Against the strong objections of his advisors, Silas insisted on visiting the common quarters of Ironhold without the usual royal entourage.
"Your Highness, this is highly irregular," Chancellor Marcus protested as Silas donned simple traveling clothes instead of his royal robes. "The security risks alone..."
"Are manageable," Captain Roderick interrupted, though his expression suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "I can provide discreet protection with a small detail of guards in civilian dress."
"The people need to see their prince," Silas said firmly. "Not as a distant figure on a throne, but as someone who understands their struggles and cares about their welfare. I can't make informed decisions about the kingdom's future without understanding how our policies affect the people who live under them."
Lady Elara, who had been quietly observing the argument, finally spoke. "I think His Highness is right. The royal family has been isolated from the common people for too long. That isolation has contributed to many of our current problems."
An hour later, Silas found himself walking through the narrow streets of Ironhold's merchant quarter, accompanied only by Captain Roderick and two guards who looked like ordinary citizens. The difference between the royal castle and the city below was stark and sobering.
Where the castle showed signs of decay, faded tapestries, worn furniture, deferred maintenance the common quarters displayed the harsh reality of genuine poverty.
Buildings leaned against each other for support, their walls patched with whatever materials could be found. Streets that had once been paved with stone now showed more dirt than pavement, and the smell of too many people living in too little space hung heavy in the air.
But what struck Silas most was not the physical decay, but the expressions on people's faces. There was a weariness there, a resignation that spoke of hopes deferred too long and dreams abandoned out of necessity.
"Your Highness," Captain Roderick said quietly, "perhaps we should..."
He was interrupted by a commotion from a nearby alley. Raised voices, the sound of something breaking, and then a woman's cry of distress. Without thinking, Silas headed toward the noise, ignoring Captain Roderick's urgent whispers about protocol and safety.
In the alley, he found a scene that crystallized everything wrong with his kingdom.
A middle-aged woman knelt beside the scattered remains of what had been a cart full of pottery, tears streaming down her face as she tried to salvage the broken pieces. Standing over her were two men in the colors of the tax collectors, their expressions a mixture of duty and embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, Goodwife Martha," one of the collectors was saying, "but the taxes are six months overdue. We have orders to seize goods equivalent to the debt."
"Please," the woman, Martha, pleaded, "this pottery is all I have. If you take it, I'll have nothing to sell, no way to earn the money to pay what I owe."
"That's not our concern," the second collector replied, though he didn't sound happy about it. "We have our orders."
Silas stepped forward, his voice carrying the authority of his position despite his simple clothes. "What seems to be the problem here?"
The tax collectors turned, and their eyes widened as they recognized him despite his disguise. "Your Highness! We... we were just collecting overdue taxes as ordered."
"How much does Goodwife Martha owe?"
"Twelve silver marks, Your Highness. Six months of back taxes on her pottery business."
Silas looked at the broken pottery scattered across the alley. Even if it had been intact, the entire cart's worth wouldn't have been worth more than eight or nine silver marks.
The mathematics of the situation were brutally clear: the woman owed more than her entire inventory was worth, and destroying that inventory would make it impossible for her to ever pay what she owed.
"And how much is this pottery worth?" he asked.
The first collector looked uncomfortable. "Perhaps seven silver marks, Your Highness, if it were intact."
"So by seizing goods worth seven marks to satisfy a debt of twelve marks, you've ensured that the remaining five marks can never be paid?"
The collectors exchanged glances, clearly recognizing the logical flaw in their orders but uncertain how to respond.
Silas knelt beside Martha, helping her gather the larger pieces of pottery. "Tell me about your business, Goodwife. How did you fall behind on your taxes?"
Martha looked up at him with a mixture of hope and fear. "My husband was a potter, Your Highness. Made the finest ceramics in the quarter, he did. But he died in the fever outbreak two years ago, and I... I don't have his skill. I can make simple pieces, but they don't sell for as much, and there are fewer customers now anyway."
"Fewer customers?"
"People don't have money for pottery when they can barely afford food, Your Highness. I've been trying to keep the business going, but each month I fall a little further behind."
Silas stood slowly, his mind racing through the implications of what he was hearing.
The tax system was designed for a prosperous kingdom with a stable population and growing economy. Applied to current conditions, it was actively destroying the very businesses it was supposed to support.
"Captain Roderick," he said quietly, "please escort these tax collectors back to the castle. I want to speak with their supervisor about collection procedures."
"Yes, Your Highness. And the woman?"
Silas looked down at Martha, who was still kneeling among the broken pottery. "Goodwife Martha, I'm going to ask you to do something for me. I want you to come to the castle tomorrow morning and speak with my treasurer about your situation. We're going to find a way to resolve this that doesn't involve destroying your livelihood."
Martha's eyes filled with tears again, but these seemed to be tears of relief rather than despair. "Thank you, Your Highness. I... I never thought..."
"That your prince cared about your problems?" Silas finished gently. "That's my fault, not yours. It's time that changed."