Queensmen

Chapter 53

~Don't Go~

Hermes liked to spend his free time watching incense burn and pouring the ashes over his balcony. He liked to wonder where they would end up after being carried away by the wind. He liked to wonder if there would be a day when he would be light enough to follow them. That sort of freedom was the kind he could only dream of.

Two hours had passed with no movement from his mother. Only one stick of incense had been spent. Its ashes sat in the pot where it had been lit. It would end up being swept away by the servants when they came to clean; the wind would not get the chance to free it.

At the arrival of the second hour, Hermes had decided to light a candle instead of another stick of incense. The little flame did little to brighten the already lit room, but he appreciated its heat against his face.

He sat at the table in his study waiting for news, any news at all. In front of him were two stacks of missives that he had already read and was now answering. The pile on the right regarded the damming project that was going on in the rainforests. The Minister of Revenue had written five full pages detailing why the empire didn't have enough funding to commence the project. The man had asked Hermes to start collecting taxes again.

Hermes felt tempted to hold that particular missive over the candle standing by the spent incense but settled for grabbing his writing brush and scribbling a quick 'no' at the bottom of the scroll.

He had promised himself that he would give the people three years without taxation. He felt that it was the least he could do after bringing war to their homes, and instead asked for what he knew they would have as a tribute to him. Things like clay, hay, sand and driftwood.

He didn't ask for food or money because he knew personally how much war could bring a person down. What had nearly killed him on the battlefield hadn't been the enemies but hunger he experienced when rations had been depleted.

During wartime, the people suffered and the soldiers suffered. And the people who didn't feel one bit of that pain ended up being the people who had started the wars in the first place, the kings who languished on their thrones and gave orders without ever needing to see bloodshed.

Hermes opened up the scroll again and added a few more words just so he wouldn't seem petty.

The dam would be built with the materials they had collected as tribute for the past two years. Other than funding the trip itself, it was not necessary to pay for anything. The families of all the men working on the dam would be exempt from taxes for an additional eight months. Food would be provided by the locals—locals who volunteered to feed the workers would be rewarded with a three-month tax reduction.

"There is no need to collect taxes prematurely," Hermes concluded with a quick flick of his wrist, causing ink to splatter along his table.

"Look who is being so diligent, acting like an Emperor and everything," Mikeal said as he walked into the study and immediately sat himself beside the stack of missives. He poked a spot of ink with his pinky and it soaked through his nail. "A little too aggressive though."

Hermes grabbed another scroll but didn't look up at his brother. This missive was one from the stack on the left and talked about executing the nun before more rumors spread about the incident at the palace gates. "You asked Magnus to find me."

"Oh? Are you holding a grudge now?" Mikeal raised an eyebrow and leaned towards the emperor. "What did you expect me to do?"

"I expected you to trust me not to be rash," Hermes said slowly and held his brush over the scroll. A drop of ink dripped onto the paper.