“Are you sure?”
The question hung solemnly in the dark, dank, room that was the office of the Eriu Exchequer. Maybe all such offices in all the realms were dark and dank, and if so, maybe it’s the nature of the denizens of these kinds of offices to seek out such space. Or perhaps, these kinds of spaces are the best of what remains after all else has been allotted to the more…social…government organizations.
“Very.”
The response, like the individual uttering it, was short, certain, and carried more than a hint of malice.
“Well, can your records possibly be wrong?”
This question hung in the air for a moment and was quickly engulfed by the room and the Chief Exchequer. His steely glare and barely concealed snarl was all the answer that question was getting. Nothing in the Chief Exchequer’s office was wrong. If he said it, it was correct. If he recorded it, it was correct. And if if came out of this dank, dark, claustrophobic office, it was most certainly correct. People would sometimes joke that if there was ever a dispute between the Eternal Goddess Kilt it, and the Chief Exchequer, people would lose faith in the Goddess. Thankfully, that has never happened, with the joke ending that the Goddess was just too smart to dispute with the Chief.
“Well, maybe they considered the territories we seized as compensation enou…”
The reply cut him off before his sentence could even be completed; “Those provinces were legally liberated from the Nazca Republic. Under standard articles of war, they are domain of the conqueror and thus cannot be gifted, exchanged, or otherwise used as compensation.”
The room seemed like it hung back, and if it could, it would be smirking at this contest of wills. The outcome was decided before this exchange ever even took place.
“Well, uh. Then, I shall go tell the Goddess at once and her diplomatic corps will get on it. Thank you, sir!” And with a sharp salute, and quick turn of heel, the Chief Army Adjutant of Eriu departed the dank, dark room. With his departure the room seemed to be darker, even more dank, and strangely, happily content, if rooms could be said to have emotions. The Chief Exchequer just smiled grimly and went to his Ledger to look at his note one final time. Yes, he thought, the Empire of T’ien Ch’i WAS late in its compensation for Eriu’s assistance in the Nazca war. He quickly scrawled a note logging the visit before taking the tome to a plush, dark purple chair in the darkest corner of the room: His favorite chair. And there he sat, opening the tome again and smiled as his eyes started pouring over his notes.
Yes, what a lovely Saturday.
