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In the Light of Day: A Frozen Epic	By : GeorgeGlass Category: +1 through F > Frozen Views: 21531 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Frozen or its characters. I made no money from writing this story. I am completely divided about whether Elsa or Anna is hotter.

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Chapter 11: The Accountants

Elsa was lost in the sensation of Rajiv’s lips against hers when a “BANG!” from above yanked her back to reality. Her head jerked back and tilted upward to see Rajiv’s fire-mandala blowing apart in all directions like a firework.

“Oh, my,” she gasped, turning back to the prince. “Did you do that?”

“It- It was not intentional,” Rajiv replied. “But I believe I did, yes.”

“Do it again,” Elsa said breathlessly.

Rajiv raised his arm and shot a streak of fire into the sky, which then exploded in a brilliant burst of flame.

“Ha! Do some more!” Elsa shouted, clapping her hands in excitement like a child.

***

At the One-Eyed Wharf Rat, Kristoff was making suggestions to the various members of the pub-crawling ensemble about what drinks to order, steering them toward the on-tap local brews and away from anything that seemed particularly exotic. (“If it sounds fancy, believe me, it isn’t.”) Anna was almost as new to the place as the rest of them and needed about as much coaching, especially because Kristoff didn’t want the princess to get too inebriated too soon by choosing an overly strong drink.

Everyone had a drink in hand and was chatting convivially—some with other members of the party, some with the local sailors and longshoremen who made up the bulk of the tavern’s clientele. Kristoff was pleased, given that this was exactly the sort of taste of “the other Arendelle” that he had hoped to give them.

The tavern door opened, and in walked Henrik and Grimmjaw, the two ice-men whose provocations had gotten Kristoff thrown out of a similar establishment two nights earlier.

Crap, Kristoff thought. Those guys mostly hung out at the Surly Mermaid, which was why Kristoff had left that particular watering hole off the route for the pub crawl.

The two ice-men caught sight of Kristoff and his group almost immediately. Kristoff wasn’t surprised, given the exotic appearance of many members of his party. Then he saw the leer on Grimmjaw’s face as the man caught sight of Anna among the group.

Kristoff froze for a moment. Surely, these guys wouldn’t insult the princess to her face, or pick a fight with Kristoff in her presence. But what if they did? The last thing Anna needed was to become involved in whatever scene these dillweeds might make in this dive bar.

Henrik took a step toward them, and Kristoff made a snap decision: to stop these guys in their tracks before they got anywhere near Anna. He strode over to them, covering the width of the floor before Henrik and Grimmjaw could take even two more steps.

“What are you guys doing here?” Kristoff said, chiefly because he couldn’t think of what else to say.

“We’re just here for a beer, same as you,” Grimmjaw replied, sardonically parroting Kristoff’s line from the other night.

“Though we didn’t bring so much fancy company,” Henrik added. “Is his Lordship entertaining foreign dignitaries this evening, as well as the Princess?”

“Maybe they’re all entertaining the Princess,” Grimmjaw suggested, leering. “Hmm...I suppose that’s about enough men for the job. Provided they leave her bosomy friend to us, that is.”

Kristoff felt the heat of anger rising within him, but he held himself in check. This was all bullshit, crafted to get a rise out of him; there wasn’t so much as one grain of truth behind it.

“Makes sense to me,” Henrik replied. “I mean, better the Princess than the Queen. If you stuck it in her ice-box, it’d be liable to freeze and snap off.”

His self-control suddenly forgotten, Kristoff seized the smaller Grimmjaw by the collar.

“I swear to God...” he began, growling.

“What’s going on here?” Kristoff heard Anna say from somewhere close behind him.

“Just- Just a difference of opinion,” Kristoff said stiffly.

“Oh,” Grimmjaw said, eyeing the approaching Anna even as Kristoff held him up by the collar, “good evening, Prin-”

In a flash, Kristoff released Grimmjaw’s neck with one hand and then punched the man in the face.

“Kristoff!” Anna shouted. “Let go of him right now!”

Kristoff released Grimmjaw, who stumbled back toward Henrik.

“Are you all right?” Anna asked the man.

“Uh- I’m- I’m fine,” Grimmjaw replied, clearly surprised by the question.

Anna removed two gold coins from her purse and slapped them down on the bar, getting the bartender’s attention as she pointed to Grimmjaw and Henrik.

“Give these two men as many drinks as this gold will buy,” she said. “My party will be leaving now. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Uh, yes, of course, your Highness,” the barkeep said.

“Ah, guys?” Kristoff called awkwardly toward his group. “We’re, uh, going to move on to the next place now.” Then, looking at the glare he was getting from Anna, he added, “We’ll, um, meet you outside.”

***

Rajiv sent flare after flare into the air, causing them to explode in various patterns and even altering their colors among orange, red, and yellow-white. Elsa watched in wonder; this, she realized, must have been how Anna felt on those long-ago mornings when the little redheaded girl had cried, “Do the magic, do the magic!”

Elsa, not taking her eyes off the sky, took Rajiv’s free hand in hers. Then, as the prince fired off another flare, she raised her other arm and created a burst of ice crystals in the air, which caught the light from the flare and diffracted it into a million tiny rainbows.

Rajiv looked at her in surprise. Then he smiled and shot another bright burst of flame into the sky.

***

As Kristoff headed toward the door, Anna hot on his heels, he heard young Prince Hypatios shout, “Whoa, look at that! Fireworks!” causing the other princes and attendants to flock to the window. Kristoff, though, decided that it would be smarter to keep moving.

As soon as they were out the door, Kristoff turned to Anna and said, “Look, I can explain.”

“You don’t have to,” Anna replied crossly. “You hit that guy because he was about to say something nasty, didn’t you?”

“Well...yeah. And I didn’t want there to be, you know, a scene.”

“You mean you were afraid I would make a scene. That my delicate royal ears couldn’t handle whatever that creep was going to say.”

“That’s not exactly the way I would put-”

“Kristoff,” Anna cut in, “you know where I’ve been for the last nine months, while my sister was shut up in the throne room and parlors and conference rooms? I’ve been out here, with the people, cutting ribbons and breaking bottles. And even though it was stupid, it gave me a chance to hear—and overhear—what the people of Arendelle have to say. Do you think I don’t know about the gossip? The innuendos? The dirty jokes? Do you think I need your protection from that?”

“I just...I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about you.”

“Kristoff, you used violence to stop someone from speaking badly about me. What idea do you think THAT gives people?”

“I, I wasn’t- I didn’t...” the ice-man stammered. Anna snorted.

“I think I’ve had enough bar-hopping for this evening,” she said gruffly. “Good night, Kristoff.” Then she walked briskly away.

Kristoff was still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened when the rest of his party emerged from the One-Eyed Wharf Rat, Hildy in the lead.

“Where’s Anna?” she asked.

“She...left,” Kristoff replied awkwardly.

“Was it because you did something stupid?”

“N- Yes.”

She patted Kristoff on the shoulder and said, “I guess I should go catch up with her.” Then, turning to the rest of the group, she said, “See you later, boys!” eliciting a few moans of disappointment.

***

Anna walked rapidly up the cobblestone street, her shoes striking the pavement sharply with every step.

Why did Kristoff have to be like this? Wanting to protect her physically was one thing, but she didn’t need anyone to protect her feelings, or her reputation. And it was insulting that he seemed to believe otherwise.

She needed to get her mind off this, or she’d just end up fuming all night long and not getting a wink of sleep. It occurred to her that she was behind on her research for the trade conference, and that maybe she could shed some light on the sulfur/pine-pitch mystery while she was at it. The Treasury was directly on her way to the castle, anyway.

When she arrived she wasn’t surprised to see two guards at the front door—the Treasury was guarded twenty-four/seven—but she was a bit surprised to see lights burning inside.

“Good evening, your Highness,” the more senior of the two guards said, both of them bowing slightly.

“Good evening,” Anna said. “Is someone still working in there?”

“Yes ma’am,” the guard said. “The Minister and the chief accountants are all still here.”

The guard unlocked the door and held it open for Anna, then closed and locked it behind her.

“Hi,” Anna said to the two accountants, sitting as usual at their opposing desks.

“Evening, your Highness,” they replied, not quite simultaneously.

“You guys are working awfully late.”

One of the accountants, a somewhat stocky man with rosy cheeks, pointed to his counterpart as he spoke.

“That one,” he said, “thought we should start double-checking the import tax revenues now.” The man’s eyes narrowed as he added, “Never mind that we’re barely into the second quarter.”

The other accountant—a tall, slim man with a blond moustache and goatee that made it difficult to estimate his age—seemed a bit self-conscious as he replied, “I thought it would be...helpful, if the Princess had the latest numbers for the trade conference next week.”

Despite her bad mood, Anna smiled inwardly—not merely because of the goateed accountant’s desire to help, but because it was clear that he wasn’t doing it to curry favor with her. If she hadn’t dropped by just now, she probably never would have known about his extra effort on her behalf.

“Well then,” she said, “keep up the good work. I’m going upstairs to see the Minister.”

Anna went to the back of the room and up the wooden stairs to the second floor. The Minister’s office was right at the top of the stairs; earlier that week, the Minister had told her that she liked to be “close to the action.” Anna had tried not to laugh.

She stopped at the threshold of the Minister’s open office door. The gray-haired woman was bent over some papers on her desk.

“Good evening, Minister,” Anna said.

The plump woman looked up and removed her gold-rimmed spectacles. “Ah, Princess. What brings you by at this late hour?”

“I was…in the neighborhood,” Anna replied, “and I thought I’d catch up on my reading.”

“I’m afraid this isn’t a particularly good time,” the Minister said. “I expect we’ll be closing up soon.”

“That’s okay,” Anna said. “Being…who I am means that I can be in any Crown building unescorted, so it’s fine if you guys leave before I do. The guards will lock up after me anyway, right?”

“Very well, then,” the Minister said. “Don’t keep yourself up too late. A girl your age needs her rest, even if she feels as though her energy is boundless.”

In Anna’s experience, people who had reached a certain age often seemed unable to perceive any difference between a nineteen-year-old and a thirteen-year-old—even if said nineteen-year-old had the equivalent authority of a lieutenant general. So the princess tried not to let this unsolicited advice rankle. She did not succeed.

“Good night, Minister,” she said stiffly, and stepped out of the doorway. The Minister had already resumed looking at the paperwork on her desk.

Anna went back downstairs and into the records room, lighting a safety lantern to read by. But her annoyance at the Minister’s condescension, on top of everything else that had happened today—her clumsy accident at the sulfur mine, being thrown from her horse, her repeatedly frustrated attempts to talk to Elsa, the argument with Kristoff—made it difficult to just sit and read. And after only twenty minutes or so of forcing herself to look at the huge pages with their tiny print, sitting and reading became intolerable.

She stood up, forcefully closed the trade log she had been reading, pulled open the door, and put out the lamp. Anna then exited into the main room and, without meaning to, slammed the door closed behind her. The two accountants looked up from their ledgers.

“Is everything all right, your Highness?” the goateed one asked.

“Sorry,” Anna said. “I’ve had kind of a crummy day.”

“Sorry to hear it, ma’am,” the man replied.

“Thank you,” Anna sighed, starting to shuffle toward the door.

“Um, your Highness?” the accountant piped. “Have you ever visited the vault?”

Anna stopped and turned around. “No, I haven’t.”

“Would you like to?”

Anna blinked. “I don’t see why not.”

“Holgar,” the man said, looking at his counterpart, “let’s go downstairs, shall we?”

Lighting a torch, the mustachioed accountant—who introduced himself as Bulmar—led Anna down the stone stairs into the cellar of the treasury, Holgar following behind. The stairs ended in a square room, most of whose opposite wall was taken up by a wide iron door with two keyholes.

Bulmar and Holgar each pulled out a large key that hung from a chain on his neck and walked up to one of the keyholes. Then they inserted the keys.

“Ready?” Bulmar said. Holgar nodded.

They turned their keys, and with a great clatter of tumblers and gears, the door unlocked. Bulmar then moved back as Holgar pulled the heavy door open.

Raising his torch to illuminate the interior of the vault, Bulmar led Anna inside. Near the door were four large chests—two on each side as they entered—and there was an even larger one in the very back of the vault. In between, there were a dozen clay jars, each nearly four feet tall and vase-like in shape, with a round lid set firmly in the neck of the jar.

“This,” Bulmar said, “is where all of Arendelle’s revenues—chiefly from taxes—and emergency funds are kept.”

He opened one of the chests near the door, and Anna gasped. The chest was filled almost to the top with gold coins.

“I’m showing off a bit,” Bulmar said. “This is the only chest that is entirely full at the moment. The chests are used for monies that are expected to be spent during this tax year, according to the Crown’s annual budget.”

“Then what are those big jars for?” Anna asked.

Holgar spoke up. “Those are coffers.”

“They contain the kingdom’s rainy-day money,” Bulmar added. “During good years, we fill them, and once they’re full, we seal the tops shut. In bad years, when we need to break into those funds-”

“-we literally break into them,” Holgar finished.

“Wow,” Anna said, walking among the coffers. “So each of these is full of gold? We must have had quite a lot of good years.”

“Indeed,” Bulmar said. “The late King and Queen were very responsible in their spending.”

“What about the big chest in the back?” Anna asked.

“Ah,” Bulmar said, a twinkle in his blue eye as he started to walk toward the chest. “I think you’ll like this one. It contains non-monetary assets that the Crown has received but has not converted into cash.”

“I’m guessing that isn’t as boring as it sounds,” Anna said.

“No, indeed,” Bulmar replied, opening the chest.

And suddenly memories of the fairy-tale books of Anna’s childhood came rushing back, because inside the chest was a pile of treasures worthy of their pages: necklaces, tiaras, bracelets, and rings; gold statuettes and silver figurines; jewel-encrusted snuffboxes, pillboxes, candy cases, and desk clocks; even a gold-plated candelabra. Anna couldn’t help but laugh with the wonder and absurdity of it.

“What IS all this stuff?” she asked Bulmar excitedly. “I mean, where did it all come from?”

“Oh, it has accumulated here over many years,” the accountant explained. “Most of these items are gifts that the late King and Queen and their predecessors received from foreign monarchs, ambassadors, high-end artisans trying to promote their wares, people like that. Each object is listed in a log book that shows the date of receipt and the identity of the giver. That way, should, say, Queen Elsa ever need to bestow a lavish gift upon someone, she could ‘re-gift’ one of these items without the risk of the recipient recognizing it.”

“Wow,” Anna said, still gazing at the treasure trove, her eyes wandering over each piece. “The lengths kings and queens will go to…”

Anna heard Holgar clear his throat, obviously impatient.

“Highness,” Bulmar said, “is there an item here that is of particular…interest to you?”

In fact, there was: in looking over the treasure, Anna’s eye had been caught by a thin gold necklace with a small pendant in the shape of an owl. The owl’s eyes were the tiniest rubies Anna had ever seen.

Pointing at it, Anna replied, “It’s…beautiful, without being flashy, you know?”

“I quite agree,” Bulmar said, smiling. “You could hold on to it, if you like.”

“Hold onto it?”

“These items are the property of the Crown, so as a member of the royal family, you are entitled to borrow any of them indefinitely. A note would simply be made in the log book that the necklace is in your possession. Just…please take care not to lose it,” he finished, a bit nervously.

“I will.”

Anna put the necklace on, thinking that Bulmar would probably find this more reassuring than her putting it in her pocket. Bulmar smiled and nodded; apparently, he thought the necklace looked good on her.

Bulmar and Holgar closed the chest, and they and Anna started back toward the vault door. Anna made the mistake of glancing down at her new pendant—wondering how it looked against her vest—and stumbled into one of the tall coffers, nearly knocking it over. The two accountants rushed over and steadied it.

“Sorry,” Anna said, embarrassed.

They went back upstairs, and Bulmar pulled a log book from a shelf and made the appropriate note in it.

“Well,” Anna said, “That was amazing. Thank you so much.”

“You’re most welcome, Highness,” Bulmar replied. Holgar nodded neutrally.

Anna bid them goodnight, and headed back toward the castle. Her mood had definitely improved—not because she could be easily distracted from her worries by shiny things, but because of the kindness behind Bulmar’s gesture. It was clear to Anna that the man had no agenda; he wasn’t showing off out of ego (she certainly knew that when she saw it), and he wasn’t sweet on her (judging from his guileless expression, the wedding ring on his finger, and the child’s drawing pinned to the wall near his desk). He had done it simply because he perceived that she needed cheering up.

But something about the experience bothered her, and it wasn’t until she was nearly at the castle gate that she realized what it was.

She had nearly knocked that coffer over when she bumped into it. If it was full of gold coins, shouldn’t it have been heavier?

***

“So,” Elsa said, “what else do you think you can do with your fire magic?”

“I…I’m not sure,” Rajiv said. He hadn’t had much time to speculate on such questions. “Perhaps…”

He brought a flame to life in his hand, letting it grow to the size of his palm. Then he passed it to his other hand. Soon, he was tossing the fire like a ball from one hand to the other.

“Hmm,” Elsa said. “Can you stop it in mid-air?”

Rajiv tossed the flame again, and indeed, he managed to make it halt in the space between his hands. Then, experimentally, he began to move it around in the air.

“Interesting,” Elsa said, nodding.

Rajiv moved the flame around himself in a circle, then around the both of them in a figure eight. As he did so, he could feel sweat forming on his brow, which Elsa seemed to notice.

“Maybe that’s enough for tonight,” she said. “You’re using ‘muscles’ you’ve never used before; you don’t want to be sore in the morning. Literally or figuratively, I’m not sure.”

“You are probably right,” Rajiv said, letting the flame shrink and flicker out in his hand. “Besides, I just noticed how hungry I am.”

Elsa opened the pack that contained their dinner—a couple of venison sandwiches.

“And it’s getting late,” Elsa said. “We’ll eat, then head back down to the castle. Good thing the moon is out.”

Rajiv looked at Elsa’s face. Her pale skin and blonde hair caught every scintilla of moonlight, and her blue eyes almost seemed to glow with it. Rarely had he seen such haunting beauty.

“Indeed,” Rajiv replied, and accepted a sandwich from Elsa’s hand.

***

Kristoff looked at his group as he led them to their fourth drinking establishment of the evening. Since Anna and Hildy’s departures, the party had been whittled down further: Lord Otos had taken Prince Hypatios back to the castle at the approach of the boy’s bedtime, and Hjalmar’s attendant, Halfdan, had headed back there as well, after overindulging in various red wines of questionable vintage. But that still left Kristoff with ten drinking companions, so he forged on.

***

The bedroom door closed behind Gerda, who had just handed Anna a freshly laundered nightgown and bid her good night. Now alone, Anna sighed.

It had been a mostly crummy day, with one nice highlight, but even that was marred by her unease about that coffer. And it was probably nothing; it wasn’t like she had a real sense of what gold was supposed to weigh.

She took off the owl pendant and laid it on her dresser—where, she realized, she had left the letter Hildy had given her, written by her mother to Hildy’s stepfather back when they were teenagers. She opened the unsealed envelope and took out the letter, which was a single page long.

“Dearest Reginald,” the letter began.

Reginald? Anna thought. No wonder he goes by ‘The Duke.’

“Yesterday was quite a day. As you know, I’ve been diligently practicing my riding ever since I arrived at Uncle Gustav’s manor, but today I found out how much I have left to learn. I had decided that I was ready to try riding Charlemagne—a spirited stallion—in the paddock near the stables.

“Once he was ready and I was on him, I walked him for a minute, then directed him to trot. But instead, he broke into a full gallop! I’m afraid I panicked and pulled back on the reins too hard, which made him stop so suddenly that I flew right out of the saddle and landed on the ground. Thank goodness the earth in the paddock is soft—and that I didn’t stop him in a place where I would have been thrown headlong into the fence.

“I didn’t ride for the rest of the day. Not even on Clarabelle, my usual horse.

“I thought Uncle Gustav would lecture me about taking out a horse that I clearly wasn’t ready to ride, but he didn’t. I suppose he thought I had learned that lesson well enough for myself. Instead, he found me in the library (where I often go to read for a while after dinner) and asked me if I would be riding again tomorrow. I told him no.

“‘Oh, come, now,’ he said. ‘You know what they say about getting back on the horse.’

“I explained that it wasn’t because I was shaken up by the fall—it was because I didn’t trust myself after making such a foolish mistake. I’d almost gotten myself killed. What if, tomorrow, it wasn’t just ‘almost’?

“He put his hand on my shoulder, and he smiled at me the way uncles do when they are about to say something wise.

“‘Good judgement,’ he said, ‘comes from experience, and experience mostly comes from bad judgement.’

“I laughed at the time, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he was right. So this morning, I went to the stable, took out Clarabelle, and got to work. And Uncle Gustav promised to teach me how to fall without getting hurt.

“I hope everything is well back in town, and that it won’t be long before I see you again.

“Love always,

“Iduna”

Anna put the letter down on the dresser. It was interesting to read something her mother wrote when she was even younger than Anna was now. And it was a little embarrassing that her teenage mother wrote so much more elegantly—and legibly—than Anna herself.

But it was still nice to catch this unexpected glimpse of her. Nice enough that Anna finally felt like she could sleep.

***

It was in the wee hours of the morning that Kerig, part-time mercenary and full-time thug, saw a street urchin enter the Surly Mermaid with a rolled up piece of paper. The dirty-faced youth was quite possibly the only boy of his age in town who was still awake, let alone in a tavern.

Without speaking, the boy handed the paper to Kerig, then held out his palm, into which the shaven-headed mercenary dropped a copper coin.

“One?” the boy said, looking peeved. “It’s two after midnight.”

“Well,” Kerig said, cracking the knuckles of his big hands, “keeping what’s left of your teeth is worth more than a copper, don’t you think?”

The boy, equal parts angry and frightened, walked rapidly away. Kerig unrolled the note.

“There is a complication,” it read. “Prince Rajiv must be neutralized before the hour arrives. See to it.”

END CHAPTER 11
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In the Light of Day: A Frozen Epic