Chapter 137 Listen up, country bumpkin

"Listen up, redneck."

Standing in front of the bright silver candlesticks, the handsome young priest looked at the group of unclean people in front of him with disdain.

Most of the unclean people were in disheveled clothes. Some of them were wearing pajamas, with eye boogers hanging from the corners of their eyes. Some even had wounds on their bodies and faces.

Just as Horn was holding an awarding ceremony, there was great jubilation.

An emergency meeting is being held in the Jeanne d'Arc City Hall.

Craftsmen representatives from various guilds, citizens' representatives and city councilors were forced to attend.

The soldiers kicked down their door, dragged them out of bed, stuffed them into a carriage, and took them to the town hall.

Here, they did not see the familiar Casti, but the newly appointed municipal secretary by the Duke - Zandbek.

The municipal secretary is actually the Duke's representative in the city hall, and his authority far exceeds the surface of the position.

Under the guidance of the servants, everyone took their seats one by one, and the light from the well-shaped round windows shone outside.

This night meeting attracted many nearby citizens who had not yet gone to sleep. They opened the blinds in the attic and looked in the direction of the city hall.

Even the night guards patrolling the streets couldn't help but stop and look over there.

The citizens sat at the long oak table that had been passed down for a hundred years, with a marble vault above their heads and a yellow and green Western carpet under their feet, woven into the shape of the long river flag of Joan of Arc.

On six tall columns, six statues of saints or angels were standing in the shrine, looking down at them.

At the front of the long table, Zanderbeck, speaking with a thick French accent, raised his chin proudly:
"I'll say it again, listen up, country bumpkin."

"Starting tomorrow, we will impose war taxes to counter possible threats."

"Commercial tax is a one-sixth tax on each yard of fur and a one-tenth tax on each gallon of dye when clearing customs."

"The poll tax is 25 dinars per citizen, 10 dinars per armed peasant, and 5 dinars per registered peasant."

"Every window in the city will be subject to a 5-dinar window tax, and every stove will be subject to an additional 8 dinars. Every refugee or laborer will be required to pay 2 dinars."

"In addition, all weapon shops in the city are closed, and all weapons are confiscated by the Duke's Castle."

"The blacksmith shop is not allowed to forge any weapons. If any illegal weapons are forged, the weapons will be directly confiscated by the Duke."

It was not until the new municipal secretary said this that everyone present woke up from their dream.

20 dinars per citizen may not be a big deal for big businessmen, but it is an extremely high tax for ordinary citizens.

For big merchants and workshop owners, the fur tax and dye tax were like a stab in the heart.

Not to mention that public farmers and refugees also have to pay taxes, and it is 2 dinars. They can't even afford to eat, so where do the dinars come from?

"This is unfair!" A citizen representative immediately protested, "We have already paid high business taxes and city redemption taxes this year!"

"If we have to pay such taxes, we may even have to sell some of our assets."

"We want to protest, we want to strike!" The representatives of the Craftsmen's Guild stood up directly.

"An additional 2 dinars will be levied on each person participating in the protest march!" Zandbek sneered.

"How dare you? I guarantee that if you do this, no one will be on the dock," the citizen representatives threatened.

"Yes, priest, you can wait and see. Even if Joan of Arc comes, she can't call them out. I said!"

"You can try." Zandebeck stared at the citizen representative, "Joan of Arc can't be called out, see if you can use the sword!"

"But there were major floods and road damage, and we didn't make much profit this year. Food prices have skyrocketed. Where are we going to get the money?"

"Borrow, steal, mortgage, or sell your money," Xanderbeck said coldly. "I don't care where your money comes from. I just collect taxes."

"Then at least tell us what war is about!"

"You bunch of idiots, can't you see what the situation in Qianhe Valley is like now?
The Norns are coming, the Leia are coming, have you forgotten how Prince Kongdai and his imperial edict company treated Xiaochi City?
The workshops in Xiaochi City were closed, the city councilors were hanged, and the citizens went bankrupt. It took ten or twenty years for the city to recover. "

"We already pay other taxes, and that includes taxes to protect us."

"Then if war comes, who will make up for the lack of military funds?" With his right fist, Zandebek slammed the table hard, and even the vase on the table was knocked over.

"If you don't pay the war tax, then I ask you, are you willing to pick up your spears, provide your own weapons, and follow the Duke into battle?"

The petals crawled on the table along with the clear water, following the ancient wood grain and cracks, and dripped onto the ground.

The previously noisy meeting hall fell silent. City councillors and guild representatives all lowered their heads under Zandebek's gaze.

“I would like to advise you that you think that the wealth you have today is earned by yourself.

But don't forget, without the Duke's military deterrence, you would have been robbed countless times by bandits, robber knights, mercenaries, and even the church or nearby nobles.

In my hometown, Huaqiu City, there is a famous saying that I would like to share with you all: if you are being kept by someone, don’t talk about freedom and independence! " "But..."

Seeing that several citizen representatives were still unconvinced, Zandebek knocked on the table impatiently: "I don't want to debate with you. It's beneath my dignity to debate with you vulgar people.

You stay here and think about me and yourself. I'll give you one night."

Ignoring the citizens' comments, Zandebek walked directly out of the meeting hall of the town hall. The two accompanying mercenaries immediately blocked the door with their long-handled axes and spears crossed.

…………

The wind in November is colder than usual.

The fiery red maple leaves fell on Horn's shoulders, exuding a faint woodsy fragrance.

Looking up, Horn observed Duke Darnay's castle up close for the first time.

It is located next to this small canal, with an artificial earthen platform. The excavated area around the platform just creates a moat.

The moat is two or three meters deep and about eight meters wide. A suspension bridge is hung above the river by hinges.

Looking forward from here, you can see the gatehouse sandwiched between two towers. The lattice-like iron gate is lifted on hinges, and you can see servants and soldiers running back and forth inside.

Under the blue sky and white clouds, the castle looks like a giant beast with its bloody mouth wide open.

"Mr. Horn."

A servant who had met before came trotting over from the drawbridge to Horn's side. He first glanced at Jeanne, who was wearing a mask, with fear, and then whispered:

"Sir, the Duke fell into the water yesterday. After being treated by the doctor, he developed a low-grade fever and is bedridden. You should come back tomorrow or the day after tomorrow."

I got sick?
Horn suddenly had a headache. Why did he get sick at this time when he didn't get sick earlier or later?
"Is the Duke really that ill? He can't even see outsiders?"

"It's not that serious actually. He took the medicine last night and was able to order an emergency meeting." The attendant smiled helplessly, "It's just that our mistress is too worried about his condition and doesn't allow him to do anything wrong."

"Ok."

There are still seven days left, so Horn is not that anxious.

Mount your horse and head back from the castle.

The roadside trees are still the same as before, but the atmosphere of the public road is far worse than before.

Under the protection of several soldiers, the Duke hired priests and monks to knock on doors from house to house. They carried money scales and balances and wrote down names on hemp paper with feather pens.

In the attic, citizens or their families glared with gritted teeth at the priests and soldiers who were transporting taxes.

Bags of gold, silver and coins were packed into cloth bags and wooden boxes and, under the supervision of soldiers, transported back to the way Horn had come - to the castle of Joan of Arc.

This morning’s decree was passed anyway, and the citizen representatives had no power or force to object.

Instead of tearing each other apart, it is better to maintain some warmth.

These taxes on Civic Road are considered civilized.

The situation was different in the artisan district next door. Across the canal that ran through Jeanne d'Arc, Horn could see smoke rising from the other side of the river.

Laborers and craftsmen erected fences and mounds at important intersections in an attempt to block the courtiers from collecting taxes.

Soldiers were forced to hold up their shields as refugees hid on rooftops and in alleys and hurled stones, mud and even steaming feces at them.

But this did not stop the soldiers from breaking down the doors of the houses one by one.

They rushed in and, amid the homeowner's cries, rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, almost like they were robbing.

If there are any good-looking girls or women, at best they will be molested, and at worst they will be subjected to unspeakable acts.

Many of the priests, monks or clerks hired to collect taxes had bruised faces and were covered in dust.

Whenever they were alone, the laborers and vagrants would rush over, put a cloth bag over their heads and beat them up.

Fortunately, both the soldiers and the laborers were very sensible and no one was killed.

This may be a form of protest among workers.

Riding a horse, Horn returned to the camp from the city of Joan of Arc. As soon as he arrived at the gate, he saw a group of mercenary cavalry galloping away.

After getting off the horse, Armand ran from the door with a troubled look on his face and whispered to Horn.

"Ah? We have to pay too?"

Horn's eyes widened.

(End of this chapter)