Theordis hated being surprised and off balance. The bottles of wine the group had consumed weren't helping his ability to think quickly. He tried to counter with bluster. "What is the meaning of barging in here? This is a private meeting."

The man in the pin-striped suit's head snapped around too quickly, and he glared at Theordis through yellow, reptilian eyes. "Be silent, you sniveling sycophant, or I shall rip your treacherous tongue out." He glared at the tax collector and took a step. The other five men moved away from Theordis, anticipating violence, but the Baron placed a hand on the man's shoulder (If he was a man?) and restrained him. "Easy, boy. Easy. I want to handle this the old-fashioned way."

A change came over the creature immediately. He turned to the Baron, a gleeful smile on his face. "Oh, can we? I so enjoy that." He shut his eyes, inhaled, and relaxed. When he opened his eyes, they were as blue as the sky. He smiled and held out a hand to Theordis. "Hiya. I'm Roland, the Baron's tax advisor. Welcome to Sedgewick. Do you have anything for me? Documents? Tax-liens? Veiled threats? Contracts of a dubious nature? Oh, look! I have one in my hand already! I'd love to get started." Theordis let out a breath of relief as Roland's manner changed 180 degrees; he shook the proffered hand and then realized what the man had said.

"You're a tax advisor?!"

Roland smiled at all the men. "Yes, your natural enemy. I am conversant with all tax laws and up to date. Let's get started. I ask that this yellow-dog contract be copied and sent to the Baron's files, and the local Inquisitor. I don't want evidence of duplicity disappearing. He handed the contract to the Courier, who barely glanced at it before storing it away.

The Baroness wasn't happy and began to yell at the Mayor. "First things first. You've been bad, Suzette! Very bad! What have we told you about talking to strange men who offer you deals? You are so lucky that we arrived when we did! Trust me, we'll talk later, but for now, sit in that corner and be silent." She turned back to the taxmen. "Really, you should be ashamed of yourselves. It's like offering candy to a small child. You know that none of the peasants have ever seen hard cash. You offered her a pittance of a bribe and tried to take advantage of her. I won't have it." She sat at the table, grabbed a bottle of wine, and poured a small glass.

The Baron sat as well. "Talk to me, gentlemen. Why are you in my Barony? And what do you want."

Geoffrey found himself nominated to go first as Manfred and Theordis glared at him. "Greetings, your excellency. I represent the Office of Acquisitions and Disbursements. Our goal is to stabilize the empire by moving surplus goods to where they are needed and paying a fair price to those people hoarding goods needed elsewhere. This allows a village to purchase items that their area might find scarce. This program has saved thousands of lives from starvation, increased the quality of life in many small villages, and provided income for many land owners, such as yourselves."

The Baron took no wine but lit a cigar, leaning back in his chair. "Roland? Translation, if you please."

"The program he speaks of is governed by sections of chapters 48, 49, 153, and 169. Chapter 169 is constantly updated to keep the program profitable for the empire and the functionaries moving things around in a not-so-subtle shell game. The idea is laudable. The execution is horrible. No cash is paid to those that tithe to the Imperial Storehouses. Instead, they get 'credits.' Those credits can only be used to buy goods from the Storehouse. Since only 'credits' are used in the transactions, it can be difficult to gauge value. But for instance, a wheat farmer would sell his bushels for 40% of the average imperial rate and have to purchase goods he needed at 150%. This yields a loss of roughly 75%. Dealing with a large merchant house such as run by the Kallvek family would cut that loss in half, and give more control to the peasants purchasing needed goods.

The goods are shipped to areas where the Storehouses need them, but more often are sold on the open market where they will fetch the highest price. A small amount equal to 5% of the value of the goods is kicked back to the landowner or ruling noble. 15% is disbursed to the agents in different parts of the Office of Acquisitions. The rest of the profit goes to the fund used to build roads, storehouses, and teleport pads."

The Baron whistled. "And here I thought I knew how to screw people. I'm going to assume you want to charge me for the storehouses, and I donate the land, and then you start browbeating my people. I say no. Next item."

Geoffrey persisted. "It is not an option. By law, every city must have storehouses. Our deal with Sedgewick takes care of that. We will be beginning to implement the program soon."

Roland smiled and held up a hand. "Two points. Firstly, while the law strongly encourages the use of magical Storehouses to preserve goods and provide assistance in times of famine, war, monster invasion, marauding orcs, draconic depredations, and other natural disasters, there is only the requirement to have a Storehouse. Not to be forced to buy and sell to the OoAaD. At last count, Gadobhra and Sedgewick both have the required amount of such buildings. We will have a notarized copy sent by Courier to Duke Carl for his files."

"Second point: The mayor did not actually sign the agreement. Please don't make us all laugh by insisting that you have a 'verbal agreement." I will also note that the fund used to purchase teleporters and rebuild roads has been horribly abused this year, with many need upgrades left unfinished."

Manfred shrugged. He knew a lost cause when he saw one. Geoffrey wasn't getting his storehouses without a lot of additional pressure. "We can address that later, and possibly find a solution. Let us discuss the taxes you owe, your excellency."

The tax advisor bristled. "The Baron owes no taxes. Yearly upkeep is accounted for by the construction of the new fortress. The dungeons that have been explored were documented, and taxes have been paid. I have receipts for those taxes on both dungeons, signed by a member of the Inquisition and an Imperial Courier." Rolly had made sure Billy kept up with the taxes each time they found a dungeon. Diego had been happy to make sure the gold got to Rowan Keep and went where it was supposed to.

Manfred casually pushed forth a sheet of paper. "Here is a synopsis. The new law has been on the books for many years. Duke Carl Greywolf has seen fit to activate the law to stabilize the economy and level the playing field so that certain entities known as corporations are not causing so much strife among the good citizens of his Dukedom. Henceforth, all contract workers in your employ who have achieved the 2nd Tier will be taxed 100 gold pieces per year. Those who somehow reach the 3rd Tier owe a tax of 400 gold pieces. Those workers who cannot pay the tax will be conscripted into the Imperial Legion, where they will not owe the tax as a soldier. This also includes the noble whose workers have unpaid taxes."

The room was silent for some time. The Baron took the paper, and his advisor looked up the ancient law and scowled. "It is indeed a law, your excellency, and is quite flexible in its use. Only contract workers are taxed, not regular farmers, peasants, or craftsmen." He began looking through the books for a loophole, but everyone in the room could see his frustration.

The Baron looked at the three men. "Cut the shit. What's this about? Every corporation in the North is going to push back on this." Manfred shrugged. "Well, you can try. But this is Imperial Law and has been on the books for quite some time. The Duke saw an opportunity to use it to balance things. You and the other outsiders are rocking the boat, so to speak. You can't throw innocent butchers, farmers, and roadbuilders to the wolves as you take their jobs. Even the guild of mages is threatened by a large amount of mana your workers generate and use to bribe the Legion. Duke Carl will take this tax and see that it is distributed fairly to fix things. The other Dukes are following in his footsteps."

The Baroness snorted. "Oh, things are fixed, all right."

Baron William stared at the paper. "Trust me. I see the shape of things. You don't like me upsetting your apple carts. You all have your fingers in the pie, and you like the taste of it. I'm not blind. Or rather, I have people with good eyes." He nodded at McTeeth. "My friend here, a successful trader, has noticed a few things in his travels and brought me word."

McTeeth began reading from his book.

"147 miles of road between Hurlsford and Northguard has been destroyed. Ostensibly so that it can be rebuilt, but for now, cutting off The Baron's lands from the main caravan routes."

"Travel is further made difficult by special taxes on using the teleportation system to Rowan keep."

"To date: 537 refugees from Baron Pinchpenny's lands have made it to Rowan Keep, disrupting efforts to expand the Keep, straining resources, and costing lives."

"The Legion has arrested 27 Saboteurs for the crime of sabotage."

"104 Saboteurs have had fatal accidents while trying to commit crimes."

"17 individuals claiming to be 'butterfly hunters' have met horrible and justifiable deaths when they came into the Baron's lands without a hunting permit. They also annoyed the cows."

"Four teams of 'wyvern hunters' have been caught baiting the beasts into attacking Rowan Keep causing loss of life and delaying the construction of an important fortress."

The small man quit reading. "There are quite a few more things, such as falsified wanted posters, murders disguised as squirrel attacks, and scandalous rumors designed to disrupt the horse trading industry, but I'm sure everyone can understand the situation."

Manfred smiled back blandly. He hadn't known the efforts of some people had been so successful. "And you accuse who of these crimes?"

The Baron leaned back for a moment. "No accusations. Just making sure we are all on the same page. I know what you're trying to pull, and I'm giving you a chance to back out of the scheme before the shit hits the fan. Let's call it a professional courtesy."

"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about." Manfred pointed to the paper. "About the taxes?"

William smiled. "What taxes? No contract workers are living in Gadobhra." He handed the tax bill to Suzette. "You're responsible for the taxes here in Sedgewick. Find a way to pay the man. Oh, and I'm cutting you off from the bank accounts and the village interface, and you are not allowed to sign anything or make any agreements with anyone."

A tear rolled down Suzette's cheek. "But how can I pay 32,000 gold pieces in taxes?"

The Baroness looked at her and smiled, showing her bright white teeth that may or may not have had slight points on them. "Regretting that contract now, dear? You were so smug at the time, as I recall. Roland? You have a copy of that contract, don't you?"

The advisor pulled it out. "Of course I do. It's very interesting how it's worded. By my interpretation, if Suzette the Lonely Barmaid must default on the agreement, the tavern, the dungeons, and everything she owns reverts to ACME corporation. She will also break her work contract and agreement to not leave Sedgewick and abandon her job. Luckily, she will always have a home in the Legion."

The Baroness stared at Manfred. "Thank you, I've wanted to get rid of her for ages."

The tax man scowled. "You will still end up paying! Those taxes will revert to Gadobhra. Even if you squirm out of them this year, you will pay them the next!"

The Baron seemed to agree. "But that buys me time. Rowan Keep will be done in a year, and I'll have more money coming in and a dozen lawyers working for me! See you in court."

Theordis took that moment to speak. "If... Only if you finish Rowan Keep. You have so much to do, dear Baron, and I will make it much harder with my report. You have most everything covered in your plans but neglected the need for a larger teleporter. It's clearly stated in the Legion regulations for construction of new fortresses. Maybe you should have found those regulations instead of relying on the knowledge of a local centurion? Based on my talks with your architect, the Inquisitor Diego, and Centurion Marcus about the size of the construction, you will need to upgrade the teleport pad to a minimum of Tier 3, and I'm going to recommend Tier 4. Very expensive. I'd hazard a guess at nearly a million gold pieces. It's difficult to acquire the needed raw stone, ship it slowly overland from a quarry and then hire the mages needed to complete the work. I think the wait time is about 13 years as well. Oh, and lest we forget, you will also need a mana storage device with a capacity of 1 million for Tier 3, and10 million mana for Tier 4. Another large expense."

He leaned forward. "Or, you can re-instate your Mayor, let her sign a few documents, pay your taxes today, and we'll be out of your hair. You can return to focusing on Gadobhra and leave Sedgewick to us. We'll make sure things go along smoothly for you. I'll fight to only have a Tier 2 stone in Rowan Keep. Maybe you'll even find that you like working with us. I'm sure it must be confusing dealing with strange merchandise from the Fae and the Elemental planes. You might find some of it very difficult to find buyers for. We can erase those problems for you. For a small fee."

Everyone looked at the Baron. Billy finished his cigar and stubbed it out on the table. "I don't like it, but teleporters don't grow on trees. I need some time to think this over. Why don't you gentlemen head over to the Inn. Dinner and rooms for the night are on me. Get your contracts together and Roland here will start looking at them at dawn. I'll be down after breakfast."

Theordis puffed out his chest, enjoying the victory. "Thank you for being so gracious, your excellency. We will see you in the morning."

After they left, everyone waited for Billy to speak. He looked around the room. "I hope you know, this means war."