Squire Of The Land, Part Two
10 Sep 2018Cernig10
“So, Jack, you sure you’re ready for this?” Jack Cernig-Dix, the new Squire of Savere Landing, studied himself in the mirror and noted with a part of his attention that the progenitor cell treatments and other rejuvenation therapies were having an effect; his hair and neatly trimmed goatee had turned back from silver to the dark grey he’d had in his mid-forties, and was growing in thicker than it had for years. The rest of his mind mulled over the top item on his agenda, a meeting of his top staff to discuss policies and procedures going forward.He’d lain awake a goodly part of the ‘night’, mulling options and arguments, and that along with the quarter extra gravity had left him bone-tired but determined. “Not that you can call it night,” he told his reflection. Planet Celsius had a day and night of 39 standard days each, and the locals separated each into forty subdivisions called “nayans”, each just under a standard day long. It was the 8th hour of the 38th Nayan, A.M., the beginning of that nayan’s working period but near the end of the long Celsius daytime. The sun had hung low in the sky when he had depolarized the windows of his bedroom, the long twilight would give way to an equally long and far more impressive sunset in another twelve hours or so.Jack finished dressing, in his usual Imperial business attire of brocade jacket, cravat, and loose trousers tucked into high boots. Yesterday had been about pomp and ceremony, so he’d worn a PCA uniform through the reading in, the commendation ceremony where his handful of nobley birthed vassals had pledged him fealty, and the celebratory banquet. Today was about getting down to business. He added his usual silver-topped cane, which concealed a stun baton in its polished black shaft, and a single-shot pocket flechette pistol in his right boot-top. As he strode through his dining room and living area, a household Imperial Slave dressed in a simple off-white shift-dress was tidying away his breakfast dishes under the watchful eyes of the two members of his small garrison force detailed to be his bodyguards for this nayan. His mouth tightened into a line - Jack still couldn’t force himself into comfort with the notion of slavery, especially given what he and the accountant he’d brought from his business offices in Turir had discussed late last night.
Jack nodded at the two guards and they fell in behind him as he walked to the private penthouse elevator and told it “20th floor”. The floor below his penthouse suite was dedicated to administrative offices for himself, his factor, and their shared secretary but also held a spacious and well outfitted conference room, all arranged around a central space that held an actual, living, cherry tree in a central planter. He turned into to the conference room as his bodyguards took their positions by the door, and took his seat at the head of the long table carved from a single huge slab of highly polished Calaverite imported from Kelvin, the main mining planet in the SPOCS 900 system. The telluride mineral sparkled in the overhead lighting, shining metallic silver and gold from its crystalline structure.Jack’s eyes swept over the other attendees. His Factor, Susanna Hodges, responsible for managing the estate in his absence, sat with the Captain of his garrison force, Robert Odell. Two other Celsius natives, his household manager Felicity Manning and his farming overseer Martin Simmons sat further down the table, opposite his own accountant and his lawyer, Linda Bolk and Allan Middleton. Off to one side the estate’s senior secretary sat ready to take minutes or call up needed data on the holographic projectors built into the tabletop.
“Shall we begin, then?” Jack asked the room at large.
“Certainly, my lord.” Susanna began, as a graph of projected costs, revenues and profits appeared in the air above the table. “As you will see, your estates are…”
Jack cut his Factor off with a gesture, then leaned forward, his bushy eyebrows lowering. “I know all this. Linda scrubbed the estate accounts for me last night and gave me a detailed summary to read over breakfast. The manor is moderately profitable but can do better, and none of those in positions of authority are skimming off more than a few perks that altogether amount to an inconsequential sum. I’m not opposed to taking perks, as long as they don’t become exorbitant and damage the bottom line.” His voice quietened until they all had to strain to hear. “I will not, however, tolerate corruption that rises to the level of outright theft and abuse of my people.” His gaze fastened on his farm overseer, a citizen who had worked for another PCA noble and been brought in by Hodges when she’d been given the task of turning the home of a minor rebel against Duke Rowe into a model Imperial settlement. The tall, strong looking man looked amazed for a moment, then the expression on his gaunt features turned shocked and angry as Jack continued.
“It’s been hidden well from casual examination, but something over half of the funds allocated to clothe and shoe the farm slaves along with most of the money to educate their children have been diverted into a private, numbered, account with the Bank of Zaonce. Finding who that account belonged to would have been impossible for many, but Linda is one of the finest forensic accountants in all of Turir. It belongs to you, Simmons. Captain, arrest him on the formal charges of embezzlement and offences against Imperial Slavery laws that Alan has already prepared and will send to you now. Have him flogged in the public hall during the middle meal of the next nayan, 20 lashes, for the embezzlement, then hold him until the ISA inspector I have invited to visit can get here.”
As the stunned former-overseer was led away by the door guards, Jack turned back to his Factor.
“Susanna, you are honest enough and competent enough for your post, in my estimation, but you dropped the ball when you let someone else recommend Simmons for the overseer job without doing due diligence. Don’t let it happen again. We need a new overseer and I want it to be a local, someone liked but respected and who can wield authority without it going to their head. Have summaries of the three best candidates on my desk by next work period and I’ll let you know which one by return.”
“Now. let me be very clear here.” He turned to the room as a whole. “I know that in many ways this is the fringe of Imperial space where sometimes the rules get overlooked, and that in general Duke Rowe has never been too particular about enforcement of the Imperial Slave laws. I. Don’t. Care. I’m not a great fan of slavery in any form, not even indentured servitude, but that’s beside the point given our circumstances. So, while I am laird here this manor will observe and enforce those Imperial laws to the very letter. We will clothe and house our slaves acceptably, feed them sufficient for their duties, and ensure every single one is literate. There will be no abuse or taking liberties, nor will there be any laxness in punishment for infringements by slave or citizen. Imperial slavery is supposed to be an honorable way to discharge a debt, or so I am told. Very well, then our slaves should be treated honorably in return. This estate will be the very model of Imperial best practise in such matters.”
Jack smiled suddenly, and clapped his hands. “OK, back to business. Susanna, you were about to tell us all exactly how well the manor is doing financially. Let’s hear that presentation, because afterwards I want to tell you how an investment of a couple of hundred million or so of my own money, plus preferential shipping contracts with both I.B.A. and Barnyard, are going to change those figures.”
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“So what do you think of him?” Hodges asked Captain Odell, hours later in the comfort of her office.
“It’s too early to say,” Odell replied, “He looks so small and weak, but he’s got drive and grit enough. Still, he’s going to upset more than a few of his neighbours, inviting the Imperial Slave Association to carry out spot-checks here. We’ll see if that upset goes higher than a few disgruntled landowners, I suppose, but Baronet Kaira will get my report by the next courier.”
Outside, in her own reception area, Hodges secretary nodded to herself as she listened in through a microdot device in the Factor’s office. Margaret Sinclair was an excellent secretary, she knew. After all, her skillset had been implanted by Harris Security’s finest operatives. The attractive redhead tidied her desk as efficiently as usual for the end of a work period, but knew that on her way home she would shift a small potted plant in the covered and artificially-lit park next to the town’s shopping mall a foot to the left, to let her handler know that she’d stuck a data crystal containing her report under the usual park bench.