Atreus flung his oak desk across the study, shattering it against the cobbled wall. Billows of dust, paper, and splinters were kicked up around the room, causing the light from the window behind him to bathe the study in a yellow smog. Atreus coughed, "Fucking royals!" kicking his chair in two as the force threw the pieces into a nearby bookshelf. In his hand was a single letter that he seemed to be trying to choke to death.

To Marquis Atreus Tyson, Baron of the city Ileria, Marquis of the county Calerin, Defender of the Northen Forests

His Majesty, Emporer Agamemnon Tisaren the merciful, Baron of the cities of Mestiff, Aeterna, and Alum, Earl of the counties of Ellim, Breqai, Dastrique, Fon, Helin, and Joltru, Duke of the dukedoms of Gequaris, Santifir, and Olimnus, King of the kingdoms Fastindar, Nerotur, and Denestinere, Emporer of the Argent Empire, Defender of the Central Plains, Admiral of the Eastern Navy, Champion of the Southern Dessert, and master of the Amethyst Pheonix, may he live a thousand years, has decreed an end to the drought and consequently all emergency rations.

The domain under the jurisdiction of Marquis Atreus Tyson, during the past five years and four months, has borrowed from the royal family 40,500,000 bushels of grain. His Majesty, Emporer Agamemnon Tisaren the merciful, has decreed that the debt shall be compounded for five years rather than the six that imperial law would typically require. At an interest of ten percent, compounded yearly and an average of 7,593,750 bushels of grain borrowed per year over five years, the domain under the jurisdiction of Marquis Atreus Tyson has accrued a debt of 51,000,000 bushels of grain.

His Majesty, Emporer Agamemnon Tisaren the merciful, has declared that the debt may be paid in bushels of wheat, barley, oats, or maze. A maximum of one-quarter of the average yearly debt may be paid in bushels of dried fruits each year as well.

His Majesty, Emporer Agamemnon Tisaren the merciful, has declared that all other debts incurred during the drought, which includes millions of barrels of water and several tons of dried fish are forgiven. And that interest on the principle debt will not further accrue for a period not exceeding ten years.

From His Majesty's imperial steward, Guerin Inthicus, Baron of the city of Imere, Master of Coin.

"No one fucking told me about any damn debts!" He roared. "All those shits did was talk about their 'duty to the people!' What, they just decide that they want everything back retroactively? Because I never saw any fucking documentation! No letters, no contracts, no charters, no edicts, nothing!" Atreus stormed out of his study ripping the door off its hinges as he tried to slam it shut. "Aaarrrghh!" He continued to the dining room, smashing several of the stone statuettes in the hallway

"Food!" He barked at a maid as he arrived at a well-lit dining room. Atreus violently dragged out his chair, watching the poor girl scurry off to the kitchen. With each passing minute, his face became a deeper shade of red as he seethed in silence, allowing the remaining servants to each realize that they had somewhere else to be and excuse themselves.

"I know exactly what fucking happened." He spoke as the maid who left to get the food shakily set it on the table before him, realizing all her colleagues had abandoned her. "They didn't think the drought would be all that long... and when it dragged out, the stupid shits were too far up their asses to admit that they couldn't afford it!"

*crunch* "Eeep!" The girl squeaked as she saw the Lord crush the glass in his hand, allowing red wine to flow between his fingers as he stared at her.

"Get me a mug. Stone." His burning eyes bore a hole through the maid as her shaky arms cleaned the table.

Turning his sight back to his hand, he turned it over. A quick dab with a napkin showed that despite the glass shards lodged into his skin, there was no blood. Thick calluses protected his palms, and he easily brushed the glass off.

"I bet that fool Agamemnon went and borrowed all the food he could and now he's making his nobles foot the bill for him!" The man sunk his teeth into a thick steak. "Merciful my ass! He's just a weak fool who would probably lead this gods-forsaken country to ruin if left unattended to! Fuck the Emporer! Fuck his family! Fuck their policies! Fuck everything they believe in!" The raging man finally calmed down as he finished off his food, giving the maid a chance to flee with his empty plate after she set his mug before him.

Afterward, Atreus forced himself to return to his study and got a new desk so that he could write. "Charles!" He yelled. "Get the scribes to make copies of this! I want at least one posted in every settlement, accompanied by an announcement for those who are illiterate!"

Notice to the people of Calerin:

The gods have seen fit to return life to this land and bless the new age of prosperity about to begin. The drought is over. However, there are 'debts' to be paid. Although the royal family sent us grain over the last five years so that we would not starve, claiming that it was their prerogative as the rulers of our vast empire. They now see fit to retroactively charge its people for the grain they gave us, not as leaders, but as loaners. I, Atreus Tyson, swear on my family's name and honor, that I was given no warning of this, but it is not something we can reject. The armies of the royal family would overwhelm us if we were to ignore the so-called 'debt.' The county owes a full quarter over what it has 'borrowed,' and it will take us many years to pay the 'debt' off. I can only ask for your cooperation.

If there is any settlement that lacks necessary seeds or manpower to plow its fields, send a representative to Ileria. A new charter, The Guild of Grain, will procure all that is required for those who arrive, free of charge and interest. The royal family may not believe in investing in its people, but the house Tyson does. Let it be known that if any representative of the guild demands payment at any point in time for the seed or manpower, they shall be charged for corruption and dealt with swiftly.

Signed, Marquis Atreus Tyson

If those bastards in the capital want to reap the rewards of a grateful populace, then I'll be sure to remind said populace that the crown's only concern is itself. I doubt many would be grateful to their Emporer if they think they were coerced.

"Also get me the necessary papers to write up a charter and summon every major merchant in the county, most of them should already be in the city." He said as he handed the old manservant the paper.

"Yes, mi'lord."

---

Hectore came upon what could only be described as ruins when he arrived at what should've been Thrend. The river bordering the south had extended its banks all the way up to what may have been a town square. Waves lapped at half-collapsed houses as men, women, and children bustled around the settlement, dragging thick timber to the center for processing. The smithy ran at full blast, continually repairing a never-ending influx of broken tools while a huge soup kitchen continuously pumped out loafs of bread and bowls of stew. If not for the destruction caused by the floods, one would say that settlement was quite robust.

"Hail!" Hectore called from the remains of what may have been a gate as his horse trudged through the mud.

"Who're you?" A one legged man asked from nearby, sitting in the marshy ground and stripping bark from a log.

"We are soldiers under the employ of Marquis Atreus Tyson of Calerin. Friend, is this the village known as Thrend?"

"What else would it be?"

I don't know... One of the hundreds of other villages by the forest's border? "We came due to reports of an orc horde."

"Wasn't much of a horde. And that was months ago, where you been?"

"The flooding made travel impossible for a while and challenging even after we finally set out. So you successfully repelled them? Do you know where they encamped themselves?"

"Killed most of 'em when they tried to get in the village, got some still tied up. No clue where the orcs came from or where went really. You know, the rain made it difficul'to follow."

"So you've captured some? Would you lead me to them?"

"Nope."

"Pardon?"

"Ya blind man? I only gots one leg!"

"Right, sorry. Where can I find the village mayor?"

"Dunno, should be around somewhere. Nothin's stoppin' ya from lookin'."

"Right then. We'll do that."

"Why ya tellin' me?"

This fucking prick... "C'mon men! Find the mayor! And don't cause any fucking trouble!" Hectore's legs smacked into his horse's flanks, and he trotted to the middle of the town, hoping to see some gathering of sorts where orders were likely to be given.