Imperial taxation is divided into four classes and sixteen levels. Aside from the fourth class, which is tax-free and has just one level, the other three classes each have five sub-levels: elementary, intermediate, superior, advanced, and special.
Classes 1 through 3 correspond to different levels of worlds, such as civilized worlds, agricultural worlds, hive worlds, barbaric worlds, and even low-level death worlds. Forge worlds, religious worlds, extinction worlds, and some worlds granted special permissions are often exempt from taxation.
Ers is rich in minerals and, in terms of development, can only be considered a low-level hive world, corresponding to the second-level special tax. Now, the Ministry of the Interior has raised Ers's tax level to Class 1 Superior, a drastic increase of three levels—a truly outrageous move!
This means Ers will have to send countless people to mine day and night, extracting every last ounce of the planet's resources, even shedding rivers of blood, just to barely pay taxes. The tithe also includes human resources, requiring a massive population—essentially, at least one-tenth of the planet's population!
Such a heavy tithe, if paid a few times, would almost certainly destroy the civilization of Ers. And that was just an ideal scenario; whether or not the tax could be collected was also a question. The most likely outcome was that the rebels would storm the Royal Court and depose Ron, the planetary governor.
But deposing him would be useless; the taxes still had to be paid, and the people of Ers would still be unable to escape their miserable fate. Unless the Holy Terra Ministry of the Interior could reassess and change the tax levels.
"This is driving me crazy..." Looking at the servitors busy in the document library, Ron felt an inexplicable chill. This tax must not be paid!
Ron pressed the call button on the table, and soon the elderly government official, Old Mike, came over and bowed.
"Governor, do you have any orders?"
"Send a letter of complaint to the Ministry of the Interior of Holy Terra, telling them that Ers cannot bear such a high tithe. Ers strongly requests a reassessment of the tax bracket!"
"Ah? You mean to send a letter to Holy Terra? How is that even possible? The Divine Emperor, it's simply impossible..." Old Mike muttered, seemingly half-conscious.
What's going on? Can't contact Holy Terra? Ron suppressed his impatience, trying to sound as gentle as possible: "Can you explain specifically why we can't send a letter to Holy Terra?"
Old Mike was terrified: "...Because the Divine Emperor has abandoned us. We are sinners!"
"This is a God-forsaken land. The Divine Emperor has abandoned His lambs!"
"The Chaos monsters will kill us all!" Watching Old Mike's increasingly terrified and frantic behavior, Ron was paralyzed, almost drawing his gun.
Could this old man be a heretic? If what he said was true, Ers was in serious trouble!
"Old Mike, you're talking nonsense again!" Bayev approached and shouted at Old Mike.
Old Mike immediately wilted, bowing his head and greeting Bayev, "Sir Governor."
Bayev patted Old Mike's shoulder and said gently, "Go out and rest. I'll take care of the Governor's orders for you."
"Oh, okay... okay," Old Mike said, his hands behind his back, somewhat disappointed as he walked out.
Bayev pointed at Old Mike's back and explained to Ron, "Old Mike went crazy a few years ago, talking nonsense all over the place."
Ron breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he was a lunatic. He had actually thought that Ers had lost contact with Holy Terra. This was a serious problem. What if it was a Chaos invasion? It would be a disaster.
"According to regulations, he must be dealt with for spreading heretical remarks, but he has served the family for hundreds of years and has protected the Grant bloodline with swords and spears. He has made great contributions."
Bayev continued, "So we had no choice but to arrange for him to guard the document library. There are only mechanical servants here, so it doesn't matter if he nags a few more times."
The Grant family is quite humane... Ron had no memory of Old Mike at all, so he nodded.
After Bayev finished speaking, he looked at Ron and asked, "What did you just want Old Mike to do?"
Ron frowned. "I want to file a complaint with Holy Terra. Ers can't afford the taxes demanded by the Empire."
In truth, Ron didn't hold much hope for the outcome of the complaint; he was just giving it a try. After all, changing the tax brackets meant the Ministry of the Interior had made a mistake, and Imperial officials would have to be held accountable. Getting Imperial officials to take responsibility would be incredibly difficult.
They could simply ignore the matter or prolong the approval process indefinitely. Under administrative procedures that have existed for decades, centuries, or even longer, many mistakes go unaccounted for. When Ers dies naturally due to resource depletion or rebellion, the matter will naturally end.
The Human Empire encompasses millions of planets, and its territory is constantly expanding. Planets are destroyed for one reason or another. By the time news reaches Holy Terra, who knows how many years have passed.
Ers is just an obscure, low-level hive planet. Even if it were destroyed, the deaths and suffering of tens of billions of people would be just a line in the Ministry of the Interior's files. Perhaps once recorded, it would be forever sealed, and no one would remember this planet or its inhabitants.
Ron only then realized the importance of his position, the decisions he made could affect the fate of tens of billions of people across the planet. The heavy pressure was almost suffocating him.
What should he do?
"Governor, there's no need to appeal," Bayev said firmly.
"We have to give it a try," Ron said anxiously. "Given the current situation, if our appeal fails, we might not be able to pay this quarter's taxes."
"Pay taxes?" Bayev looked at Ron in surprise. "You mean the tithe?"
"Is there a problem?"
"Have you forgotten something?" Bayev's heart skipped a beat. Since yesterday, the Governor had been acting strangely, like a completely different person.
Seeing his reaction, Ron immediately understood that some memory loss might have caused his erratic behavior. What had gone wrong?
He hesitated whether to reveal a few details to allay his doubts. That way, they could communicate openly in the future, avoiding any serious mistakes caused by the fog of memory.
"Sir?" Bayev looked at Ron worriedly, fearing that something had happened to the last bloodline of the Grant family.
Ron came to his senses and decided to confess something. After all, the longer this matter was delayed, the deeper the doubts would be.
"I did forget some things," Ron pointed to his head. "It must be a side effect of awakening psychic power..."
Awakening psychic power means communicating with the subspace, which is very dangerous and often leads to terrible consequences. For example, psychic power out of control can cause destruction, bloodlust, and even corruption into a monster!
Only losing some memories is considered a relatively lucky thing.
"Amnesia?" Bayev looked at Ron nervously. It took a while for him to relax and said with concern: "This is not a simple problem. We need to ask His Excellency Bishop Doni to take a look at you."
"No problem," Ron nodded, bringing the topic back to the point: "Let's continue discussing the tax issue. What happened?"
Unexpectedly, Bayev dropped a bombshell.
"Actually, you don't have to worry about taxes. We no longer need to pay taxes."
"Huh?"
(End of Chapter)