Midnight Toll at the Iron Bridge
A Satirical Day at a 1600s Border

About this book:

Step onto the creaking iron plates of the Oker River crossing, where the border between the Duchy of Schwarz-Waldau and the Free Imperial Territory of Pfaffenburg is drawn not in blood, but in ink—specifically, the Duke’s proprietary, beetle-proof, oak-gall recipe. In this glorious send-up of early modern bureaucracy, Master Toll-Collector Ignatius Gable and his halberd-leaning, sausage-greasing guard Peter enforce a tax code so labyrinthine it charges for the air a traveler’s right boot displaces. From the Great Turnip Tax Dispute to the Protocol on Permissible Chickens, every chapter delivers a new absurdity: a merchant arrested for a sixteenth-of-an-inch wool violation, a bridge held together by administrative grit and rust-scraped ink, and a goose prosecuted for crossing without a passport.

With the wit of *Good Omens* and the archival obsession of *The Name of the Rose*, *Midnight Toll at the Iron Bridge* transforms the mundane misery of a 1642 frontier into a theater of the ridiculous. Here, sovereignty is measured in kreutzers, diplomacy is conducted via counterfeit coins and stray dogs, and the only thing thicker than the morning mist is the stack of forms required to breathe on the wrong side of the river.

Perfect for readers who like their history served with a side of Kafka and their satire steeped in vinegar, soot, and the unshakeable conviction that the universe is run by small men with large ledgers. Pay the candle-tax, mind the turnip tariff, and cross the bridge—if you can afford the exit visa.