Tax Revolt Ignites: From Paristrion Peasants to Bulgarian Emperors

By Gossipia Gladiatrix

Oh, citizens of Rome! The times, they are a-changin', and not just because of our fine Roman wine. Underneath the shiny marble façade of our great empire, there's an undercurrent of discontent that's ready to snap like a strung-up lyre. This, my friends, is the age of the Tax Revolt.

A Grain of Truth

Let's start with the serfs in Paristrion. Yes, those hard-working, callous-handed, sunburnt folks who toil from dawn to dusk just to put bread (and the occasional olive) on their tables. They've been hammered with taxes, and I'm not talking about hammering nails into a plank, but a brutal, crushing burden.

Our dearest Senate, the so-called 'champions of the people,' have decided in their infinite wisdom that these peasants, already scraping by, need to cough up more sesterces. Because apparently, we need more statues of Octavian in the forum. And let's be honest, who doesn't need a daily reminder of his perfectly chiseled abs?

From Peasants to Princes

But this isn't just about our Paristrion peasants. Oh no, this tax revolt has spread faster than a bad batch of garum. Even the Bulgarian emperors—yes, those high and mighty fellows with their fur-lined togas and gem-encrusted sandals—are feeling the pinch. Well, I say! If those who lounge about in palaces (with underfloor heating, no less) are complaining, imagine the plight of the common folk!

The Bitter Taste of Taxes

The Senate seems to be under the impression that money grows on trees. Or at least, on the backs of our hardworking citizens. But unlike them, we don't live in a world where currency just magically appears in our coffers (unless you count 'inheritance' from a conveniently deceased wealthy uncle).

The reality is that Rome isn't built on taxes. It's built on the sweat and toil of its people, from the humblest farmer to the mightiest emperor. If we bleed our citizens dry, what will be left to fund our legions, our infrastructure, our glorious games?

The Revolt Ignites

We stand on the precipice. The tax revolt is not just a grumble in the marketplaces, but a roar that echoes from the marble halls of the Senate to the furthest corners of the empire. It's the sound of the oppressed demanding justice, of the poor crying out for fairness, of the rich (grudgingly) admitting that maybe, just maybe, they could pay a bit more.

So here's to the tax revolt, my fellow Romans. May it shake the foundations of our compl