The walk to the palace was short.
Guards surrounded Dante on all sides. Not to protect him but to make sure he didn't run. The thin man with the sweaty face walked ahead, not looking back.
Dante observed everything.
The streets got cleaner as they approached the palace. Fewer beggars. Better clothes. The people here ate well. Their children had shoes.
The rich take care of themselves first. Same everywhere.
The palace gates were huge. Iron and gold. Guards checked them twice before opening.
Inside, everything shone.
Marble floors. Tapestries on walls. Servants moving quietly. The air smelled like flowers and something roasted.
They led him through long halls. Past rooms with heavy doors. Past nobles who stared at the dirty man walking with guards.
Dante stared back at them. Flat eyes. No respect. No fear.
They looked away first.
The throne room was big.
Bigger than anything Dante had seen in this world. Tall ceiling. Gold everywhere. Windows that threw colored light on the floor.
At the end, on a raised platform, sat the king.
Old man. Tired eyes. Crown slightly too big for his head. He looked like someone carrying heavy weight.
Beside him, standing like a statue, was the princess.
Princess Amara.
Same sharp eyes. Same bored mouth. But now she wasn't ignoring him. She was watching. Waiting.
She remembers me.
Dante stopped before the throne. Didn't bow. Didn't kneel.
A guard moved to force him down. The king raised a hand.
"You're the accountant." The king's voice was tired. Deep, but tired. "The slave who bought himself in one month."
Dante said nothing.
"People are talking about you." The king leaned forward. "They say you found a thief just by looking at numbers. They say you won money from a cheat who's been cheating for years. They say your eyes are dead."
Still nothing from Dante.
The princess shifted slightly. Just a small movement. But Dante noticed.
The king pointed at a table nearby. Covered in papers. "Those are my kingdom's records. Tax collections. Debts. Payments. My accountants say everything is fine."
He paused.
"My stomach says different."
Dante looked at the papers. Then back at the king.
"You want me to look."
It wasn't a question.
"I want you to tell me the truth." The king's tired eyes sharpened. "My accountants have been here for years. They smile and nod and tell me what I want to hear. You?" He studied Dante's face. "You don't look like someone who smiles."
Dante walked to the table.
The papers were messy. Bad organization. Numbers in different hands. Some pages missing.
He started reading.
Silence in the throne room. Guards watching. Nobles whispering. The princess not moving her eyes from him.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Dante looked up.
"Your kingdom is broke."
The whispers stopped. Someone gasped.
The king's face didn't change. "Explain."
"These records are fake." Dante pointed at different pages. "This says you collected 50,000 silver from the eastern region. But here, the eastern region's own report says they paid 30,000. Someone took 20,000."
He picked another paper.
"This says the northern army costs 15,000 silver monthly. But the army's own supply list shows they receive 8,000. Someone is stealing 7,000 every month."
Another paper.
"Your personal accounts show you spend 5,000 silver on palace staff. But there are only 200 staff here. Maximum wage for 200 staff is 2,000. Someone is pocketing 3,000 monthly."
He dropped the paper.
"In one year, your kingdom loses over 200,000 silver to thieves. In three years? You'll have nothing. Your people will starve. Your army will desert. Your enemies will walk in and take everything."
Silence.
Total silence.
Then the king laughed.
Not a happy laugh. A tired, bitter laugh. "I knew it. I fucking knew it."
He stood up. Walked to Dante. Looked him in those flat, dead eyes.
"My accountants have been stealing from me for years. My nobles are probably stealing more. Everyone around me lies." He gripped Dante's shoulder. "You don't lie, do you?"
"Numbers don't lie."
"I need someone who reads numbers. Someone who doesn't care about nobles or politics or whose father is who." The king's grip tightened. "I need a monster."
Dante said nothing.
"Work for me." Not a question. "Royal Tax Collector. You find every thief. You bring me every stolen coin. You do this, and you'll never be poor again."
Dante looked at the princess.
She was watching him. Eyes unreadable. But her hand, the same hand from yesterday — gripped the arm of her chair. Tight.
She's scared of me. Good.
He looked back at the king.
"I'll need power. Real power. People won't give money to a former slave with no title."
The king smiled. Cold smile. Like father, like daughter.
"You'll have my seal. You'll have guards. You'll have the right to audit anyone; noble, merchant, priest, doesn't matter." He paused. "You'll also have enemies. Many enemies. Some will try to kill you."
"I know."
"And you accept anyway?"
Dante glanced at the papers again. At the mess. At the numbers crying out for someone who understood them.
Then at the princess. Still watching. Still gripping that chair.
Forced to be near her. Interesting.
"Yes."
The king nodded. "Then start tomorrow. First target will be the eastern region. They're three months behind on taxes."
A guard stepped forward. "Your Majesty, the eastern lord is your cousin. He's powerful. If we send someone ..."
The king cut him off. "I'm sending him." Pointing at Dante. "My new Tax Collector. My monster."
Dante turned to leave.
"Wait." The princess spoke for the first time.
Everyone froze.
She stood up. Walked down from the platform. Stopped close to Dante. Close enough to see those dead eyes up close.
She didn't flinch.
"My father thinks you're useful." Her voice was cold. Proud. "I'm not sure yet. But I'll be watching you."
Dante looked at her. At the fire in her eyes. At the fear she was hiding behind that proud face.
"Watch all you want, Princess."
He walked out.
Behind him, Amara stood still. Hand pressed to her side.
Trembling.
And she didn't know why.