Reincarnated as the Crown Prince

The bells of San Miguel tolled nine times before the first town crier took his place on the steps of Madrid’s Grand Plaza.

"By order of His Royal Highness the Regent of Aragon!" the crier bellowed, holding up a parchment sealed in crimson wax. A small crowd of citizens, merchants, and curious children had begun to gather, murmuring among themselves.

The crier raised his voice. "Let it be known that, effective immediately, a royal audit is declared across all provinces. Any individual, estate, or institution claiming exemption from taxation or holding hereditary privileges must submit documented proof within thirty days. Failure to do so shall result in the forfeiture of said rights to the Crown."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. One baker muttered, "Thirty days? That’s barely enough time for them to finish their morning prayers."

"There’s more," the crier continued, reading from the next section. "The Crown shall assume direct control over strategic industries—salt, iron, grain, and textiles—under the Crown Nationalization Act. And henceforth, the Aragon Modern Tax Act shall begin its implementation within the year."

At that, a few of the merchants exchanged glances. One elderly man with a gray mustache chuckled. "I always knew the day would come. They taxed the poor long enough. Now the rich get their turn."

In a lavish estate just outside Zaragoza, Count Ernesto de Villacampa slammed his goblet down, sloshing red wine across a stack of old scrolls.

"This is tyranny!" he barked. "Who does that boy think he is, threatening centuries of noble inheritance with ink and parchment?"

Across the table, his cousin Don Mateo looked more pensive than angry. "They say the Regent has secured support from the Trust Bank... and Monforte stands behind him."

"That traitor," Ernesto hissed. "He was supposed to speak for us at court, not for some jumped-up bureaucrat in royal robes."

"We could contest it," Mateo suggested. "Send a petition through the Council of State."