The ballroom sparkled too much for Leofric's liking. It was hot, stuffy, and filled with far too many people pretending to enjoy each other's company.
He had been standing in a tight circle of men rambling on about politics—earls and viscounts puffing out their chests, quoting taxes and trade routes like it would win them a prize. Leofric nodded and grunted in agreement, pretending to listen, until one of them asked for his opinion.
"Well, what do you think, Lord Leofric? About the grain tax increase?"
Blast the old viscount to hell!
He blinked. Grain tax? Were they still on about that? "Ah," Leofric cleared his throat, flashing the tight-lipped smile of a man whose mind was far away. "Grain is… important, I suppose."
"Yes, we've already heard that part," one of the men cut in with a huff. "But tell me this, was it really wise of the king to lower taxes for the farmers? Seems to me it will only make them bold. What next? Demanding free land and a seat at the council table?"
