Chapter 147: What a Pain… Looks Like I’ll Have to Do Veya Another Favor!

Translation by: Weebsread👹

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“Tax... collection?”

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Iresha froze mid-stride, her brow furrowed as she took in the devastation surrounding her.

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She stared, incredulous, at the armored soldier. For a moment, she wondered if she’d misunderstood him entirely.

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“You mean to say that, after a demon attack, the local lord didn’t even show up to tend to the wounded? His first response was to send men to collect taxes from the villagers?”

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If not for the carnage strewn before her, Iresha would never have believed such callousness possible.

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“Well... in fairness, we really have fallen behind on taxes this quarter.”

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A weary voice sounded at her side.

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She turned. The speaking guard, however, had no intention of lingering—he simply grunted, clutching his spear, and strode off to resume his patrol.

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“Oh? You’re from this village?” Lin Wei addressed the man quietly.

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The speaker appeared to be in his forties. His manner, coupled with the linen apron tied over his well-worn clothes, gave the impression of a local doctor—perhaps one who had set up a home nearby.

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Now, within the makeshift relief station, he efficiently bandaged wounds and tended the injured as best he could.

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Feeling the eyes of the two adventurers upon him, he paused and offered a tired yet courteous nod.

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“I’m Kinson, the village doctor. Greetings, travelers. I take it you’re not locals?”

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A local voice—always useful.

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“Good to meet you, Doctor Kinson,” Lin Wei replied. “So, just to clarify—the lord isn’t withholding help because of the demon attack, but because you’ve fallen behind on your taxes?”

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He made no move to introduce himself; for now, discretion was wisest.

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“There’s no mistake,” Kinson said, exhaling heavily. “Our entire village—and most of the nearby towns—fall under one of the Empire’s high-ranking nobles.”

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“I can’t tell you the exact name,” he went on, voice dulled by long suffering. “All we know is that every tax season, the lord’s governor sends his men to collect what’s owed.”

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He set down the bloodied gauze in his hand, moving with the slow, burdened air of a man who had carried such troubles for years.

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“These days—after so many wars, with taxes layered atop taxes—our little village has long since been pushed to its limits.”

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“And just recently, they added something new: the so-called ‘Holy See Annuity.’ It’s a tribute for the Pope herself, on top of the usual quarterly tax. Tell me—how are we supposed to afford that? It isn’t that we don’t want to pay. The truth is, we simply can’t.”

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Lin Wei recalled it well—the Empire had declared open war against the Demons a few years past, and with every passing campaign, new levies were enforced to bolster the treasury. He’d witnessed it himself.

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But lately—especially now that the front lines had shifted far from here—hadn’t the Empire begun easing taxes wherever it could?

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Moreover, even the illustrious Pope Selena had publicly abolished all donations to the Holy See for a five-year span; it had made headlines throughout the continent.

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So where had this "Holy See Annuity" come from? This was the first Lin Wei had heard of such a thing.

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“Didn't Pope Selena herself, barely a year into her reign, suspend all mandatory tributes to the Holy See?”

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“And hasn’t the Empire been touting tax cuts everywhere? This ‘annuity’ sounds like your lord is inventing new taxes out of thin air!”

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Even with winter’s chill in the air, the land here was black, rich, and fertile—Lin Wei could picture the golden wheat waving at harvest time.

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Yet, the villagers still couldn’t scrape together enough for taxes? The more he considered it, the less sense it made.

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“That’s why,” the doctor said, dropping his voice, “some of our young villagers... they’ve begun talking about refusing to pay the collectors altogether.”

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He edged closer, peering warily around to be sure no governor’s men were within earshot.

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“Some of the youth who returned from working outside the region,” Kinson murmured, “say word is the Empire actually lifted all sorts of taxes. Villages within the Border Wall now pay less than half what we do.”

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He shook his head, the bitterness clear in every line of his face. “When we ask the collectors, they just shrug and say, ‘We need a standing army to protect the lands. The war isn’t truly over. If we reduce taxes, who will defend you?’”

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“But everyone knows the border’s been peaceful for years. Even the City-State of Brook, right next to us, hasn’t seen a demon incursion in two full years... It’s obvious—they’re just making excuses to keep their hands in our purses. To those nobles, we’re nothing but numbers.”

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To the aristocracy, peasants and villagers were little more than property.

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Not that Lin Wei found this peculiar. It was not just the Empire; every neighboring kingdom, even those in the far north, operated much the same way.

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The only real difference, he thought, was whether a lord was willing to show even a scrap of mercy—but in the end, every noble served their own interests.

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He furrowed his brow. “So what’s the current tax rate for your village? Is it the same in neighboring areas?”

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To drain a settlement so thoroughly that its people couldn’t even pay—how steep could these taxes possibly be?

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Kinson’s expression tightened. “I don’t know about everywhere else. But for all the lands governed by the Empire’s great nobles, the rate’s the same—it devours nearly seventy percent of our yearly income.”

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“...I beg your pardon?”

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The figure struck like a thunderclap.

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“Seventy percent?”

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Seventy percent—even in peacetime?

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Were they trying to turn their own people into outsiders?

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For a moment even Lin Wei—who had once ruled as Demon Lord—was left speechless.

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He remembered all too well uniting the demon clans, fighting the desperate war, barely keeping the army alive with what little they had...

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Even at the lowest ebb, when rations were stretched thin and their treasury was scraping the bottom, he would never have dreamed of demanding so extortionate a tax.

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And now, to learn the Empire’s own people were being bled dry at seventy percent—

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How high had the Empire’s taxes soared when war broke out?

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If I’d insisted on keeping the demon army in the field... perhaps the Empire would have collapsed from within before we ever had a chance to destroy them ourselves!

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“All it takes is missing one tax payment, and the lord cuts you off?”

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Old habits die hard—even now, hearing this made Lin Wei want to groan and slap his thigh in disbelief.

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The reason for the ceasefire, back then, had been simple: the demonfolk could bear no more. Forced to the edge of disaster, they’d staked everything on a last desperate drive, shoving the front lines up to the Empire’s border.

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It was a glittering lie of a victory—grand in appearance, but hollow underneath.

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Who could have guessed the Empire concealed the same rot within?

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Damn... No matter how you look at it, we got the short end of that bargain.

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“The lord’s tax collector made it clear.” Dr. Kinson could only shake his head, resignation and weariness lining his features.

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“If we fail to pay every last coin, not only will they abandon us—they’ll forbid any priests from visiting and recall the local guards. We’d be left to handle monsters and demons ourselves.”

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“If the clinic hadn’t had a few medicines left over...”

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He hesitated, voice heavy. “Some of them wouldn’t have survived at all...”

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Beside him, Iresha was already trembling, her breath coming short and fast—dangerously close to a full, righteous fury.

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Once, she’d been a princess. She might never have sat in the council halls or issued edicts herself, but Iresha had still witnessed her father and the ministers at work, day in and day out.

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There’s a difference, she thought, between a disaster that takes lives and a lord who simply can’t be bothered to care.

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A domain that suffers injury in the face of danger is one thing.

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But to have the power to protect your people, yet refuse to lift a finger—that’s a different crime entirely.

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“Is the lord here really that desperate for money?!”

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Iresha’s voice rose, trembling with outrage.

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“All for the sake of a little tax revenue, he’d let his people die?”

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“And seventy percent! Seventy percent in taxes!” She clenched her fists, teeth grinding. “Unbelievable. I’m going to have a few words with this ‘lord’ myself!”

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She shot a furious glance toward the distant manor, fists white-knuckled at her sides.

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After all, this wasn’t her first time standing up for justice on the road as a member of the Hero’s Party.

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Seizing her staff, Iresha spun on her heel, determination burning in her eyes as she strode away. Lin Wei, who walked beside her, made no move to stop her.

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Instead, Lin Wei hesitated, then slipped a hand into his cloak in a way that looked casual—though in truth, he was drawing something from his magic storage.

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A faint ripple in the air marked the momentary shift of space. Without missing a beat, Lin Wei tossed a glass vial to the village healer standing nearby.

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“You have my word. As for the taxes—change is coming. You’ll see signs of it soon enough.”

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“This is a potion I brought along.”

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“Pour it into water and have the patients drink—it should do a great deal to heal their wounds.”

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He added, his tone formal even as the villagers stared in disbelief:

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“Consider this a blessing, granted to you all by Lady Iresha, Princess of the Realm.”

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The village healer gaped, speechless, cradling the potion as though it were treasure.

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Lin Wei gave a slight wave, turning swiftly to catch up with Iresha as she marched ahead.

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Tsk… Looks like I’ll have to do Veya a favor while I’m at it.