The representatives of the Sovereign Bank of Valos didn't walk; they marched. There were three of them, dressed in sharp, charcoal-grey coats with silver buttons shaped like gears. They didn't carry swords; they carried brass-bound cases that I knew were filled with the most dangerous weapon in the world: Historical Data.
The leader, a woman with iron-grey hair tied in a bun so tight it looked painful, stepped onto the dock. She didn't look at the beautiful turquoise water or the palm trees. She looked at her pocket watch.
"Lady Elara von Lexen," she said, her voice like the clicking of a metronome. "I am Director Vane—no relation to the Chancellor, I assure you. I am the Head of the Valos Compliance Division."
"Director," I said, keeping my hands folded neatly. "You're five minutes early. I'll have to charge you a 'Premium Arrival Fee.'"
Director Vane's eyes flickered. "Humor is a depreciating asset, Lady Lexen. We are here because you have disrupted the global flow of credit. By destroying the Syndicate, you have defaulted on a debt of twelve million dragons owed to our institution."
Kaelen stepped forward, his hand on his sword. "The Syndicate was a criminal organization. Their debts are void."
"The Bank of Valos does not recognize 'crime,' Prince Kaelen," the Director replied coldly. "We only recognize Contractual Obligations. If the Syndicate cannot pay, the person who seized their assets must. That person is the Grand Auditress."
We moved to the lighthouse conference room. The air was thick with the scent of ink and old parchment. The Bankers opened their cases, revealing thousands of tiny, magically-shrunk scrolls.
"We have calculated your current holdings," Vane said, sliding a sheet of paper toward me. "The 'Special Economic Zone' of Tortuga's Reach, your salary, and the seized gold. Total value: Nine million dragons. You are short by three million. We are here to initiate a Foreclosure of Sovereignty."
"A what?" Kaelen growled.
"They want to own the island," I said, my eyes scanning their numbers. I felt a familiar heat rising in my chest. They weren't just auditing me; they were trying to "Hostile Takeover" my retirement plan. "They want to turn this port into a private bank colony."
"You have until sunset to produce the missing three million," Director Vane said. "Or we raise the Black Sun flag over this lighthouse."
I looked at their ledger. Then I looked again. My "Forensic Brain" began to tingle. There was a tiny inconsistency in their interest rate calculation. A rounding error that had been compounded over ten years of Syndicate loans.
"Director Vane," I said, leaning back and crossing my legs. "You mentioned the Bank doesn't recognize crime. But does the Bank recognize Unethical Usury?"
Vane stiffened. "Our rates are standard."
"Standard for the Northern Kingdoms, maybe. But the Syndicate's loans were signed in 'Neutral Waters,'" I pointed to a tiny sub-clause on the third scroll. "According to the Maritime Code of 1402, which your own bank helped write, interest on high-risk maritime loans cannot exceed 12%. You've been charging 12.5%."
"It is a minor adjustment for inflation—"
"It is a Breach of Contract," I interrupted, my voice turning into a blade. "Over ten years, that 0.5% error on a twelve-million-dragon principal... plus compounded penalties... means you actually owe the Syndicate's estate—which I now own—roughly four million dragons in overpaid interest."
The two junior bankers behind Vane scrambled to pull out their abacuses. The clicking sound was frantic, like a swarm of insects.
I stood up, leaning over the table until I was inches from Director Vane's face.
"I don't owe you three million, Director. You owe me one million. And I expect it in gold. By sunset. Or I'll file a 'Malpractice Suit' with the International Trade Guild that will tank your Bank's credit rating by morning."
The conference room went silent. Kaelen looked at me, then at the stunned bankers, and let out a soft, low whistle.
"Director," Kaelen said, grinning. "I'd start counting. She's very picky about the change."