As the clock ticks and the windows fog, Ludwig sits at the desk in silence. He has spent the entire night scanning ledgers for anything amiss. Before him stands a merchant named Paul; beside him sits the town's mayor, Jake.
Paul's eyes are red and watery. He keeps glancing at the door.
Jake wears the faint grin of a practiced sycophant. His eyes flick from the ledgers back to Paul.
The clock keeps ticking.
Ludwig rises and circles the desk, stopping beside Paul.
"Mr. Paul," Ludwig says, placing a ledger in front of him, "care to explain why, on the second of June, this ledger shows you earned twenty-five Lumen, while this one claims you earned eighty Thael?"
"I didn't earn any Lumen, sir!" Paul collapses to the floor.
"Answer the inquisitor, Paul," Jake says, adjusting himself in the chair while sneaking glances at Ludwig.
"If I were cheating, sir, why would I record something that condemns me?" Paul glances at Jake, then back at Ludwig. "I swear I didn't cheat the Republic."
For a moment, it almost sounds reasonable.
The ledgers disagree.
"How would we know how a criminal thinks?" Jake says mildly, opening his arms and leaning back in his chair.
"Enough." Ludwig snaps the ledger shut. The sound makes the mayor flinch and straighten.
Ludwig closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose. The ledgers had been cleaner than he expected. That bothered him more than the discrepancies.
"Leave us," he says, barely looking at Jake.
Jake rises at once, bowing as he backs toward the door. "I shall await you downstairs, sir." He spares Paul a final smirk before closing the door behind him.
Tick. Tick.
Ludwig returns to the desk, resting a hand on the back of his chair. Paul squirms under his gaze.
"Did you use that ledger?"
Silence.
Paul's eye twitches. "I… I did. But I didn't earn any Lumen. I swear—"
Ludwig raises a hand. Paul falls quiet.
Ludwig turns to the window and wipes away the fog with his gloved hand.
Below, a crowd has gathered. It waits for a verdict. He spots few guards among them, and farther ahead, Jake, striding toward the cart that brought them here.
"How did you afford this house?" Ludwig asks, surveying the shacks and huts below—leaking roofs, sagging walls. Even the Republic's municipal office was not this grand.
"I… I saved," Paul says. His voice cracks.
Ludwig raises an eyebrow. He had been to richer cities, yet none had housed a merchant in a place this grand. No merchant here should have been able to afford it.
"How much?" Ludwig returns to his seat. "From what I've read in your ledgers"—he gestures to the table—"you couldn't have saved more than a few dozen Lumen." He folds his hands. "Yet you built a two-storied home in a backwater village like this."
"So tell me—how much did it cost?"
"I swear on my mother's life… one hundred and twenty-five Lumen." Paul stares at his hands, then rushes on. "And I paid my taxes. Every single one."
Ludwig exhales slowly and runs a hand through his hair.
He had seen fraud before. Never one this clean.
The merchant shouldn't have been able to afford the house.
And Jake had waited far too long to request the audit.
"Paul Fink Tovarich," he says at last. "I find you guilty."
Paul's face crumples. He tries to rise.
"Sit," Ludwig says.
Paul sinks back down.
Tick. Tick.
The conclusion was unavoidable.
"There are two outcomes," Ludwig continues, raising two fingers. "You come with me." One finger lowers. "Or you don't. In that case, I will serve as both judge and executioner."
"I… I understand." Paul swallows. "I'll come with you."
"Good." Ludwig stands and walks to the door.
"Half an hour. Set your affairs in order."
He pauses.
"And don't think of running."
Lightning crackles from his hand, scorching the wall with a thunderous crack. Paul recoils, pressed to the floor. Ludwig does not look away as he shuts the door.
Downstairs, a woman peeks out from a side room.
"My hat," Ludwig says as he descends.
"At once, mi'lord." She bows quickly. "Right away." she says as she hurries inside to fetch it.
"Guards," Ludwig calls as he approaches the stairs.
Two men enter through the front door into the foyer. Their provincial uniforms are plain, marked only by a leather shoulder patch, and each carries a thin wooden spear tipped with iron. They snap to attention.
"When Paul comes down, escort him to my cart." Ludwig takes his hat from the woman.
"Mi'lord…" The woman hesitates, clutching the hat. "Please be merciful to the master."
Ludwig glances at her. "If he had been truthful," he says evenly, "he would not need his maid to beg for him." before snatching his hat away.
He places it on his head and steps outside. The guards remain frozen behind him.