“Côte Sud has seen a twenty to thirty percent increase in tourists compared to last year. Our hotel also maintains a high occupancy rate of around nine—”
“Count Oolonteil is listed as one of the beneficiaries in your business, correct?”
“Just so. His Lordship the Count has been most generous.” The merchant rubbed his hands together cheerfully.
Count Oolonteil was one of the most powerful nobles in the empire. In a few years, this inspector would be promoted out of the accounting bureau to a higher position in the civil service. He’d be granted a lifetime peerage, at which time he’d have to deal with Count Oolonteil. Therefore, the merchant thought it was best to make the most of the connection.
“His Lordship is the most exemplary gentleman,” the merchant added.
“The count is very vocal on the subject of advancing the redevelopment of Côte Sud.”
“Indubitably! The redevelopment will breathe fresh life into the town!”
And his own business would reap massive profits along with it. The merchant smiled at the thought.
“He bases his argument...on the unexpectedly sluggish growth in tax revenue from the commoner neighborhood.”
“Quite right, quite right! We resort owners pay enormous sums of money in taxes while that lot... Ah, but don’t think I’m complaining! It is of course the duty of every imperial citizen to pay their taxes.”
“That goes without saying,” the inspector said in a tone of finality. He didn’t look at the merchant.
Like hell it does! The merchant had to repress an urge to slap the man’s prim and proper face. The resort business was booming, but the higher his profits rose, the more he had to pay in taxes. He’d nearly thrown up when he’d seen the previous year’s projected bill. Money came in only to be taken away again—for a merchant, it was intolerable.
“He is correct that revenue from that area has remained stagnant...” the inspector observed. “The total amount collected has not risen with the tax rates.”
“It is not to be borne! Those idlers are squandering this fantastic location. They’re content with their little community businesses and fail to seize opportunities for growth. We resort owners couldn’t stand by and watch our countrymen parade their laziness on our doorstep. As imperial citizens ourselves, we had no choice but to denounce them, which led to the tax rate increase two years ago.”
“If I understand you correctly, you are saying that you petitioned for the tax rate to be raised.”
“You are exactly correct, Inspector. As imperial citizens who have been granted use of a modest sliver of Her Imperial Majesty’s domains, our primary desire is to see justice done.”
The inspector knew full well that the merchant houses’ interests were tied up in the redevelopment of the commoner neighborhood. On the surface, that posed no concern. Once he and his assistants made their report, Count Oolonteil would no doubt declare that anyone living in such a superb resort location who worked hard like a good imperial citizen ought to be able to pay their taxes, and the redevelopment would proceed.
And yet...
The inspector’s expression remained troubled. The logic of it was sound, but the ethics were dubious. Why hadn’t the tax revenue increased when the rate was raised two years prior? There ought to be a direct relationship between the two, but the revenue from the commoner neighborhood hadn’t budged. Reports also noted worsening public safety—was that related? And if it were true, why hadn’t the town guard done anything about it?
The most plausible explanation was that the rise in taxes had triggered an economic downturn in that area. The principled way to raise revenue would be to get the economy back on track. But such an undertaking fell outside the scope of a tax inspector’s duties.
“Has something concerned you, Inspector?” asked the merchant.
“No, I am not concerned,” he said, then paused. He spoke his mind. “Many merchant houses must stand to make very large profits should they build new hotels as part of the redevelopment.”
“You are quite right, Inspector. Though who can say which of the merchant houses fortune shall smile upon? In any case, the bountiful tax revenue it will bring in spells great things for the empire’s future, I’m sure.”
Given his position, the inspector could hardly argue with anything that raised tax revenue. His superiors and colleagues would only scoff if he brought up concerns about the ethics of the situation. The role of the Thundergard Accounting Bureau was to accurately apprehend and manage the flow of money—no more and no less. Inspectors had it drilled into them that they were to discard namby-pamby notions like ethics. An economic downturn in the commoner neighborhood of Côte Sud was of no concern to the bureau.
At least, that was what he told himself.
Gazing out the window of the carriage, the inspector started as his eyes alighted on the scenery before him.
“Yes, I see... So poor public safety and low tax revenue are the main factors driving the redevelopment?”
“Huh? Erm, yes, just so. One might also point to the deteriorating sanitary conditions, but those two reasons alone are more than sufficient, I’d say.”
“And those are reasons for clearing out this neighborhood to build an enormous hotel?”
The merchant hesitated for a moment. “For the increase in tax revenue that will result from that endeavor,” he said. “I say, Inspector, this is most curious. It almost seems as though you have some attachment to the area. Don’t tell me you sympathize with them?” He broke off, chortling. “No, no. I beg your pardon. I know better than to think that an elite imperial inspector would let sympathy for low-class commoners sway his judgment.”
“Indeed. My decisions are unfailingly objective. And to that end, I shall also be surveying the area in question.” The inspector gestured to the outside of the carriage with a jab of his thumb. “That was the lower-class neighborhood, was it?”
“Yes, it’s that general area.”
“Personally, I perceived no sign of a failing economy—neither poor public safety, nor what would result in low tax revenue. Pray tell me how it looks to you.”
“Wh-What was that?” Caught off guard, the merchant glanced outside again, then let out an involuntary gasp. An unexpected hint of a smile curved the inspector’s lips.
The merchant, it seemed, had been totally unaware. The inspector himself was of course also seeing it all for the first time.
Across the entrance to the commoner neighborhood was strung an enormous banner that read DOWNTOWN STREET. The houses were swept clean, the walls were all spotless, and delicious aromas wafted out from the street along with the hum of hustle and bustle. This had drawn in a great many tourists who were now strolling along the street, snacking on foods the merchant had never seen before.
“Well?” the inspector asked. “Given you volunteered to be my guide, the very least you could do is explain this state of affairs. If I may speak more directly, the commoner neighborhood is absolutely nothing like what the reports I read in advance of this visit suggested.”
“Well, that’s because... Um... The thing is...” the merchant stammered, mopping sweat from his brow.
“It appears to me that we can expect adequate tax revenue even without the redevelopment. Don’t you agree?”
In other words, the official recommendation of the Thundergard Accounting Bureau would be against redevelopment, with a one-year observation period. Such a recommendation would do more than just slow down the redevelopment project—it would leave it dead in the water.
Just what had happened here?
Funnily enough, both the inspector and merchant were thinking the same question. But where the inspector found the scene pleasing and invigorating, the merchant regarded it with unmistakable irritation and disgust.