Chapter 4

Starhaven, Sidor

“ ... purpose of which is to bolster our own tax levies for support of our ongoing and successful war against the Lynesians, while punishing the increasing levels of purifier goods coming in on Inos flagged ships,” Baron Stonehill said. “For too long, we have turned a blind eye to their filth coming onto our shores and tainting the very memory of the ancients upon whose shoulders we stand. I say no more. True, we have a treaty with the Inosians, precluding more direct handling of the problem, but they are a nation of merchants and schemers. To hurt them isn’t in the battlefield, but the coin purse.”

Most members of the Nobles Council applauded, as was right to do any time the kingdom of Thay was denigrated, or at least their vile religion. Edmund couldn’t help but notice some of the lords whose lands sat along the eastern edge of the Duchy of Shadowhold refrained from joining the applause. While the taxes were a pittance, really, and wouldn’t affect the overall cost of trade in the kingdom, those lands were the closest to the small island kingdom of Inos, and the ones who would be most affected by the increased levies.

Inos was, in all effect, the only foreign trading power available to those ports, since the only other nation on that side of Sidor was Thay, which was under a trade blockade by royal decree ever since they became the flashpoint for the war with Lynese. The Frozen Sea passage, the maw, or the pirate-infested waters south of Thay were the only options for ships to get to the other great powers.

Those facts were what led the merchants of Inos to secretly ignore the rulings of the Acolytes forbidding trade with Thay. Punishing those dealing with anyone suspected of trading in heretical goods would all but shut down trade, at least for the time being for those harbors.

That would, of course, mean the actual tax revenues pushed by the new levies would be minimal while angering what few allies they had in Inos, but it would also weaken the coastal barons in Shadowhold and even those in Kingshold and Rivermark that traded across the Iron Straits, all of whom tended to be among the more radical and difficult baronies and the ones most likely to have supported the recent peasants’ revolt.

Serwyn was getting more difficult by the day, and the only way to appease him was to reverse the concessions they’d been forced to accept at the end of the revolt, and the first step to do that was to weaken the baronies most likely to support a second such attempt.

“An excellent plan, my lord,” Edmund said from the throne, sitting in his nephew’s stead. “Both honorable and righteous, which is seldom done in tandem, at least where governance is concerned. Now, if there is no other business, I would like to...”

“My lord,” Baron Thurston of Lindenwood said, standing up. “I believe there is one more item we must address.”

Edmund frowned. Thurston’s barony was almost certainly one of the ones that harbored rebels, regardless of the man’s denials. Which meant nothing this man could offer would be helpful.

“Yes, Lord Lindenwood?”

“There are resolutions put forward by the Council of Commoners, I believe, that we have yet to discuss.”

“You are correct, there are,” Edmund said. “We’re still in the process of reviewing those proposals to ensure they’re properly presented to this body.”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I don’t believe that meets the requirements set forth in the agreement that created the council; an agreement this very body approved. It clearly states that any proposal from the Council of Commoners must come directly to us, not be ‘reviewed’ by the crown.”

Edmund frowned, which then grew deeper as he saw several of the other nobles in the hall shaking their heads in agreement.

“Baron Thurston,” he said, trying desperately to keep his annoyance under control. “Surely you understand the need for proper vetting. Laws are complicated business and as ... well-intentioned, as the Council of Commoners is, they have only had one formal meeting and cannot be expected to have absorbed the intricacies of good governance. Which is why it is best that anything they pass, for now, is checked for viability before bringing it before you. The crown understands your time is valuable, after all.”

“I would think this is the best body to determine if something is good governance, unless you are suggesting we also do not understand those ‘intricacies’ enough to do the job?”

“I am, of course, not suggesting that,” Edmund said and waved for one of the clerks assigned to the council meetings. “Have my scribe bring the recommendations submitted by the Council of Commoners.”

The man nodded and rushed out of the chamber. Thankfully, Edmund hadn’t rashly thrown the documents in the trash where they belonged, mostly because he didn’t want to ignore the chance that one of the peasants might get clever and notify a member of the Nobles Council of the resolutions. Which is clearly what had happened.

He had not briefed the council on the commoners’ proposals, so the fact that they even knew about them said that one of them had informed their allies in the nobles of the existence of the proposals.

A few minutes later, Orlan came into the chambers, hurrying to the dais, where he handed over several sheafs of paper.

“As I hope you will see, as well-intentioned as these proposals are, there are many glaring issues with them. The first proposal is to open up an investigation into how each of you runs your holdings, with their own investigators, who would make recommendations as to how to alter your ability to govern your subjects.”

Edmund had picked that one first because he knew it would upset a fair number of the nobles and would balance things in his favor for the second proposal. As expected, a ripple of conversation passed across the assembled men, the general temper of which was somewhere between shock and outrage.

Even those he thought had some sense of obligation to the commoners seemed less than pleased with the idea of being investigated by them.

When no one stood up to offer comment right away, Edmund said, “I believe it’s clear this proposal is not ready to be ruled on by this council and shows how unprepared the commoners are to perform their duty. The king, however, takes his agreement seriously, and we will work with them so that they better understand the needs of our kingdom. So I again thank you for...”

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but you said first proposal. I believe that means there might have been more?” Thurston pressed.

Edmund had never liked the man, but he was becoming a serious annoyance.

“There are, but as I said, this is a clear example that their proposals are not ready to be presented. Unless anyone in this body wants to take up the motion?”

“It is still our right to hear them though, Your Grace,” Thurston said.

“The second, and only other proposal, is to reduce the grain tithe from one-fourth annual allotment to one-sixth. We all understand these increased tithes are both temporary and necessary for the upkeep of our armies in Lynese. We are at war and the treasury is strained as it is. Every coin collected from these tithes goes to ensure our armies are fed, clothed, and armed. A reduction in the tithe would be a reckless gamble with the kingdom’s future.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Garris Sinclair said. “But none of the proceeds from the sale of these tithes has yet gone toward supporting the armies. In fact, I believe that all supply shipments to our men in Lynese have ceased, and they have been forced to supply themselves from whatever they can liberate from the enemy.”

“While it has been a long time since we’ve fought a serious overseas war, I’m sure none of you forget what the oceans are like during maw season. Travel stops for a reason, my lords.”

“But the supplies stopped before winter started, Your Grace,” Sinclair said. “And I’m told the armies were instructed that no supplies should be expected the following year of the campaign either.”

“I know of no notice that has gone out to that effect,” Edmund said.

“So are you saying now that, without a doubt, all of the funds from this additional, temporary, tithe will be going to the armies?” Thurston asked.

“That is a question for the clerks, but I can assure you we will do everything in our power to supply them. Logistics, as you know, are a complicated thing.”

“My question is, why is this necessary at all?” Sinclair asked. “Gavric didn’t need such burdensome taxes to maintain his armies.”

Edmund barely kept the words he wanted to say from coming out of his mouth. Edmund had lived under his fool older brother’s shadow for his entire life, and he’d hoped that once the idiot got himself killed, he wouldn’t be compared to Gavric and his success any longer. For a long moment, he was silent, unable to trust his own voice.

Thurston seized on the moment, “I believe they have a legitimate grievance. I know the people in my barony struggle under these taxes; families are going hungry, starving. I, of course, want to see our army properly supplied, but I, too, have heard that the crown stopped all supplies to Lynese months before winter began. I call for a vote to accept the removal of the temporary tax, returning the tithe to a sixth of the annual harvest until such time as the crown can show that we have heard wrong, and the proper funds have been allocated to the armies. If that happens, I believe this body, along with the Council of Commoners, should then have the chance to restore some or all of the temporary tithe through the end of the war.”

“I second the motion,” Sinclair said before Edmund could respond.

Edmund looked to his allies, some of whom began arguing against the resolution, but too few of them were. Most of the barons seemed to agree with Thurston, even some of the men Edmund would have suspected would continue to support him. The vote, when it came, landed in the wrong direction. It was far from a landslide, but it was a large enough margin that it was clear what the decision of the nobles was.

The lords all looked to him after the clerk called out the final tally. Edmund had two choices, he could invalidate the vote or accept it. While his knee-jerk reaction was to just declare the vote improper and hope this didn’t happen again, he worried what reaction that would cause. So far, the nobles had not pushed back outright against the prerogatives of the crown, but it wasn’t out of the bounds of possibility that they would.

For now, he would have to swallow it.

“The crown, of course, accepts the will of the council. The grain tithe shall be reduced from one-fourth to one-sixth. I believe this closes out all business for this session of the council, and we stand adjourned.”