Chapter 25: It’s tax season

  My first goal of the day was to inspect the roads I made. The first issue was readily apparent. Single-lane roads were only useful for foot traffic. If I wanted people to travel by carriage, I’d need at least double. Four lanes would be ideal for traffic going both ways.

  Albion’s Mana: 6,650/14,921,021

  “The country needs more mana,” I sighed.

  “That it does,” a voice startled me.

  I turned to find Sir Palamedes trailing behind me. He looked too frail to make the journey, yet he kept up just fine.

  We walked silently for a while before I decided to ask the question. “Is there a way to speed up the mana gain?”

  The ghost knight started ticking off points on his plated fingers. “First off, bring your daughter back to Albion. Royal heirs earn more mana per hour than entire cities, and Bori is leveled up as opposed to your son, who was just born. Next, you must spend more time making a path to citizenship for the refugees. You only earn mana from citizens. It does you no good to accept them if you don’t require citizenship. Furthermore, you need to set a tax rate.”

  “I don’t need money to make roads, do I?” I asked, wondering where he was going with this.

  Sir Palamedes chuckled. “While you can set a monetary tax, I’m speaking of mana tax. You can set the level from zero to one hundred percent of a citizen’s mana.’

  “Won’t that kill them?” I asked.

  “While they may not feel very good, the maximum tax rate will not cause your citizens any lasting harm,” he explained. “Mana is only taxed after all life-sustaining functions are covered. A skilled mage may even be able to sneak a spell or two off before the mana is taxed. I do not advise setting the tax above fifty percent. Such actions have a tendency of leading to rebellion.”

  “Do the unawakened even use that mana?” I asked.

  Sir Palamedes nodded. “To the unawakened, excess mana is often referred to as vigor. Unlike stamina, which is physical energy, vigor is mental energy. People who lack this energy lack the desire to accomplish simple tasks even when they are otherwise fully capable.”

  “So lack of mana causes depression, check,” I replied.

  He shrugged. “I am unfamiliar with that term. Still, I cannot advise you to set the tax rate too high.”

  “That’s fine,” I replied. “Do you think they will mind fifty percent? I want to get these roads built as soon as possible.”

  “That should be fine,” he said, making a note on a clipboard that had appeared from somewhere. “Would you like me to make it official?”

  “Yes!” I yelped a little louder than necessary. “Also, is there a quick way to make these refugees citizens? I don’t have time to hold court all day.”

  “You can set a delegate to approve them in your stead,” he replied. “Be careful who you assign power to. Some decisions can have lasting consequences.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, getting no reaction from the knight. “Never mind. I think I’ll assign that task to Ceru. She’s not going anywhere for the time being. Whenever she feels up for it, that is.”

  “It will be done, My Lord,” Sir Palamedes confirmed. “Some of the humans might object, though.”

  I sighed. It wasn’t like I had a stable of trusted humans to turn to. “Do you have another suggestion?”

  The clanking of metallic footsteps behind me paused for a moment. “Perhaps. Even though she isn’t fully human, your daughter is of royal blood and that should silence most objections.”

  “But she’s a dungeon,” I objected. “She’s going to be in a dungeon. Are you suggesting anyone who doesn’t want to deal with Ceru be thrown in the dungeon?”

  The idea made me chuckle, but Sir Palamedes didn’t get it. “As you request, any who do not wish to deal with Lady Ceru will be sent to the dungeon to deal with Princess Borealis.”

  “Speaking of Bori,” I said through guffaws. “Do we know when she will be here?”

  The knight shook his head. “The grimmlings do not report to me. Your guess is as good as mine, My Lord.”

  “That’s fine,” I sighed.

  I gasped as we arrived. Tents lined the beach for as far as I could see. There were a lot more factions than I imagined. Different colored flags marked the various camps.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Hi there,” I said as I stopped at one of the human camps when I recognized one of the couples. “Weaver, is that you?”

  A middle-aged man in tatters looked up from where he squatted over a makeshift campfire. “Yeah, who’s asking?”

  “Nobody,” I replied with a grin, realizing he didn’t recognize me. “You came here for asylum too, eh?”

  He took a moment to appraise me before answering. “Yeah, isn’t everybody? No place is safe in Dabia now.”

  “How did you find out about Albion?” I asked, hoping to get some more information.

  He snickered as he held a skewer with roast rodent over the flame. “Who hasn’t heard of this place? New nation, accepting all comers, and it has some kind of magic protection from the shadow man. What’s not to like?”

  There was a lot for me to unpack there. “Shadow man? Are you talking about the wraiths?”

  Weaver shrugged. “Hecht if I know. Whatever those things are are taking babies in the middle of the night. We weren’t about to stick around till it came for us.”

  His wife nodded vigorously at the remark.

  “What kind of protection do you think this place has?” I asked.

  “Look around. Do you see anyone getting attacked? Whatever’s going on around here is keeping the darkness at bay.” He noticed the knight behind me, and his eyes widened. “Wait, are you in charge? Can you grant me asylum? I’ve heard the new king only takes so many audiences a day.”

  “Sure, why not,” I replied. “You and your camp are welcome. Just be sure to pay the tax.”

  I wondered if saying that would do it. Was there a way to be sure?

  “Thanks, I think,” Weaver replied. “I don’t have any coin though. If you give me a job, I don’t mind paying my due.”

  I laughed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

  We left that camp and I turned to Sir Palamedes. “Did that work? Is his mana going to the kingdom?”

  Sir Palamedes checked his clipboard as though the answer would magically appear there. “Yes. As you set the tax rate, all citizens have been taxed.”

  I checked the menu to see how much mana we had.

  Mana tax set: 50%

  Current Population: 10,816

  Original Inhabitants: 143

  Immigrants: 10,655

  Humans: 4,422

  Ogres: 985

  Orcs: 1,222

  Trolls: 17

  Goblins: 12

  Grimlings: 3,740

  Eaglin: 257

  Gods: 5

  Dungeons: 13

  Citizens: 3,347

  Albion’s Mana: 183,998/14,921,021

  I gasped when I saw the number. “All that from just three thousand citizens?”

  Sir Palamedes nodded. “Even the weakest human possesses at least one hundred mana. It will increase slowly after the initial deposit but you should have more than enough to work with for something as simple as roads.”

  I looked at the single-lane road I was standing on leading back to Camelot Castle. While I could technically get my carriage on it, any pedestrians would be forced off the road as I rode past. More lanes were needed. I pulled up the menu and toggled between two and four lanes. While I was certain I would eventually need four and currently had the mana for it, I also had the rest of the country to worry about, so I opted for two.

  Mana Cost: 5,900

  “At least it doesn’t charge me for the first lane again,” I mused.

  I clicked accept, and my vision distorted. When it cleared, I was standing on the side of the road. Where there was once a single lane, there were now two, divided by dashed white lines that reminded me of roads back on Earth. The cost was so low I decided to go for it and upgrade the road to four lanes.

  Mana Cost: 11,800

  This time, it wasn’t my vision that flickered but the road itself. It shimmered and was replaced by a four-lane road with a divider in the middle.

  “This system gets its design from Earth,” I laughed. “Or maybe Earth’s roads are inspired by the system. That’s a weird concept.”

  Sir Palamedes cleared his throat. “Now that you’ve upgraded the roads, would you like to take the carriage back to Camelot?”

  “I suppose,” I sighed.

  I was putting off the inevitable. I needed to devise a plan for Xanadu, not to mention make more citizens so I could steal their mana. A few campers on the beach gasped as the carriage materialized in front of them. The ride back was spent in contemplation of what was to come.

  “I need a map of the world,” I said to Sir Palamedes. “Do we have anything like that?”

  He nodded. “There is a world map in the grand library but it is quite dated.”

  “We have a library?” I asked, wondering if I could find more clues there.

  “Yes,” he replied. “But again, the knowledge kept there is very old.

  The grand library turned out to be in the old underground castle. The carriage passed right through Camelot and drove through a series of hidden tunnels to get there. The underground city was still abandoned. I felt guilty that there were so many refugees staying in tents on the beach when I had a perfectly good city complete with housing that could accommodate all of them. I shook the thought from my head. It wouldn’t be long before every citizen in Albion had proper housing. My goals for the underground city could come after.

  The carriage stopped in front of a large building just outside of the castle. It had a steeple on the third floor with a large brass bell inside. A pair of knights appeared and pulled the doors open as I approached. The view inside took my breath away. The bottom floor was filled with rows of tall bookshelves. The open-air second and third floors were lined with balconies with yet more bookshelves.

  “Where are the maps?” I asked.

  “This way,” Sir Palamedes replied, guiding me to a room in the back.

  The cartography room was much smaller than the library. It consisted of a grande table that rivaled the round table with a 3D model of Gaia. Rolled-up scrolls, which I assumed to be more maps, filled bins in the back. I walked around the table, examining the big continent to the south first, Celestea.

  “I thought this was called Dabia,” I said.

  “That’s a common misconception,” Sir Palamedes replied. “Ever since Xanadu sacked Celestea, Dabia has been all that remained. However, before the fall, Dabia was a vassal state to Celestea.”

  “Interesting,” I replied.

  Judging from the size of Celestea castle, it was hardly any surprise which country was stronger. Dabia and the Camelot, on the surface, were tiny by comparison. The only castles on the planet that were comparable were my underground city and Solitair, which was built into the side of a volcano.

  Albion was, by far, the most detailed section of the map. Every location was labeled along with a history of which towns used to be where. I was surprised by what I saw.

  “Sir Palamedes, are there towns still there?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yes, My Lord.”

  “Are they preserved like Camelot was?”

  He shook his head. “Unlike Camelot, the towns have reverted to their base form. You’ll find simple dwellings you can upgrade once you unlock the town feature.”

  “That’s a start,” I replied. “I suppose I need to build some more roads.”

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