It is summer now.
The three suns beat down on the near-equatorial township, sending shimmering waves of heat through the streets. A mid-afternoon humid, hot, and nearly uninhabitable without this beverage in front of her.
A union of three: coffee, cream, and a lot of ice.
Sitting on the table of this quaint little café alongside a huge stack of paperwork, the glass itself seemed like it was sweating with condensation.
Well, at least it was keeping her from sweating like a wrung out towel.
Sophia has a very mixed expression as she reaches for her drink once more, her mind asking this question to the general universe and the divine above. Goddess how the hells does this garbage taste good?
Because coffee was the drink of Imperial madmen: people like Dad, Natan, and maybe mom on occasion. Bitter, burnt, and acrid—what sane person could enjoy this?
Us. We enjoy this now. Her internal monologue accuses her.
Delicious, creamy; bitter and sweet. Just the perfect blend of tastes and textures that she could feel slide down her esophagus. Each sip brings her body temperature to bearable levels, each long drink activating some primal part of her brain genetically selected to love this bitter, sweet, and very fatty northern Tiancin beverage.
Her internal committee is stuck in the loop, paperwork spread across this wooden table brought into a cohesive mass of patterns scribbled upon this spare notepad.
It was a nice quaint café, chosen for both the open chairs and the fact that they were a bit more than willing to provide their own perspective (and receipts) of the past three years to what was one of their favorite customers.
My political marriage husband is doing his rounds here, getting to know everyone on a personal level. Sophia’s internal monologue sighs as it continues on the accounting.
Three years of sales worked through, purchases and transitions of ownership processed; the usual anomaly evading this Fourth Princess for this specific café.
Zai Tianci makes the comment first, sitting across from her with his own glass. “I still can’t believe that you can do this in…”
“Silence.” Sophia cuts him down as she chews on her pen.
Her internal monologue's own brain is fried, offering its idea to the rest of the consciousness committee. Yeah this is the fourth run through we’ve done for this little estaminet, I think it's time we toss in the towel.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“These financials are all in order.” The young woman concludes confidently.
“You sure?”
“I am certain.” Sophia cuts her husband with a glare. “Unlike the Fishing Guild, the Farmer’s Guild, or the Porters Order I don’t see any issues with this… series of transactions.”
Good news and bad news.
There’s a small bit of disappointment on Zai’s face, but he does take it with a bit of grace. “That’s alright.”
“But we’re still not any closer to finding who's responsible for this.” Sophia sighs, taking a sip of her coffee. “All we know is just a bunch of mixed names and a seasonality cycle for each guild.”
Zai adds onto her point. “And most of those names just get stirred in with the rest: nobody remembers how much fish they bought four months ago.”
Sophia narrows her eyes, a cold scowl on her face now. “Are you attempting to be helpful?”
“No.” Zai smirks at her directness. “But the seasonality cycle you mentioned could be helpful.”
He reaches over the table towards the Fourth Princess’ notes, his long finger pointing over her prior analysis of the Farmer’s Guild. “There’s one thing that’s consistent: it's the timing of the seasonality. Basically any guild that’s involved in this it’s on an annual schedule.”
Wow, his hands look really nice. Sophia’s brain tells her suddenly, watching that slender pointer digit massage over the thick gauge paper and her artistic rendition of the ensolian alphabet. I wonder what his fingers can do.
Zai, blissfully unaware of this atrocious thought process within the monster across from him, continues. “All we need to do is find a guild or a store that’s about to hit its seasonality spike. When that happens we can observe anyone altering the records or playing the books. It’s a bit more hands on than the usual approach, but it’ll be more decisive. Catch someone in the act.”
Sophia’s internal monologue tries to bring her back to the moment, her mental faculties remaining somewhere much darker and steamier. Why the hells are we still stuck on this. WAKE UP.
“Yes, of course.” The Fourth Princess of Ensolia inhales sharply, gripping her pen a bit harder as she nods very quickly.
He sighs. “But there’s dozens of guilds out there, at least a hundred stores too. We can’t go to each and every one of them without attracting attention. We need to find the next seasonal launderer, and fast.”
Quick, we need an idea. Impress this boy for once in our lives.
Her entire brain snaps, and for just three seconds this miswired girl suddenly feels the closest touch of reality jam together. Sophia Elise has an idea. “Is there a guild for vacationers? This is a vacation town, correct?”
“Y-yes, you mean hotels… and guest houses?”
“Yes those.” Sophia snaps quickly before this fleeting cognizance passes by. “What’s it called?”
“The Azure Hospitality Syndicate, I believe. What is…”
“There’s going to be a lot of vacationers here right? Wouldn’t it make sense that if you wanted to launder profit you’d pick the time when the most amount of people would come? You’ll have people from across Sanji coming into town, maybe even a few very rich Central Ensolians, Kirali… people from across the continent coming in just for a few weeks at most. And it’s not like you could ever track them down right? It’s literally perfect if you want to hide money; make up a few names that buy a few extra sides for room service and that’s some coin that literally just… washes away.”
Zai is impressed at her idea, but leans back, tapping his fingers on his lips. A small, but important snag. “We can’t just bribe our way into the Hospitality Syndicate. The guilds we’ve been talking to have been more than helpful because they’re victims. But if you’re one of the richer folks it's more likely that you’ll be profiting from a scheme like this, and if you’re profiting then you won’t talk.”
Ugh, that was the snag in the plan.
Is this story in the villainess sub-genre?
