CHAPTER 29 How Do You Audit Someone for Fun?

Henrietta

I reviewed the list of mice constructs Keith had given me. They were the smallest creatures in his army, and I had such wonderful plans for them. There were also a few moles that I'd decided to include in the mission.

After a quick explanation, Keith had readily agreed to send them where I wanted. Now, they all lay in wait beside the three small clearings between Drendil and the castle. One group was very close to the border, and the others were this side of Gerda's bridge.

With the help of one of Keith's raven constructs, I'd sent a letter off to my troll friend. It let her know where she could station and fight, or the best route for retreat. I didn't know her skills, and I didn't want to assume she was a fighter just because she was a troll.

"When do you think Father will attack?" I asked Keith. We had repaired to his office and were ignoring the work on his desk to review the battle plans.

"He did say he was going to wait until St. Veralyn's Day for word of your death," Keith reminded me, then he sighed. "But we shouldn't assume anything. He might strike early to catch us off guard."

"Or just because I stopped responding to his letters," I said before raising an eyebrow at the Dark Lord. "He is still sending letters?"

"Less than before." Keith shrugged. "I think he's finally accepted that you aren't replying, and now he's just addressing letters to you with an extra postscript for me." He flexed his fingers. "They are very therapeutic."

"How so?" I was curious how my parents' letters could inspire anything positive.

Keith chuckled. "I enjoy setting them on fire."

"Ah, I see." That did sound nice. "Now, as I was saying, we should make sure we have a grasp of the army's movement path."

Keith said, "If they follow the road, it will take them two days to march here. There isn't a village anywhere close by, so they'll be forced to sleep in the open."

We stood over a large map of the Dark Enchanted Forest. The forest sometimes moved around a bit, but everything attached to the roads stayed consistent, and the woods usually left monster lairs, lakes, and hills in the same area. Magical flower fields and ancient elm trees moved … but who knew if that was the forest or the flora itself.

"So one day to reach Gerda's bridge, and then another day to us?"

"Once they cross the bridge, they can march straight here or head east to Kith Bog. Though we might add half a day just to get over the troll bridge. It's designed for wagons crossing single file, which will slow them down a fair bit."

"What stops them from crossing the river directly?" I asked. I was going to do just that if Gerda turned me away.

"The water around a troll bridge is enchanted," Keith explained. "Anyone who crosses through it will end up back on the side they started."

"Really?"

"Yes, it's troll magic. The bridge troll—Gerda, was it? She'll presumably stay in her troll house while they pass. Even if Gerda does leave, the magic won't dissipate for at least a month. The bridge will simply continue to ask whichever riddle was used last to anyone crossing."

"So that puts a potential three days between when they enter the forest and when they reach us?" That would be plenty of time to strike.

"I think your plan is brilliant even without the added time from the bridge." Keith smiled at me, and I felt my face heat up at the straightforward praise.

"If it works"—I nodded—"we will have broken their spirits long before we get the chance to break their bones."

Keith and I rolled up the map and cleared the table, getting ready for his evening paperwork, which I'd offered to help with even though it was technically my day off.

I had figured out that while Keith did manage things well enough in his kingdom that he wasn't working every day, he still swung by the office just in case files with Immediate Action required his attention. Surprisingly, it wasn't as often as I'd imagined.

"In Nilheim, I only have a few cities under me, and each of those is ruled very differently based on the people who live there," the Dark Overlord explained to me. "Most of them are autonomous and simply report mandatory revenue and trade information, who was born and who died, who immigrated or emigrated, and any concerns. My spies are all golems whom I can see and hear through, and they don't require a transcript unless I'm using that knowledge to direct minions."

I eyed the three stacks of paper that had made it from the diligent group busy paper-shuffling in the corner. "What about the rest of it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Where does the rest of that paperwork go if you aren't going over it to make sure it's correct?"

Keith stared at me like he didn't understand, and I started babbling nervously, "I mean, how do you know if the documents are forwarded correctly and no one is breaking the law or committing fraud?"

"Simple." Keith smiled. "I don't, and I don't need to. My office assistants are from every corner of the Dark Enchanted Forest, and they are required to audit each other in a rotation. There was a magician named Ajax who retired two years ago who used to clone himself and audit everyone for fun."

"How do you audit someone for fun?" I couldn't fathom it.

"We have an enchanted abacus that calculates the input and output of anything it's set atop," he explained. "When it's your turn to audit, then you get to take a day off and wander through the previous two years' tomes checking that the budgets drafted for each month line up with the records. If you find anything amiss, you get a bonus, and if it's important, you get a paid two-weeks' vacation."

"And no one cheats?"

"Of course they cheat." Keith laughed. "It's politics. But I don't care as long as my constructs bring back news from across the kingdom that things are running smoothly. The generals run the kingdom, the clan leaders run the towns, and I just have to clean up problems by directly using my golems."

"And it works?"

"I wouldn't say it—"

"No one's going to welcome me back?" An adorable woman with long, curly sun-blonde hair and sparkling green eyes stood in the doorway to the office. "Or do I need to request a formal audience, Your Royal Viciousness."