Once upon a time in a land faraway there lived a merchant. He was called Robin, son of Edgar.
​And so he lived and prospered, and owned retail shops in various towns, and traded goods out of his vast warehouses to other lesser merchants. He became richer and richer, and his life was simple and easy.

But then they chose a new King. He was good in all things – young and handsome. Quick was his wit, menacing his look, hot his temper.
Would that he ruled happily and brought joy to his subjects, but then people seemed to sense a cat in the sack. It took them less than two years since the accession to measure the King: it was no one other than Old Bones The Immortal in the guise of a youth who seized the throne!
And once he has grown in strength, once he got used to the being King, he went back to being his rotten self.

A great indecency then spread across the lands.
Old Bones’ vassals thrived. They were evil like adders and gold diggers above all; they robbed and ripped the good people. Like locusts from overseas, they flew over the righteous land to take away what little was left and stash the misbegotten gains in foreign kingdoms. No use was defying them, and whoever did was taken to rot in dungeons for long long years.
Old Bones’ greed knew no bounds: from year to year he asked for more and more pay. And still the Satan beast could not get enough. And from year to year his rotten army grew larger and larger, and every taxer contributed with his own share of gains. But his greed was still getting bigger, and people’s wrath was growing stronger. But Old Bones knew that there was no shelter from his army’s atrocity: it protected him from the people’s indignation. Strong was his power as long as it could go on robbing fiercely.

Robin, son of Edgar, could not elude the same fate. Deep was his sorrow – fees and taxes were getting so high that he would soon have to give up the last of whatever he had. What was there to do to defy
rotten Old Bones and his legions?
However grievous sad Robin was, he decided to beg for advice from the witch Helga, famed among the people for her wisdom. He saddled his horse and rode off, over the vales and hills and swamplands. For three days he rode, and on the morrow of the fourth he came upon a verge of a forest where a hut stood. And in that hut he saw the old witch.
“Well be with you, young lad", Helga said, when she noticed Robin.
“God bless thee, too, bony hag!" Robin replied. “I’ve come to you, Grandma, to beg for advice about my misfortune."
“I know, Robin, son of Edgar, and I also know about your misfortune."
“Well, how have you learned that?" the merchant was surprised.
“I know all that happens in the wide world. On the ground, in the waters, and in the skies!"
“Then do you happen to know how to help my misfortunes?" Robin asked.
“That I do know, Robin, son of Edgar, but you must first cross my palm with silver!"
Robin put a purse full of gold in her hand, and Helga the Witch went on: “Now, this is what you have to do. The rotten army taxes you on profits. Hence you need to decrease your profits on paper as much as possible. This is how we are going to decrease them: part of your goods you will sell without accounting and for that you will receive gold, which the rotten won’t be able to see. This gold you will spend on buying new goods that are also unseen to the Old Bones’ bookkeepers. All profits from these sales are yours. Still with me, merchant?"
“Aye, Grandma," Robin answered. And then he asked: “Well, tell me, Grandma, how do I go about discrepancies in my books? ‘Cause it seems that if the goods I buy that are visible in my books will be sold discretely, they will still be in stock according to the Old Bones’ accounting. And vice versa, if the goods bought with invisible gold are sold evidently, they will appear in Old Bones’ sales records without appearing in records of purchase."
“I will tell you that, sweetheart, listen. The goods that you buy evidently and sell discretely, charge them off to you retail stores: you will earn about 30% to 40% of profits there, I figure, from which you are to pay taxes. Old Bones has no goods-wise accounting in the retail, so you can charge off excess goods, increase your costs and decrease profits for Old Bones’ books, and make money on that. The profit margins, of course, you will have to discuss privately with the appointed taxer."
“I see, Grandma," the merchant rejoiced. “And what about the goods that I buy invisibly and sell evidently, what do I do with those?"
“Let me tell you, sweet lord," the old witch said. “First, trade the invisibly bought goods in the same discrete manner. The leftovers sell in your retail stores. The fact that the profits are inflated will be leveled out by charging off the visible goods to the same stores. And if you still have any leftovers on top of that, those can be sold to your customer merchants, to those who don’t really care about the contents of their consignment bills. Let them actually buy some invisible articles, while including similar articles of the same price in the visible consignment bills. And charge them off as you would in your retail stores. And if there are customer merchants, to whom the contents of those visible consignment bills is important, don’t sell invisible goods to those merchants at all. If you do exactly like this, no Old Bones’ vassal will ever get to you! There won’t be any visible profit, and there won’t be anything to be taken away from you. You’re poor as a church mouse. Got it, merchant?"*

* In reality, Helga the Witch’s story was a lot longer, in-depth and detailed, including procedures for processing and charging off declarations of the rotten Customs. The details are the Helga’s know-how (note by Ultimate).

“I get it, Grandma. Your speech is like music to my ears. But here’s the thing: if I do everything you say, I’ll have to forget about trading and just busy myself with taking care of where merchandise came from, how to charge it off or replace it. All savings from Old Bones’ taxes will be spent on clerks and stockkeepers!"
“You might be right to some extent, good fellow," Helga agreed. “However other technologies are no better. Bend your knee to Old Bones and be put to sack – you’ll lose your shirt anyway. Or if you start controlling your profits via bogus suppliers – well, the taxers now are all young-eyed: they’ll just have a look at your banking records, and soon enough the truth will reveal itself. You’ll be caught red-handed and thrown into a dungeon. And they’ll steal your property in the blink of an eye."
Helga was silent for a minute, then she went on in a low voice:
“You may choose any way available, but truly there is no alternative, merchant. You’ll have to try hard, if you want to keep both your money and your freedom. However I have something for you. A sure thing, it really works wonders. Some wizards from over the seas built a box-that-can-count. All you have to do is just put it on a desk, open the lid, push the red button, and everything is done by itself right away: papers fly, gold transfers from here to there, and in a second you’re all set. There will be as much evident profit as you want, and as far as the Old Bones’ books are concerned – nobody will smell a rat. And no one will be the wiser."
“Oh boy, seems to me ‘tis a really fabulous thing!" the merchant lighted up. “And I bet it will cost me dearly".
“Sure enough, it doesn’t come free of charge, merchant," the Witch snapped. “I figure, no less than a bag of thalers. However it will pay back a hundred times!"
“All right, Old Witch!" The merchant made up his mind. “Bring the contract, I’ll ride for the wonder box."

So said so done. Robin acquired this miraculous box and started using it with might and main. The Old Bones’ books check out all right, but the profits are few and far between. Robin, son of Edgar, however, was getting filthy with money! He lived quietly, laughing in his sleeve.

Other merchants, looking at him, started catching on it. They too soon began using innovative technologies.
Little by little, the golden stream to Old Bones and his rotten army began to dry out. Soon there was not enough gold, and soon foreign kingdoms began to be tight with the riches he had hidden there. Then Old Bones was killed by his own close vassals. So plain and simple his death was.

His vassals though didn’t have their way. What they had conspired was to remove Old Bones, replace him with a new king, and go on living like they had done before. But nothing worked out. Whoever managed to escape were judged by foreign courts and then quartered. Whoever could not – were hung on trees and lamp posts.
And the good people lived happily ever after.
So that’s the end of this fairy-tale. And if you got it, then have a good day.