Of Merchants and Men

“These taxes are getting ridiculous!” cried a rather indigent looking merchant. “The tax collectors come around and then they come around some more, and then once more just for good measure!” he continued, “It’s like they don’t know how economics work” the man concluded, slumping back into his seat with a weary sigh. You look around the crowded room and at the various faces nodding in agreement.

“Then don’t pay them” you say. A lot of heads suddenly snapped towards where you are sitting in the room, silence falling upon the room as everyone present digested your words.

“Oh sure! Don’t pay them! Then they come in and break your kneecaps, or string you up in the plaza as an example!” Exclaimed the same man from before.

“What? With their measly two goons per professional fleecer?” you retort “Yes, I’ll admit to not expecting your average shopkeep to be physically able to fend off an attack” you begin, standing up so you can pace for dramatic effect. “But there are an awful lot of homeless and jobless on the streets these days, and think of the money we’d have to hire them if we didn’t have to pay our taxes in triplicate!” you explain and get a few thoughtful nods.

“Training them up is simple but can you supply weapons for that kind of manpower?” came the voice of Julian, sitting towards the back of the room.

“Name your prefered method of ****” you reply with a grin.

“But that leaves us with the problem of the Governor!” called out one of the merchants “You might think it fine to say no to the tax collectors but you forget they had soldiers! With weapons!” he said, standing up to walk into the middle. “There is no chance we can have the numbers to stand up to the governor” he said as he looked around at his fellows.

“Then what do you propose we do instead? Pay the taxes? In triplicate? Or more in some cases” you say to the man. You noticed that the man was wearing a rather striking yellow tunic in a very barbarian fashion. The man glared at you before turning to address his comrades.

“We aught not listen to this outsider! He comes in here and a couple weeks after setting up shop he hopes to lead the merchants and artisans in open rebellion? Nay!” the man said, carrying on and completely ignoring you.

“Then what do you propose Vessilius!?” demanded another of the merchants.

“We have been surviving long enough without this outsider, who is to say we can’t continue?” Vessilius asked, looking over each of the various faces that made up this impromptu senate.

“Don’t be daft boy! We’ve nary the coin to pay for our own craft and the tax collectors come without warning nor any reason” grunted one of the craftsmen. “Three woodworkers in my area have been **** onto the street this year alone, six more in the area to go if something isn’t done!” he exclaimed and several faces gave the man wide eyed looks.

“Then perhaps we say no to all but one tax collector” you say, standing up and striding into the middle, much to the anger of Vessilius. You consider the option of removing him once this meeting is adjourned.

“And then that one tax collector ups his prices to make up for his loss in revenue” Vessilius spat with a sneer.

“I think the risk of armed response might keep our cowardly collectors in place for the moment” you say to the skeptical looks of the people. “We must do something! Or be driven out of hearth and home by the zealous milking of gold and silver the governor has wrought on us!” you say, looking around at the now uncomfortable looking merchants and craftsmen. “If nothing is done then it is we who suffer now and all of Tarentum who suffers with us!” you try again but this didn’t work either, they weren’t biting just yet. You nod at the display of cowardice, it looks like they need to stew in their rapidly approaching economic downfall for a bit longer. “Then so be it” you tell the crowd with finality before turning and leaving the assembly.

As you are leaving, you came upon an interesting sight. All of the people you had just been talking with, were either in coloured tunics or plain white togas. The sight before you, however, was a man in a black robe with cloth panels, also black, over the shoulders. He held a cross in one hand and a book in the other. On his heel, at a carefully measured distance and looking down in a submissive fashion was a girl, possibly around eighteen, though it was hard to judge. She too wore a black robe, a typical nun’s habit. Nothing but her face and hands were showing making judging age a little difficult.

“Greetings! I don’t recall seeing you before, are you new in town?” asked the priest as he walked up to you.

“Indeed I am, me and my wife moved in not too long ago, we opened an eatery not far from here” you say to the man, adopting a cordial smile.

“We have mass on Sundays just so you know” The priest informed you “I should like to see you there” he added.

“I’m not so into going to church” you say to the man and he raised an eyebrow. “Seen one too many churches and their denizens steal from the common folk out in the countryside,” you explain and the priest nodded, grimacing slightly.

“It is a shame to say that even the clergy can sin for we are all but men before The Lord” the priest told you “My name is Adrian, this is my daughter Sabine, perhaps one day we can avail you of those fears of yours and coax you into the community” he told you. “As much as I would continue this conversation, I really must be elsewhere” he explained apologetically “come Sabine” he said, not even looking at his daughter as he continued on his way. Sabine took her opportunity to glance at you, her eyes meeting your own. You got a sense of a hopeless despair behind her eyes and a sense that she prays for salvation from her own situation.

“Perhaps the sun might answer your prayers” you whisper quietly, using a quick application of your power to ensure she heard you loud and clear. Her eyes widened even as she passed you before stopping to look at you. To complete your little demonstration, you used your god powers to vanish from sight, this got her to stifle a gasp as she looked around for you. She turned back to her father who had carried on walking without noticing his daughter had stopped. She threw one last glance over her shoulder in the direction of where you are standing, invisible to her eyes, before hurrying after her father. You noticed that she glanced at the sun once and so you made sure the sun wouldn’t hurt her eyes and instead give her the impression that you are watching her.