I
Ignis the Red, Scourge of the North, Destroyer of Citadels, was hiding under his gold pile.
"Go away!" he roared, a puff of smoke leaking from the coins.
Arthur Penhaligon (no relation to the Librarian) adjusted his spectacles. He held a clipboard. He was a Royal Tax Auditor.
"Mr. Ignis," Arthur said calmly. "Evading a tax official is a felony. Punishable by seizure of assets."
Ignis poked his head out. "I am a dragon! I breathe fire! I eat knights!"
"Yes, and you have declared zero income for the last three centuries," Arthur noted. "Yet, your hoard has grown by 40%. Capital gains tax, Mr. Ignis. It applies to everyone."
"I stole it!" Ignis argued. "That's not income! That's... plundering!"
"Ah, Subsection 4, Paragraph B," Arthur flipped a page. "Assets acquired through 'aggressive acquisition' are subject to a Luxury Tax. Also, you're sitting on a historical landmark. That's a property tax."
Ignis growled. He could incinerate this little man. But Arthur had a terrifying aura. The aura of Bureaucracy. It was a magic older and duller than dragonfire.
"What do you want?" Ignis whined.
"Thirty percent," Arthur said. "Or we foreclose on the cave."
"Thirty percent! That's millions!"
"Roads don't build themselves, Mr. Ignis. And frankly, your heavy landings have ruined the highway system."
Ignis slumped. He pushed a pile of rubies toward Arthur with his snout. "Fine. Take it. You vultures."
"Thank you," Arthur said, marking his clipboard. "Here is your receipt. Oh, and Mr. Ignis?"
"What?"
"You claimed a 'Princess' as a dependent on your last form. Unless you can prove you are paying for her education, that deduction is denied."
Ignis let out a long, defeated sigh. He missed the days when knights just tried to stab him.