The First Prey
The entire Imperial Capital was buzzing with outrage.
"That mad bastard! The Chancellor's finally lost it for good!"
"He embezzled the relief funds for the slums that Her Highness the Princess personally allocated! And used that money to refurnish his office with the finest timber, even bought a carriage decked out in gold!"
"Has he no fear of heaven? That heartless, bloodless traitor of a scum...!"
The rumors I'd deliberately leaked spread like wildfire across the capital in no time. From taverns and squares to the nobles' social gatherings, my extravagant follies became the prime topic of gossip.
But the source of it all, the Chancellor's Office, was deathly quiet, in stark contrast to the chaos outside.
"...Your Excellency. The public sentiment outside is far from good."
Cassel, captain of the Chancellor's direct guard and a taciturn, loyal man, spoke cautiously.
I lounged on the finest silk sofa, swirling my teacup leisurely.
"Of course it isn't. Do you know how much that carriage I bought yesterday cost? A cool 5,000 gold. Enough to feed a thousand slum dwellers for a month."
"If Your Excellency knows that, then how could you... I hear Her Highness the Princess is at the peak of her fury. She's ready to storm the Chancellor's residence with the knights any moment now..."
"So, Cassel. Do you see me as some trash feasting on embezzled relief funds too?"
Cassel bowed his head stiffly at my question.
"I would never presume to judge the intentions of the superior I serve."
What a rigid guy. In the novel, Cassel obeyed orders to the end and died swept up with me. Slow on the uptake, but tight-lipped and reliably strong. Exactly the right limb for me right now.
I chuckled, set down my teacup, and approached the desk.
"Don't worry too much. That golden carriage and furniture I 'bought'? All rentals."
"...Pardon? Rentals, you say?"
"Just borrowed them for a bit. Paid a week's rental fee out of my personal slush fund."
Cassel's eyes widened. He'd realized it was all a show of extravagance, not the real thing.
"Th-then the relief funds..."
"Right here, safe and sound." I patted the towering stacks of documents on the desk.
"What's all this?"
"Hunting gear." I flashed a glint in my eye and tossed one file at Cassel. "Baron Gideon, that idiot, got all cocky with my approval stamp and siphoned off the slum budget through a shell trading company these past couple days. I tracked every penny in real-time and collected all the receipts."
While Gideon thought he was safe and played his games openly—fawning over Marquis Valer with his tail wagging—I'd pulled all-nighters cross-referencing imperial tax laws and five years of his barony's financial statements. The results were more brutal and beautiful than I'd imagined.
"Cassel. Know what Imperial Tax Code Chapter 4, Article 12 says?"
"...How would an unlettered soldier like me know the law?"
"Anyone who intentionally defrauds the imperial budget or evades more than 5,000 gold in territorial taxes has all positions suspended immediately, with every asset seized and reverted to the national treasury." I stretched my lips into a grin. "Add up what Baron Gideon skimmed over the last five years plus this relief fund embezzlement..."
"Easily over 30,000 gold."
Cassel caught his breath sharply. 30,000 gold. An astronomical sum matching a decent earl's annual budget.
In my past life as an accountant, I'd made a career of legally shredding tax evaders like this. Cash flows in ledgers, slush fund shell company addresses, double-bookkeeping patterns—they all stood naked before my eyes.
"These documents are the noose for Baron Gideon's neck. From the moment I stamped that approval, execution and audit authority over that budget belonged to me, the Chancellor."
The extravagance was smokescreen to lull Gideon. Only if he thought the corrupt Chancellor had gone mad for money would he drop his guard and leave a trail of evidence.
Cassel's gaze wavered. He was starting to grasp what I was plotting.
"Your Excellency, surely you don't mean..."
"Yeah. Time to give that con artist a taste of capitalism's fire—or rather, the Empire's legal fire."
I stood, donning the thick black coat from the wall. Modern tax audits started politely in suits with IRS badges, but in this barbaric age, things had to be done differently.
Baron Gideon was the treasurer for Marquis Valer's faction—and their tail. Crush that tail, fill the treasury, and choke the marquis. My first counterpunch to dodge the guillotine.
I pulled a red-wax-sealed "Chancellor Direct Seizure/Confiscation Warrant" from the desk drawer and tucked it inside my coat.
"Cassel. Arm the Chancellor Guard's 1st and 2nd Companies fully."
"Understood! Destination?"
"Baron Gideon's estate. Time to raid that rat's cheese stash."
I smirked, flinging open the office door.
"We're collecting taxes. Bloodlessly, tearlessly—and completely legally."
Time for wails to echo over the baron's lands.
—BOOM!!
The sturdy iron gates of the peaceful Gideon estate shattered and crumpled.
"Wh-what is this outrage! Who dares... gasp!"
The gatekeepers rushed out with spears, only to crumple under the menacing aura of the Chancellor's black-armored guards, frozen in place.
I stepped casually over the wreckage into the lavish garden.
"Smash whatever, just don't scratch anything valuable. It all belongs to the Crown starting today."
"Understood!"
With Cassel's barked affirmation, the heavily armed soldiers surrounded the estate in layers.
The midday commotion drew a greasy-faced man scrambling out from the mansion.
"What is this madness... Ch-Chancellor?!"
Baron Gideon, in his robe clutching a wine glass, gawked at me, eyes bulging. Where was the fawning sycophant from my office yesterday? Clearly mid-luxury indulgence.
"Your Excellency! What brings you to my estate with soldiers unannounced? Even for the Chancellor, barging into a noble's private property like this is...!"
"Private property? Don't be so sensitive."
I unfurled the red-wax-stamped parchment right in his face.
"Legal tax audit and asset seizure under the Imperial Audit and Tax Codes."
"P... Pardon? T-tax audit?"
Gideon's face went blank. No wonder—a "tax audit" on nobles was basically a pretext for treason charges in this empire.
"Your Excellency! This is going too far with the jokes. Didn't you personally approve the slum relief funds yesterday? I even set aside your full cut—how could you...!"
Gideon sidled up, lowering his voice desperately. He thought I was here muscle-flexing over a bad split.
I grinned and patted his shoulder.
"Right, that paperwork you slipped me yesterday. Gave me perfect grounds. Proof you embezzled from the national treasury."
"Proof? It's airtight! Laundered through the shell company, ghost slum registry... gasp."
He clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing his slip.
I tsk-tsked my tongue.
"Airtight? Even a passing orc would scoff. You listed slum supplies bought via 'Black Bear Traders.' But the real owner? Your brother-in-law. And the payment funneled through his account—straight to your secret casino's capital the next day."
"H-how did you...!"
"And over the last three years, you claimed a 40% iron ore drop from monster attacks for tax breaks. But export records to neighboring states show a 30% increase. Monsters mining for you?"
Precise figures and cash trails poured from my mouth; Gideon's face drained white as a sheet. Compared to tracking billions in corporate slush funds in my past life, this backwater baron's scams were easier than a corner store ledger.
"Prove it! The books are clean! Search my treasury—won't find a single embezzled coin!"
Gideon bellowed, digging in his heels.
His official vault would be empty, of course. No fool stashes loot in his bedroom safe.
But.
"Cassel."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
I pointed to specific spots on the mansion.
"Basement wine cellar. You'll see a rack of 50-year vintages. Floor tiles under it are off-color—smash with pickaxes. Gold bars buried below."
"...!"
"Master bedroom. Pull the third candelabra on the left wall down—secret vault. Real double books and gold coins inside. Bring it all."
Cassel nodded and led soldiers storming inside.
Gideon gaped at me like I'd summoned a ghost.
"H-how... did you know...?"
"Know? Your ledgers told me nicely."
I snorted.
"Last fall. Paid dwarven masons 500 gold for 'estate repairs.' On a pristine mansion? 'Basement load-bearing reinforcement' and 'master bedroom wall work.' Call dwarves right after starting embezzlement for secret rooms? Obvious pattern."
Money trails don't lie. The shadier the spend, the weirder the ledger blip.
(Of course, the exact spots were from the novel. Took three hours racking my brain to recall.)
Moments later, soldiers hauled out crate after crate.
Lids opened to gold bars, jewels, and coins gleaming in the sun.
Cassel held the black-leather double books I'd described.
"Just as Your Excellency said. Hidden assets keep pouring out."
Awe mixed with shock in his voice. Who'd expect the brute corrupt Chancellor to pinpoint a baron's secret stashes from his desk?
With evidence piled high, Gideon's legs buckled.
Thud.
He knelt, clutching my pant leg.
"Ch-Chancellor! Mercy, just once! I was mad! Half this money—no, 80% to you! For Marquis's sake...!"
"Marquis's sake?"
I smirked, kicking his hand off with my boot.
"Ack!"
"I can legally take 100%. Why settle for 80%?"
I beckoned Cassel.
"Incarcerate Baron Gideon for treasury embezzlement and tax evasion. Strip the mansion bare—every silver spoon, every candlestick. Load the carts. Leave him his underwear."
"Understood!"
"Nooooo! My money! My fortune!!"
Gideon's agonized screams echoed as guards dragged him away. The man who'd mocked me as a fool shield yesterday.
I gazed contentedly at the mountain of gold, gems, and coin chests.
Gideon's lifelong blood money. Easily over 50,000 gold.
Enough to save the capital's slums and more.
Good. First hunt down.
Handing it straight to the poor? Third-rate plot. I'd squeeze these slums dry with this capital—building my ironclad self-sufficiency system. Seemingly cruel, but ultimately badass.
"Cassel. Cart all seized assets to the Imperial Capital slums."
"The slums? Not the treasury...?"
"Treasury? Some other rat'll nibble it away. I'll use it right myself."
I flipped my coat and boarded the carriage.
One of Marquis Valer's money lines severed. They'd foam and counterattack soon, but my next card to cook them was ready.
And all this? Just the overture to smashing the guillotine.