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Firearms in a Fantasy World

Transmigrated as the young Earl of a declining noble family, Paul Grayman sets out to take his territory to the peak. Armed with the knowledge of the modern world, he will create firearms, paper, porcelain, industrial tools and much more. Follow Paul, as he treads against the currents of time, fighting Noble Lords, Secret Magic Organizations, Magical Races and a Corrupt Church, ushering in the age of industrialization in the backwater world... ---------------------------------------------------------------- Hey Guys... So W3BN0V3L rejected my C0NTRACT request... They didn't specify why... So if you want to support me for my work... Please join me on P@TR30N.C0M/CinderTL And remember it's /CinderTL, I lost the former account because I don't remember the email it was made on... READ UPTO 20-50 Chapters AHEAD ON P4TR30N... The updates here will still be coming regularly... hopefully...

CinderTL · ファンタジー
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264 Chs

War Tax

 

Translator: Cinder Translations

...

 

Kevin, reluctantly holding the tax money his family had to pay, stepped outside and walked to the village center where the tax collection point was located.

 

A large crowd had already gathered there, and on a makeshift high platform, someone was loudly proclaiming something.

 

"Villagers, in addition to the usual head tax, we will now be imposing an additional tax!"

 

The crowd erupted in an uproar.

 

"Why do we have to pay an additional tax?"

 

"This is too much; we don't have much money left."

 

"This is driving us to the edge!"

 

The villagers were furious and expressed their dissatisfaction.

 

"Please, let me explain!"

 

The tax collector shouted to quiet the crowd.

 

"We are currently at war with the usurper. The war has drained our treasury as gold flows out like water. The soldiers at the front need food and drink, their weapons need maintenance, and their armor needs repair—all of this requires money!"

 

"So, the additional tax is called the [War Tax]! It will stop once the war ends, but during the war, we must pay it! We understand that life is hard, so Lord Biden has compassionately reduced the war tax to 20 copper coins per person."

 

"20 copper coins! Are you trying to eat us alive?"

 

Kevin shouted from the crowd, "We're not paying it!"

 

"Yes, we can't afford that much! We're not paying!"

 

"Not paying! We'll starve if we do!"

 

With Kevin's lead, more and more people declared they would not pay the tax.

 

"How can you do this? This is a direct order from Lord Biden."

 

At the mention of Lord Biden's name, the villagers' anger seemed to subside somewhat.

 

Lord Biden was a well-known local landlord, and many viewed him as a representative of the lord's authority. However, Kevin knew that Lord Biden was merely a [village tax collector].

 

Kevin climbed onto the platform: "It doesn't matter if Lord Biden personally ordered it. Only the lord can decide if a new tax is to be added. Do you have a decree from the lord's manor to prove it?"

 

"Decree from the lord's manor?"

 

Several of Lord Biden's servants were taken aback by the question and clearly had no such document.

 

Seeing them stumped, Kevin snorted and shouted to the villagers, "If they can't produce a decree from the lord's manor, then Lord Biden is imposing arbitrary taxes. We can report him to the lord."

 

The crowd below stirred with excitement.

 

"Absurd! Nonsense! This is outrageous!"

 

Several of Lord Biden's servants, flustered, immediately countered.

 

"Lord Biden's word represents the will of the lord! He is the lord's representative here!"

 

Kevin pressed, "Did the lord approve of the new tax?"

 

"If Lord Biden said so, then it must have been approved by the lord!"

 

"We must see the decree!"

 

"You can't even read, so what's the point of showing you the decree?"

 

"Actually, I can read a little. Please produce the document!"

 

"Don't you dare resist paying the tax!"

 

As Lord Biden's servants hesitated and failed to produce the document Kevin mentioned, the villagers grew increasingly agitated.

 

"Bloodsuckers! Parasites!"

 

"Get out of our village!"

 

Someone led the way, and trash began to be thrown at the servants.

 

"You ungrateful peasants, just wait!"

 

The servants of Lord Biden, glaring angrily at Kevin, fled in panic amid the villagers' trash-throwing, abandoning the head tax collection.

 

...

 

In a large manor, landlord Biden was chatting with a few local gentry friends, occasionally laughing heartily.

 

His steward burst in, looking distressed, and said, "My lord, there's trouble!"

 

The rotund Biden frowned, "You're panicking too much! What's the matter, has the sky fallen?"

 

"There's been a problem with the tax collection…"

 

Biden raised his hand, and the steward immediately fell silent.

 

"Please continue your conversation; I'll be back shortly. You! Come with me."

 

Biden stood up, apologized to his guests, and led the steward to another room.

 

"Speak! What happened?"

 

"The new [War Tax], the salt workers are insisting on seeing a decree from the lord's manor before they will pay."

 

"That's easy to handle. Just have someone with good handwriting make up a fake decree."

 

"That's not feasible, my lord. There seems to be someone knowledgeable in the village. If they discover the decree is forged, it could…"

 

The steward, scared, made a slashing motion across his neck.

 

"Hmph! This idea was yours, and now you're afraid!"

 

"Well... I didn't expect those illiterate salt workers would question it."

 

"How much head tax did we collect?"

 

"Uh... The salt workers were very agitated, and some ran away scared."

 

"Useless! Trash! Get rid of these people immediately. I never want to see them again."

 

Furious, Biden vented his anger.

 

Finally, he ordered, "Send another team to that village immediately, with more clubs and sticks. Teach those who dare to refuse the tax a lesson. Hmph, I don't believe these lowly peasants won't listen!"

 

"Yes, my lord!"

 

The steward left.

 

Since the new lord took office and began implementing [Agricultural Reforms], Biden had accumulated a lot of resentment.

 

Besides the land registered with the lord's manor, his family had privately occupied a significant amount of common land.

 

Common land is directly owned by the lord, where ordinary people can gather firewood or graze cattle occasionally, but large-scale cultivation is not allowed unless you purchase the rights from the lord. This would require registration with the lord's manor, and once registered, you'd have to pay taxes based on area or output, including tithes to the church.

 

However, if you secretly cultivated on common land without letting the lord's manor know, you wouldn't have to pay any taxes, and all the harvested grain would be yours.

 

Biden was not the only one doing this; many local landlords had done the same for generations, and past lords had turned a blind eye.

 

Unexpectedly, last year, the new Agricultural Minister, Hansel, began promoting [Land Consolidation], and his first action was to inspect land usage.

 

Hansel personally visited various areas, exposing large swathes of occupied common land. After consulting the current lord, decisive action was taken.

 

For those who admitted to occupying land, paying three times the land's value in fines meant the land would become theirs, with the condition of paying taxes in the future.

 

Those who could not pay three times the fine had to pay one time's fine and forfeit the land.

 

Unclaimed land was simply seized.

 

During this process, landlord Biden suffered significant losses and was forced to pay a large fine.

 

Biden, deeply pained by his losses, constantly thought of ways to recover. His steward suggested using his position as a tax collector to impose a [War Tax] under the pretext of the ongoing conflict between the rival lords in the northwest bay.

 

(End of the Chapter)

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