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“These are…”
“All correct,” Feofan confirms, tapping a nearby calculator. He turns back to Amirah with a gleam in his eye.
“Amirah. Your father makes approximately four billion a year. Under Snezhnayan law how much would he owe in taxes?”
Amirah tilts her head, fingers tapping against the table.
“None because he’s a Harbinger. It’s instead called a ‘requisite’ and is automatically taken from his salary.”
Dottore’s eyes widen, glancing at Feofan who nods gleefully, asking also, “And Sumerian law?”
More tapping before she answers with confidence, “Assuming Baba retains a position similar to his current one, likely that of a sage, he would receive financial grants without standard pay. Therefore no tax.”
Feofan nods, prompting again, “And Liyuen? This time assume no requisite law and military authority.”
Amirah nods, fingers playing a precise beat on the table.
“Fifty-two thousand and sixty-two mora. Liyue rounds down.”
Dottore raises a brow, taking a seat on her opposite side, “And how did you come to that conclusion my dear?”
Her answer is immediate.
“Baba is a scientist and scholar. His contributions to economy and technological development allow a tax break equating to approximately sixty-thousand mora.”
She tilts her head, humming softly before continuing, “Baba’s entire income is under reported. Several patents and under-the-table deals make his salary of approximately three-hundred thousand mora only point-zero-zero-seven-five percent of his total yearly.
“Assuming he isn’t caught for tax fraud Baba should pay the previously mentioned tax number and receive one-hundred-and-two mora back.”
Feofan meets Dottore’s eyes over her head, glee meeting pure bafflement.
“Did I get it wrong?” Amirah asks after a moment of silence.
“Of course not,” Feofan replies, Dottore still tongue-tied, “You’re very clever. Why don’t you go wash your hands and we’ll have supper? I’m sure even your father will agree you deserve an extra dessert tonight.”
Amirah perks up, sliding off her chair and quickly scampering off to the bathroom.
“She…”
“Is nothing less than pure genius,” Feofan finishes, “I imagine you were much like her at your age.”
Shockingly, Dottore shakes his head, “I was advanced, yes, but I wasn’t remembering and quoting tax law at four.”
Feofan chuckles, gazing at where Amirah had run off to.
“She’s a promising future.”
Dottore nods slowly, standing up when he hears tiny feet pattering back towards them.
“That she does,” he murmurs, going to meet Amirah halfway and scoop her into his arms.