Trade

Richard’s frown grew more intense. “21 of the family’s 59 territories have shown a decline in taxes… these fellows don’t have any patience at all. Do you think Kunder is just making these bandits up, or is it a raiding party from the Schumpeters?”

“I cannot be sure,” the old steward replied. The man normally devoted his time to the family’s internal affairs, so he couldn’t make a judgement about the state of the vassals. Richard wasn’t really looking for an answer either, he was just asking off-hand.

He stood up and paced about the room, his expression growing gloomier with each step. A few dozen rounds and he suddenly raised his hand, about to fling the tax report to the ground, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He placed it on the desk gently, his fury replaced with a chilling calmness when he lifted his head once more, “Tell Kunder that he can halve the taxes next season as well if the bandits remain so rampant.”

The old butler was utterly surprised, but he said...