"...Darien?"
In a chamber the Lord had named his study, Celeste lingered by the side, twisting the hem of her gown, voice hesitant.
"What troubles you?" Darien asked, setting aside a sheepskin scroll detailing Brindlemark's tangled taxes.
The script was a mess; even he was at a loss.
"Well… I wished to ask… do you still keep that soap…" Celeste murmured, eyes cast down.
"Soap? For washing?"
"Aye."
Darien hummed softly. Pretending to reach within his coat, he produced a small vial of perfumed bath oil.
"It's best if you use this." he said, briefly instructing her in its use.
"Oh." Celeste gave a faint sigh, ready to withdraw quietly as Darien returned his gaze to the scroll.
"Hold a moment," Darien called, and Celeste paused.
"Taxes… they are most vexing!" He shook his head, clearly dismayed.
"Taxes?" Celeste echoed, confused.
"Indeed. I shall set them right. These endless, tangled levies shall be abolished," Darien declared.
"Abolished? But taxation is Brindlemark's chief revenue…" Celeste frowned, still steeped in conventional thought.
"Look at these levies—toll tax, hearth tax, maternity tax, single tax, wife tax… 'tis madness! No wonder Brindlemark languishes. Better none than such a burden. Even I would despair in such a world, living to eat and die without purpose."
"So, how do you plan to reform them?" she asked, though she could scarce comprehend his mind. Yet as ruler, Darien's will held sway, and she trusted it fully.
"Only a few chief taxes shall remain. The rest are trivial, costly to collect, and grievous upon the folk. We waste gold and men upon nonsense, yet gain little. Better a lean, fair system than this folly."
Darien's reforms drew from his modern knowledge, tempered for this medieval land. Even he marveled at the absurdity of these old levies.
"Very well," Celeste said softly. "I shall follow thy lead."
Her eyes widened slightly. She had always sought to protect the common folk, laboring when Brindlemark suffered most. Yet beside Darien, she felt her efforts paled.
He not only spared their lives, but he improved them.
In a single glance, both understood: Brindlemark had a lord worthy of its people. Celeste felt genuine joy for them.
"Next, the household rolls must be set aright. On the morrow, the people shall be numbered with care, and strangers shall not enter unchecked the town…"
"The muster must follow. Let us set the conditions tomorrow, and I shall instruct thee further."
"The barony shall recruit capable hands, and if any possess skill in stewardship, they must be sought. First, let their recompense be fitting…"
"The stores of salt and sugar must be distributed wisely. Let the merchants convene. There is no gain in taxing the poor unduly…"
"And the streets—filth abounds! It must be cleansed, rigorously cleansed…"
Though framed as discussion, it was Darien who spoke, and Celeste nodded dutifully. Not from mere obedience, but because all he said rang true.
As the parchment and quills lay ready, Darien felt the weight of lordship descend.
Brindlemark's burdens could not be lifted in a single day; change would come gradually, as he recorded each plan carefully.
After a time, seeing Celeste's gaze wander, he softened his tone. "What would you like for supper?"
Celeste hesitated.
"Then worry not; we shall eat what I have readied," Darien said.
He set before them two platters of steaming vegetable ragout, rich with herbs and roasted garden fare, then added slices of cured ham, soft-poached eggs, and golden-roasted Pheasant legs. A small flask of herbed olive oil lay ready to season at pleasure.
Celeste could not restrain herself, eagerly partaking of the savory meal, each bite a delight.
Darien watched her with mild curiosity. She ate with the appetite of a man yet remained neither thin nor stout—a mystery to him, though a trivial one.
When the meal concluded, Darien bade his servants remove the dishes, and could not help but inquire: "Pray, where shall I take my rest tonight? I am yet unfamiliar with the castle."
Celeste dabbed at her lips with a cloth, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "A chamber lies beside the study, well-lit and warm. I shall see that the maids prepare it for you, and bring garments most fitting. I would have thee rested and comfortable."
Darien inclined his head in thanks. "Your care is much appreciated. I won't trouble you any further."
"Nay," Celeste said softly, "'tis but proper that you be well-rested. A lord must have strength for the duties of the morrow."
Darien allowed himself a faint smile, noting her sincerity. "Then I shall retire there shortly. Your thoughtfulness honors me."
Celeste inclined her head in a quiet curtsy. "Rest well, my lord, and may the night favor thee with peace."
---
The next morn, a small folks gathered about the Brindlemark square, peering at the bulletin board.
Those who lingered knew well that times in Brindlemark were harsh. Some lacked coin to journey afar; others awaited their last chance at trade.
Word had spread that a new lord had taken office. Hopes and doubts mingled among the folk, yet all were drawn to the posted decree. Most could not read, but they came to gaze nonetheless.
"Huh? A new tax law!" an old man exclaimed.
"What? Another levy?"
"We cannot bear more! Must the new lord oppress us thus?"
"Fie… I had hoped for prudence in our lord, yet it is not so."
Murmurs of discontent ran through the crowd, though none dared speak openly against the noble, lest they be seized.
"Old Fulk, what would you advise?" asked one villager. The old man, Fulk, was among the few literate souls in Brindlemark.
---
⚖️ What is a decree?
A decree is an official order issued by a sovereign, monarch, or governing authority. It has the force of law. In medieval Europe, decrees were often used to regulate taxation, land disputes, justice, and administration.
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