Chapter 219: Wrong

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because refusing would technically constitute tax evasion."

Seraphina frowned.

"Can Papa just not pay?"

"No."

"Can he threaten them?"

"Technically."

"Would that work?"

"Probably."

Alistair sighed.

"But then we would have to deal with the Imperial Auditors."

Seraphina’s expression became thoughtful.

"What if we made the Imperial Auditors scared of coming here?"

Alistair slowly lowered his quill.

"...My Lady."

"Yes?"

"That is not how taxation works."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"That’s not an explanation."

Alistair stared at her.

She stared back.

He suddenly realized something deeply unpleasant.

She was actually interested.

Not pretending or playing, but genuinely interested.

And worse is that she was looking at the numbers. Not the pretty jewelry, decorations, or the food, but the numbers. Her eyes were moving across the columns with unsettling speed.

Alistair watched her expression carefully.

"Can you read?"

Seraphina nodded.

"Yes."

"How well?"

"Pretty well."

"How well is ’pretty well’?"

Seraphina pointed at one of the ledgers.

"You made a mistake."

Alistair froze.

"Excuse me?"

She tapped the page.

"Here."

Alistair immediately leaned over.

"That is the projected expenditure for northern grain transport."

"Yes."

"And?"

"You counted the same shipment twice."

Alistair stared at the page.

His emerald eyes widened.

He checked the reference number, the corresponding procurement record, and then the transport schedule as welll.

His face slowly went blank.

There it was.

A duplicate entry.

Not a huge one.

But real.

He had made a mistake.

Alistair looked at Seraphina.

Seraphina smiled.

"See?"

He looked back at the ledger.

Then at her.

Then back at the ledger.

"...How did you notice that?"

"You used the same number twice."

"Yes, but—"

"And the second shipment is already included here."

She pointed again.

Alistair leaned closer.

His expression became increasingly horrified.

She was right.

Completely right.

He slowly sat down.

For perhaps the first time in his career, Chief Administrative Aide Alistair von whatever-his-family-name-was stared at a six-year-old child as though she had just casually rewritten the laws of mathematics.

Seraphina tilted her head.

"Are you okay, Auntie Alistair?"

"I am reconsidering my entire understanding of reality."

"Oh."

She climbed onto the chair beside him.

"Can I help with the rest?"

Alistair stared at her.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because if I allow a six-year-old to audit the North’s winter budget, I will never hear the end of it."

"Papa might be happy."

"His Grace would probably be delighted."

"Then what’s the problem?"

Alistair’s face twisted in despair.

"Because I have spent fourteen years becoming the most competent administrator in the Northern territories."

He pointed dramatically at himself.

"I have survived military logistics, diplomatic procurement, agricultural shortages, border taxation, supply-chain disruptions, and Duke Kaelus’s complete disregard for the concept of recreational spending."

Seraphina nodded solemnly. "Papa likes buying things."

"He bought you an entire bakery."

"He did."

"He commissioned a bulletproof dress."

"It’s pretty."

"He ordered a private confectioner to develop seventeen different strawberry recipes because you once said you liked strawberries."

Seraphina’s eyes sparkled.

"I did?"

Alistair looked at her.

"Yes."

She smiled.

"Papa is nice."

Alistair’s expression softened despite himself.

"Yes."

He looked down at the ledger.

"He is."

Then he sighed.

"That is why I must prevent him from bankrupting the duchy while attempting to buy you the moon."

Seraphina nodded thoughtfully.

"Then we need more money."

Alistair almost laughed.

"Exactly."

Seraphina’s eyes gleamed.

"Can we make more?"

Alistair stopped laughing.

He slowly looked at her.

"What did you just say?"

"Can we make more money?"

"That is..."

He hesitated.

"Technically, yes."

"How?"

Alistair began explaining.

Five minutes later, Seraphina was staring at a detailed breakdown of the North’s trade routes.

Ten minutes later, she was asking about tariffs.

Fifteen minutes later, she had learned about regional grain prices, merchant guilds, shipping costs, magical transportation, and Imperial trade restrictions.

Thirty minutes later—

Alistair realized he had made a terrible mistake.

Because Seraphina was no longer playing, she was thinking.

Her tiny finger moved across the map.

"What if Papa sells this?"

Alistair looked.

"That is a military road."

"This one?"

"Border territory."

"This?"

"Already under guild contract."

Seraphina frowned.

Then she pointed at a small, insignificant trade route.

"This one."

Alistair frowned.

"That route is useless."

"Why?"

"Too remote. Too expensive to maintain. Merchants rarely use it."

"Then why is the road maintained?"

"Because the Imperial Government subsidizes it."

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed.

"How much?"

Alistair gave her the number.

She stared at him.

Then slowly smiled.

"That’s silly."

Alistair’s expression tightened.

"What?"

"Papa is paying for the road."

"Yes."

"The Empire is paying for the road."

"Yes."

"But the merchants aren’t using the road."

"Correct."

Seraphina pointed at the map.

"So everyone is paying for something nobody uses."

Alistair went very still.

Seraphina smiled wider.

"That’s silly."

Alistair stared at the map.

His mind began moving.

Slowly.

Then faster.

Then much, much faster.

He reached for another ledger.

"Wait."

He opened it.

Checked another figure.

Then another.

His breathing changed.

"That’s not possible."

Seraphina leaned over.

"What?"

"This route isn’t simply inefficient."

He flipped through three years of records.

"It’s being deliberately maintained."

"Why?"

"I don’t know."

Seraphina’s smile disappeared.

Alistair looked at her.

For the first time since she had entered the archives, neither of them was joking.

There was something hidden inside the numbers.

Something someone had spent a great deal of money making sure nobody noticed.

Seraphina’s dark eyes narrowed.

"Well."

She hopped down from the chair.

"I think I found us a mystery."

Alistair stared at the ledger.

Then at the six-year-old.

Then at the locked archive door.

He suddenly had a terrible feeling that his quiet afternoon had just become significantly more complicated.

Seraphina smiled.

"Come on, Auntie Alistair."

"Where?"

"We’re going shopping."

"Why?"

"We need some ducks."

Alistair blinked.

"...Why do we need ducks?"

Seraphina’s smile became positively sinister.

"Because ducks are excellent investigators."

***

However, after walking two steps out of the office, Seraphina halted and crouched down, not moving, making Alistair feel ominous for no reason.

"What are you doing now, My Lady?"