Citizens of the Greatest Empire Ever Conceived,
History was made once again inside the dazzling Golden Forum of Trumpius Caesar, where marble columns gleamed, imperial banners fluttered dramatically despite the absence of wind, and every advisor agreed with the Emperor before he had even finished speaking.
News had arrived from the frozen northern province known as Mapledom Maximus.
According to Imperial messengers, the maple-loving kingdom had decided that the glorious chariots forged by the craftsmen of Trumpia deserved special tariffs while the wagons of nearly every other kingdom rolled through their gates with considerably fewer obstacles.
The Imperial Court gasped.
Court historian Scriptorius Maximus nearly dropped his golden quill.
Treasurer Financius Magnificus spilled imported sparkling water across three economic scrolls.
Even the royal eagle looked mildly offended.
Trumpius Caesar slowly rose from his throne.
"My chariots?" he asked.
Silence.
"Our magnificent chariots?"
More silence.
"The finest chariots ever assembled by mankind?"
Every senator nodded enthusiastically.
Some even stood.
One reportedly applauded himself.
The Emperor folded his arms.
"Nobody discriminates against Imperial chariots."
That was the moment the ancient Scroll of Trade Justice was retrieved from the deepest vault beneath the Palace. Covered in centuries of dust, Lawkeeper Paragraphius Interpretatius triumphantly announced that Imperial Law CCCXXXVIII allowed the Emperor to answer discrimination with tariffs of his own.
Trumpius smiled.
"I love old laws."
"They're vintage."
"And vintage laws are always classy."
The Imperial lawyers nodded so aggressively that several ceremonial helmets shifted sideways.
Soon, reports from the Ministry of Commerce confirmed what everyone suspected.
Exports of Imperial chariots into Mapledom Maximus had fallen dramatically after the northern kingdom introduced its complicated tariff system.
Meanwhile, chariots from Mexicalia, Germanicus, Japonia, and Koreania happily rolled across Mapledom's borders as though attending an all-inclusive medieval trade festival.
Trumpius Caesar stared at the figures.
"They replaced our beautiful chariots."
"With somebody else's."
"Very unfair."
Chief Statistician Chartius Bargraphicus dramatically unveiled a chart nearly forty feet long.
Nobody understood it.
That wasn't important.
It looked expensive.
"It proves everything," declared Chartius.
"Excellent," replied Trumpius.
"I prefer charts that require ladders."
The Imperial investigators then attempted to explain Mapledom's tariff rules.
Some chariots qualified.
Others partially qualified.
Certain components qualified depending on where individual wheels had originated.
Duty-free quotas existed unless annual limits had been exceeded, except under conditions described in seventeen annexes, four customs notices, and approximately six thousand pages of administrative interpretation.
After listening for almost thirty seconds, Trumpius interrupted.
"So..."
"It's bureaucracy."
Paragraphius sighed.
"Majesty..."
"It is bureaucracy with footnotes."
Trumpius pointed dramatically toward the northern horizon.
"I knew it."
"They weaponized paperwork."
The Senate erupted into thunderous applause.
One senator fainted from excessive patriotism.
The Emperor then unveiled what court artists immediately labeled The Great Fifty Percent Decree.
"Very simple," Trumpius announced.
"If they charge our Empire unfairly..."
"We charge back."
"Exactly fifty percent."
"Not forty-nine."
"Not fifty-one."
"Fifty."
"It's a beautiful number."
The court musicians immediately played triumphant fanfares despite nobody asking them to.
Across the Empire, imperial heralds nailed proclamations onto city walls.
Unfortunately, the marketing department slightly misunderstood the assignment.
Instead of reading:
Additional Ad Valorem Duties
the posters simply proclaimed:
FIFTY PERCENT MORE IMPERIAL GREATNESS!
Merchants were confused.
Citizens bought commemorative mugs.
Somebody immediately produced hats.
Naturally.
Meanwhile, Imperial Customs Commander Portarius Taximus assembled thousands of customs officers.
They polished stamps.
Practiced serious facial expressions.
Argued passionately about paperwork.
One particularly ambitious official requested permission to establish a committee that would determine whether another committee should review the formation of a future committee.
He received an immediate promotion.
Over in Mapledom Maximus, ministers held emergency meetings.
Economists sharpened pencils.
Lawyers opened seventeen binders.
Trade experts began speaking exclusively in acronyms.
Nobody was entirely certain what would happen next.
Which, according to experienced politicians, usually meant everyone was doing their jobs correctly.
Back in Trumpia, however, certainty was never in short supply.
Trumpius Caesar addressed the Empire one final time.
"Let every kingdom know..."
"If you discriminate against the commerce of Trumpia..."
"You don't receive silence."
"You receive an Imperial proclamation."
"A magnificent proclamation."
"Possibly the greatest proclamation ever proclaimed."
The crowd roared.
Golden trumpets echoed across the marble courtyards.
Imperial scribes raced to record every word.
And so another glorious chapter entered the official Chronicles of Trumpius.
Because while ordinary rulers settled trade disputes through meetings, memoranda, and carefully negotiated compromises...
Trumpius Caesar preferred marble stages, golden eagles, enormous charts, dramatic speeches, and exactly fifty percent more imperial spectacle.
