Lamia, the Witch Queen, smiled to herself as the two morons prepared for the star's arrival. If all went according to plan, the star's heart would soon be in her possession, and she and her sisters would be young… a knock sounded at the door. She frowned and went to open it. Surely the star couldn't be here already. She opened it to reveal a man standing, whistling, on the doorstep. "Can I help you?" she asked in a pleasant voice. "Ahh, yes, you see, I am a tax collector." "A…tax collector?" she asked with contempt. He didn't seem to notice the change in her voice but continued cheerfully, "Yes, miss. Were you aware that you did not register the construction of your inn with the Stormhold Council?" "I…" "It's no trouble, but we will require you to pay a small fee and a regular yearly charge of about 60% of your annual wages." She rolled her eyes, "Surely you could come another time," she said slowly, eyeing the roads to make sure the star was not there." "Sorry miss, we can't. What with the new king about to be crowned and all, I assure you we're quite busy making preparations." "But we've just built the place; couldn't you wait?" "No," he replied, "and if you won't pay, then we'll have to reposses the establishment. Her eye twitched faintly, "Begone." "What?" he stuttered, then he was turned into a gold coin. "There," she smirked picking up the coin, "there's the payment." She tossed it up into the air and caught it, laughing, "I hope they don't decide to melt you down; it would corrupt the pure metal. Hello," she said to the recently arrived star. "Come in, dear, and I'll draw you a bath."