Chapter Ninety-Nine: The Accident (Part Two)

The second, third, and fourth grand magic arrays proved dull and tedious to construct. After the second array was completed, Patrick took a few days to rest and reviewed the affairs of the month.

"First, this month the Sun Temple admitted 668 new members across administration, taxation, finance, the Mage Circle, and other divisions. Among them, the Kabolong Clan and the Windwalker Clan formed the largest groups, though neither reached fifty percent. The rest were recruited from various lands, and all of them declared it an honor to serve the Master."

The work of the Sun Temple had returned to a proper course. Many ambitious and thoughtful elves came forward, eager to contribute to the tomorrow they imagined. Elves needed vigor more than anything, and Patrick understood better than anyone what a dynamic, fast-moving social environment could do for development.

"Second, the planning map of the Sun Temple has been completed. It includes future reclaimed farmland, preliminary urban construction, tax standards, and housing arrangements. The newly appointed Councilor Galind-Shaalon has also submitted a placement plan for the Ranger Corps, awaiting Patrick’s final approval."

By the plan, the city has been designed as Sunlight City. Around the entire Sunlight Tower, land has been prepared for cultivation, and new farms are finished; a first harvest is expected this year. A preliminary tax schedule has already been in effect for some time. Compared with Silvermoon City, the Sun Temple’s tax rate is lower, and middle-class folk and merchants are more willing to come here.

Yet when Patrick examined the tax collections closely, his brow tightened. The structure of taxation, the supplementary rates, and newly added provisions kept changing, and it was obvious that large merchant houses and clans were being treated differently. This had to be cut off before it took root: tribute-taking and collusion between officials and merchants. If Patrick permitted it, then little by little merchants would pay political contributions to councilors, and councilors, wielding authority, would secure greater gains for those merchants. Such back-and-forth would foster monopolistic elites once again, freeze social mobility, and restore a cycle in which power makes money and money makes power. That was not Patrick’s intent.

Though in the Sun Temple he had tentatively set only gains and trade as taxable, satisfying most interests, many elves—especially the great guilds from Silvermoon City—did not think so. To them, contributions were reasonable and legal: not collusion, simply legitimate income. But to Patrick, an elf with an Earth-borne soul, all of it was unreasonable.

To Patrick, the demographic pattern in Silvermoon City seemed flawed. In a normal, healthy society, the structure should resemble a bell curve: the middle class in the majority, while the rich and poor occupy only small extremes, so that society remains vital and full of hope for the future. In Silvermoon, it was almost the opposite. The middle class was a minority, even a rarity. Most of the population sat at the two poles. In Silvermoon City one could say there were only the rich and the poor; the middle class was so scant it was nearly absent. So the ordinary elves there cared only for pleasure, and for common people there was little beyond that.

"Idonis." Patrick cast a telepathic message and summoned Idonis, chief operating officer of the Mage Tower.
"At once notify all standing directors of the Decision Council and all department heads. They are to come immediately to the fifth-floor Decision Council headquarters for a full meeting."

Quirinthis, Candiris, and Anida arrived first, followed by a group of department heads who had already served for half a year. Patrick was the highest authority in this region, and receiving the Master’s will allowed everyone to serve him more effectively.

"These past days I was occupied with magical experiments, yet after reading this month’s latest financial and administrative reports I am dissatisfied."

The room fell silent.

“Compared with most of you, who are common clan elves or clanless elves, I myself am also from an ordinary clan. My family only has one particular craft that has made us slightly more comfortable. Most of you have lived in Silvermoon City, have you not? After living there, what did we truly have?”

“The answer is obvious: we had nothing. No matter how hard you work, no matter how excellent you become, you still cannot equal those born in Daywing or Morningwind. I want to break this deep-seated affliction in our lives. As you can see, what we have invested our hearts in is developing with astonishing speed. I do not want to see anyone break the rules of this healthy progress.”

He concluded: “From this moment on, I explicitly prohibit the taking of tribute. Any councillor who collects it in any form, privately, will lose the qualification to propose resolutions.”

He added one more line: “To rise to high office, strength and achievement are the truest paths.”

“Loren-Flowsong.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Your Observation Bureau has authority to inspect all members and institutions, and if any member of it violates this rule, their offense will be increased by one degree. We will make this newborn Sunlight City blaze with splendor across the Northern Continent.”

Patrick’s meaning was unmistakable. No one is without fault; mistakes happen. Since he treated this as a first offense, he offered only a warning. From now on, those profits that had been legal will become illegal, and interests buried beneath treaties and regulations will be nullified. Patrick’s decree was a thunderclap meant to awaken everyone.

Yet one thing the first followers all understood was this: though their rules differed from Silvermoon’s, Patrick had never deprived those who stood with him of anything. Excellent alchemical formulas, magic books, and arcane manuals—Patrick did not keep any private hoards; all were available in the library, and lending regulations were left entirely to Idonis and the mages.

What Patrick sought was a rising elven society—a culture of upward striving, rejecting what he called aristocratic politics and cutting away decadence.

After taking the directive, everyone took their leave. The newly appointed standing directors all understood Silvermoon’s environment and gave no sign of displeasure. They had followed Patrick in the Sun Temple for years, and their own development already carried the advantage of being first. After the meeting adjourned, all returned to their posts.