197, 2/2

In the large meeting room at the top of city hall, the cloudy sky lay beyond a cloudy quartz dome overhead, while Erick sat on one side of a familiar large black table. Mephistopheles sat on the other side. Erick suspected that many of his future interactions with Mephistopheles would also take place in this room.

Some paperwork sat between them, while a few secretaries stood to the sides, waiting for the chance to prove themselves by grabbing more paperwork, or refilling the tea and cookies that had been set in the center of the table. Pleasantries had been exchanged and some setup had been had, but not much more than some preliminary questions and answers.

But it was long enough for the door to burst open and for Justine to enter the room.

She had been running, quick as she could down the street, and now she was here. She composed herself and let the door shut on its own behind her.

Erick nodded to the white incani woman, saying, “Welcome. Nothing special has happened yet. Just an informational session.”

“… Ah.” Justine froze in confusion, then she glanced to Mephistopheles. The red incani shadeling just smirked a little. Not knowing what to do with the lack of animosity she had expected, Justine turned back to Erick and did a little bow, saying, “Archmage,” then she took a seat one over from Mephistopheles—

Justine suddenly saw the absolutely black adamantium wrought standing near the wall, behind Erick. Justine’s eyes went wide. She froze solid. Sitnakov certainly did blend in well with the black stone of the room, so that sort of reaction was slightly expected.

Erick explained, “Second Prince Sitnakov Stratagold will be one of my temporary guards for a while, until things settle down.”

Justine briefly stopped breathing at the mention of ‘Prince’ and ‘Stratagold’.

And Mephistopheles loved every second of it, though he wasn’t gauche enough to openly revel in her discomfort.

Erick brought the conversation back to topic, saying, “I will start over. As we were discussing: You have gained insight into what I want this land to be, as of the conversation we had last night. Now, I want to know what you want this land to be. Specifically, how you see the details happening. For instance, what rights can an average citizen expect by living here in Candlepoint? Can they worship whoever they want? Are there limits? We can’t just take the usual Interfaith Church doctrine and incorporate it here at Candlepoint, for Melemizargo is not included in that doctrine.

“What do we do when a Cultist, or anyone else, does something untoward, like playing around making monsters? Or with souls? I’m already playing around with souls, so such a law against such ‘necromancy’ would already apply to me, and while the usual thing is to make an exception for people like me, I am not happy with that idea. So maybe we need some sort of path for people to practice necromancy? This ties into the larger question of how we treat visiting elites or scions of industry, or nobles, or otherwise, versus how we treat normal people.

“What do taxes look like? Are they based on profit, or on gross? Where do the lines of taxation lie, and what do they look like?

“That sort of thing.” Erick asked, “Basically: how do you see life working here in Candlepoint?”

Justine briefly resembled any rookie facing down their first charging wyrm. Erick was coming at her hard and fast, but they were rather normal questions; the only thing abnormal about this scenario was the power imbalance in the room.

Mephistopheles had a little schadenfreude at Justine’s reaction, for he had faced these very same questions, though they hadn’t gotten too far into that discussion before Justine showed. Erick imagined that he would have to say the same thing to Ava, Slip, Zaraanka, and Valok, when they showed up. If they showed. Zaraanka was currently in her mansion, standing by a window, staring at the lake and having a minor crisis. Valok was seated in his living room, while the messenger knocked on the door again and relayed the message to come to City Hall, again. Slip was actively on his way, but he wasn’t in any great hurry to leave the docks where his boat was tied up, and where his guards were cleaning fish he had caught.

Ava had just left her sewerhouse; she was on her way to city hall. She would be here in about fifteen minutes.

Justine thawed, composed herself, and said, “I was expecting to fall in line with whatever decisions you made, majesty, with a starting point of everything being more or less how it is everywhere else. Your own designs on magical education will be nonstandard, and the actual construction of the town will be odd as well, but mostly… An Interfaith Church with allowances for the Cult, which means stripping out about half of the dogma of the usual system.

“I had assumed that you would be locking down most magical education and casting with more Denial spellwork, but if you are willing to teach others, then whatever you decide is best.

“I assumed that elites would be given preferential treatment in all regards, from a complete immunity from commoner-level execution and the requiring of a trial, to lower taxes and such.

“As for taxes, I had assumed anywhere between 50% and 25% of gross product from every single resident or business will be given to city hall, which is then divided up how you, the king, sees fit to divide… Which is rather normal.” Justine added, “Though our economy is currently in complete shambles— Ah. Well. I say ‘economy’ but I mean… We’re basically all the way back to subsistence life. I have made plans to work with Valok and the farmers to shift around some food production in order to compensate, but we’re barely better than we were after Last Shadow’s Feast, nearly 8 months ago. I would expect a similar time table to reestablish ourselves once again.”

It seemed Justine was able to work past or get over most of her fears, and once she got going, she was able to talk almost normally. It was nice. Most of her answers were nice, too; reasonable, and in line with what much of the rest of the world did with regard to religious organization and money and laws versus the elites in any given society. But she had fallen into many of the same traps that Mephistopheles had fallen into, and while Mephistopheles did not enjoy when Erick had countermanded his own thoughts, he was rather joyful as he waited for Erick to give the same sort of talking to Justine.

… Erick didn’t think he had said anything too untoward, but he also kept forgetting that he was their king, and that power disparity was yet another disparity separating him from everyone else.

With similar wording that he had given Mephistopheles, Erick said to Justine, “Here are some things I want to change. With regard to laws versus elites versus commoners, I want a level field between all people. This is not to say that I want all elites treated like commoners, and for justice to be dispensed based on the bare [Witness] of a crime, but for a judge to hear every case made against anyone as though they were elites. No capital crime will be punished before a judge has heard the case, and for a proper Witnesser and Sin Seeker to be on hand.

“Lesser crimes, such as theft of small goods, will require either community service to return to the fold of the city, or some other sort of punishment. We will not be confiscating people’s homes for thefts committed, even if those people stole and hoarded in their house.” Erick had not been surprised to hear that some shadelings had stolen in order to get by, but he had been surprised to hear that the punishment in some cases was to take their home. Now for that part, Erick had gotten a bit mad at Mephistopheles. Erick continued, “Since we can’t exile anyone, we will be trying to help these people return to normalcy, and we will be using a benevolent hand to do so.

“And with regard to taxes, I want to try something different.” Erick explained, “Instead of having a flat 50% income tax, I was thinking that if you make under a thousand gold, or if your business makes under a thousand gold based on person employed, then you are taxed nothing, but if you make over a thousand gold, then you are taxed 25% of everything above that first thousand gold.” This was not the ‘double tax’ that Erick had expected when he first heard of the idea from Mephistopheles, but rather, a person could be themselves or part of a business, and thus that business would be required to pay tax based on the number of employees they had, while the employees paid no tax at all. There were a lot of nuances to that, for sure, but it was not a double tax at all. “The idea of this minimum taxable income level is to ensure that commoners are able to keep their gold and use it as they see fit, but everyone else still pays. This should, in theory, contribute to a lot of economic growth, by taking the pressures off of the lowest of the citizenry, while also not being that large of a change to how things actually work.” Erick said, “In addition, I and every other elite will be taxed the same 25% rate as everyone else.

“As for the church; yes, there will have to be changes to normal Interfaith doctrine. I imagine that you would be the one best to hash out those changes.” Erick said, “Mostly, I just want everyone to get along as best they can.”

Justine had very little idea of where to even begin with her rebuttals.

Mephistopheles said, “The part about the thousand gold starting point for taxes will ensure we gain a lot of commoners, but the same taxes for elites will be a hard medicine to swallow. They are usually taxed less, or even paid by the city for their work they do in supporting the city.”

Justine looked to Mephistopheles, and said, “Taxing elites is also rather normal. It happens all the time in the Crystal Forest and in the Underworld.”

“This is true,” Mephistopheles said, “But where I’m from and how we’ve been doing it is that this tax money usually goes to the elites; it is not taken from them. This is how we’ve been keeping your various interests afloat, and how Zaraanka has managed to maintain and grow her now-demolished businesses.”

Erick said, “We can still subsidize businesses into growth, but I would like to open our lending opportunities to everyone, as they apparently do in Spur and a few other places.” Banks were mostly for extensive trade without needing to actually shove physical money around, but Erick had been a bit surprised to discover that cities usually subsidized their citizens. Banks were mostly repositories of money with very little individual lending power, though they did lend money at the kingdom-level and at the archmage-level, so that was why Erick had mixed up a few facts of how life worked here on Veird. Erick said, “Elites might get better rates for our lending, but I want everyone to have opportunity. Paying the guard and clerks will remain as it has been, but if there isn’t enough money in the system to pay people as they should be paid, then I can contribute more. I would expect the same out of any top earners here in Candlepoint.”

Mephistopheles chuckled. “Full progressive, eh?”

“More than most places, yes,” Erick said. “But not as progressive as I could make it. All of these things will have to take a while to implement, and will likely cause waves, but I feel that they will be the best for all in the coming years—”

Ava knocked on the door, and then she opened it. The sewermaster of Candlepoint came inside, bowed to Erick, then said, “Pardon for the lateness.”

She seemed a lot more relaxed than last time, which was good.

“No need to apologize at all.” Erick said, “I’m the one that keeps calling you all up at all hours of the day. I’ll hope to have a normal meeting sometime every week after things are stable, but for now the meetings will come as they are required.”

Ava took her seat, and got into it right away, asking, “Have you decided on a form of address that you will accept? I feel odd trying to match Mephistopheles’ attempts to suss out your approval.”

Erick flinched, and it showed.

Behind Erick, Teressa mouthed, “The Apparent King.”

Luckily, Teressa was wearing her full face helmet, so… Well. At least a few people saw through that mask. Sitnakov jerked a little, then glanced at Teressa. Teressa just smiled, her stance not betraying any sort of emotion beyond ‘I am here and I am tough; woe betide all who cross me’. Poi snorted. Teressa glanced at him and he gave a small shake of his head.

Erick ignored the overwhelming embarrassment assaulting him from multiple fronts, and said, “People are tossing around a few ideas. I’m still not sure about any of them.”

Ava nodded, saying, “Then I’ll just keep saying—” Ava almost leapt out of her chair, shouting, “OH HOLY fuck! Who is—!” But she maintained. She calmed, her voice falling to a whisper as she said, “Fuck.”

Ava had just noticed Sitnakov.

Erick said, “Ava Jadescale, sewermaster, this is Second Prince Sitnakov Stratagold, otherwise known as the Adamantium Wind. He’ll be one of my guards for a while, until things start to settle down.” He began the same way he had with Justine, saying, “So, as we were discussing: As of last night you gained insight into what I want this land to be, but now, I want to know what you want this land to be. For instance…”

Ava made most of the same assumptions Justine and Mephistopheles had made.

Erick presented his own theories of how things should work.

Ava, unlike Justine, knew exactly where to start rebutting Erick. “This minimum tax level is nothing revolutionary, though I get the feeling that you think it is.”

Mephistopheles and Justine had matching looks of consternation.

But Erick was delighted. “Oh? It’s not?”

“Back in my time one of the larger Underworld cities by the name of Absolock… And a few sister cities, too.” Ava waved a hand, saying, “It’s a long history that probably goes too deep to be useful information, but they were a very large city and so they had a great deal of time to develop their tax rules. It was rather routine for them to waive taxes on hunting lodges set up on monster tunnels, and in any various industries that they wished to support. In my long years overseeing my former home’s sewers, Absolock once developed a dearth of monster hunters, so they dropped taxes on anyone who was willing to sign up with the tunnel crawlers, or whatever it was they called their monster extermination teams. It worked well for them. Lots of signups. Lots of growth. Of course, when they got too many tunnel crawlers over the course of ten years they put those taxes back, and then the city guards found some bureaucrats without heads the following month.” Ava shrugged. “Eh. Nuances. The system of dropping taxes on sectors of the city which you wish to foster growth is established to work.

“I am not sure how you arrived at a thousand gold minimum per year, though. I would expect more like 5,000 per year. This is the Crystal Forest and once Mage Bank and its rad exchange arrives, even the lowliest of adventuring types will hit that thousand gold income in less than four months.”

Erick sat back in his chair and grinned, happy to know that his ideas already had established credit here on Veird. As for the other two people at the table, Ava’s words seemed to trigger recognition in Mephistopheles and Justine.

Justine asked anyone who could answer, “I think they have programs like that in Greensoil, too? I’m rather sure they do, though I do not know the details.”

Mephistopheles said, “They do, but it’s a lot more complicated than that. The tax codes over there are mostly variations of 25% of gross income, but really they’re whatever the local tax man says they are. A lot of people are taxed twice or even three times in a lot of the places over there. Dragonkin and all other non-humans are especially vulnerable to getting taxed several times. I don’t expect us to have those specific problems here, and we’re also still small enough to use truthstones and a few clerks to do the whole thing.” He added, “When everything settles down and we actually have an economy once again.”

Erick nodded. “It may be early to decide something like this; you are correct. But we can still talk about it.” He said to Ava, “I expect adventurers to hit the minimum range rather fast. A thousand gold was a starting point, meant to allow for city-bound people to not have to feel like they need to go out and risk their lives against monsters to bring in enough money to pay the tax man. If there are better numbers, let us discuss them.” To all of them, he said, “We don’t have to agree on anything said here today, but the citizens of Candlepoint seem to be getting on alright, and nothing is on fire, so now is the time for me to get to know the people who are running… My kingdom.”

It had hurt Erick to call this land ‘his’, but while others noticed, they said nothing about it.

The conversations continued, delving deep into topics like interest rates (yes, and how much, or no, and why) and loan approvals (you usually don’t loan to people who will skip town, and how to judge if a person might do that), and even zoning (by district, or by race, or should there be zoning at all).

Slip eventually showed.

The Guard Captain of Candlepoint spotted Sitnakov right away. And then he ignored the giant adamantium wrought, and sat down at the table, looking not scared at all. If anything, his eyes brightened a fraction whiter, though Erick had already thought them pure pools of white light.

Erick asked Slip the same questions.

And Slip gave a rather concise answer, “I really don’t care about all that stuff. And I shouldn’t, either. My job, as I see it, is to enforce the peace, and to a lesser extent, the will of city hall and our king. Please tell me if I’m doing a bad job, but other than that… Everything is going as good as it can, so I got no complaints, or ideas on what needs changing.”

Erick paused. And then he chuckled. “I think you’re doing great, Slip. People on the street like you, and they bring you their problems, and then you solve those problems. The city is clean and orderly. Your guard is professional and competent. But do you have Witnessers and Sin Seekers? Do you want them? I might need to go hire some… or something.”

Slip waved him off. “No need. I’m a Sin Seeker and I got [Witness] and all that stuff.” Slip shrugged. “I can handle pretty much all of Candlepoint’s problems— Ah. I thought of something. I don’t think my guards should be taxed on the pay they receive from the city. I would like for that to stop.”

He was a Sin Seeker? And capable of [Witness]?

Huh! Good to know!

Erick felt very good about Slip. He said, “I did not know you were both a Sin Seeker and capable of [Witness]. That’s… That’s great, Slip. Glad to have you here. As for your request, I will see to it that the guard is not taxed on the pay they receive.” He looked to Mephistopheles, saying, “Right?”

Mephistopheles went, “Ah. Sure.” And then he made a note of it on the paper in front of him, saying “That’s doable… And done. No more taxes on the guard.”

Slip smiled, asking, “Is that all, then? Today looks like a great day to fish, and I’m sure everything will work out fine without me here.”

“Uh?” Erick decided, “Sure. Thanks for coming in. Have fun fishing.”

“Thanks!” Slip stood up from his chair, happily saying, “I always do, King Erick.”

And with that, Slip took his leave.

Erick briefly watched Slip leave the room and the doors close behind him, then Erick turned back to everyone else, saying, “That was a welcome bit of news. I didn’t know that about him.”

From their looks, Justine and Ava didn’t know that about Slip, either.

Mephistopheles knew, though. He said, “Slip likes to keep all of his capabilities secret unless they need to be known. That’s probably the most he’s ever said about himself in a setting as public as this one, even with King Flatt’s Privacy Magic scattered around outside.”

Justine confessed, “I still think he’s a Shade in hiding.”

“Everyone does.” Mephistopheles said, “It helps keep people in line a lot easier than if he were just a normal shadeling.”

Ava rolled her eyes at that. She thought Slip was a Shade, too.

The conversation continued.

– – – –

Zaraanka and Valok never showed.

When the meeting was over Erick had gained a great deal more insight into Mephistopheles, Justine, Slip, and Ava. He hoped they had gained some insight into him, as well, beyond the ‘wildly powerful Wizard’ stuff that people were saying out there in Candlepoint.

A lot of people out there were saying a lot of things.

And Erick saw a great deal of those interactions through his Ophiel.

– – – –

Over in the Gate District, colorful couatls flitted here and there, moving stone at the behest of a pale green wrought architect that knew exactly how he wanted his stonework made, where he wanted it placed, and how it all needed to fit together. A young greenscale worked as fast as she could, which was about ten times faster than the old wrought expected her to move. The skinny man was thrilled for the speed of creation, at seeing the inner workings of his mind come into existence nearly as fast as he could envision it all. The young woman was thrilled, too, for she was learning more about building with [Stoneshape] than she had ever learned before.

Nearby, a brunette young woman watched, waiting for the trick, for the assassin to appear.

In a small [Fairy Stronghold] near the Gate, a feathered [Familiar] also watched.

– – – –

A disheartened redscale man sat alone in his living room, in the dark. The only sources of light were from the half-covered window, and the gentle white glows of his eyes. An unopened bottle of hard liquor sat beside him on a small table. He stared at nothing in particular, half facing the door. The last runner from city hall had just left, after informing the man that the meeting with King Flatt was over, and that Mephistopheles did not approve of Valok missing that meeting.

The redscale man’s glare lingered on the door.

In an unseen, unsensed, unknown box on the redscale man’s roof, Ophiel waited for something to happen.

Valok waited for something to happen, too. A knife in the dark. A bomb blipping into the room, or the stone all around him turning into spikes and shrapnel. He had already died once to something like that.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

It would probably happen again.

– – – –

A human woman of ruddy complexion and wearing a bright pink dress stood beside a window three stories up from the ground floor. Yggdrasil’s lake lay beyond that window, same as always; deep and blue and dark, for the sky was overcast with clouds and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

But the horizon was filled with light. The World Tree, growing and glowing, resembled a distant mountain alight with green fire.

Zaraanka sipped from a tumbler as she stared at nothing, her luminescent white eyes fixed on that bright point on the horizon, but not really looking at Yggdrasil at all. Behind her the house was in shambles. There were clear signs of several guest rooms being cleared out in some last minute haste. Scorch marks filled one hallway. Large rents in the stone filled the main foyer. A servant, carrying a few bags filled with all their stuff, paused as she saw the rents, like she was seeing a problem that was no longer her problem. And then that servant walked out of the front door of the house, leaving for some other part of the city.

And the pink woman was alone again, though she had already been alone for over a day. She was not used to being alone.

She poured herself another drink, hoping that things would make sense again if she got deep enough into that bottle. She didn’t care at all about anything right now, but she could maintain, at least until things eventually started to make sense again. How long would it take this time? A month? Two months?

She could do that.

But not right now.

Not… Not right now.

Ophiel settled down inside his small [Fairy Stronghold], nestled in the crook of the roof overhead. He watched, and ensured that Zaraanka wasn’t actually alone. Because someone was going to die tonight.

Erick knew it in his bones, in his blood, inside the Benevolence of his soul. Someone was going to die. Or, at least, there would be an attempt.

Maybe he could prevent it with some foresight, though.

– – – –

The temporary church, with its spire of white and with a silver star on top, had seen better days. It was not broken, but it had been remade rather recently, for some of the walls were still marked with imprecise Shapings. Justine returned to the church, to her new home, only ten minutes after the meeting with Erick was over. After talking to some fellow acolytes she started praying to Koyabez. Erick’s sense of her vanished when she did that, which was something he had not expected, but there it was.

The sewerhouse, adorned with many of the diamonds Erick had given Ava, was looking fine. Ava returned about half an hour after the meeting. She was living alone, but she had two apprentices living down the hall, so she wasn’t really alone. The apprentices had dinner waiting for her.

City hall, all black stone and clear, whitish quartz, was unmarred by the troubles of the rest of the city. Mephistopheles lived in a room behind his office, but he did not return there after the meeting. He went on to have even more meetings with clerks and judges and guards and paper pushers (or paper shapers, as Sitnakov called them). There weren’t many of any of those kinds of people left, but he still had a staff of about 17 people, and they had work to do. As for Mephistopheles himself, he went back to his office and began reading some dense tomes on city building, published by the Arcanaeum Consortium. He was deep into the books on rules for elites, but tax books sat nearby, waiting to be read.

Each place was a strategic asset.

Each person who ran that asset had a small [Fairy Stronghold] and an Ophiel to watch over that asset, and that person, and others nearby. Several fake images of Ophiel flew around the city, making their presentable count look like seven to nine, to any observer who might be counting.

For there were certainly people watching.

– – – –