Newly Broke Heroine!

Ch. 5: Tax Evasion

Fiona was less than amused the next day that Greg hadn't been able to find any way to skirt around this immense financial pickle. Her appointment at the warehouse viewing wasn't until later in the afternoon, and 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 over from where she lived.

Except, it wasn't in the nice part of town. The brickwork looked older, had fewer straight lines, and she was pretty sure she could smell mildew somewhere. She could hear the mice scurrying in the walls, with her sensitive ears. Really 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."

"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'm not sure 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. The closest equivalent she had to it, was a magical tablet that could recall indexes of pages.

Fiona leaned in on his simple, but well crafted desk. "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 like a pinball, 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. This is something we can fight in court," 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 egg on his face," 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?"

"Well, a few other items. I think you need a roommate, to reduce your expenses," he suggested politely. She saw red when he mentioned this, and raised herself to a standing position.

"What? No, it's my space, Greg! I fought for it! And I love Grammy, she's such a dear to me and Tucker! I don't want to give up my space!" she slammed her hand down on the desk, and she swore she heard a small cracking sound. As did Greg, who gingerly pulled the paper away.