Chapter Text
The gathering of the lords under the supervision of sheriff Morgenstern was an often enough occurrence, taking place almost every 10 days in Idris. The lords notified the sheriff about their gain when it came to collecting the taxes from the villagers. Then the sheriff judged their progress and gave them pointers for improvement.
''We've collected а hundred pounds more than last spring,'' Robert of Alicante announced loudly, like that was supposed to be impressive.
The sheriff winced, ''That is because last spring you hardly managed to collect a sufficient amount at all. I don't find acceptable how you lowered your peasants' contribution so much, that you truly compare based on the worst profit we've had.''
''But last year was a particularly harsh one,'' Robert objected, a little more adamant than usual. ''A lot of men were struck by sickness. The conditions were unfavorable for the labour they faced. They needed what they could provide to survive, and to feed their families. Until better times return at least.''
Sheriff Morgenstern seized up Robert with a look that spoke of just how many times he had heard the same pitiful excuse.
Magnus thought it was a good moment to speak up, ''May I say what's on my mind?'' he asked respectfully and his wish was granted when the sheriff gave him a small nod. He wetted his lips and played with the rings on his finger when proceeding. ''Harsh conditions are the most simple and most accustomed justification under the sun. Every time villagers prove themselves incapable and inefficient, every time they're slacking off and behave poorly, turning their indolent backs on their responsibilities, even when they have the audacity to hide sacks of flour in their homes, they always blame it on nature. Blame it on the one thing we can't control. How disappointing.'' Magnus turned more firmly towards Robert. ''What excuses were you fed with before coming here? Was it, 'Forgive me my Lord, my children were starving.' It usually begins in this fashion. They say they beg because of the kids, then they'll beg because of elderly siblings, or somebody's dying mother and even a cousin. The excuses will never end until they become all you hear.''
Robert looked like he was about to object again, ''You think they overstate their case and play me for a fool?''
''I think I saw your self-professed bone-weary peasants organising some celebration this morning. So much for being worn out. They clearly have the energy to go along playing some pesky music while dancing near the market.''
''The music was actually quite nice and I'm the one responsible for it,'' Robert responded sharply. ''I hired musicians from other lands and I ordered for the celebration to be held.''
''Did you now?''
''Haven't you heard lord Bane?'' he questioned him with more nerve than Magnus liked.
''Heard about what?''
''After years of battle during the crusades in the name of the King, my son Alexander of Alicante is finally coming back home.''