Industrial Mage: Modernizing a Magical World

25 - Here comes the tax man!

Author's Note:

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The day the tax collectors arrived started normal enough with the pre-dawn light filtering weakly through Ethan's window, pulling him from sleep. He stretched, yawning, blinking away the remnants of sleep. Scratching Opie absently as the snake coiled comfortably around his arm, Ethan rose and padded over to the window. A low bark from outside announced Wynd's presence. The wolf nosed eagerly at the silk drape that barred the way to his room with Grandma Millie. Grandma Millie nodded at Ethan with a smile before going away, leaving Wynd behind.

Ethan made it to the backyard and onto the grass. Wynd bounded behind him, and Ethan scooped him up in a rough hug, burying his face in the thick fur. Opie slithered down Ethan's arm and onto Wynd's back. Wynd didn't react much but a playful wrestling match ensued between the pair regardless. Ethan watched with a smile.

Everything is going smooth.

After a good half hour of letting Wynd and Opie wear each other out as Ethan meditated, he decided it was time to get more productive. He rushed to his room and settled down in his designated workspace which was a quiet corner of his room. Focusing his mind, he activated his [Basic Rune Creation] skill. With ease, he channeled his mana, and visualized the intricate patterns that formed the foundation of a rune mote. One by one, they materialized in the air. Tiny spheres of condensed magical energy. Such marvel of this world he'd found himself in. By the time he stopped, a few hundred rune motes swirled around him.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Ethan stretched again, his muscles pleasantly sore from yesterday's training. He grabbed his training sword, a simple but well-balanced weapon, and stepped outside. The morning air was crisp, and the rising sun cast long shadows across the training grounds. He ran through a series of practiced attacks and parries, his movements becoming progressively more fluid. By the end of the session, he was huffing lightly, his body pleasantly warm.

Returning inside, again, sweat clinging to his skin, Ethan knew it was time for a bath. The manor had a perfectly functional bathing area and he got into steaming water and scrubbed himself clean, the grime of training washing away.

Refreshed and invigorated, Ethan settled down at his desk with a stack of parchments. These weren't magical scrolls, but ledgers and reports detailing what was going on in his barony, Holden. The first documents he reviewed detailed the wildly successful sales of his newly introduced soap. A single bar was priced at a very reasonable 150 aurums, making it an affordable luxury for most of the townsfolk. The Aurum was the standard currency of this world. He'd tried making comparisons with USD, but realized direct comparisons were often inaccurate. The average worker in Holden brought in around 25,000 aurums a month, making a bar of soap a minor splurge but not an unreasonable expense.

To put things into perspective, a loaf of bread typically cost around 150 aurums, while a pound of meat hovered around 800 aurums. A simple meal at a tavern could be had for 300-400 aurums, and a night's stay at a decent inn would set one back by about 1,500 aurums. Clothing was more expensive—a well-made shirt could cost upwards of 2,000 aurums, and a pair of sturdy boots even more.

For the wealthier residents, luxury items were available at a premium. A bottle of mediocre wine could easily cost 10,000 aurums or more—as the process of making wine, too, was inefficient in this world—and a beautifully crafted sword could command prices of 100,000 aurums or higher. Granted, said sword wouldn't be a normal sword, either.