9.

Marcel rarely receives his brother's cold, clipped tones. However, it's his first time seeing his brother utilise it unexpectedly vehemently outside their estate, gesturing at the chanting mob.

"—It is remiss and discourteous of us to deny their petition, calling for us to take immediate and robust action. Honourable Members, I am standing on behalf of our common people: parents, children, and workers who are witnessing and experiencing first-hand the very officials entrusted with the critical responsibility of gathering revenues for the Crown to ensure that every payment, no matter how small, is brought into the royal coffers, often in regions where poverty and hardship are already widespread, abusing the power vested in them—"

Marcel rubs his hand, observing the vein throbbing on August's cheekbone.

He looks beside him and realises Reverend Ivuy's gaze looks on August, his rheumy eyes now reflecting... quiet admiration as his brother's voice grows more fervent.

"—Our tax farming system, where collectors pay a fixed sum to the Crown and retain any surplus, has created an environment ripe for corruption and extortion. The common people, already struggling under excessive taxation, find themselves at the mercy of those who might seek to exploit their position for personal gain.

"It is imperative that we scrutinise the practices of these tax collectors, ensuring they fulfil their duties with fairness and integrity without contributing to the growing unrest that threatens the stability of our nation. The Crown's revenue must be secured, but it must not come at the cost of justice or the well-being of our citizens!"

August finishes, his voice sharp as his dark brown eyes sweep the hall. He smoothly sits down, chin raised.

Marcel blinks slowly, absently filtering out his peers, clamouring to speak next.

His brother... looks so alive. Like this is his purpose.

Marcel's heart bursts with warm pride but keeps a neutral expression. A lingering feeling of inadequacy swiftly digs its nails into the thumping organ as three sharp thwacks crisply echo in the now-quiet hall.

"Reverend Ivuy." The monarch's intendant tasked to oversee their session calls out.

Marcel and August's surprised gaze follows the man as he stands up, smoothing his white robes with a creased forehead.

"Hearing Archduke Augustus' compelling address, and after careful reflection, with a spirit of compassion and responsibility, we, the Church, decided to halve our tithes. This decision is not made lightly but in recognition of the pressing needs within our communities and the desire to alleviate the burden on our devoted congregants."

August's parched lips part slightly, his usual composure faltering as his eyebrows lift in a fleeting display of stunned surprise. The murmurs around them grow louder, echoing the pleased smile spreading across the Archbishop's face as the intendant strikes the gavel again.

It's as thunderous as August's racing heart. He smooths his hand down his chest, the movement hiding the worry churning in his gut for such a significant action.

It was an unprecedented occurrence.