SERAVEL ROVODIA, the son of the tyrant Fire Potentate, is a model citizen of all sorts. Obedient, punctual, and most of all, silent. When his friend and long-time confidante gets arrested for alleged sacrilege against the administration, Seravel sta...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
2407 Rab 6, Jyda
The meeting was being pointlessly long. Sera resisted the urge to roll his eyes or rest his chin on his palm. If not for Adviser Yerhon shooting down each and every suggestion the other Advisers made in fixing the transport systems through the desert, they would've been finished two hours ago.
As it was, Sera glared balefully at the afternoon sun coasting through the sky. Just doing its own business, just as he should be. Then again, his business was here, involving sitting on cushioned chairs for hours on end, keeping his spine rigidly straight for the same amount of time, and making sure none of his discomfort or any oppositional forces swirling in his gut make it out to his expression.
Calm. It's bound to be finished soon.
Currently, Adviser Khiral, a wiry man who wore his vest like it was the only clothing he owned, was talking. "We could provide a state-sanctioned ferry system to get tourists and other types of travelers through the desert," he said, looking at his fellow advisers. Some nodded along while some flashed visible frowns. "We will get local drivers, give them their own carts and aksaba, and have them trek across the desert, either with a passenger from Calca or back, bearing travelers from other cities or territories."
"If we go with this plan, we will be expected to earn an approximate of a million versallis at the end of two months," Adviser Khiral continued. At the mention of money, a couple of other Advisers perked up, suddenly interested. From underneath the table, Sera clenched his fists. "Compound that with the rest of the months of the year," Adviser flashed the Potentate a knowing look. "We would be gaining back our initial investment and earning more."
The Fire Potentate, who leaned against one of his armrests, ran a hand under his well-trimmed beard. "How about the operational costs?" he asked. A seemingly innocent and concerned question but Sera knew what his father was really looking for.
Adviser Khiral seemed to know as well since his grin turned wicked. "I say we will invest in carts made up of polished tirch wood and on year-old dagrinis," he said. "We will give them to the drivers. If repairs are to be made, we will have the drivers shoulder them. We will take seventy percent of their earnings and they will get the rest."
Sera could already see so many blotches in that plan. First, tirch wood, no matter how cheap, would not hold well against the heat of the desert and the harsh bumps of the roads the carts would be traveling on. Tirch wood was one of the weakest lumber circulating the market. It wouldn't gain that reputation if it wasn't tried and tested. Besides, the white sheen from the wood would give it away.
One adviser did ask about the whiteness, to which Adviser Khiral said, "Of course, we will paint over it. Make it look like some other type of wood," he said. "Weristen paint doesn't cost as much as commissioning rimmon or the bigger trees from Carleon. We'll make it work."
Layer upon layer of deception. The carts would break easily having cost so little and the driver would have to get it fixed more than necessary, all the while shouldering it. The palace would take most of their earnings and they would spend what little they have left in making sure they'd be able to earn tomorrow's wage. What kind of life would that give to their subjects?
