Past noon on our third day at the inn, as I was looking over the previous day's administrative documents in my room, someone knocked on the door.
"Is that you, Peiyu? Come in."
Without looking up, I identified her from her presence and the sound of the knock.
Sure enough, it was Peiyu. She entered the room and gave me a graceful bow.
"Master, you have a visitor."
"Hmm. Who is it?"
"He claims to be a retainer of His Imperial Highness the Eighth Imperial Prince."
"Understood. Show him in."
"Yes, Master."
Peiyu bowed once more and withdrew with the exact same quiet composure she had entered with.
I went right back to my work.
Because this matter required a detailed response, I organized the phrasing in my head before committing it to paper.
Another knock came at the door.
"Come in."
Upon my permission, the door opened with an air even more reverent than Peiyu's.
I could sense the visitor kneeling just inside the entrance.
"Rio Leo, deeply honored and humbled to behold Your Majesty's heavenly visage!"
"Mm."
Nodding, I kept writing.
Because precise instructions were necessary, it took nearly five minutes to finish the document.
After setting down the pen, I spent another two minutes reviewing the contents.
Satisfied with the instructions, I set the pen aside and finally looked up.
The man who had introduced himself as Rio Leo remained prostrated, head lowered to the floor.
His shoulders heaved, and he was drenched in sweat.
It was obvious at a glance that he had ridden with desperate haste.
"You may rise. Did you come in a hurry?"
"Yes, Sire! By Lord Oscar's command, I rode via 'express.'"
"I see."
Express referred to the degree of courier urgency.
When dispatching orders or official documents, the speed of travel varied depending on the matter's importance.
Broadly speaking, there were two standard categories: "express" and "limited express."
Express meant traveling at considerable speed.
It involved changing horses at waystations to deliver the message swiftly, with a level of urgency that permitted riding the horses to death if necessary.
Limited express was a step above that.
In those cases, the lives of the riders themselves were disregarded—speed took precedence over everything.
Since human survival was immaterial, three separate pairs of riders and mounts carrying duplicate documents would be dispatched simultaneously; as long as even one pair survived to reach the destination, the mission was considered a success.
Though rarely invoked, above both was "super express," reserved strictly for critical military emergencies.
Oscar had sent his own retainer, and by express no less.
"Let's speak calmly. Peiyu, fetch a chair for Rio."
When I called toward the doorway, Peiyu brought in a chair and set it down beside Rio.
Rio did not sit immediately. Instead, he dropped to his knees once more.
"I am unworthy of such gracious benevolence."
Only after expressing his gratitude did he stand and perch himself hesitantly on the edge of the seat.
Since this was customary imperial court etiquette, I made no fuss about it.
"Now then, what does Oscar have to say?"
"Yes, Sire. He stated that, as the Minister of Finance, he is in favor of the proposal."
"Which implies he opposes it from another standpoint, does it not?"
"Your Majesty's discernment is as brilliant as ever."
Rio gave a seated, respectful bow.
"He stated that, as an imperial prince, he cannot support it unconditionally."
"His reason?"
"The exchange tax has been established custom for over a century, entwined with countless vested interests. He fears that abolishing it will provoke unpredictable backlash from regional magistrates and retired ministers alike."
"Retired ministers?...Ah."
"...You grasp the matter entirely, Sire."
Rio lowered his head solemnly.
Oscar was right; that was indeed a genuine concern.
Beyond an imperial prince's retainers, high-ranking officials of Prime Minister caliber often served as examiners in the Knight Selection to build their own factions of proteges.
Just as I had recruited Shirley.
Those proteges were frequently appointed as provincial magistrates.
And, by long-standing custom, they kicked back a portion of their revenue to the ministers who had advanced them.
Where did those kickbacks originate? The vast majority came straight from the exchange tax.
Furthermore, many of those ministers were retainers to various imperial princes.
The house of Thunder Imperial Prince, the family of Empress Audrey, had produced around three Prime Ministers from among their own retainers alone.
In other words, stripping away the exchange tax would inevitably make enemies of retired ministers, and by extension, risk alienating the imperial princes backing them.
That was why Oscar had conveyed that while he agreed as the Minister of Finance, as an imperial prince—a member of the imperial family—he could not give his unconditional support.
"...Is that all Oscar entrusted you to say?"
"Pardon?"
"Knowing Oscar, he surely anticipated how I would respond to that, didn't he?"
"...Truly magnificent, Your Majesty. I, Rio Leo, am in utter awe."
With that, Rio rose from his chair, dropped to his knees, and bowed deeply before me.
He then stood, reseated himself, and looked straight at me.
"Just as your discernment foresaw, Lord Oscar remarked: 'His Majesty has already taken an ax to various long-standing customs; he will not back down over a reason like that.'"
"Quite so."
The first tradition I had challenged was the marital dynamic of imperial princesses.
When an imperial princess married a commoner, custom dictated that she retained her imperial status, reducing the marriage to a master-servant dynamic.
A husband needed official applications and formal permission just to see his own wife. That could hardly be called a marriage, so I abolished the custom by imperial decree.
Though the practice had persisted since the Empire's founding, it was a private marital matter entirely divorced from state governance.
Furthermore, because the situation oppressed the husbands—men—the imperial princes of every generation had favored reform, or at worst viewed it with indifference. Thus, the change went through smoothly.
I had already intended to reform several outdated customs upon becoming Emperor, so I seized upon that convenient opportunity when it presented itself.
As a result, certain imperial princes and ministers, including Oscar, came to recognize me as an Emperor keen on overhauling entrenched traditions.
This situation was no different.
While Oscar had voiced an objection based on his station, he had fully anticipated that I would ignore it anyway.
"It really all comes down to capable people in the end..."
"Pardon, Sire? What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I understand the situation. Tell Oscar to proceed. We'll work out the finer details once I return to court."
"Understood, Sire!"
"...I'll give you the general framework."
"I am all ears, Your Majesty."
Rio rose once more and dropped to his knees before me.
Remaining kneeling, he prepared to receive my orders.
"As a baseline, authority over the tax will be stripped from the magistrates. However, simply taking it away will invite rebellion. Therefore, we will distribute an amount equivalent to the exchange tax back to the magistrates—under the guise of a bonus, let's say."
"...!"
Rio looked up in astonishment.
Yet he held his tongue.
In this exchange between Emperor and imperial prince, he was merely a messenger pigeon.
Interjecting his own opinions would constitute lese-majesty.
As the retainer of an imperial prince, Rio understood his place well; despite his shock, he remained silent.
"I know what you're thinking. That doing so defeats the purpose of stripping the tax, and that if handled poorly, it will run the treasury into a deficit. Am I wrong?"
"..."
Rio bowed his head in silence.
It was an unspoken affirmation: It is precisely as Your Majesty says.
"To cover administrative overhead, the exchange tax will be partially increased."
"—?!"
"Don't jump to conclusions; there is more. Since this is not meant to line private pockets, raising a portion of it will leave the overall burden largely flat. Even so, any increase is bound to stir public discontent."
Rio bowed his head in silence once again.
"To counter that, I will issue a decree: that the tax will never be raised again."
"——?!"
"At the very least, for the entirety of my reign, the exchange tax will remain permanently capped."
"..."
Rio's expression turned exceedingly conflicted.
It looked to be thirty percent shock and seventy percent utter bewilderment.
"What's bothering you? You have my permission to speak."
"Thank you, Your Majesty. Why announce a permanent freeze on tax increases in exchange?"
"Do you know what the single most important thing a state must provide its people is?"
"Um... wealth? No... employment? Or perhaps food, clothing, and shelter?"
"Seventy percent. Not bad."
"Thank you, Sire!"
"Encompassing all of those, it is hope and expectation."
"Hope... and expectation..."
"Precisely. Giving the people reason to hold hope and harbor expectations for the future is the duty of the state—of a statesman. Money, jobs, food, clothing, and shelter are merely the components that form the hope and expectations necessary to live."
I paused for a beat before continuing.
"Promising never to raise taxes again is part of cultivating that expectation."
"I see... Truly brilliant, Your Majesty. I am thoroughly humbled."
"Mm. Convey what I've said to Oscar. You may quote me word for word. He's sharp enough to draft an effective proposal from that alone."
"Understood!"
Rio bowed once more and took his leave.
After watching him depart, I stood and gazed out the window.
Oscar was a capable man; he would grasp my intent from this exchange.
The true crux of this policy wasn't about the populace at all—it was the opening salvo in overhauling the very structure and culture of the bureaucracy.
I had stripped away their means of self-enrichment, but provided legitimate compensation in return.
If they still attempted to line their pockets through illicit means after this, there would be no mercy.
I had already granted Oscar countless favors.
Short of the throne itself, I was willing to give him virtually anything he desired.
If, after all that, he still had designs on the imperial throne...
Oscar would undoubtedly read between the lines.
"Give up on the throne, Brother. Coveting it will only tarnish Father's name."
My murmur as I looked out the window reached no one's ears, dissolving into the blistering heat of the desert sun.