Sophia’s internal monologue is quite joyous for this occasion, singing to herself within her own brain. Political date, political date~
And her consciousness committee brings this flying swan down with a spread of shotgun pellets. Imagine being so attention starved that you consider doing paperwork with your political marriage husband as a date.
It was a date.
It had to be a date.
Because the only difference between a date and a formal meeting was what was on this small table within Zai Tianci’s room. No volumes of fun light novels this afternoon, but instead just stacks and stacks of handwritten, slightly weather worn paper that smelled distantly of seafood. Taxes and crimes instead of teas and cookies.
And because it was just two items of separation from what would be a date, this was a date.
Date date date~ The Fourth Princess nervously hums to herself, trying her best to ignore that nagging feeling at the back of her skull.
The Crown Prince of Tianci begins his briefing on the task at hand. “We have the financials for the past five years of the fishing guild. Mostly just catch limits, catch amounts, and a general estimation of sales for each fishmonger in the town. I did the averages for each, and also looked at the totals and compared it to the tax rate within this town’s bracket. It all does add up…”
We hate fish. Sophia’s brain reminds her. Well, maybe except if it's a fish and chips sorta deal. Ok yes maybe we do like fish, but ONLY if it's fried. And it's gotta have mayonnaise, none of that vinegar garbage. A nice creamy tartar is sooo good.
“... but I’m not certain about my math at least, with the moving averages it’s easy to get a little carried away. I believe that’s where the problem is for me, but maybe I just need another set of eyes on the sales figures. Aggregation wise though it’s…”
Ok maybe also a fish bake *could* be acceptable too. Sophia’s internal monologue continues on this tangent. But we’ve only had one that wasn’t too overly fishy and flaky. So I suppose the issue is mostly in the fish itself.
Zai Tianci switches paper stacks. “You can check the math if you want Sophia. For now I’m cross checking if the numbers are right. It’s standard procedure in the Dominion. If there are…”
“Then it’s probably the most obscured.” Sophia mindlessly answers the Prince’s observation. “If it's checked the most then you won’t find fraud on it, anything that is the most under scrutiny will be meticulously obfuscated.”
I wonder if it’s because Capital Valley is landlocked that I hate fish so much. The Fourth Princess thinks to herself, still on this topic. Like, could it be a genetic thing? If dad was from the western coastal provinces instead of Hautwarden then would I like fish?
Zai’s mouth moves but no words are transmitted, this girl’s brain completely out of sync with reality now.
And the voice from the world speaks to this soul:
Child of the valley, daughter of the Emperors and farmers. We are still watching, so listen to us, to our voice.
Your bonded soul of belief, of what you shall call husband, made to bring together nations without love: the son of the landfall, the child of blood and murder, the one that shall be the harbinger of fire is speaking to you.
PAY ATTENTION.
Sophia snaps out of this trance in a panic, with Zai’s voice finally reaching her. “A-are you alright?”
Not a single word absorbed into her brain, instead leaving her with a blank stare. “Yes, of course.”
“Do you have any ideas on where to start with this?”
“Uh…” Sophia Elise turns over to the stacks of paper on the table, instinctively reaching over to the pages closest to her. “Give me a few moments.”
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Whatever curriculum that Zai had put her on was a miracle, with now even this barely legible handwriting on the paper readable to this Fourth Princess. Data not even tabulated, instead jotted down like casual notes with each sale represented by just a name, a date, and an amount (this was, now that she had read through the first five pages, a sales receipt for the week).
And her internal monologue tries to shut her down here and now. NOT MATH. NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
But Sophia takes a long, deep breath and casually beheads that thought. Alright think on this brain, let’s impress our husband on this!
The entire committee cracks their knuckles, each cell in her body burning with intense focus as she reads the numbers, the names, the dates.
Literally every cell, and perhaps her entire brain as Zai Tianci watches with a little apprehension as his wife starts drooling onto her lap. The soft sound of paper against paper flutters through the space, this Princess flipping through what was a year’s worth of receipts in minutes.
All basic statistics look normal. Though the closest we got to an error is moving averages focused on date. One member of the committee concludes. So there is a deviation in the first and third months by around seven thousand coins, but that could be explained by seasonality.
Got it. One of the other committee members writes down the numbers for this analysis. What else do we have?
No anomalies for an individual basis. If we look at the stats from a seller and buyer perspective they’re pretty much chaos; standard for market volatility. Though, again, the first to third months of the year there’s a consistent pattern. Almost all clients purchase around 32% above the median amount, for those three months. And they all share the numbers without much deviation.
One of the thought processes raises its hands, the committee allowing it to speak. We can blame seasonality, but isn’t it suspicious that *everyone* follows the same trends? One would expect that even during a seasonal rush there would be variation in the percentage purchased above the median. But if all clients changed at the same amount, then wouldn’t that represent collusion?
Yeah, this was a tell tale sign of something deeper happening; a cartel conspiracy of purchasing patterns.
Sophia Elise looks over the table, searching for the following year of purchases as she scribbles down her notes.
Zai’s eyes widen as he begins to see his wife’s line of thinking. “Wait, is that…”
“SHUT UP.”
Two, three… five years worth of receipts processed by her.
And the consciousness committee comes to the conclusion with nods and smug smiles at one another. ~32% with a 8% deviation over the course of five years. Whatever's happening with the Fishing Guild, it’s happening in months one to three.
“There it is.” Sophia finally says something, a slender finger rolling across several lines of crumpled purchase receipts. “Like clockwork, for three months out of the year. Every fishmonger, every one of their clients see a jump in sales alongside a seasonal tax hike.”
Zai wants to say something but Sophia continues. “Now this wouldn’t be an issue, mostly just regular greed. But there’s a problem: the percentage change is always consistent across the board. If we take the total amount of coinage that went through in transactions for just the Fishing Guild then there’s a consistent percentage. Always a little over or under thirty percent. Every storefront pays the ‘tax,’ every year.”
There’s a very, very long time of contemplation as the Crown Prince of Tianci just stares at his own wife with his jaw open.
Uh… isn’t he supposed to say that we’re wrong?
She slouches slightly in embarrassment. “I mean… I think that’s the c-case?”
Zai has to physically take a breath, a hint of political terror, a spoonful of jealousy, and a huge serving of impressiveness. “Sophia… you just did all that in ten minutes?!”
“Has it been that long?”
“I’ve spent almost five days on this.” Zai takes the notes from the table, reading over the cold arithmetic of accounting just to make sure he wasn’t going crazy. A pen tapping on the page, a realization as he himself ballparks the numbers in his head. “That’s it!”
“T-that’s…”
“This is exactly the thing that I was looking for. How’d you do it?!”
Because we’re a genius. Because the Elise line is really good at our jobs. Because despite our donut addiction and our very… questionable reading habits; we’re still a daughter of the Silver Throne. Because we, Sophia Elise the Eighth, are the most incredible and amazing…
“It’s just simple math.” Sophia crunches her humbleness. “Just… it’s pretty easy.”
“It’s not simple math.” Zai assures, really staring into her eyes now. “That was amazing.”
Oh Goddess those brown eyes of his. What would we give to give it a kiss? Sophia’s brain tells her with no sugar and no milk. Yep, you like this boy.
The internal monologue nods along with that idea. And you should tell him that. Right now would be a great chance to, don’t let this opportunity slip.
So Sophia Elise takes a deep breath and asks the completely unrelated question. “Ok, what now?”
political weapon, as long as you dangle the right pastry in front of her.