Admittedly, [Reveal Age] could also be used on living things, but he’d stopped using it for that after accidentally using it on a vampire baroness. He’d stammered a hasty apology and beat an even hastier retreat after promising to keep her age a secret from everyone else. To vampires, age was important. An older vampire was not only likely to be more powerful but was also viewed as more refined and sophisticated. The baroness had been claiming to be seven centuries old when she was, in fact, only a shade over three hundred.
It didn’t take him long to confirm that the book was not an original. It simply wasn’t old enough. However, it was the next best thing. A glimpse into its past revealed that it was a copy that had been made after the fall of Eredios. The lizard man who’d made it must have either been one of the survivors or one of their immediate descendants because the colouration and patterning he’d seen on the lizard man’s scales had not been found amongst lizard people in a long, long time.
Jonathan was halfway through a chapter on crop planting – a lot could be learned about a civilisation through its agriculture – when someone knocked on the door. Odd. It was at least an hour before one of his servants usually arrived to bring him another cup of blood along with some cheese and crackers. Perhaps he was being paranoid, but his House’s history was a monument to justified paranoia. He used [Reveal], one of the most versatile Words associated with [Knowledge]. It revealed things that were hidden or concealed nearby. The more power he put into it, the harder it would be for anything to hide from him. Given that he was only trying to find out who was on the other side of the door, it required barely any power at all to work.
On this occasion, he had no reason to be worried. “Enter.”
The butler who entered was one of his favourite servants, Miles. The old man had been in his employ for almost forty years. Despite his age, his grey hair was still fairly thick, and it was always neatly combed. His green eyes were filled with youthful vigour, and he moved with the ease and purpose of a man decades younger. As usual, Miles wore the formal attire of a butler along with the glasses he’d taken to wearing not long after his arrival. Those glasses had always amused Jonathan. He was certain the other man didn’t need them, but it wasn’t worth making a fuss over. In the end, he’d gotten so used to Miles wearing them that it was difficult to imagine him without them. Besides, the female servants seemed to like it. They were always commenting on how ‘dashing’ and ‘refined’ Miles looked.
“My lord.” Miles had a faint frown on his face, and Jonathan’s brows furrowed. Miles rarely frowned. Something bad must have happened. Hopefully, it wasn’t another problem with the roof on the east side of the castle. He’d been meaning to get that fixed for years, but there was never quite enough money to get the job done. “There are some men at the gate. I believe they need to speak with you.” He paused. “They are wearing uniforms, sir. I believe they are employed by the state.”
“Is that so?” Jonathan bit his lip. The chapter he was reading had just switched into an alternate form of the ancient language it had been written in. He might have to track down a dictionary because his High Eredian was less than stellar, and the constant use of [Translate] would wear him out and leave him with a massive headache. It was a pity. As useful as his Words were for a scholar, he simply didn’t have the power to throw them around as casually as he’d like. Oh well, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and he should be grateful he had Words he could actually use. He would have to come back to the book later even though the mention of conflict with what appeared to be raccoons had him itching to continue. It could be a mistranslation, but the Raccoon Empire had been around for a very, very long time. “Is there any chance they could come back later?”
“I’m afraid not, sir.” Miles grimaced, which was a telling expression indeed since he was usually the very picture of composure. Jonathan closed his book and gave his servant his full attention. Anything bad enough to make Miles grimace had to be trouble. “I cannot be certain, sir, but I believe their uniforms mark them as members of the Blood Alliance Department of Taxation.”
Jonathan went very, very still. The BADT was the tax-collection arm of the Blood Alliance. Constant warfare had stretched the Alliance’s budget to breaking point, which had resulted in increasingly draconian measures – there was even a statute that commanded the feeding of particularly egregious tax evaders to a dragon. It had started off as a joke, but tax evasion was now a crime that could be punished by death, depending on the nature and scale of the crime. An influential noble could, in theory, cut a deal. Money was a valuable resource but so were power and influence. Alas, Jonathan was neither powerful nor influential. Fighting them off wasn’t an option either. The Department of Taxation employed some of the most terrifyingly powerful vampires in the Blood Alliance. “Are we up to date on our taxes, Miles?”
“To the best of my knowledge, sir, we are. You and I have both reviewed the records since I entered your service, and they are all correct and up to date. However, I have only been in your service for several decades. I understand that the statute of limitations for tax evasion or tax fraud is one thousand years. It is possible that some of your predecessors had outstanding debts or obligations that are only now just coming due. With all due respect, from what I’ve seen, your grandfather and your father did not keep good records.”
Jonathan went even paler, which was quite an accomplishment for a vampire. It was entirely possible that his two predecessors had cut some horrible kind of deal with the Department of Taxation or worse had tried to conceal some of their profits from it. If he had missed something they did, then he could be in considerable trouble. “I’d best meet with them then.” He forced himself to smile. “It could simply be a routine tax inspection. I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
It was that bad – and then some.
“By the authority vested in me by the Blood Alliance Department of Taxation, I am hereby seizing your castle, its immediate surroundings, and its contents.”
Jonathan stared. Surely, he’d misheard. “You’re… you’re what?”
The tax collector, an almost skeletal fellow with a mind-boggling amount of magical power and a vampire squirrel on his shoulder, met his gaze evenly. His eyes blazed crimson in the moonlight, and he repeated himself very slowly. Clearly, he thought Jonathan was a halfwit. “By the authority vested in me by the Blood Alliance Department of Taxation, I am hereby seizing your castle, its immediate surroundings, and its contents.”
“But… but why?” Jonathan stumbled as more tax collectors pushed past him. This couldn’t be real. He reached for his magic and murmured a Word. [Reveal] showed him the truth. These people really were tax collectors. This actually was happening. Worse, his Word had revealed the massive, massive disparity in power between them. Combined with the way they were dressed – tax collectors didn’t always wear plate armour – it was obvious what would happen if he got in their way.
“Seizure is pursuant to Section 3.2 of Article 4 of the Blood Alliance Tax Code: failure to pay back monies owed in relation to a state-issued loan or loan-like financial instrument.”
“But I haven’t taken out any state-issued loans,” Jonathan wailed. He’d been very careful never to borrow money from anyone even if it meant living frugally. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the tax collectors begin to seal away some of his possessions. Was he using [Store] to put that antique furniture into some kind of magical subspace for easier transport? He’d seen [Store] used on trinkets and the occasional weapon, but he’d never seen it used on so large a scale. The tax collector had already stored away a table, some chairs, and a vase, and he was still going. “You can’t just –”
“We can.” The chief tax collector gestured. A stack of papers appeared, and he thrust them at Jonathan with bony hands that were more like claws. “In accordance with Blood Alliance law, here is a complete account of the violations you have committed and the penalties that are being levied.”
Jonathan looked abo
ut frantically before using [Summarise] and flipping through the stack of papers. The Word allowed him to absorb the gist of the contents despite the sheer number of pages involved. Even if it made his head hurt, he couldn’t afford to waste time. He needed to find a solution to this before it got any worse. His gut clenched as the reason for his quandary soon became apparent. His father had apparently been more like his grandfather than he’d thought. He’d taken out a number of loans from the government with the understanding that the first few centuries would be repayment free and that any profits derived from the loan would be split with the government as well. Naturally, once the repayment-free period had ended, the size of the repayments had been enormous. “I… but… I didn’t know!” Jonathan cried. “My father took out these loans, not me!”
“Ignorance is not an excuse – nor is death. In accordance with Blood Alliance law, your father’s debts became yours upon his passing. His failure to inform you does not absolve you of responsibility.”
“Well, I would like to lodge an appeal!” Jonathan wracked his mind. Why hadn’t he spent more time studying tax law? Surely, there was a right to appeal. And given how slowly the wheels of bureaucracy turned, an appeal could drag out for decades, maybe even centuries, which ought to give him enough time to find the money – or a decent lawyer and accountant.
“There are no appeals.” The chief tax collector gestured, and the others stepped away. His magic flared ominously, and he spoke a Word. Despite being called Words, Words didn’t have to be spoken aloud. Instead, Words could be spoken with the soul, or whatever passed for a soul in the case of certain creatures. Nevertheless, anyone close enough was usually able to hear when a Word was used unless special procedures were employed. It would echo in their mind and soul.
[Store].
Jonathan recoiled as waves of power rippled outward from the chief tax collector. He hastily used [Reveal] again and gasped. This wasn’t like the [Store] the other tax collector had used. This was far, far more powerful. His [Reveal] let him see the Word expanding to encompass his entire castle. Movement caught his attention, and he realised that blood had begun to crawl along the floor, walls, and ceiling. Combining blood magic with a Word? Incredible. The chief tax collector must be insanely skilled. There was a brief pause as the blood formed into intricate symbols, and the Word’s expansion slowed to a halt. A moment later, there was a blinding flash of light. When it cleared, Jonathan was no longer standing in the foyer of his castle. Instead, he was standing on its foundations with nothing but empty space where the rest of his castle should have been. Those… those cretins! They’d taken his castle!
“Now, wait just a second!” Jonathan growled. “I am a noble. I have rights – urk!” An immense force drove him to the ground. It felt as though every bone in his body were about to break. He gasped and wheezed, and it took all of his willpower to stay conscious. His mind struggled to process what was happening. Not all magic relied on Words. There was generic magic, which anyone could use to produce a broad array of effects. Words were usually far more powerful and efficient, but generic magic was more versatile. For instance, Jonathan would never be able to use Words to create fire because he could only use Words related to [Knowledge] and [Memory]. However, he could use generic magic to create fire although it wasn’t easy and would never match what someone with Words like [Inferno] or [Blaze] could do. The chief tax collector was using nothing but generic magic to pin him down, which spoke volumes about his strength and skill. “Gah!”
“Attempting to interfere with the lawful seizure of property by Department of Taxation officials is a crime punishable by death.” The chief tax collector glared, and his vampire squirrel hissed and bared its teeth. “Do not get in my way, Lord Bloodhaven.
The pressure eased, and Jonathan rolled onto his haunches. A great shudder ran through him. He could have died there. “But… but where will I live?” he asked. He could sense Miles bristling nearby, and he shook his head. If Miles made the wrong move now, they were both dead. However, the castle was all he had left. Sure, it was dreary and in desperate need of some repairs, but it was his, and he liked it. Worse still, they’d taken all of his stuff too.
There was no way this could be legal, right? Yet his almost perfect memory reminded him of all the times similar things had happened to other people. Indeed, the House of Darkfire had met its end at the hands of the Department of Taxation only two centuries ago after trying to fight their way out of paying taxes. Normally, fighting people with [Darkness] and [Fire] for Words would have been suicide, but the Department of Taxation had deployed an elite taskforce of tax collectors. Careful combinations of words like [Tidal Wave] and [Hurricane] had resulted in the complete annihilation of the House of Darkfire and the seizure of all their lands and property.
“That is neither my problem nor my concern.”
“Can’t you at least give some of my stuff back? I don’t even have a proper pair of shoes!” As much as Jonathan loved his fluffy bunny slippers, they were not suitable attire outside the comfort of his castle.
“Again, that is neither my problem nor my concern.”
“There must be some way to get my castle and my stuff back.”
The skeletal vampire heaved more paperwork at him. “Examine Section 7.3 of Article 8. In accordance with the Blood Alliance Tax Code, as it relates to the nobility, you have ten years from the date of seizure to pay off all debts to the state before the seized property is forfeited and sold to pay off the debt. Until then, your castle and other belongings shall be held by the Department of Taxation.”
“But… but…” Jonathan staggered and looked around in a daze. They’d really done it. They’d taken almost everything. They’d even taken his coffin, the one he’d slept in for decades. “What am I supposed to do now? Where am I supposed to stay? You even took my coffin. Where will I sleep?”
“Not our problem.” The chief tax collector sighed. Something that might, if Jonathan was feeling exceptionally generous, be called pity filled his gaze for one infinitesimally small fraction of a second. “Although I should leave you something to take shelter in. Department of Taxation research has shown that the odds of receiving full payment decline if those in arrears are left to die in the sun.” He nodded at one of his subordinates, and a crate appeared. “There. You can have that.”
Jonathan stared at the crate. It was one of the crates a shipment of his books had arrived in. It was roughly the same size and shape as his coffin, but it wouldn’t be anywhere near as comfortable. “Are you serious?”
The chief tax collector turned on his heel. “We’ve wasted enough time here.” He gestured for the other tax collectors to follow him. “We have another four seizures to do tonight.” He hurled more paperwork at Jonathan. “Here is all the remaining paperwork you are legally entitled to. If you require any further documentation, send a letter outlining your concerns to the address listed on the second page. Good night, sir.”
And just like that, in the span of perhaps ten minutes, Jonathan went from being a vampire noble with a castle to a vampire nobody standing in the empty foundations of his castle in a dressing gown and bunny slippers with a stack of paperwork almost as tall as he was. He stumbled over to the crate and turned to Miles.
“What am I going to do?”
For the first time in almost four decades, Miles had no answer for him. Instead, the butler simply put one arm around him, and the two of them looked around at what had, until a few minutes ago, been their home.
[Reveal].
Jonathan sagged. This wasn’t a joke or a dream. It was real.
* * *
“How are the others holding up?” Jonathan asked. After several minutes of panicking, he’d managed to calm himself a little. This whole… situation was a problem. He was a scholar. He solved problems. All he had to do was solve this one. It just might be a bit more… difficult than puzzling out the habits of ancient civilisations. The thought of not solving it was not one he could afford to dwell o
n. If he did, he might lose the fragile calm he’d managed to find. On the upside, his servants hadn’t lost their personal belongings in the debacle. The tax collectors had done their job thoroughly without making any obvious mistakes. “I don’t know how I’ll pay them, but I’m sure I can work something out.”
“I’m afraid they’ve all quit, sir.” Miles sent him an apologetic look. “They’re taking their belongings and leaving, effective immediately.”
Jonathan almost fell off the crate. “All of them? Are you sure?” He was tempted to cast [Scry] to see if it was true, but he couldn’t afford to waste his magic. Given his changed circumstances, he would need his Words more than ever.
“I’m afraid so, sir. Once they realised that you no longer had the funds to pay them or a castle in which to house them, they quit.” Miles’s jaw clenched, and his hands tightened into fists. “Some of them may also have said some rather impolite things about you and your House. A few may even have suggested lynching you. However, I made sure to… correct them before sending them on their way.”
Jonathan put his head in his hands and then looked up at the night sky. There was a full moon tonight, and he’d come worryingly close to meeting the same sort of fate as his grandfather. His lips twitched. It would have been a lovely night to do some reading on his balcony – if he’d still had his books or a balcony to read them on. A weary sigh left his lips. “I suppose you’ll be leaving too, Miles. I’d offer you severance pay for years of loyal service, but all I have at the moment is this.” He reached into the pocket of his dressing gown for the handful of coins that were currently all he had to his name. “I know it’s not much, but you’ve always served me well. I’ll pay you the rest once I’ve worked out –”
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