Chapter 21: Act 1: Chapter 16

Eighteenth day, Ninth Moon, 236 AC

"Nah, that'll be fine. We just want enough for a few meals. My wife and I make a great clam chowder, but we haven't had any in years."

Bill, the fisherman, just nodded. He wasn't a man of many words, but he knew his business.

After I loaded my wagon I started to make my way home. It was a fine summer's day, but Nyra and Violet had stayed home to tend to the farm. Violet had been troublesome the day before, and though she was originally going to come with me today, she had to stay at the farm and do extra chores.

I breathed in deeply as the wagon started forward, determined to try and just enjoy the day and let my troubles and worries melt away if just for a moment.

As I was passing through the village I heard many horses and wagons approaching. Who could this be?

I pulled my wagon off to the side of the road and paused to watch the coming group.

The Stark banner flapped in the wind as the men approached. The sound of wagon wheels clacking, horses, and men talking filled the village. I nodded to the advance guards of the procession as they passed, and a few nodded back amiably. The group was making there way to the tax barn. Shit.

I should probably stick around to answer any questions, I really don't want them poking around in my business. Damn feudals. Nyra has been trying to convince me that it would be alright, that the recognition was a good thing. But there was no certainty. No fall backs or safeties. No guarantees. If they saw my machine, they could kill me and take it and claim it as their own. There would be no investigation, no political repercussions, no public outcry, nothing. And if I died, what of my family? If they didn't starve and the rest of our family could care for them, they still would lead a miserable life. No help from the state, hell, there wasn't even a state.

Now, I wasn't one of those socialist liberals, or someone who wanted the government to baby everyone. But a good, effective government, that helps people help themselves when they are at their lowest. Clear, accountable decisions and no nonsense. Simple. But it was not to be, in America or here apparently.

As the group dismounted and began to open up the barn, I approached one of the guards to make conversation.

"Afternoon. Good travels?"

The guard grunted, "Aye, fair enough. Sad t' see all the empty villages though."

"Were there many of them?"

He shrugged, "It's me first time on this route. But the others said tha' there was." He shrugged again, "Lots died, but more just up and left for other villages. Didn't want t' rebuild I guess."

Hmm, doesn't sound like they are keeping track of everyone very well. How can they be taxing everyone accurately then?

… stupid question.

Of course, it's not accurate. Maybe I can explain the increase like that? Be vague or something? I left the exact amount of tax I should have, after all, I am no cheat. But let them think more people contributed to the tax? It'll look better, and they'll leave quicker.

Having decided that, I responded to the guard, "Aye, we got a few of those too. People didn't have enough to rebuild, and decided it was better to come here."

The guard looked curious, "Oh? Many of them?"

I shook my head solemnly, "Not as many as I would have liked. Lots were killed in the flooding; the rest made their way here. Though a larger group did come here as they managed to save themselves, but not any of their stuff."

The guard winced, "Rough. I'm from Winter town, 'n we always see a few like that come winter. They got nothing but prayers for a short winter."

A few of the other men who were loading the wagon stopped to talk to the man in charge, and the man in charge let out an impressed whistle. They all went inside, and my stomach sank.

I turned back to the guard I was talking to and asked, "Any big news?"

The guard thought for a moment while scratching his beard. "Hmm, well you know about the aid from the King for the long winter?" I nodded, and he continued, "Well there was the Peake Uprising tha' killed King Maekar."

I looked shocked, "The King is dead?"

He laughed at my reaction, "Aye, but this happened three years ago. King Aegon is king now. The fourth or fifth I think. Don't right know, never good at tha' kind of thing." He scratched his chin in thought again. "Hmm, closer to home? Them wildling bastards have been quiet since fuckin' Sleepy Jack decided t' take a nap. Heard some tales of bandits on the Kingsroad since spring came, but no patrols have found anything." He shrugged again, "'Bout it really. Just happy summer is here again. Such a nasty winter."

I replied, "Aye, I can agree with that."

As we had been talking, the man in charge exited from the barn and I saw him squint from the light. He looked around for a moment before he spotted me. He began to walk over to me and the guard. The guard noticed him and straightened up and came to attention and said, "Master Roose."

The man, Master Roose, nodded to the guard and said, "Guardsmen Varrick. Go see if the others need any help. I will talk to this villager."

I swallowed nervously. I felt like I was in a spy movie, trying to pull the wool over the bad guy's and save the world.

Master Roose then addressed me, "Villager. I am Master Roose of House Mollen. I am the one in charge of the tax collection for Lord Stark. What is your name?"

Straight to the point, with more than a hint of condescension. Wonderful. I answered him, "Michael Ragnar, Master Roose."

"Well then Michael Ragnar," he stressed the last name in amusement. "Was there a good harvest?"

I gave a slight nod, "Nothing great Master Roose. The flooding hurt the soil, but it was better than we feared."

He gave me a curious look, "Oh? Then explain how there is so much in the barn?" He narrowed his eyes and continued in a darkened tone, "Cheated on your past taxes, have you?"

I gaped at the man, "No! No! Nothing like that!"

"Well then man! Spit it out!"

I tried to calm myself before replying, "We had people move here from other villages after the flooding. We've never cheated out taxes before, it's just larger because there are more people here!"

And that was technically correct. Which is the best kind of correct. We have more taxes to give and there are more people. Not technically wrong.

Master Roose let out a contemptuous snort, "I'll be the judge of that villager. This village's tax is much higher than other villagers. Suspiciously high. How many came here?"

"Err, there was the village immediately north of here, another one beyond that, some from south too, and some trappers from the east. I'm not sure of exact numbers Master Roose."

He didn't look very convinced, "I did not see any furs in there. Are the trappers not paying their tax?"

"They are Master Roose. They've been helping with the harvests, which is why we have so much tax paid as food."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, "Oh?"

I elaborated seeing a good chance to explain it, "Yes Master Roose. Many have helped that way, we have much more land under plow here. Even the fishermen help with planting and harvest."

"And why have they done this? Why have they changed from the ways of their forefathers?"

I replied, "Well, the trappers mentioned something about letting the animals breed more after the long winter. So, they'll likely be back to paying in furs next harvest. But with everyone helping, we all had more food." I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Not sure why it worked better this way."

Master Roose nodded. It looked like he was trying to look wise and in control. "You make sense villager. You also speak well for a villager. How come you by this knowledge?"

"I am originally from the south Master Roose. I came to live here 8 years ago."

He laughed, "Ah, you are him then." Shit, he knows about me? People know about me? He continued, "Yes, the southerner who claims northern blood. From merchant to farmer. So, is it everything you thought it would be, Michael Ragnar?"

I nodded nervously at his question, "Yes Master Roose. I have enjoyed my time here in the North. The people as well."

Master Roose inclined his head imperiously, "Yes, of course you have. To be expected really." That declaration seemed to end the conversation for him and he walked back to his men as they finished loading up their wagons.

What a prick.

His comments about knowing about me has me worried, but it seemed like it might just be idle talk. Hopefully.

I watched as the group began to get moving again and quickly left the village.

But I was worried what would happen at the next harvest.