Bailey Baz's Arc

Chapter 42 of 44

Bailey rode into the capital sure the hard part was over. He had beaten a King, a swamp, and an ancient curse. But a throne room is not a battlefield. His first week as king taught him that fast. Merchants argued over grain prices. Farmers begged for flooded fields drained. Two lords wanted the same stretch of river. Bailey knew how to lead a lost child out of the reeds. He did not know how to feed a city. Crane found him slumped over a table of unsigned papers. The old marshal set down a fresh stack without ceremony. "You freed the whole kingdom, sire," Crane said. "Now they all want something from you by noon." He tapped the papers. "The grain lords will riot if you don't rule on the tax. Pick a side." Bailey rubbed his eyes. "In the swamp I only had to save one child at a time. Here every choice hurts someone." Cora dropped into the chair across from him. Potion stains still marked her sleeves, though she wore a general's coat now. She snatched a paper and read it. "You're doing this wrong," she said. "You keep trying to please everyone. That's why nothing gets signed." "Then tell me the trick," Bailey said. "There's no trick. You ask who's hurt most and you help them first." She shoved the paper back. "The small farmers can't pay the tax. The grain lords can. So you tax the lords more. The lords will scream. Let them." Tyrek pushed open the door before Bailey could answer. Once a starving fugitive in the reeds, he now stood guard at the king's own hall. He carried the smell of the streets in with him. "The lower quarter is bad," he said. "People waited a hundred years for the true prince. Now they say you sit behind guards and sign nothing. They're losing faith." That cut deeper than any lord's threat. Bailey stood. He had led people who trusted him through drowning water. He would not lose them to paperwork. "Then I'll rule like I led," he said. "Not to please. To protect." He pulled the grain tax paper close. He crossed out the lords' rate and doubled it. He wrote a mark forgiving the small farmers for one season. His hand did not shake. Cora watched and nodded once. Bailey signed the next paper, and the next. He judged the river dispute for the village downstream, not the richer lord. He ordered his guards to open the palace gates each morning so people could bring grievances in person. By dusk the stack was gone. Word ran through the lower quarter that the king had heard them. He had ruled the swamp as a warden. Now he ruled the capital as a king. He had learned to govern. The people love their new king and no further issues arrived.