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Vol. 1, Ch. 5: Tax Evasion

  Fiona was less than amused the next day that Greg hadn’t found any way to skirt around this immense financial pickle. Their appointment at the warehouse wasn’t until later in the afternoon. She tapped on the floor with her boot, while humming. She was currently sitting in his tiny office that also had his apartment, just a few streets away from where she lived.

  Except, it wasn’t in the nice part of town. The brickwork looked older and had fewer straight lines. She was pretty sure she could smell mildew somewhere. She could hear the mice scurrying in the walls, with her sensitive ears. Industrious mice, by the sound of it–were they renovating in there?

  Being reborn in a world with super sensitive ears when she had never had them before, had been intense. Tiny noises became big noises, and big noises became painful noises. But after a while, she was able to start tuning things out.

  Except for the mice. She shook her head after Greg had broken the news to her. “So, the tax law is solid,” she reiterated. “You know this was totally bogus. I’ve done my due diligence.”

  “I know, Fiona, I’m sorry. He’s got you good. This rule goes back a while, it's just never been used, except for once. Dragon hoards are technically classed as historical finds, hence applicable taxes get heaped on. Even if liquid assets are lacking. I don’t know why you can't just dump it as a donation. I feel like this rule was a carve-out for someone who irritated Bertha the Second when it was signed.”

  Greg leaned back from his notes and folders, looking resigned. Greg wasn’t as savvy as Bonnie with her arcanist technology and still used papers. But he was pretty good at it, and effortlessly slid between files, all carefully indexed and clipped to where he needed, and occasionally used his arcanist pad. It was like a lo-fi version of an electronic tablet—except, powered by magic.

  Fiona let out a soft puff of air. “It sounds like he has an axe to grind with me. I don't even know why he hates me, because everyone loves me!” She says with a soft huff. “Except Doug. He's probably terrified of me.”

  “Yes, smacking around a dragon with a magic hammer tends to have that effect,” he murmured while digging through his notes. He slid a paper over to her. “But I think Barry's treasurer has over-appraised the items. We have one bit of ammo against this.”

  “How much?”

  “He overshot by thirty percent, when I looked at comparable items. Or more. We can fight this on an audit,” Greg said with a faint smile. He loved his numbers, almost as much as she did. “But, that’s still reducing it by only twenty-three percent, to…one point two million, and thirty-one thousand gold. Rounding to the nearest thousand,” he added with a droll look on his face.

  “It’s still progress,” she argued, and glanced down at the tawny-colored dress jacket, dark vest, and that vivid green tie that matched her shining eyes. She couldn’t help but feel proud of this one, it made her look professional–and cute. Greg couldn’t look away from it, and the ladies were barely accented while wearing this one, too! She tapped the sheet of paper and contemplated how to proceed. “We need an appraiser of our own to go to bat for us.”

  “And accredited,” Greg added. “With King Barry as the current controller of the throne of Fiefdala, he can thumb his nose at the court and gum us up for weeks or months. But, it can be contested eventually. Even he can't stop the law.”

  “Not the dummy I took him for,” she muttered. “Alright, what else?”

  “Avoid uptown for several months. The fall and winter lineups are coming,” he replied dryly.

  “I will murder you.”

  “Fiona, I know it’s hard to adjust from where you were before, but the scale of this problem is…massive,” he sighed. “You have to have restraint. Or Barry will Barry—uh, bury you. Quite literally.”

  Even the unintended pun couldn’t make her laugh. “You know what I think? I think this thing was a setup. A dragon with no gold, but lots of hard-to-move merchandise? And I’m the one that got stuck with the bill.”

  Greg frowned, as he considered her theory. “I do find it odd, now that you mention it. But it doesn’t change the legal standing.”

  “So, he gets unprecedented taxation on me, and half the heroes of Fiefdala, and no one can raise a claim?” she bristled. “Did you find anyone else he gave the ‘death or taxes’ option to?”

  “To my knowledge…it was just you. Given your right of first claim on the dragon hoard, having made the dragon surrender.” He let out a soft sigh. “He would have done this to anyone who got the first claim, my guess is.”

  “Better me than Jake. It would have devastated him,” Fiona murmured.

  “Want my unofficial advice?” he asked while tossing his pen on his desk, and rubbing his temples gently. “Find another kingdom that isn’t going to yank your chain after this, Fiona. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to expatriate the hard-earned gains after we deal with this.”

  She leered at him, fists balled up. “Oh, hell no, Greg! This man has thrown a gauntlet at my face, and I’m coming back at him with a world-shattering sledgehammer!”

  “He’s the King, Fiona,” Greg pointed out with a sigh. “You can’t beat this problem in the face with a hammer.”

  “I wasn’t being literal,” she responded in a quieter tone, then pondered the thought for a moment. “I mean, I could do that, I can just set the hammer to humiliate mode–”

  “No, Fiona.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and examined more papers while he continued to call out the terrible idea. “While King Greybeard may be sympathetic to your plight, considering his frigid relationship with his son Barry, there's this to consider. He upheld the law impartially, and the contract technically is enforceable. I just doubt that Greybeard would have ever done this wittingly. If the law is correct, you may be stuck with this. Unfair as it might appear.”

  "I'm still not leaving. I'm not caving to that creep. I have a home, I have a pet, I have friends here. He is not chasing me away from a place I love and people I care about, because I can’t do that twice in two lifetimes," she stated defiantly. "You can't put a price on that, Greg. That option is off the table forever. It’s not going to happen."

  "I…do share in your impassioned attitude," he said softly, a few seconds later. "I wish others in similar circumstances had such tenacity."

  She sat down in the chair and glared at the unfriendly numbers. There had to be an out, there always was! “What about business expenses? Can I claim those?”

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  “For some items, yes. I think we can reduce the bill by another hundred thousand.”

  “Victory!” She could finally smile as she slowly chipped this away. “Damage to my equipment. I went through a slew of items that were the worst for wear.”

  “Done. Give me the repair bills.” She fished out every paper receipt she had, and he smiled. “Bonnie came through. Glad she was keeping your paperwork.”

  “New rule, don't let me forget the paperwork. The last thing I need is to give the tax office anything to nail me on. How much of it applies?” she inquired.

  “It's fifty percent of bills, subtracted from your gross income. It helps to the tune of…” he furrowed his brow. “Another thirty thousand? You're rough with equipment.”

  “Killing monsters and not getting killed gets expensive. That’s the story of every adventurer,” she sighed. “Jake had it right. We’re only rich on paper, and only if we survive long enough. The early days were rough.”

  “Jake does speak from wisdom,” Greg commented while furrowing his brow. “I need to research this mark. I do know that Barry may have made a serious mistake. Using a power like that has immense drawbacks. Anything that powerful does.”

  “Feels pretty one-sided to me,” she fumed. “Not like you’ve got a ticking time bomb over your head.”

  “Fiona, I must ask…what do you know of the marks?”

  “It’s just another layer of magic, right?” She didn’t sound hopeful.

  “Fiona…you need to get up to speed. Marks carry power. They all do, to greater and lesser extents,” he cautioned. “Now that I know you’re not from Cepalune, I worry what that knowledge gap might cost you. By the way, you were correct in your initial outburst. No pawn shop in town has the capital to pay you face value for these items. Not all at once.”

  “Welp, guess we’re going to plan ‘B’ then, which is to beat him at his own game,” she declared. “Barry’s cheating. I know a cheater when I smell one, and I smell grease emanating from every pore of his body,” she uttered with conviction. “I bet Barry was running some crooked scheme that went badly, knowing that guy. It’s why the kingdom's treasury is short. So, he has to cover it, before Daddy dearest gets back.”

  “That’s pure speculation, Fiona, you don’t have proof of that. Accusing royalty of crimes, and backing them up, needs to have absolutely ironclad proof,” he cautioned. He tapped his pen, and tilted his head to the side. “You know what, that is an odd thing that he said yesterday. If the treasury was short, why haven’t we heard anything about it?”

  “See, you do think he’s scummy!” she exclaimed as she laid back in her chair, arms propping the back of her head. “We just need to figure out how!”

  “Yes, Fiona, we can, if we find proof of that. I wish you had brought back the dragon lord with you as a prisoner, so we could see where else he stashed gold. Dragons rarely put all their coins in one basket,” he added with a quick note on his papers. “Other than those items, you also need to trim down your other expenses. I know McFly’s is cheap, but I know your habits. You have a little bit of an impulse control problem.”

  “No, I don’t!” she protested and gave him a needling stare. “Girls have their needs, Greg! And those needs must be fulfilled, like snacks! Those are must-haves! Or people get hit with large, heavy objects!”

  “Yes, and what of those new boots you’re wearing that I’m assessing is probably a few hundred gold of expenditures?” he asked dryly, while propping up his head with his arm and elbow. She blinked in surprise.

  “You noticed?”

  “I do notice these things, Miss Swiftheart. Not because I'm paid to, either,” he added in a rather pointed statement. “You must have some restraint for the time being, or you won’t have enough money to make payments on the interim bills.”

  “Hey, to be fair, I bought this weeks ago. Cute boots are a must! They’re made of leather from a Grinorian mole! They’re ugly as sin and a pest to crops, so when I get rid of them, it’s doing the world a favor, and providing cute boots as a bonus!” she declared with a flourish. She then showed off the calf-length dark boots, with a small silver buckle. “Plus, they’re so cozy! I can run in them, and go kick people in the face, if it requires it!”

  “Fiona, please, have some restraint,” he groaned, and gently thumped his forehead on the desk.

  He must be trying to scare away the scurrying mice in the walls, Fiona thought as she watched this strange spectacle. “Yeah, luxury and coziness aren’t going to be anything I’ll be buying anytime soon, Greg. Anyway, we should go. Bonnie said she’d meet us there at four o’clock.”

  “Yes, we should,” he concurred before sitting up and steepling his fingers in a subtle meditative pose. “Please, let me remind you that this is not a guarantee and that this place may be beyond your means to afford, barring a loan.”

  “Loans? Yeah, nah. I’d like to avoid those if I can,” she stated hesitantly. “You know what a payday loan is?”

  “No, but based on your tone, I can guess it is not a good kind of sound lending policy.”

  “It’s like…when you’re short on money, before your next gold deposit? And then there’s this guy in a seedy office who promises to lend you money until that big fat stack of coins comes out, and they take a percentage?” she explained, while trying to sound calm. “And when you do the math, the interest rate is like six hundred percent a year?”

  Greg blinked and rubbed his temples. “Are we speaking from experience? Because, I don’t like that idea at all. Working with underground elements sounds like a terrible plan. Please tell me you didn’t take these out before.”

  “Oh, you know, psssh…once. Maybe twice?” she proposed with a twirl of her hand. At least in this lifetime. Damn, that would be a total buzzkill if my debts followed me to the next life.

  Once again, Greg found a home for his forehead on his desk, along with a soft groan. “I begin to see where some of your financial troubles started, Fiona.”

  “Oh, don’t be dense! My business ran fine! I just spent a liiiittle more than I could afford sometimes, in a personal capacity.” Fiona said with a grimace. Greg looked at her skeptically. "Fine, no more shoes, no more cozy clothes, and no jacuzzi. I am fighting all my urges on this, until I can get rid of this problem. Which we should. Real take, it’s six months of work, at worst case. If Barry was banking on me dying before I paid him off, he made a big mistake.”

  "Good. That should help." Another line through his notebook.

  Fiona sighed. "Yeah, at least I'm taking this to heart now. Too bad I didn’t learn that lesson before I died the first time.”

  “That reminds me, we never finished that discussion,” he said while straightening up. “Just an idea, summonings would have some kind of record by the mage responsible. Maybe you were pulled at the last second? I mean, would you even want to go–”

  “Go back? Oh, hell no, Greg. I wouldn’t go back even if there was an option.”

  The silence in the room couldn’t even be broken by the mice nibbling on the wall, while Greg pondered a response. “Fiona…you told me to let this one rest. Some summons have been able to return home, and–”

  “Greg. Nothing is waiting for me back there, assuming I even could go back,” she stated in a deathly calm voice. “Drop it.”

  Even now, she still had unanswered questions. And this conversation kept begging the question of how she got to Cepalune. She glanced down at herself, and her lithe, but deceptively strong form. It both was…and wasn’t, like her old self. Damn, I just don’t want to know, Greg. I don’t want to know what it took to bring me here. I don’t want to know if there was a cost to it.

  She continued after he took the hint. “All I do know is that I’m here now. So what if some weirdo from Florida in a bathrobe and a bad hat brought me here? I’ve been having a blast! Minus that gold-hoarding, blonde-haired dweeb sitting in a chair too big to fit him!”

  “Fiona, I worry you may have incurred a debt you can’t afford to not pay off,” he said with dread. She was worried he was going to do that head-banging, mouse ward spell again, but he instead just looked at her warily–even concerned. “Summonings are rare, require immense resources, and people don’t get summoned for no reason. Who was there to summon you?”

  She blanked at that question. “No one.”

  Greg’s eyes went wide. “What do you mean, no one was there when you arrived?”

  “No one was there to greet me when I woke up, buck naked in a cornfield. No one cared who I was, when I signed up at the adventurer’s guild, either. No one asked questions once I started stacking up monster hides,” she added with a roll of her shoulders. “What, you think they’re gonna make a transmigrational tax service next, in case I die before I pay off this bogus debt?”

  “I wouldn’t put it beyond King Barry, no. Alright, let’s stop stalling, and find Bonnie. We need to really look into this one, later,” he said before getting up from his chair.

  She figured he was being too worrisome. She hadn’t opted to come here and certainly didn’t sign a deal with some dude with horns and a contract written in blood. Mom would never have taught her to do that.

  But now she had a nagging feeling that something strange was going on.

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