We can go in any order that you please, Procurator."

Smythe looked at the parchment in front of him, "Very well, first item is the contribution to Rowan Keep over the next few years. I have set your contribution at ten thousand gold the first year, then diminishing cost each year after that until construction is done. An ongoing upkeep of two thousand after that."

The tax advisor inclined his head, "That seems quite reasonable and justified by Section 6, chapter 3, and pages 6-19 of the Imperial tax code."

"The Baron has agreed to pay his fair share of compensation, but in a different manner. I'd like you to reference page 18 of the same chapter and section. "On the approval of the Legion representative and the local tax agent, raw materials and work provided by the local nobility may be used to offset this tax. I believe Centurion Marcus has something he wishes to bring up."

The Centurion took three steps to the table, saluted, and began rolling out diagrams for the new keep, "Look at these! With the Baron's help we can completely redesign the keep to be many times its current size and more defensible."

The diagrams showed outer walls in the shape of a star that completely enclosed the current keep. Large towers were at the points of each star. Two gates were at the intersection of two walls, one facing Sedgewick and the other leading south. An arrow-straight road continued to the south from the front gates.

Smythe looked at the plans. They were very ambitious. Such a fort had many advantages over a normal, rectangular castle. Each gate was supported by two towers and two walls that would give cross-fire against charging enemy. Each tower could be supported by fire from two towers and the walls adjacent. Normally such a shape limited interior space, but built to this scale, it also provided more than enough additional room. There was only one problem.

"And how is the Baron going to help pay for this extravagant work, if he is having difficulty paying a lesser bill?"

Baron William spoke up, "I didn't say I couldn't pay. I just don't like to. No one likes to pay taxes."

The man in the pin-striped suit spoke up. "The Baron is allowed by Section 4, paragraph 3 to limit the amount of taxes he needs to pay in any legal and acceptable way. In this case he is offering labor from his own workers, an engineer specializing in such work to oversee construction, and the raw materials for the walls, towers, and gate houses. Such construction would cost the Legion in excess of 200 thousand gold coins and an estimated seven years of work. We can do it for less."

Smythe steepled his fingers, "Oh, I'm sure you can. Promises are cheap. A little work will get done now and then, you'll defer your taxes for a decade, blame the orc attacks or wandering monsters, and we'll be back here in a few years still arguing. Not approved."

The blacksmith spoke up, "Bullshit. I can finish our work in a year, maybe quicker, plus run road down to the next town. The Legion will have a proper fortress with walls down to bedrock with stones ten times bigger than what you have planned."

Smythe didn't know what to think. Both the Inquisitor and the Centurion were nodding their heads as if this all made perfect sense. "Then tell me two things: Firstly, what will this be costing the Empire."

Lord Roland said, "Seven years of upkeep taxes. That's a steal. Rather than thirty-four thousand in taxes you'll be getting the equivalent of two hundred thousand in work and raw materials. The Legion has a much better keep and in far less time. The Baron gains increased protection in times of trouble, and an easing of taxes. A good deal for everyone."

Smythe hated the tax advisor. The man, if he was a man, made that statement with such sincerity that even his own staff were nodding their heads in agreement, or looking excitedly at the plans.

"Then answer my second question: What if you fail?"

Lord Roland seemed prepared, "If we don't finish in one year, then all $34,000 in taxes is immediately owed."

Smythe shook his head, "Not good enough. A deal like this needs teeth to it. Having to pay taxes you owed anyway isn't enough. I want Gadobhra."

The Baron snorted in amusement.

Lord Roland narrowed his eyes, "Are you seriously suggesting that if the Baron fails to finish construction of this fortress and road in a year, the Empire will lay claim to an entire ancient city full of dungeons, treasure, fantastic beasts, and untold value? Really?"

Smythe sat back, now the real haggling would get started. It was always easier to start high and come down to where he wanted to be, "Yes, that's what I'm suggesting."

"That's awesome. Sounds good to me. We agree," Lord Roland had a big smile on his face. The Baron leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Next item on the list."

Smythe was shocked, "You agree?"

Baron William looked at him and locked eyes. "We're ACME. We don't screw around, and we don't fail deadlines. You have no idea how hard we can work. What's your next item, Procurator?"

Smythe sorted his paperwork, "A smaller item, but no less important. The village of Sedgewick owes 100 gold for the village and another 500 gold for its two dungeons."

The Tavern Keeper walked over and stood next to Lord Roland. She slid a copy of an agreement over to Smythe detailing the sale of a tavern. "Those are my responsibilities now. And while I could argue that the two dungeons connect and are actually both under the control of one Boss, I'm certain that both will grow over the next year. I'm fine with costs as they stand."

Smythe looked at the bill of sale and conditions. All seemed in order, "Very well, and you are prepared to pay your taxes at this point?"

Lord Roland spoke up, "She is, but as a courtesy to you. While it's technically true that the taxes are due upon your arrival, Section 22, paragraph 9 states that villages that have recently increased in tier may pay their taxes at any time during the following year. Suzette, being a loyal citizen is simply choosing to pay them now. She will also be exercising her option to pay in magical items."

Smythe's eyes narrowed. The tax advisor seemed well informed on details pertaining to his clients. Smythe couldn't fault the man for doing his job, "That option is only available with my approval. The item needs to be acceptable."

Suzette grinned at him, pulled a small toy boat from her apron and slid it over to him, "I'd guess that Legendary items are always acceptable?"

Inflatable Yacht (Legendary)

When placed upon water, this small toy boat will expand to an inflated, 100’ length boat, suitable for entertaining and parties. It has no sails, and takes a day to deflate and roll up, at which point it turns back into a toy boat.

Inquisitor Diego reached out, picked up the item, and carefully examined it, "Oh my, yes, I can see the emperor being delighted to take this as a tax payment."

Suzette clapped, "That makes me so happy. I'm sure that the Empire will appraise it at a fair value."

Smythe called over his clerks and consulted some of his books. Where in hell had this come from? Legendary items were so difficult to appraise. But as Diego had said, this was not something he could turn down, "Young lady, in the interest of fairness and time, would you be willing to accept a deferment of your taxes for this year and next, to be subtracted from the value of the item as appraised by the Imperial Auditor in the capital?"

Suzette agreed, "My, that certainly sounds fair. It won't fit in the duck pond, and would just annoy the ducks. I trust you all to do the right thing." Smythe felt good that she trusted him. The poor girl was giving over her only treasure to do her civic duty. He had the item put away in a special storage box, and gave her a receipt.

"Next," The Baron startled him out of his daydreaming and he grabbed the next item.

"Ah, the next item would be the dungeons of Gadobhra; 1300 gold pieces."

Lord Roland looked at the bill, and handed it back, "We contest this bill. As it states in section 7, chapter 1, paragraph 17 of the Imperial Tax code, taxes cannot be levied upon a dungeon until it has been claimed, entered, or a historical record of its level no more than 100 years old is presented. None of these have happened so these taxes are deferred."

Smythe couldn't argue this point, so he argued another, "And I'm sure you will notify the proper authorities when this happens?"

The Baron pointed to Ben and Diego, "You have both a Courier and an Inquisitor in this town. Why would I try to hide anything? Of course, we'll notify you. Next."

Smythe brought out his last item, "10,000 gold coins in taxes upon the City of Gadobhra. And please, don't bring up Section 22, paragraph 9. That only refers to villages that have gained a Tier. Gadobhra has certainly gone down at least one tier since it's last tax payment."

Lord Roland looked astonished, "Why, of course not, that would be mis-applying the rules. Besides, it would screw up the sale."

"Sale?"

The tax advisor slid a bill of sale over to the Procurator, "The sale of two dozen war machines to be custom built for Rowan Keep and installed as permitted by ongoing construction. The cost of these far exceeds the tax bill of 10,000 gold, and it will mean that Rowan Keep is fully operational within a year. Centurion Marcus estimates the cost to be several times that amount, with 2-7 years delay if these are sourced through the Imperial Armory."

He inclined his head to the Baron, who smiled benignly, "Again, this is a gesture by the Baron to do what's right. The countryside needs a strong Legion presence and the Legion deserves the best equipment and best prices they can get."

Smythe turned to the Centurion, "You've seen these war machines in action? And have faith these will actually be delivered?"

Marcus nodded, "Yes, Procurator. More faith, sadly, than ordering them from the armory. If you read through General Themis's account of the corporate war, you can see an example of their mobility and deadliness in combat."

Smythe looked at the Baron who sat confidently at the end of the table, "And if you can't deliver?"

Billy shrugged. No one made money who didn't take chances, "You get Gadobhra."

Smythe gathered his papers, "I am going to want signatures as witnesses from both the Inquisitor and the Courier. Plus, I want a write up from you, Diego, to go with it. Marcus, a complete report from you as well, along with the plans for the fort and a description of the war machines."

"Well played Baron, well played. I almost hope you can pull it all off. The north can use a powerful Legion fortress. But if you can't, I'll be back."

Billy walked over and shook his hand, "A deal’s a deal. I look forward to working hard to better the Empire." After all, he thought to himself, it's going to end up belonging to me eventually. Might as well start fixing it up now.