Out front of Miring's castle...The two guards on duty, one a young, recent recruit from the pesantry, clad in dung-stained cotton work clothes, the other one of the Royal guard judging by his uniform, looked up as Norm approached them. "
Halt!" said the younger of the two, leveling a rake in the robed man's direction in an attempt to impress his superior. The other guard merely sighed, standing up and shoving the young recruit aside. "What d'you want? ... Ah, an appointment?" He glanced thoughtfully about, then shrugged. "Any time's just as good, I suppose. Brynlas, show 'im to the King, would you?"
The younger guard nodded, and led Norm through the castle to the King's quarters.
Meanwhile, in Trubaldsome's quarters...Trubaldsome felt, quite simply, overwhelmed. He sat there in his seat, in his quarters (he still didn't particularly like entering the throne room; even though servants had already scrubbed every last speck of blood from the floor) with his hands clasped absently as he listened intently to the Chamberlain.
"Yes... Ah, indeed..." He murmured, and nodded his head at intervals, although with each new issue the man outlined the young King's pained grimace became more pronounced. Finally, after what seemed like an age, the Chamberlain was finished, and Trubaldsome relaxed slightly, fumbling his snuffbox out for a quick pinch to help along the thought processes.
"Hrm," He said, at length. ""The Sword Coast Traders?! They shall not have monopoly over us; it is bad enough that I am dealing with one of them already..." He glanced around for a moment. "Where is Aulon, anyway... Oh yes, he went to Elbreth. Pity, he could have dealt with them." He shrugged, and went on to the other matters.
"Well, yes, the first point is simple: raise taxes, ten percent sounds fine. Much better than nothing at all, for certain! As for defence, well... I have an idea, shall deal with that later."
He squinted uncertainly at the man, voice apprehensive. "Arms and slaves, you say? I'm not sure I like the sound of that, but... Perhaps we shall have to.
But," He raised a finger from the arm of his chair, "We shall impose a twenty-five percent tax; I do not particularly want these two industries becoming too common, hm? Those slaves... Always from such dirty countries!" He wrinkled his nose up, then sighed and continued.
"I don't think we should raise tax quite as high on more... Respectable businesses, however. Ten percent should be quite enough, and it should entice more people to set up shop. We want to
attract people back here, not chase out those few who are left, after all! And..." He was interrupted by a knock at the door, which opened to reveal a young, dirty guard in the company of a strange, grey-robed figure.
"Er, he said he wanted an appointment, your highness," said the guard, seemingly a little self concious in his grubby clothes, before heading back out again.
Trubaldsome frowned. He would have to have someone teach those guards a little etiquette... Interrupting him in the middle of a meeting! Nevertheless, he gestured the newcomer over to one of the seats before his desk, the one not already occupied by the Chamberlain.
"Yes? You wished to see me, then?" He raised his brows, looking the man over. After a moment, he sighed wearily and massaged his palms against his temples, leaning back in his seat. "A priest, I am guessing? I-" He was interrupted again by a knock at the door, which opened to reveal the same guard once more, this time in the company of an even
stranger figure, an apparently blind man with one arm ending in a crossbow. Trubaldsome stared blankly at this appiration for a moment, then demanded of the guard, "What is this, some sort of
joke?!" But the sheepish looking fellow merely shrugged his shoulders and stepped back out again.
The young, overworked King sighed. "Yes, very well, come on in. Waery, pull out another seat, would you?"
As Waery did so, Trubaldsome shifted his weight gingerly to a more comfortable position in his seat, resting one elbow on the chair's arm and running a finger thoughtfully across his moustache.
"So... You wish to serve me, then?" He eyed the newly-arrived man somewhat doubtfully. "A wise choice, indeed. Er, what... Talents will you be bringing to my Kingdom, if I may ask?" As he spoke he opened a drawer in his desk, pulling forth a sheaf of paper, quill and ink, setting them on the tabletop in readiness.
Then, taking up the quill he began to write, with his tongue poking out as he squinted in concentration, quickly scribbling up a message on the topmost sheet of paper. He beckoned Waery over and handed it to him.
"Waery, make up some copies of this, would you? Have the men post them around the city, and in the larger nearby villages, yes."
Positions Vacant
*Diplomats
*City and Palace Guards
*Physician
*Interrogators
*Executioners
*Royal Scribes
See Captain Waery of the Royal Guard for more information.
Payment negotiable.
Waery nodded and went on his way, and Trubaldsome returned his attention to the three seated across from him, setting down his quill and lounging back in his chair.
"Ah yes, Chamberlain, you may go. Thank you for this information; we shall continue this meeting later. Oh and, er, tell Waery on your way out, have the shipyards begin constructing a warship. Need to put all those troublesome sailors back to work, before they destroy every tavern in the city."
He nodded as the man got to his feet, then watched the other two, the grey-robed man and the man with the crossbow-arm, with rapidly-fading attentiveness. "Now, you two. What exactly do you want?"
Refuse the SCTG's offer
Raise the shipping tax to a standard 10%
Make the tax on local industry only 10%, hopefully attracting more business and raising the public morale
Allow limited trade of arms and slaves, but at a 25% tax
Construct a Light Warship
Post copies of the aforementioned poster around the city and surrounding towns
Author
Topic: You are King! (Spring 315a) (Read 189072 times)