like to make last minute changes to their orders, and at least half of the time when they receive a shipment of elven goods, some sort of tragedy befalls their caravan on the way home. Occasionally it’s taken by bandits, or a road washes out and they lose the wagon, or the weather ruins the goods. It is entirely my guess, but I suspect they’re taking whatever goods they ‘lose’ and selling them illegally outside the country.”
Myth frowned. “Why on earth would they do that?”
“Because we’ve imposed a heavy tariff on all elven exports sold beyond Calnor’s borders,” Arvel explained. “The tariffs force the prices to go so high that only a small percentage of potential customers can afford it. It’s necessary, because it’s the only way we can keep nobles from ordering an excessive amount of goods and then forgoing selling to our people entirely in lieu of marketing them outside of Calnor, where there is a tremendous demand and they can charge more.”
Myth tapped her fingers on the table. “If the Fultons sell the goods they marked as lost, missing, or ruined, they not only get the tax benefit of making money without reporting it to the crown, they can still mark it up high, and as long as it is cheaper than the goods legally sold with the tariff, they’ll make a higher profit margin. Simply put, they make a lot of money.”
“Precisely.” Arvel rubbed his face. “They’ve been more obvious about it lately. In previous years they’d only lose a shipment or two per year. But their greediness has driven them further, so now the family head, Lord Julyan—my mother’s brother—reports extreme losses on nearly every other shipment.”
“If they are that belligerent, it seems like it will be easy to prove your suspicions and successfully charge them.”
Arvel finally met Myth’s gaze, his lips twisting in a puzzled frown. “Charge them?”
“Isn’t that why you were researching this?” Myth asked. “So you could charge them and bring them to justice?”
Arvel knit his fingers together and leaned over the table. “No, actually, that hadn’t occurred to me. I was just gathering dirt on them so if Mother or Uncle Julyan try to push me into marriage—or into making trade-related exceptions for them—I can force them to back off.”
“But you already know they’re going to try to bully you, and you’ve nearly confirmed they’re breaking the law. Wouldn’t the natural consequence of their actions be to charge them?” Myth hesitated, unsure of her proverbial footing.
This is where I would benefit from some of the lessons and classes social translators receive.
“Unless,” she said carefully, harboring no desire to make accusations against Queen Luciee if she had misread the situation. “Because of the Fultons’ relationship to Queen Luciee…are they considered above the law?”
“No!” Arvel snarled, his voice thick and hot. A moment passed, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry. I meant to say no…they are not above the law.”
Myth mashed her lips together and nodded slowly.
Arvel raised an eyebrow. “You have something more to say?”
“No, I’d be overstepping my social position.”
“It’s too late to back out now. Tell me, please.”
“I’m just a translator,” Myth protested. “I assure you I have nothing particularly enlightening to say—if anything I’m more likely to blurt out something unacceptable because I still haven’t found a true reference book that clearly outlines what politics are acceptable to discuss.”
“Myth, you’re not just a translator, you’re my friend.” Arvel’s voice was soft enough to make Myth hesitate. “I want to know what you think. I value your opinion.”
“Well…it’s just that I think you should charge them because they’re engaging in criminal activity. But if you’re concerned that they will try to push you around, then I would doubly recommend that you bring them to justice.” Myth carefully picked her words, taking care to use the phrases Arvel had spoken.
“And why is that?” Arvel asked.
“Arvel…you’re the crown prince,” Myth said. “There should be a world of consequences for the way they’ve treated you—politically if not through the court system. It’s about time they learn they can’t bully the future King of Calnor—whom they have no power over.”
“Unfortunately, the Fultons control a great deal of trade,” Arvel said.
“Is that so?” Myth politely inquired. “They are not alone in that ability. Your sister-in-law could bring a halt to all trade with Lessa if she wished. You could bring a halt to all trade with Lessa.”
Arvel tapped his fingers on the table for a few quiet moments, before his hands strayed to an inner