The False Prophet B:4 C:44

I stood at the head of a long table in the large hall at Plimgus. A feast had just been cleared away, and now I looked down each side of the table, counting the Nobles, their stewards, and everyone else I would be leaving in charge of North Cove while I was gone. Each of their plates had been replaced by a folder containing sheets of paper. Many were looking through it with confusion, attempting to reason out what I was trying to convey.

This was my last meeting before I left for Falmore. A ship waited for me in the harbor at Oceanside. I had to rent a few additional merchant ships from Vaspar in order to bring my whole entourage. An expense I was not happy about. It ended up costing thirty-three gold crowns; I could have sold two books for that price, and it would have paid half the cost of maintaining the great Northern road for a year or the salary of fifteen trained soldiers.

 But now was not the time to complain; now was the time to make these people truly understand accountability. 

“Nobles, Knights, Gentlemen, and Headman. What we are about to discuss is the next advancement in the development of North Cove. What I am about to propose will make each of you more accountable. I call these Key Performance Indicators. We will have them for each area you are over. You will provide a monthly report on these using the ledgers I have provided. The folder in front of you contains a detailed explanation of each KPI and how it is to be measured. You will notice that not every KPI applies to every one of you. However, every KPI has been assigned to someone. The last page of your folder lists who is responsible for each one and to whom they will report. 

“Even though I hope that all of you have seen the benefits of a monitoring system since I have taken over, I will reiterate the benefit of accountability."

Yarbeth grumbled something under his breath, but I ignored it.

“Accountability leads to prosperity. Improper monitoring of anything leads to decay. A house will crumble, an army will become undisciplined, and a shop will lose money. These are universal principles. What we need in North Cove is Economic growth through tax collection, business expansion, and population control. For the health of our military, we need training, drill, and promotion. For our people, we need to monitor births and deaths, illnesses, and immigration; these are just a few things we will be monitoring. Are there any questions?

Malcomp spoke up. “What of corruption? Our lessers are known to hide their actions in order to gain more or cover their faults?”

“Excellent question, and although due to the nature of some people there will always be corruption. We must minimize it as much as possible. There will be audits all the way up the chain of command, and surprise inspections will be held throughout the year. The punishment for fraud is caning, a fine, and time on the road crew. If it is a business, they could lose their license.”

I hated the idea of caning, but there was a law and expectation in the kingdom. I changed it from lashing to caning because I thought it might be less likely to kill a person, but I had no idea. This world was cruel, and unless I wanted to start my own country, I had to abide by the laws of this one.

I continued. “Remember, when an individual or group decides to try and defraud the system, they are harming everyone. Taxes are used for infrastructure and to pay the guards to keep them safe. It is used for better health care for our people. Prosperity for everyone should be our goal. It is why currently I am subsidizing the county's coffers with my individual funds. I am trying to maintain a level of prosperity that will eventually be handled by every member of society.” 

After pumping them up about my new plan, we dug into the details. It was a long meeting, and candles were set out in order for us to finish it. I wished I had a few more days to spend with everyone on this, but I had a ship to catch the next morning. The three stewards we were leaving behind had been trained thoroughly and were involved in the development, so it would have to do.

*****

The oars were out as Freedom pushed against the west wind. I stood on the bow, feeling the chill and almost giddy with the excitement of watching the shore slowly pass us by. I had gotten over my seasickness through force of will during my many trips out on the Wave Chaser, so now I could enjoy the open sea to its fullest. 

We had passed the town where Zed, our saltmaker, used to live with his family before he moved to Oceanside, and now I could see Vaspar in the distance. I couldn’t wait to see both Hillside and Oceanside grow to the size of Vaspar. We would just make them cleaner.

As the docks drew closer, the sight of the bustling harbor made the air seem electric. We raised a flag indicating that Nobility was aboard the ship, and we quickly found a spot on the beach. Because the Freedom was not technically a merchant vessel but rather a lightweight warship, it had to be beached, which meant we couldn’t use the wharves in the harbor. The same reason was why, in North Cove, we had to build a slipway for Freedom. The caldera's edge prevented us from pulling the ship completely out of the water. My soon-to-be-built schooner would not have that problem.

I called for two days of shore leave while I visited with Fredrick before continuing on to Carok. 

And so it was that within an hour of landing I found myself in the dining hall of Fredrick Vaspar and his newly betrothed. Apparently, Casper had arranged the betrothal while Fredrick was away at war.  Odd, but it was the way these things worked sometimes. Among the nobility, marriage was often little more than a business arrangement, and if you trusted your steward to do the research and make the investment for you, you went with it.

Frederick could of course have refused, but he didn’t really care who he married. The deal was a good one. She was the first daughter of the Count of Bearshar. A county straight south of Vaspar, with access to the Mountains of Yeblem. Their borders were butted up against each other, and some of the land was disputed due to no natural barriers. The bride's dowry was the disputed land and access to their iron, without the riverway taxes usually attached to shipments going down the river through Bearshar's lands.

The girl was fifteen years old and possessed an unusually extroverted personality for a noblewoman of this era. Most women were far more guarded in what they said, but apparently her parents had never seen fit to discourage her natural disposition. And so it was that she talked the entire dinner. 

Not that she wasn’t a good conversationalist. She asked questions and paid attention to the answers. She was respectful and didn’t interrupt, but she never let the conversation lag. She had more to talk about with me than most. 

“Lord Bicman, I am in the midst of reading the book Sleeping Beauty, and I have to say it is one of the most intriguing books in your collection. How did you create such a fascinating tale?” 

“Simply a creative mind, Lady Bearshar. I have always loved to explore the mysterious and fantastical.” I said with a genuine smile.

My version of the story was different from the Sleeping Beauty of the Disney films. And it was a far cry from the original story where she was raped, and her children were almost fed to the king.

At first I had thought of replacing the spinning wheel with something else because it was one of my inventions that very few knew about, but in the end I decided to keep it.

In my version, a count, I didn’t want to insult the king, had a problem. His land was rich in a popular plant that was used to produce the finest of cloth. It was so popular that his people could not spin it fast enough. So he sent out a proclamation that he would marry his daughter, the most beautiful and kindest maiden in the world, to anyone who could create a device that could help the people of his land spin yarn faster.

A man created a magical device he calls a spinning wheel and presents it to the count. I, of course, did not describe the machine. When the Count receives it, instead of giving the man his daughter's hand in marriage, he locks him in his dungeon and claims he created it himself.

As the inventor lay dying in the cold, dark cellar, he prays to the Endless One, asking for justice. The Endless One granted his desire, and at the exact moment that the inventor died, a curse came upon the spinning wheel so that whoever touched it would fall into a deep Endless sleep. Curious about the marvelous invention her father claimed as his own, the count's daughter reached out to touch the spinning wheel and was instantly thought to have died. A priest was given enlightenment by the Endless One and explained to the count what had happened. 

The count, in his grief, entombed his daughter in a mausoleum along with the magical spinning wheel and the mausoleum became surrounded by enchanted thorns that parted only for one whose heart sought the princess rather than the power of the spinning wheel.

Many nobles tried to get through the thorns, but each was sucked dry as the thorns would close around them before they could hack all the way through. Many generations came and went. Finally, the king's third son, pure in heart, heard the sad tale and swore to rescue the princess. 

And then there was true love's first kiss, and a happily ever after. Yada-Yada-Yada.

Those of my people who knew the secret of my spinning wheel thought the story was absolutely hilarious.

“How are you enjoying Vaspar?” I asked.

“It is not often that I have the opportunity to visit the ocean, and when I have, it was at the estuary of the river. I love the way the fresh water mixes with the sea. The west side of the river is owned by Baron Almer of the Serin County. There is a beautiful town there, and the people are pleasant. Vaspar is quite a bit bigger, and its… aroma is more striking. The bustle of the streets is quite overwhelming. 

“My lord, in his infinite wisdom, has promised me that he would build a manor on the east side of the river and that I should be allowed to stay there while not at court. It will be an exquisite place to raise our children.”

I wasn't sure whether the arrangement stemmed from her love of quiet seaside living or whether the two of them were already tired of each other. 

“And you do not mind living so far from your husband?” I probed.

This got me a look of genuine surprise. “It is only a short distance away. It is ten…” She paused. “What did you say that measurement was, my lord? It is quite frustrating that your county insists on using a completely different form of measurement.”

That put a smile on Frederick's face. "It is called a kilometer, my dear, and you can thank Lord Bicman for introducing it to my father, who, in his infinite wisdom, decided to force everyone to use the metric system.”

This caused his betrothed’s cheeks to turn a shade of pink, and she immediately lowered her eyes. “Forgive me Lord Bicman.”

I just laughed. “There is no need. I also grew up using the kingdom's various measurement systems. It has been difficult for me to transition as well.”

Truth be told, I only introduced the metric system because my choices were either to memorize Falmoren's dozen different measurement systems or create one standardized system of my own. I wasn't about to use what I grew up with. Imperial was as convoluted as Falmoren's. 

“If it is difficult for you, then why create it?”

"Because, in the end, it benefits everyone. When every merchant, mason, carpenter, physician, and scholar measures things the same way, mistakes become fewer. Trade becomes simpler. Knowledge can be shared more easily. Even corruption becomes harder because there is less room to hide behind confusing measurements. Sometimes what starts off hard can make everyone's life easier in the end." 

Our conversation continued to meander, and I could tell Lady Bearshar was subtly probing me for my secrets. I wasn't sure whether it was simply her naturally inquisitive personality or whether she had been taught to gather information for her family. Either way, I navigated the conversation like a sapper crossing a minefield. It was probably good practice for the capital. 

*****

“So, what do you think?” Frederick said as he leaned back on two legs of his chair in the study. The picture I painted of his father hung on the wall behind him.

"About your wife-to-be? She is a great conversationalist, but I believe she is a spy trying to ferret out my secrets."  I said with a slight frown.

This caused Fredrick to laugh. “She is just doing her job.”

“Her job?”

“Information gathering. She reports everything she hears back to me. We'll discuss tonight's dinner later so I can see if she noticed anything I missed.”

His bluntness didn’t surprise me. The fact that he was using his wife to take advantage of any information others shared was something I hadn’t expected. Well, actually, I fully expected him to take advantage of others. What caught me off guard was that, this time, I was the one being taken advantage of. We were friends, and yet apparently friendship among the nobility still came with intelligence gathering attached. 

At least he was honest about it. I really did have to get a better understanding of marriage relationships among the nobility.“You are not worried that this information will make it back to her family?”

"Of course it will. That's why all of her letters are screened. If she wants to tell them something sensitive, she'll have to wait until the wedding." 

I shook my head. This was all so bizarre to me. I couldn't decide if this made life more interesting or more anxiety-inducing. I wondered if Erica would be any good at this. Did I really want a proficient spy as a wife? ...Yeah, I was going to go with anxiety-inducing. 

“So what have you brought for me?” His face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“I see you are eager to view what I brought you for your wedding even before it happens.”

“You're the one who is skipping out on it. The least you can do is give me my presents,” he said with mock petulance.

We both laughed.

I opened a trunk that we had brought in. The first thing I pulled out was several stacks of paper.  I had tried to bleach some sheets before I left, but the chlorine water completely destroyed them. So we would have to try a few more experiments.

“This is our premium paper. The stuff I only use to make books. It bears the official seal of House Vaspar as its watermark. Use it sparingly. It is something I can only give out once. I don’t need a bunch of parchment makers outside my manor with torches and pitchforks.”

I realized what I had just said at the same time that he blurted out, “What’s a pitchfork?”

Crap. Another thing to put on my to-do list.

I recovered quickly. "It's... an idea I came up with. It should be ready before the next harvest. I will give you a good price on them.” I bent down into the trunk. “Here is something I know you will enjoy. I pulled out a set of the Royal playing cards. The latest edition of the three-color set.” I handed it to him, and he accepted it with reverence.

Fredrick turned the deck over in his hands, admiring the new colors.

"These are amazing.” He said while tracing his finger along the image. “I assume they are selling that well?"

"The common ones are selling better than I ever imagined," I admitted. "We're producing them as fast as we can. Most people are still buying the single-color decks, but the merchant-class sets are finally starting to spread. We've already sold them in towns across nearly half of Kimton. What you have is only being given out as gifts right now.”

Fredrick whistled softly. "I knew they would become popular. I didn't expect them to become a large part of your income. How much did you say?"

“I didn’t," I smiled.

“Ok, and last but not least.” I pulled out another box. Sliding back the lid, I revealed the largest obsidian mirror we had made to date. It was an oval about thirty centimeters tall. It was set into bronze with a small amount of silver inlay.

He looked down at it from the table for a long moment and then gently lifted it. He stared at his reflection for a long moment before slowly turning the mirror from side to side, admiring the bronze setting and silver inlay. 

“Don’t break it. The future Lady Vaspar will kill you if you do.”

“Thank you for the gifts.” His look of awe turned into a smirk. “Well, at least you didn’t bring me more of that toilet paper.”

I resisted the urge to grimace. My attempts to make toilet paper had been an utter failure. We had managed to make paper that didn't leave splinters in unfortunate places, but it was expensive, not nearly soft enough, and, perhaps most importantly, it refused to dissolve in water. Another project added to my ever-growing list of failures.

We had eventually abandoned the idea and instead expanded cloth production. Every household now had reusable washing cloths, and each village collected the used ones to be cleaned with subsidized lye soap before being returned. The washhouses discharged their wastewater downstream through sand and charcoal filtration beds.

Ironically, corruption in the charcoal distribution was what made the system affordable. I had subsidized activated charcoal for every village to improve sanitation, only to discover months later that one of the charcoal burners had been selling ordinary charcoal instead and splitting the subsidy with several village heads. When we uncovered the fraud months later, we were surprised to find that the illness rates in those villages were no worse than in the villages receiving genuine activated charcoal. 

It turned into an unexpected blessing. We discovered that ordinary charcoal worked perfectly well for most filtration, reserving activated charcoal for drinking water and a few specialized tasks. We also tightened our accounting procedures. No matter the planet, subsidies always seemed to attract creative accountants.

Hehehe