The Butcher of Gadobhra

Normally, it was good to be the Duke of the North. Some nobles complained of the responsibilities, but usually, Carl enjoyed the work. But not on Petition Day.

On this day, all worthy people of the rank of Knight or higher could bring a petition to the duke for consideration. If your social status wasn't high enough, you could petition through a guild, a member of your church, or find another person to sponsor your petition. Often these people would be accompanied by witnesses, lawyers, relatives and friends, and other nobles who were also wishing for such a petition to be passed. Rarely could the duke rule immediately upon these petitions, and they would be put into a growing stack of other petitions that the duke had until the next Petition Day to investigate and make a decision.

Carl whispered to his chamberlain, "How many more to go?" His chamberlain scanned the list. "Just three..."

"Oh, excellent."

"...before your dinner break, then we have another 37 after that."

Some days it really didn't pay to be Duke of the North. Carl Greywolf had inherited the position of Duke upon the death of his father, cutting short his care free lifestyle as a bachelor and ending his time roaming his father's lands and smiting his foes along with a company of his knights. Withing a year he was married. It was a political marriage, but he had known and liked Claudia since they were in their teens. He had enough clout that he could at least choose from several daughters of the nobility.

Many people were surprised that he asked Claudia to be his wife. She was an inch taller than he and could beat him in a duel with both great hammer and lance. They'd met first as squires, where she knocked him off his feet and gave him a black eye. Later, after she was knighted, Claudia had ridden with the knightly company. One night she had knocked him off his feet and dragged him to her tent. They had had an on-again, off-again love affair going for years at the time his father passed away.

His father's advisors had been aghast when he added her name to the list of possible brides. They considered her willful, head strong, and prone to having her own opinions. Of course, this was exactly why Carl wanted her beside him on the ducal thrones.

Claudia also had a head for numbers and quite a few 'advisors' and relatives left the city before she got a look at the account books for the Dukedom. Things had run more smoothly after that, with far fewer shortages in the duke’s coffers.

"Tell me, Geoffrey, how many of those 40 odd petitions am I going to just say 'Piss Off' to?" His chamberlain handed him the 'Piss Off' list. It would be impolite to say that to anyone, but the flowery words amounted to that.

"The farmers coalition complains of gophers and wishes a one silver piece bounty placed on the rodents. We sent an inquisitor disguised as a Rat Catcher to check on things. There is no problem, they just want the bounty so they can make extra money when things are slow, and several are even raising gophers in cages."

Carl sighed. Farming wasn't easy, but this was downright fraud. "Tell them no, and impose a tax on gopher farming."

"The wheelwrights union wishes a moratorium on road repairs, and the money shifted into new road construction."

"That's another no. They don't want the roads fixed because they'll sell less wheels if there are less potholes, and more bad roads means more potholes." Carl tapped his fingers idly. "What we need are better road builders."

The chamberlain flipped to the next page. "Interestingly enough, there is a report here of Baron William building roads within his lands that are superior to most of the roads in the capitol. He has completed 20 miles of roads from Gadobhra to Sedgewick and on to the Legion Fortress that ill replace Rowan Keep. He's even extended the road a few miles past that. The road builder’s union has a petition to present to you."

Ah, finally one that made sense. "Good, they wish to study his methods and adopt them?"

The chamberlain shook his head, sadly. "No, they wish you to stop him. They say he is usurping their right to build roads, and raising the expectations of merchants who are asking why all the roads can't be that good."

"Tell them to Piss Off. No flowery language involved. It's hard enough to get progress without stopping someone who does things right. Let me see the list please."

In the next five minutes Carl crossed off any petition similar to what he had denied the last month, (13), and several that were just nuisances designed to take up his time and keep him busy, (17). Some people delighted in that. That brought the list down to a manageable seven left to do. They worked through two more before dinner, and four after. The remaining one had been saved for last, when he could attend to it with a court cleared of spectators.

His advisors sat on either side of him, and the plaintiffs in front of him. Claudia attended, as did his personal lawyer, and a representative of the Legion. Presenting the petition were three wealthy farmers from the far north, a representative of the mage’s guild, the meat packers guild, and the enchanters guild.

"Your petition asked for a private audience gentleman, about a problem that could bring commerce in the Dukedom to a standstill. This sounds serious. Why don't you tell me about it."

One of the farmers stood up. Carl knew of him. Brion Broadhat technically had the rank of Yeoman Knight, inherited from his father. Sadly, he handn't inherited the fighting ability of his ancestors, and he hadn't planted a potato in his life. He owned some thousand acres of farmland and had peasants and share croppers who did the work. "The problem is one of balance, your grace. My hard-working people till the land to make their bread. I don't have to tell you how difficult farming can be. A drop in prices of grain or potatoes could make for many hungry mouths. This last year we have seen more food in the Dukedom than before. The huge farms put in by some of the newfangled corporations are producing huge amounts of crops, which they are selling into the market place. Were this to increase, prices may drop, and peasants will starve."

Carl interrupted. "Hold please. There is famine somewhere in the empire every year. How is cheap food and more of it a bad thing?"

Mr. Broadhat replied sourly. "Well, it isn't good for farmers! It upsets the established markets."

Carl turned to his chamberlain. "Have an inquisitor investigate, and see the size of the farms, and what they are producing. I think we could possibly subsidize the transportation costs so they can sell in another area. I hate to limit food production while people are starving. What else? You aren't all here about potatoes."

The mages guild representative stood. "Phargol Firemage, your excellency. As you know, the mage guild is required to monitor the teleportation system and make sure it is charged. This is difficult, with so many of the outer areas unable to recharge on their own. There is a constant flow of mana from the capitol out to other areas. Because of this, we maintain a large squad of apprentices and journeymen who daily provide mana to the system. But lately, there has been no need for them. Someone is sending in enough mana that the system is remaining full. This is a bad thing."

Claudia raised an eyebrow. "Bad? That system is kept ready as an emergency system to send troops where needed. I'm curious to see how this is bad."

The man continued. "It's not that it is being done that's bad, it's who is doing it. Baron William has instructed his workers to dump excess mana into the stone at Rowan Keep. Rowan is in turn keeping the capitol stone full. Ironically, one of the places we might need to send troops is to Rowan Keep to deal with Baron William and the cursed city of Gadobhra. His plan is clever. By supplying the mana for free 'as a favor', he negates our need for all the people we have who make their living supplying mana. The mages guild will have to let them go. Then, when we least expect it, he quits 'helping', and the system could become too low to put down a rebellion or repel monsters from his city."

Claudia looked at Carl, who shrugged. "So, what you are saying is that the one Baron who is being helpful, is only doing it as part of some huge plot? Do we have proof of such a plot."

Phargol replied in a serious voice. "We do not. But Baron Pinchpenny has spoken of his worries to his local mage. He has heard ominous things from the city and the surrounding area. He fears it is only a matter of time before something happens. He is also the person most likely to bear the brunt of any aggression. He stands ready to lead his troops into battle, and feels he would not be doing his duty not to send warnings about what might be happening."

Carl grimaced. He smelled politics and money in this. But it was Gadobhra, after all. "We will ask for a report from the Inquisitor at Rowan Keep, and keep you advised, of course. For now, I will authorize a small stipend to the guild for being ready to provide mana to the teleportation system.

Next up was the meat packers representative. Like the farmers he worried about the flow of cheap meat coming from Sedgewick. "With the Legion not needing to buy as much meat, it's getting so every local meat shop has enough pork chops and sausages. It's worrying to us. Shortages help the economy."

The enchanters had similar problems. "It's not that these new items aren't well made or useful. It's the quantity! There are cheap wands, enchanted shorts words, and barrels of healing potions coming out of Sedgewick. We've had to reduce our own prices and increase our quality to compete. It's only a few items right now, but if they can make wands today, what happens when they start making enchanted suits of plate mail?"

Legate Partios laughed. "Then I'll finally be able to afford a nice set of jousting armor. He patted the dark red breastplate that he wore. "I will say that if they do manage it, I hope that they keep to the same quality as the hardened leather they make now. The Legion will buy all they can make." He eyed the meat packer. "As well as the meat they are selling. The Legion can only march on full stomachs. I'd rather not hear more about telling someone not to produce food and armor."

Carl was noticing the pattern. "Gentleman, is all of this just the set-up for what you really want? I notice that in all these cases you are upset with the corporations evilly producing more goods. I don't see this as a bad thing. So, state your goal, or I will have to think hard on your words as you leave for the evening and come talk to me next month."

Phargol winced. If Carl was that close to telling them to Piss Off, then he needed to be careful with his words. "Of course, your grace. It is a matter of balance. The empire has a thousand moving parts and is stable. Introducing instability, even with good intentions, can cause bad things to happen."

"Frankly, the corporations are cheating. We have watched these Contract Workers of theirs. They work more than our own workers, smiling as they do it. We tried to slip in spies and they were uncovered because even the hardiest couldn't keep up with them. It's like they are some sort of automaton or minion from a dungeon, ever toiling for their corporate masters. And somehow, many of them are gaining levels. Even attaining the second tier. This is how they can produce so much."

Farmer Broadhat added his own words. "We've long known of the problems with farmers and serfs gaining too high a level. They quit farming and go hunt monsters. That's fine if it's only a likely lad or two from each village. But what if they all did it? Some of us might not have serfs for our farms. A level ten farmer is a gem to keep around and watch them get blue ribbons at the local fairs for growing a large squash. But losing that farmer when he hits tier 2 and goes off to adventure weakens the structures of the farms."

"If land owners try to compete with the Corporations by encouraging their farmers to gain levels, the empire risks chaos with lower prices, competition, serfs running off to make their fortunes, and ripple effects that could affect much of our society."

Claudia leaned forward. She had heard much of this before. "A familiar argument that is drug out every time the big farms want to increase control over their lands and serfs. Frankly, I think too many of those people are living miserable lives. They have to take in harvest after harvest with barely time for a festival each season. And most of the money doesn't stay with them."

Broadhat frowned. "You risk social upheaval ma'am.

Phargol stopped Broadhat from going further by stepping in front of the man and setting the sole of one his shoes on fire, causing him to hop around in panic. "Agreed, I don't think we need to rehash old problems, your graces, and we bow to your wisdom."

"What I would like to do is direct your gaze to this law, long on the books, but rarely used, that was a suggestion on how to balance the production of goods and raise money for the general welfare of the populace."

The Duke and Duchess looked at the law in question. "This is a tax? You would like us to tax farmers, and serfs who reach the second tier?"

"And contract workers, your grace. As you can see, our lawyers have looked at the wording and concluded that the law can cover them as well."

Duke Carl scowled. "Do you realize what is going to happen when every village that has gained experienced farmers is taxed suddenly? Farmer Broadhat, how many of your people are past the first tier?"

"Only 11 your grace, but I don't mind. Phargol has said they wouldn't be taxed. You have discretion over that."

Phargol winced, but nodded. "Poorly worded, but essentially true. The law allows for your interpretation of exactly which trades would be taxed. Partly why it was never implemented past being put on the books. But it does give a Duke the ability to levy a tax of 100 gold a year on Contract Workers in the second tier, and higher taxes on higher tiers."

Claudia liked the idea of more money to spend on projects around the Dukedom, but this seemed counterproductive. "Won't that simply negate the things we have deemed good? Not you lot, of course. But the Duke and I deem that plentiful food and good roads are a benefit."

"Ah, but that's just it, your grace. These corporations are making so much money, that they will gladly pay the tax. This gives you and the duke money to offset the side effects of corporate greed, and make sure things run correctly. Stipends for starving farmers and mages to produce mana become an easy thing with a new flow of taxes coming into your coffers."

The Duke and Duchess conferred for a few moments. "As much as this seems likely to enrage our new landowners, it may provide a good compromise. We'll think on it and confer with you in three days."

Carl and Claudia retired for the evening, and the plaintiffs filed out.

Broadhat barely waited until they were outside the castle gates. "That went well, but will they do it?"

Phargol nodded. "What nobleman doesn't like new gold? And we are old faces, known to him. He can play this off as taxing the rich and no one will really care."

Broadhat sneered. "Except the corporations. Especially Baron William."

Phargol nodded. "Yes, I don't see him being happy with his Duke. From our last reports, by years end he will have over 200 of his workers in the second tier, and some into the third tier. It's estimated that he will be hit for at least 30 thousand gold a year in taxes. He will not happy at all. He doesn't have a lot of money right now, what with the ongoing construction and the problems he's having."

"Problems?"

Phargol nodded and smiled. "Trust me, they should start happening right about now. Lots of problems."

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