Chapter 318 Thirteen
"Let's begin." The king said tiredly. He looked reluctant, as if he was forced by someone, and he was unwilling to say even a few polite words.
The clergy and nobles were already aware of Cassius II's character, but the common people looked at each other in bewilderment. The actual audience had been too brief, and although Cassius II had been somewhat erratic, many still held a certain level of expectation and awe for this "divinely favored ruler of the Silver Iris Empire."
Perhaps the king just didn't know what was happening at the bottom of the empire. There were always people who hoped that someone had deceived the king, which made their lives increasingly difficult.
As Duke Kamu glanced over, Marquis Bateman was the first to push away the report that was almost half a meter high on the table, stood up, and cleared his throat solemnly.
"Your Majesty the King, Your Majesty the Queen," he said, bowing to the two Majesties. "As the Minister-General of the Ministry of Finance, I would like to report to you on the financial situation of the Empire since last year..."
Okay, let's report on the financial situation first. That seems reasonable. But as they listened, the eyes of many members of the Third Council quickly turned from initial concentration to confusion, and then to dullness.
"...Based on the four quarterly balance of payments statements, combined with the original data submitted by the General Administration of Customs, the Ministry of Mines, the Department of Agriculture, and the provincial governors, and calculated by the Actuary Bureau using the weighted average method...last year's total tax revenue reached...an increase of 4.2 percent over the previous year..."
The other party spoke incessantly, but the carefully crafted, obscure terminology was incomprehensible to few ordinary migrant workers. It was like an invisible wall, isolating many members of the Third Parliament. Fortunately, there were still some scholars present, who lowered their voices and quickly explained to the older, less educated members around them.
Pavaton Miller closed his eyes and listened. He was no stranger to this data; many of the clergy had participated in calculating some of it. The nobles, on the other hand, seemed somewhat bored. Some scribbled carelessly in their elegant notebooks, as if the data concerning the fate of the empire were merely boring background noise. Duke Kamu sipped his tea leisurely, his gaze occasionally glancing at the king and queen, and the embarrassed civilians.
Fina frowned, trying to reconcile these data, which were accurate to four decimal places, with the tragic plight of the victims she saw on the Batalha Heights - but she failed. The huge data hovering above everyone's head was like a black dragon with bared fangs and claws, while everyone on the ground was just a tiny ant.
Total tax revenue had indeed increased, but due to various factors, including natural disasters, war, and economic downturn, various expenditures had also increased significantly. Fina pondered the matter for a while, realizing that the Finance Minister's central idea was that the empire's fiscal deficit was widening, and now it couldn't even afford to pay the interest on its debts. In short, the empire's tax rate hike was reasonable and a necessary measure.
"...and, in some areas, there are serious cases of tax resistance and tax evasion." When he said this, Marquis Batman deliberately paused, and his eyes vaguely swept across the third parliament seat, focusing in particular on a certain culprit who took the lead in the tax resistance in Port Morris, causing the entire Western Territory to follow suit.
As a result, the ghost's facial expression did not change, but a farmer representative from the eastern grain-bearing area finally couldn't help it.
"Resisting taxes?!" He stood up, his face flushed with anger. "Your Excellency! It's not that we want to resist taxes, it's just that there's nothing to harvest from the fields! So many people starved to death during the recent cold snap. What can we give the tax collectors? The lives of our wives and children?!"
This rude and disrespectful statement caused faint sneers from the nobles. Marquis Bateman frowned. He didn't respond directly, but instead raised his voice, attempting to silence the untouchables' questions. "Therefore! The Ministry of Finance proposes that, to fill the fiscal deficit and ensure the Empire's operations and necessary expenditures, all taxable property and income, including land output, workshop output, commercial circulation, mineral extraction, and special income, be forcibly levied the 'Thirteen Imperial Taxes'—three-tenths of the value or income of the taxable property!"
As soon as these words were spoken, there was a huge commotion in the third parliament seat. Even the farmer representative from the East Territory Grain Region, who was standing there with a flushed face, suddenly widened his eyes, moved his lips a few times, and his face gradually turned pale.
"Three-tenths" was easy to understand, but the industry representatives and the workers and peasants from each district in the Third Council felt a wave of darkness before their eyes. How could this be a solution? It was like pushing open the door to a den that was about to skin them alive, rip their flesh from their bones, and then kicking them right back in!
"...Tax collection is carried out by the Imperial Taxation Bureau and its local branches, and payment can be made in kind or in currency of equivalent value." Marquis Bateman continued reading, with a touch of feigned sympathy and tolerance. "In addition, to demonstrate the Silver Iris Empire's care for its people, those whose output has been severely damaged due to force majeure such as natural disasters, war, and plague, and who are unable to bear the full tax burden, may, after verification by local tax officials, apply for partial exemptions or deferrals as appropriate."
"However! If any form of tax resistance, tax evasion, or concealment occurs, once verified, in addition to the recovered taxes, a fine of five times the amount of tax payable will be imposed! In serious cases, such as inciting or organizing tax resistance, endangering the personal safety of tax officials, etc...." Batman raised his voice sternly. At this time, someone couldn't help but look at the ghost again. "Such behavior is considered treason and will be severely punished. The village, town, and guild to which the person belongs will bear joint liability!"
The professor, constantly the center of attention, listened expressionlessly to this incredibly harsh decree. Suddenly, he felt something gently touch the back of his neck. The dark-haired young man instinctively flinched, and the next second, he heard the savior's voice faintly echo in his ear: "So this is the thing you asked us to assassinate back then."
He was referring to the initial transaction between the tyrant in the previous life and the three of them - the old man's death was truly well deserved.
"It wasn't necessarily his intention. Mani Bateman was pushed out by the Royal Court Council." The professor stared coldly ahead, his lips moving slightly. He knew that only those around him could hear what he was saying, so he spoke more and more without restraint. "In other words, if all the officials present were killed, there would surely be innocent people. But if every one was killed, there would surely be some who slipped through the net."
Azuka chuckled softly. For three hours, Marquis Baartman spoke from above while he and the professor held a small meeting below. The Ghost himself used extremely sharp and scathing language to satirize the Imperials, many of his views would be considered too bold even by the Third Council and even the People's Party.
Fina, who was closest to him, seemed to have noticed something, but the girl quickly figured out who Mr. Ghost was talking to. Perhaps it was some arrangement or secret order, she thought seriously, not realizing that these two guys were cursing in front of her.
Until Marquis Bateman finally shut up and breathed tiredly, the king, who was about to fall asleep, suddenly slipped his arm on the armrest. His head felt heavy and he opened his eyes sleepily, looking like he had finally woken up.
"Well, is that all?" asked the king, yawning.
Many members of the Third Parliament looked expectantly at their king. The final decision on whether the so-called "Thirteen Taxes" would be implemented or not rested with the royal family. In other words, the king was their last hope.
During the previous audience, the king also allowed them to participate in state affairs discussions at the Blooming Conference - perhaps the monarch's indolence was just a, uh, unique character. After all, apart from his greed for enjoyment, Cassius II had no reputation for being cruel and tyrannical.
"That's it, now that we have a solution, let's do it." Cassius II said impatiently, as if the discussion was not about the livelihoods of millions of people in the empire, but about whether to have sweet bread or salty bread tomorrow morning.
These words were like a bucket of cold water poured over one's head, instantly extinguishing the last glimmer of hope in the third parliament seat.
"Your Majesty!" A gray-haired representative trembled and knelt in front of the crowd. His throat was hoarse, and his voice was like tears. "Three-tenths of the tax, plus the levies and losses, this is killing us! After the cold disaster, the new crops haven't even grown yet, and we've almost dug out the grass roots in the fields. How are we supposed to pay the taxes?!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Please have mercy!"
The old man's kneeling was like water splashing into a boiling pot of oil, and the Third Council seat erupted in fury. The long-suppressed anger and despair poured out like a flood. Some stood up to question, others wept uncontrollably, and the scene was instantly in chaos.
"Quiet! Quiet! What a disgrace!" The clever king's attendant immediately raised his voice and shouted angrily. The guards around the hall also stepped forward, and the weapons at their waists were unsheathed with a clang, suppressing the noise and forcing it to gradually die down.
Cassius II rubbed his forehead, his head throbbing from the commotion. Perhaps feeling the situation was a bit awkward, he managed a soothing remark: "Didn't Lord Bateman just mention this? If you can't pay taxes due to a natural disaster, just go to the, uh, tax collector and verify it. Wouldn't that settle the matter?"
This is bullshit. Everyone knows what kind of morals those local tax officials are. The king has no idea how far-fetched the so-called "discretionary exemptions" are for ordinary people.
But Cassius II nodded in satisfaction, feeling that he had already shown some extra grace. "Alright, it's settled. If there are no further matters, this year's Blooming Conference will conclude..."
"Your Majesty."
A cold, calm, yet strangely penetrating voice rang out, suppressing the remaining noise within the hall. Everyone looked in the direction of the voice and saw the ghost, who had been sitting silently in his seat since the Blooming Conference began, finally stand up slowly. His smoky gray eyes, like a bright, desolate moon, looked down at the world with cold clarity.
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