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Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-four. Dark realizations.
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Rogard sat stiffly on the other side of his desk.
"So," Thidwell rumbled as he looked down at the nobleman in front of him, "you're here to strangle Holmstead's, choking as much wealth as you can form us," he sneered.
"I've been assigned, by the King," Rogard began, "to collect his newly instituted tax, which is five percent, a significant reduction, you'll note, from his previous twenty percent."
Thidwell snorted, "Yes, very gracious of him to only steal five perce ...
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