The tax collectors came to Blüthaven on a Tuesday morning, dressed in the deep purple of King Patrick III's personal guard.
James was at the market with his mother when the procession arrived. Twelve mounted soldiers, three officials carrying ledgers, and a man in expensive robes who announced himself as High Collector Matthias Crane.
"By order of His Majesty King Patrick the Third, Sovereign of the Neutral Territories, all registered mages and magical practitioners are hereby required to pay the Crown's Protection Tax." Crane's voice carried across the square with authority. "This levy ensures the safety and security of all citizens in these troubled times."
Eliza's hand tightened on James's shoulder.
—this is wrong, mages specifically, this isn't about protection—
"Protection from what?" someone in the crowd called out.
"From the dangers that magical individuals pose to the general population," Crane replied smoothly. "His Majesty, in his wisdom, recognizes that those with extraordinary abilities require extraordinary oversight. The tax funds the administrative and security measures necessary to ensure community safety."
Translation: they were charging people for the privilege of being monitored like criminals.
James watched the collectors move through the crowd, consulting their ledgers, identifying families with registered magical members. The Hollis family was called forward first. Miranda's father worked in the archives, making him easy to find.
"John Hollis, your daughter Miranda manifested the Eldritch affinity six months ago. The Crown's Protection Tax for minor dependents with magical capabilities is forty gold coins per quarter."
John went pale. "Forty gold coins? That's three months of wages!"
"His Majesty's rates are non-negotiable. Payment is due immediately or your family will be placed on the defaulter's registry." Crane's smile was professional and cold. "Defaulters forfeit certain civic protections. It would be unfortunate if your family were to lose access to territorial services."
Threat delivered with bureaucratic politeness.
John paid, hands shaking as he counted out coins that represented food and rent and his children's future. Miranda stood beside him, face burning with shame and anger.
—this is because of me, because I have magic, I'm costing my family everything—
James made eye contact with her across the square and projected a single thought through their telepathic link: Not your fault. Remember that.
Her eyes widened slightly and she nodded once.
The collections continued. Every family with a registered mage was called forward. Every one paid, because refusing meant losing access to the territorial guard's protection, to the courts, to basic civic infrastructure. Legal extortion, dressed in official language.
"Eliza Aldric."
James's mother stepped forward, pulling him with her.
"Your son James manifested the Nature affinity three months ago. The tax—"
"He's ten years old," Eliza interrupted. "A child."
"With magical capabilities. The age of the practitioner is irrelevant to the Crown's security concerns." Crane consulted his ledger. "Forty gold coins, due quarterly."
"We don't have that kind of money."
"Then I suggest you acquire them. His Majesty is generous. He allows a grace period of seven days before penalties apply. After that, interest accumulates at five percent daily." Crane made a notation. "I trust you'll make the necessary arrangements, Mrs. Aldric."
They walked home in silence. James could feel his mother's thoughts churning—anger, fear, calculation. Forty gold coins every three months. They didn't have that kind of money. Grayson's archivist salary was modest. Eliza's work as a seamstress brought in extra, but not enough for this.
"We'll manage," Eliza said finally, more to herself than to James. "We'll figure something out."
But James could hear the uncertainty beneath her words.
That evening, Grayson came home with his own news. The archives were being audited. All records relating to magical artifacts, historical documents about pre-Schism convergence, anything that might be considered "sensitive material" was being recorded and confiscated.
"They're erasing knowledge," Grayson said, pacing their small dining room. "Removing books. Restricting access to historical records. I've worked in those archives for fifteen years. I've never seen anything like this."
"Why now?" Eliza asked.
"I don't know. But it's coordinated. The taxes, the audits, the increased surveillance. King Patrick is tightening control over anything magical." Grayson sat heavily.
James listened as he tried to process what this meant. The territorial government wasn't just taxing mages, they were systematically controlling magical knowledge and those who possessed it. Building registries. Tracking families. Restricting information.
Preparing for something.
Over the next week, the situation worsened. More collectors arrived, this time going door-to-door with updated ledgers. Families who'd paid the initial tax were informed of "additional administrative fees." Businesses owned by mages faced "magical practice permits" that cost triple the normal licensing rate.
Blüthaven wasn't alone. Word spread from other towns, the same pattern everywhere. Mages taxed. Knowledge restricted. Resistance met with imprisonment.
King Patrick III, previously known for his mild incompetence and expensive tastes, had suddenly developed an efficient bureaucracy focused on magical control.
Someone was advising him. Someone smart.
James documented everything in his journal, filling pages with observations:
Pattern analysis:
- Targeting mages specifically, not the general population
- Restricting historical knowledge about convergence era
- Building comprehensive registries of magical individuals
- Creating economic pressure on magical families
Hypothesis: Not about revenue. Taxes are too targeted, too specific. This is about control and information gathering.
Question: What is King Patrick preparing for? Or who is he preparing to hand this information to?
Personal impact: Mother and Father under financial strain. Forty gold coins per quarter is unsustainable. Unknown how long we can maintain payments before defaulting.
Miranda's family in a worse position. Larger family, less income. She's been avoiding me at school.
Fifteen months until the Affinity Test and it has gotten a bit more complicated.
Correction, everything is getting worse.
James closed the journal and looked at the Soul Splitter, hidden behind strategic ferns. The device represented freedom, the ability to pass as normal and control his own fate.
Fifteen months suddenly felt very far away.
Two weeks after the first collections, Grayson brought home disturbing news from the archives.
"They don't seem to be interested in the nobles from what I hear," he said, his voice low even in their own home. "Typical."
Grayson looked at his son. "James, if you've been experimenting with your Nature affinity beyond basic practice, if you've been trying anything unusual, you need to stop. Now."
"I haven't," James lied smoothly. "Just the plant magic Mother knows about."
—he's lying, I can tell, but pushing will only make him defensive, gods what is he hiding—
"Good. Keep it that way." Grayson hesitated, then added: "There are rumors. Families disappeared from other territories. Mages taken for 'administrative review' and never returning. This isn't just taxation. Something larger is happening."
That night, James reinforced his hiding spots. The Soul Splitter went into a new location, inside the hollow base of a large planter, surrounded by roots he'd grown specifically to obscure it. His journals were split up, hidden in multiple spots rather than one vulnerable cache.
If they came searching, all they'd find is a gifted child with the ability to make flowers bloom.
---
Miranda finally spoke to him three weeks after the collections began. She found him at the mill, working on Soul Splitter upgrades.
"My father can't afford the next payment," she said. "We're going to default."
James looked up. "How bad?"
"Bad. Defaulters lose civic protection. Means we're not legally covered if something happens. And the penalties, five percent daily interest. It compounds. We'll never catch up." Miranda's hands were clenched. "This is because of me. Because I–stupid–had to go manifest."
"This is because King Patrick is a tyrant who found an excuse to persecute people he doesn't seem to like."
"Doesn't matter whose fault it is in principle. My family suffers either way."
James considered options. He had some money saved, years of careful hoarding. Maybe enough to cover one payment for the Hollis family. But that was a temporary solution to a permanent problem.
"I have forty gold coins," he said finally. "It's yours."
Miranda stared. "James, that's—that's everything you've saved."
"Yes. Take it."
"I can't—"
"You can and you will. We're partners." James pulled the coins from his hidden stash, years of birthday money, odd jobs, careful accumulation. "Take it. Buy your family time. I'll figure something out for the next quarter."
Miranda took the coins with shaking hands. "I'll pay you back. Somehow. I swear—"
"Don't swear anything. Just survive the next three months. We'll figure out the rest after."
She left clutching the coins like they were salvation.
James returned to his work, mind calculating. He'd just spent his emergency fund. His parents were struggling with their own payments. The economic pressure was deliberate, designed to force magical families into impossible positions.
Where they'd be vulnerable. Desperate and easy to control.
Whatever King Patrick was planning, it was accelerating.
And James had fifteen months to prepare for a test that suddenly seemed like the least of his problems.