The Holy Land of Mary Geoise, deep within Pangaea Castle, in the Room of Authority.
The huge, smooth black round table bore no unnecessary decoration. Only five files of differing materials and thicknesses lay neatly arranged upon it, like five specimens awaiting dissection beneath the cold light overhead. An invisible pressure permeated the air.
Saint Saturn, with his white curls and long beard, lightly tapped his snake-headed cane against the floor. A crisp knock broke the room's silence. His voice was measured, yet carried the weight of deciding life and death:
"I have summoned you today to discuss a clear course of action regarding the unusual figure who has recently risen in the West Blue-Aaron Ball-and the series of problems he has caused."
The stern-faced Saint Nusjuro, wearing small round glasses, was the first to pick up a file. It was a regular report from Rear Admiral Raymont of the Marines' G-101 Branch.
His sharp eyes swept rapidly across the pages. "'Steel Heavy Industry Consortium'... has created astonishing employment rates and economic growth in the Kingdom of Bernia and its surrounding regions in the West Blue. Tax revenues have increased significantly, and social order is unexpectedly stable... Hmph. This brat does have something of a head for business."
He set down the report and tapped his fingers against the table. "In that case, how about increasing the Kingdom of Bernia's required share of the 'heavenly tribute' in proportion to the wealth he has created? Resources ought to serve the gods more effectively."
The bald, bearded Saint Warcury frowned slightly. He toyed with an exquisite jade ornament, his voice deep and resonant:
"The 'heavenly tribute' is determined by ancient rules based on an affiliated nation's base population and natural resources. Imposing an ad hoc increase because of one person's efforts could