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“And here we are!” Tarvedh said as grandly as if ushering her into a throne room. He pulled open the frosted glass doors and stepped aside, actually bowing her to precede him into the office. Akinda acknowledged the gesture with a nod in passing, wondering about his demeanor. He, of all people, should know better than to try to suck up to her.
The central office of Falconer Industries was not what she had expected. It was a large space, though not as much as one might expect from the beating heart of a factory this size, and looked more like the private lab of some absent-minded wizard than the headquarters of a manufacturing company. The square room was bordered on three sides by glass: one wall of tall windows looking out at the factory’s front drive, the one opposite overlooking the main assembly line a story below, and the third of frosted glass in which the door was set. Directly across from her, the far wall could only barely be identified as brick, it was so covered in runic diagrams, enchanting schematics, and miscellaneous notes, some of which glowed subtly as if somebody had been jotting down ideas in expensive enchanting ink instead of the customary black. The whole room was a profusion of mismatched, comfortably battered furniture and enchanting paraphernalia, both free-standing equipment scattered about with no apparent plan and an assortment of power crystals and vials of glittering dust interspersed with the drifts of papers covering every flat surface—including, in some places, the floor. Somebody had scrawled what looked like a haphazard summoning circle on the floorboards in the corner.
Three of the four people present looked up at her entry, the smallest abruptly cutting off strumming a guitar, and Akinda was left standing there under their eyes while Tarvedh bustled around her into the office, pulled the door shut behind him, and finally turned to make the introductions.
“Here she is, sir,” he said with the same peculiar eagerness. “Mr. Falconer, this is Auditor Akinda. Ms. Akinda, Geoffrey Falconer.”
“Imbani Akinda,” she clarified, stepping forward and extending her hand.
“Ah! Of course, hello! Good morning!” Falconer was a nondescript man in his thirties who wouldn’t have been taken, at a glance, for either a brilliant enchanter or one of the richest people in the Empire. He set down the rod and vial of arcane dust with which he’d been working—rather carelessly, causing the vial to spill sparkling powder across his diagram—and hurried across the office to clasp her hand.
“Geoffrey!” the woman near him said in exasperation, snatching up a rag and rushing to join them as both Falconer and Akinda jumped slightly at the electric shock that snapped between their hands.
“Oh! Gods, I’m sorry,” the industrialist said, wincing and withdrawing his grip. His hands—and now Akinda’s—bore smears of enchanting dust. “Really, I do apologize, I have no excuse. You’d think that by this time I’d have learned…”
“He does that to everyone,” the woman said, offering Akinda the rag with a smile. “Employees, Imperial Marshals, Duke Madouri, everyone. It’s a wonder nobody’s shot him yet. The cloth is clean and magically neutral, I assure you. I make sure to keep them on hand,” she added, giving Mr. Falconer a look.
“No harm done,” Akinda said neutrally, wiping the arcane residue off her hand.
“My better half, Marguerite,” Falconer said, slipping an arm around the woman’s shoulders. Despite her remonstrative expression, she let herself be tugged against his side. “You know our head numbers man, Mr. Tarvedh, of course. This is Meron Talidar, our head of research and development.”
The man to whom he gestured had not looked up from the desk over which he was hunched with his back to the door, and still didn’t, though at being introduced he raised one hand to wave over his shoulder with an irritable grunt.
“Who is an irascible wizard of the oldest school,” Marguerite added with a sigh, earning no further response from Talidar.
“So I see,” Akinda observed, studying the man sidelong. Even with his back to her, his personal style bordered on affectation. He had unruly hair loosely tied back with a leather cord and apparently untrimmed for at least twenty years, a beard so bushy it was visible to both sides of his neck, and wore robes. Even among wizards, only Salyrites in formal attire and old men who couldn’t be bothered to learn what century it was still went about in robes.
“And this, of course, is our daughter, Teal,” Geoffrey concluded, turning a beaming smile on the last person in the office.
“Hello,” Teal Falconer said with all the uncertain politeness of any ten-year-old girl formally meeting a stranger. She carefully set down the guitar she’d been playing on her chair and approached, more cautiously by far than either of her parents. “I love your dress! That’s so beautiful, I’ve never seen one quite like it.”
“Thank you, Miss Falconer,” Akinda replied with a small but unfeigned smile. “You’ll rarely see a buba outside Onkawa, but I’m fond of traditional dress, even in Tiraas. I’m sorry to interrupt your playing; you handle that instrument beautifully for someone your age.”
“Thanks!” the girl said, breaking into a broad smile. “I get a lot of practice. What brings you to visit?”
Tarvedh cleared his throat, bending toward Teal and raising the pitch of his voice in exactly the manner one should never adopt toward any child old enough to recognize condescension. “Ms. Akinda is just here to do some business, Miss Teal! She’s an auditor from the central Vernisite bank in Tiraas.”
Teal had sighed softly as soon as the accountant started speaking to her, clearly used to him, but at that her eyes widened in alarm. “An audit? Are we in trouble?” she asked, turning to her parents.
“No, no, honey, it’s not like a Treasury audit,” Marguerite soothed, laying a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s for expanding the main assembly line, remember? We’re taking out a loan from the central bank.”
“They do these things from time to time,” Geoffrey added, waving a hand vaguely. “We do a lot of business with the bank but once in a while they want to send somebody to look the business over, especially when we’re asking for a loan. The bank has to ensure its own interests, after all! It’s pretty routine, nothing to worry about.”
Teal’s eyebrows drew together in a worried expression. “Why do we need money from the bank? Don’t we have enough to just…build it ourselves?”
A round of glances passed between the adults.
“Oh, now, you don’t need to worry about that for a few years yet!” Tarvedh said with boisterous good cheer. “It’s all technical, Miss Teal. You just concentrate on your schooling and your music, there’ll be plenty of time to learn about business later.”
Both the elder Falconers shot him sidelong looks, less openly annoyed than their daughter’s, but not completely neutral. Mr. Tarvedh must really be an excellent accountant; the factory clearly did not hire its top staff based on social acumen.
“It’s actually very rare for a major business to finance its own activities, Miss Falconer,” Akinda said to Teal, in exactly the tone she would use to discuss the matter with a junior clerk at her own bank. As a child, she had hated adults talking down to her. “Especially venturous ones—major expansions and the like. It protects the business from loss, and creates opportunity for investors to profit. If the new venture does well, the loan is paid back with interest, and so the business and investors both benefit.”
“Oh,” Teal said thoughtfully. “What if it fails?”
“Oh, now, we don’t even think about that,” Tarvedh said, grinning nervously. “That is, there’s really no prospect of it! Falconer Industries is fully solvent and very profitable—”
“Thank you, Mr. Tarvedh,” Geoffrey Falconer said firmly.
“That’s the risk you take by investing,” Akinda explained. “There’s great profit in it, if you do it wisely, not to mention the benefit to the total economy by keeping money in motion, and new ventures always rising. Investors are in it for the chance of profit, and in the case of Vernisite institutions like mine, to help keep the economy moving. But whenever you take a risk, there’s a chance you will lose out, and that’s something investors have to accept. We minimize the risk by doing our due diligence and knowing exactly what we are getting into.”
Teal nodded. “And that’s your job.”
“Exactly,” Akinda said, smiling at her.
Geoffrey cleared his throat. “Well! We don’t want to waste your time, Ms. Akinda, so consider us at your disposal. Can we get you anything? Tea, biscuits?”
“Dear,” Marguerite murmured.
“Oh!” Mr. Falconer clapped a hand to his forehead, leaving a comical imprint of glittering arcane dust. “Drat, sorry. Does that count as an unsolicited gift?”
“The bank doesn’t consider basic hospitality an attempted bribe,” Akinda said with an amused smile. “And thank you, but not at this time. Perhaps I will take you up on it when reviewing your books later, but I would like to begin by looking over the facilities, if I may.”
“Of course! Like I said, at your disposal. I’d be glad to show you around myself, just let me find something to wipe off my hands…”
“Actually,” she said, quietly but firmly, “I prefer to roam unescorted by owners, as a rule. You understand.”
“Oh,” he said, blinking. “Of course, yes.” Clearly he didn’t, but wasn’t going to argue, which was good enough for her.
“But I would like to have someone on hand to answer questions,” Akinda continued, “if I could continue to borrow Mr. Tarvedh?”
“By all means, I should be delighted!” the accountant beamed, apparently meaning it sincerely. He didn’t strike her as being mentally equipped for deception. “I can offer a guided tour, Auditor—or, if you’d prefer, just tell me what you’d like to see and I’ll take you there!”
“The latter, I think,” she said, nodding politely. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Falconer. Miss Falconer. I look forward to speaking with you again soon.”
“Of course, take your time,” Geoffrey replied. “I’ll probably be right here, but my assistant can find us for you if not. Tarvedh, take good care of our guest! Make sure she has everything she might need.”
“Without doubt, sir!”
“Bye,” said Teal, waving.
Tarvedh again bustled ahead to open the office door for her, but moments later they were out, and pacing slowly along the walkway leading to the main office, lined by doors to smaller chambers on one side and the railed drop to the factory floor on the other. Akinda stepped to the edge of this, trailing her hand along the rail and setting a slow pace while organizing her thoughts.
She rather liked the Falconers and their operation; rich people who did not let their wealth go to their heads appealed to her Vernisite sensibilities. Geoffrey Falconer more resembled an absent-minded academic than an industrialist, and it was noteworthy that he had married a mousy woman who wore glasses and went about the factory in a workman’s shirt and overalls. Falconer Industries had prospered mightily under Geoffrey, but he had inherited a business already wealthy enough that he could have easily obtained a beautiful noblewoman for a bride. Many young men in his position did exactly that.
Of course, a facade was only that, often as not. The Falconers wouldn’t be the first people she’d ever met who could understand what image would impress a follower of Verniselle and put it on. Even the child could have managed, by that age; she had encountered some truly ruthless sprouts among the seeds of the nobility and the newer industrial wealthy. Money did things to people.
Tarvedh was watching her as if afraid to speak. He was an odd little man—apparently loyal to his masters, and yet the very picture of a good Vernisite. Even the triple-coin pin at his lapel was perfect, richly detailed by a jeweler but made of plain steel, displaying wealth by having given work to a skilled artisan rather than by using expensive raw materials. His clothes were likewise well-tailored but far from ostentatious.
She decided it was better to start by putting him at ease.
“Teal?” Akinda inquired softly, raising an eyebrow.
He cracked a grin at that. “Ah, yes, well. Mrs. Falconer is an artist.”
“Ah, I see. Well, she seems a charming child.”
“Mm, as children go,” he said noncommittally. “Remarkably well-behaved! She often accompanies her parents, and I can’t recall the girl ever having caused a problem. If there must be a child underfoot, I’d rather it be Miss Teal than basically any other. Well! This is as good a place to begin as any! You see the main factory floor—this is where the main expansion we are planning will begin.” He stepped in front of her to the rail and leaned across it, pointing. “You see there, the far wall! The doors currently lead to a large lot with a gravel track where we test-drive carriages, but that can be moved basically anywhere. According to the plans we’ve drawn up, we intend to add a new wing onto the building itself, leaving the wall intact but removing the doors to open both production lines to each other. That’s the goal, of course, a second line added rather than an expansion to the first one.”
“Mm,” she murmured, sweeping her gaze across the room. “Mass-produced carriages are not currently the larger part of FI’s profit.”
“Ah, that is, not at present. Hence our interest in expanding! It’s the Imperial economy, you see—these are boom years, lots of money going around, and falling into lots more hands! Right now, the really expensive custom jobs for nobility and the like provide a wider profit margin, but the demand for mass-produced models has grown steadily, and all our projections insist it will continue to do so.”
“Enchanted carriages still are not a toy for the middle class, though.”
“Yet,” he insisted with a grin. “But the middle class is expanding and growing more affluent, and has been since not long after Empress Theasia was crowned, the gods rest her soul. You know, of course, that his Majesty Sharidan has taken more of an interest in the economy than his mother did, and the good times continue to roll! Especially since the treaty with the drow; the prices of some of our raw materials have bottomed out. But more relevant to our discussion here, the bulk of our R&D at the moment is on improving the efficiency of our production line rather than devising new enchantments. The second line will open up great new prospects for us! With the assurance of one always running, we can use the second for more experimental measures and greatly increase our rate of advancement. By investing in our own processes we will bring down production costs and therefore the costs of our products, making them more widely available to a broader customer base. Falconer Industries has its eye on the future!”
“I’d like to have a look at your R&D division, if possible.”
“…ah. That, as you might imagine, is more sensitive…”
“If it is too great an imposition…?”
“Oh, not at all, not at all!” he assured her hastily. “It’s just that the company will have to have some guarantees of security if you are to view any proprietary enchantments in development. Given your status with the cult, a written pledge of confidentiality will suffice.”
“I’m willing to do that,” she agreed in a noncommittal tone, resting both hands on the rail and gazing down at the assembly line. For the most part, the employees applying enchantments to carriage pieces and assembling them together were bent over their tasks, but once in a while she caught one sneaking a peek up at the walkway. The supervisor pacing up and down the line spent almost as much time looking up as at what she was supervising. Clearly, the rumor mill had forewarned them of her presence, and what it signified. “I have noted that FI is considered the most desirable employer in the province.”
“Not just the province!” Tarvedh said proudly. “I think you will find that Falconer Industries is a leader in the carriage business. We pay the best wages to be found south of the Five Kingdoms! And not merely to our enchanters—Mr. Falconer is adamant about taking proper care even of our unskilled laborers.”
“The employees are his family,” she said, and Tarvedh grinned. It was a tired old joke, but one no Vernisite could pass up, if only because nobody outside their cult ever got it. “It’s a positive sign, of course, very promising. But, obviously, the lack of a trade union’s presence anywhere in the company is a black mark.”
“You know very well there’s nothing we can do about that,” Tarvedh all but snapped, then stopped and drew a deep breath, visibly composing himself. Very loyal; that, too was a good sign. An employer who could secure that kind of devotion from a Vernisite in good standing with the cult would be looked on favorably by the bank. Akinda would note this in her report, but wasn’t about to make a point of it here. “His Grace the Duke,” Tarvedh continued in a calmer tone, “is…how to put this…extremely concerned with potential challenges to his authority. And he is prone to seeing such challenges in places where, well, others wouldn’t even think to look. It’s been an unfortunate characteristic of House Madouri since his Grace’s late father Ravaan had all that trouble with the Thieves’ Guild. Tiraan Province is a veritable wasteland when it comes to trade guilds and unions of any kind. It is far from FI’s fault, Ms. Akinda. And Mr. Falconer does his very best to insure the well-being of his employees in the absence of a proper union.”
“That brings us to the real problem, does it not?” Akinda said quietly, still watching the factory workers going about their tasks. Even to her untrained eyes, the operation was a smooth one. The assembly line flowed steadily, pieces of carriages being conveyed constantly forward on a mix of conveyor belts, enchanted carts, and the arms of burly men and women. Enchanters, upholsterers and woodworkers applied their crafts, and less-skilled laborers fitted pieces together; notably, the factory uniform was the same for all and the workstations were equally well-appointed, the difference in skills revealed only in their application. That was a positive sign, but one which bore further investigation. The bank’s research had found that segregating employees by skillset and level of compensation could damage company morale, but then, so could failing to appropriately acknowledge and reward those who had invested the time and effort to learn valuable crafts. “The bank is, of course, aware of the difficulties his Grace the Duke causes throughout the province. He appears particularly threatened by the success of Falconer Industries. I don’t say this to imply any fault on the part of the company, but it’s a fact that cannot help but influence the bank’s decision.”
“I would never speak ill of the Duke,” Tarvedh said with a bitter twist of his mouth as if not speaking ill of the Duke was a painful task. Akinda could well believe Geoffrey Falconer had given Duke Madouri an arcane shocker handshake, and perhaps not quite by accident. “But yes, his…micro-management of the province is…just in some cases, mind you…at least potentially more trouble than it is actually worth to the provincial government. You know, in terms of revenue generated.”
“Intrusive management is one thing,” she said. “House Madouri’s taxes upon Falconer Industries have grown downright punitive.”
Tarvedh sucked in air through his teeth, his chest swelling. “We make do, Auditor, I assure you. While the High Seat in Madouris may be less than reasonable, at times, the Silver Throne remains very interested in supporting its most valuable economic producers—and the Treasury has been…ah, discreetly sympathetic to our issues with his Grace. I can provide you a full list of the Imperial incentives FI enjoys. Nor do we over-rely on the Throne. Some of the Duke’s more unreasonable taxes and regulations can be evaded by transferring certain, ah, peripheral aspects of the business out of his domain. As the Rails and telescroll network are rapidly filling in their gaps, it is less and less of an imposition. We try not to overuse this method, however, lest his Grace…” His grimace was very nearly a snarl. “…take offense.”
Akinda nodded, keeping her expression neutral. “I would like to have a closer look at the assembly line, if I may.”
“But of course!” And just like that, Tarvedh was all smiles and sunshine again. “Not too close, you understand, our employees have their tasks down to an almost musical rhythm and we mustn’t get underfoot. But I’ll call Ms. Alvaraad over to show you around, and it should be fine. That’s the supervisor, you see—there she is, currently on the catwalk over there. Oh, but we’ll need to pick up goggles and rubber gloves first. I’m afraid the safety rules are inviolable, and apply also to factory guests. Even important personages such as yourself!”
“Good,” she said, nodding in approval. “First, though, could you show me where the…facilities are?”
“Ah! Yes, of course, that’s just perfect,” he burbled, stepping away from the railing and beckoning her own down the walkway. “We’ll make a stop by the employee services area, I think you’ll like what you see there. The cafeteria just underwent renovations last year—we’ve greatly improved upon the institutional benches and tables it used to have! There is also a cafe area with comfortable seating so it needn’t be all business on lunch breaks. And the whole place has been decorated! Mrs. Falconer insisted on having potted greenery, and selected the wall art herself—some of it her own work! You know, Falconer Industries was the first factory in Tiraan Province to provide a hot meal a day to its employees. Just this way down the stairs. Ms. Akinda. Yes, in fact, the washrooms were also improved recently, I think you’ll be impressed! The sinks run cold and hot water—”
“Thank you, Mr. Tarvedh, but this is one inspection I would prefer to make un-escorted.”
“Oh, um. Right. Of course.”
The women’s washroom did, indeed, speak well of the company, being clean and brightly lit, with the amenities Tarvedh had boasted of. Not a single fixture was out of order. Akinda didn’t dawdle just to enjoy the scenery, though; one bank of sinks and public toilets wasn’t tremendously different from another, unless you were a connoisseur of plumbing. Which she was not.
While she took her time washing her hands, twisting the faucets this way and that to get the temperature just right, the washroom door opened. Akinda’s eyes snapped up, watching in the mirror, but then she relaxed. It was nothing but a young girl in a factory uniform. Surely not much more than fourteen, the youngest a person could legally do factory work in the Empire. Of course, people did lie to get work, which this one might have. Her Sheng features made it hard to guess her age; all the peoples of the northern archipelagos tended to be slight of build and aged almost as gracefully as elves.
Well, perhaps it was too early in her visit for her to be contacted. It wouldn’t be too hard to ditch Tarvedh at intervals; he wasn’t the brightest star in the firmament, however good an accountant he might be. If nothing else, she could visit the washroom at least every couple of hours, especially if she took up the offer of tea.
But then the girl, pacing forward with her eyes on Akinda, deftly flicked a doubloon out of the sleeve of her coveralls into her hand. In the next moment she was rolling it back and forth across the backs of her fingers.
Akinda carefully twisted the faucets off and dried her hands on the towel, watching the girl’s reflection in the mirror.
The young Sheng stepped up to the next sink, made the coin disappear, and began washing her own hands, eyes meeting Akinda’s in the mirror without turning her head. “Good day, Mizz Akinda. How are you finding?”
Akinda blinked. That accent was distinctly Sifanese, not Sheng, and thick enough that she was clearly a new arrival to the continent. Most Imperials couldn’t tell the difference, but she had spent four years in Shengdu and was passably fluent in the language; one didn’t prosper in any of the island countries by mixing up their peoples. Most of them did not get along.
“And you are?” she asked politely.
The girl narrowed her eyes, shutting off the water. “It is not I who am she who is questioned.”
People underestimated bankers. In their own way, they had to be as perceptive and as predatory as thieves. Akinda did not speak more than a few words of Sifanese, just enough to place the accent, but she knew its grammar wasn’t nearly that garbled relative to Tanglish. This girl was far more nervous than she.
Well, she was a kid, after all. She had to hand it to the Thieves’ Guild, they knew what they were doing. Any company as big as Falconer Industries would be watching for spies, but they probably wouldn’t think to watch a teenager who barely spoke the language. Of course, there were a number of downsides to having a child do your dirty work.
“Where I’m from, it is polite to introduce yourself,” she said with a kind smile, turning to face the girl directly. “You know my name, after all.”
“Watash—” She broke off, a faint blush rising in her cheeks. “I am Gimmicku, that is all you need.”
“Gimmick,” Akinda said politely, omitting the extra syllable. Eserite bastards; what cruel idiot had given this girl a tag she could barely pronounce? Some of the poor kid’s story was obvious. Akinda was sure those were Sheng features; the teenager had at least one parent from the Kingdom. That could well explain why she’d been eager to get out of Sifan even at such a young age. Even more than most islanders, the Sifanese notoriously did not welcome perceived outsiders among them. Obviously, nothing good would come of vocalizing any of that, so she kept to business. “What do you have for me?”
“I do not have for you,” Gimmick said coldly. “You are to find answers for the Guild, Imbani Akinda.”
“And I will,” Akinda said, projecting calm. “But it will be a slower process if I must do it entirely on my own. I presume the Guild planted you here for a reason beyond making contact with me. If you can point me in the right direction, my work will be done faster and better.”
Gimmick hesitated, her eyes narrowing and cutting to the side. Akinda couldn’t help feeling for her; this was probably her first important job, and it was a much trickier matter than picking pockets or whatever the Guild usually had its younglings do. Not so much that she was shy about manipulating the girl, of course.
“Your boss wants information on the Falconers’ malfeasance,” she said gently. “I’m being escorted around by one of their favorite henchmen, who’s going to try to curate everything I see and hear. All I need is to find a less sympathetic voice. Someone who’s not happy with their job, and who might know certain secrets. I know you’ve been watching and listening here, Gimmick. If you can give me a name, and an idea when and where to find its owner, I’ll do the rest.”
Gimmick finally dried off her hands, again facing the mirror. She glanced at Akinda’s reflection in it, then lowered her eyes. “Thomas Schroeder.” She took her time with the name, laboriously pronouncing every letter, and got them recognizably right. After that, though, her diction accelerated and got less precise. “Staruwaiso man, yellow hair, he is working after the noon shift. Line sup… Soupero— Aiya!”
Definitely half Sheng; she hadn’t picked up that epithet in Sifan. “Supervisor?”
A glare full of adolescent affront met her eyes in the mirror. Gimmick nodded curtly, then turned and strode from the room.
Only after she was gone and the door shut behind her did Akinda allow herself to sigh heavily, grip the edges of the sink, and lean on it for a moment.
A lead. Now all she had to do was navigate her way between one of the most powerful industrialists in the Empire, the House of Madouri, her duties to her own bank, and the bloody Thieves’ Guild, pitting all of them against each other without allowing herself to become a target.
Akinda straightened up, composed her expression, turned, and glided back out to the factory floor to continue her tour.
46 thoughts on “Bonus #41: The Audit, part 1”
“There is one rule for the industrialist and that is: Make the best quality of goods possible at the lowest cost possible, paying the highest wages possible.” – Henry Ford
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Wonderful advice. If only Ford had followed it himself. Or understood his market. Or not been a giant racist.
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It’s also ultimately unsustainable. Sooner or later you’ll run into someone willing to produce a crappy product and treat their employees like shit if it means greater profits, and they’ll leverage those profits to drive you out of business. A company which fails to exploit all possible methods of increasing profits because they might be unethical or immoral is effectively fighting with one hand behind its back in a dog-eat-dog world.
I didn’t get to mention it back when she showed up in the last arc, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Verniselle and her cult would get eaten alive by either the 20th or 21st-century capitalist systems.
On a semi-related note, I have to wonder what she would have thought about Marxist philosophy and the labor theory of value if she ever learned of them; I kinda doubt the Infinite Order would have brought anything like that with them.
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It’s unsustainable here, but in that world you also have the Thieves’ Guild paying a visit to anyone to anyone who tries to pull off that kind of nasty.
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It is not sustainable because we have created a system were the only important thing is money and there are no regulations. In a system with counterbalances it might actually work. Here, if an Industrialist abuses his people, depending of the abuse, he might get a visit from the Thieves, the Avenist, the Omninst, or the Throne and then a lot of peripheral attention from the other cults. Thi institutions don’t function perfectly, but there are a lot of checks and counter checks tied to specific ideals that might give pause to your usual greedy capitalist.
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Plaguehunter: Lol yeah when your anti-trust law is a literal GOD…
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There ought to be a book of great advice from famous people who didn’t follow or understand their own great advice.
Trump would have his own chapter; his screeds against “fake news” are often spot-on, as long as you understand it’s not the New York Times peddling that shit, but Fox News and cronies who are the true enemies of the people.
If someone can undercut you, you’re not the best of the cheapest
It’s certainly not unsustainable, but only if it’s read with the understanding that “the highest wages possible” is impacted by what other people do. In a world with Eserion and Verniselle, that is going to be higher than in one where the “highest wages possible” are heavily impacted by the potentially-anticompetitive practices of other people and organisations.
There is one rule for the industrialist and that is: optimize profits. Ford happened to think, for a time in his life, that the above was how to do that. And for selected cases, that is how to do that.
Ultimately, however, his wisdom did not stand the test of time, or market forces.
That is untrue. Optimizing profits represents the interest of only a small (and in our contemporary political economy highly but not absolutely influential) group of the industrialist’s stakeholders.
An industrialist must maintain sufficient profit that they are not shut down by the capitalists backing them, or by the capitalists backing them going out of business. An industrialist must maintain an organization that can survive the vicissitudes of time and change. An industrialist must pay their labor force enough that their labor does not shut down their operation. An industrialist must create a sufficiently desirable and reliable product that their customers do not desert them. And an industrialist must navigate the political landscape deftly enough that princes and parliaments do not send armed men to their place of business and shut them down.
The fact that no single individual can truly master this entire breath of human competence is an important reason why successful industrial concerns are run by bureaucracies rather than patriarchs; the fact that patriarchs more frequently produce failsons than bureaucracies produce dysfunction is another.
It’s said that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, but what isn’t said as often is that this is at least as much because of the problems it attracts as the temptations it poses to misuse it. I wonder just how badly fending off all the attempts to attack, corrupt, exploit and take from the Falconer golden goose has stained the Falconer family. Maybe we’re about to find out a little bit?
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From what we saw of them ~8 years in the future, they changed little and kept true to themselves.
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Young Teal and young Gimmick? I already like it. Now I’m left wondering though, where exactly this ‘audit’ will go …
Can you remind the class who Gimmick is? I don’t remember, but it sounds like I should!
It hink we got to meet her during our brief stay in Onkawa with Thumper and Kheshiri (starting with Chapters 5-7 according to the cast list).
She’s working for Webs, she’s the security enchantment specialist who also bothered Principia during the dragon arc.
Loving how a society where capitalism is greatly uplifting for the workers is due to the fact there are literal religions based on making sure there are fair labor practices and unions.
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Even with multiple religions dedicated to varying forms of justice, it still isn’t a system that works properly. Plenty of Imperial Citizens live in poverty, starving to death on the streets.
Contrast that to the Dwarves, who are largely pagans that explicitly don’t have a Thieve’s Guild presence in their society, and also explicitly don’t have the problem of people starving to death in the streets or dying of curable illnesses.
Then consider Verniselle’s opinion on socialism, and Eserion’s opinion on wealth redistribution, and you might realize that this story isn’t called “The Gods Are Bastards” because they’re unambiguously good for society.
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Something tells me that the dwarves aren’t as perfect as you seem to believe, considering they used their own citizens in another nation as pawns for political schemes.
@danh3107 That describes basically every nation we’ve seen so far doesn’t it? Have we seen a nation yet which hasn’t used citizens for political purposes?
@danh3107 Yes, and the Tiraan Empire is explicitly a military dictatorship that has released a swarm of demons onto its own densely-populated capital just because Emperor Sharidan had a lover’s spat with Elilial.
@Horizon Where did I say anything about the Tiraan empire or claim they were better? I’m just saying the chapter with the dwarven conspiracy was really creepy because they got ordinary citizens in another damn nation to commit crimes for them. It was some Tom Clancy soviet spy stuff.
In the sense and to the extent that all foreign intelligence services are super creepy. But all the actual wetwork we saw in that chapter was done by real professionals, not press-ganged expatriates. The expatriates were providing legwork: Stashing contraband, reconnaissance, arranging safehouses, etc.
There’s nothing particularly unusual about tapping local expatriates or native sympathizers for that kind of work. After all, professional wetworkers are expensive assets that you don’t want to have expelled from the country because they were caught loitering around a military facility or stashing prohibited goods in their apartment. And if your host state’s secret police are any good at all they will have a pretty good idea about which of your official embassy staff are affiliated with your dirty tricks department, and be on the lookout for minor offenses that can excuse returning them to sender.
So all that really tells you is that the Dwarven Kingdoms are states with independent foreign policy and functioning foreign intelligence services. Nothing about that indicates that they are necessarily particularly repressive internally or belligerent externally.
Anyone have insight on the “employees as family” joke? Whooshed over my head, I’m afraid.
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Well, we’re not Vernisites, of course we wouldn’t get it! (I didn’t get it either)
A lot of employers claim that the business is like a family, usually as a prelude to making unreasonable and abusive demands of their employees, such as “this is a family, that means unpaid overtime” or “this is a family, that means coming in to cover an unscheduled shift without being allowed to say no” or “this is a family, that means taking a pay cut so I can turn a nicer profit.”
“This is a family, that means I can bleed you dry and throw you out on your ear when you stop being useful to me.”
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Great chapter, I’m looking forward to seeing where this goes!
A bank auditor visiting Falconer industries was something I wasn’t expecting.
… That’s quite an accent. I had been associated Sifan with Japan, and Japanese explains most of the pronunciation issues, but there was the aiya in there too, and I still have no idea how the Mizz relates to all this…
Gimmick is half Cheng (Chinese), half Sifanese (Japanese).
That would account for it, but it’s specifically said that the accent is Sifanese and not Sheng.
Gimmick was raised in Sifan by a Sheng parent; Sifanese is her native language, but she picked up some Sheng words like the “aiya,” which she’s used before onscreen.
The “mizz” was just an overemphasis because in this appearance, she’s unfamiliar with that honorific, has been told it’s important (ironically not that important here, it’s Avenists who make an issue of it), and isn’t confident with the language.
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Huh. She seems awfully confident that the Falconers are up to something. Just cynicism, or does she know something we don’t? This ought to be interesting.
I think discovering that the Madouri family is trying to tank a critical part of the economy for no justifiable cause whatsoever is about to precipitate the chain of events that leads to a very unfortunate death at the hands of Ravana. Dunno how I think that.
Is there a write-up somewhere (and if there isn’t one now, will there be one in the future) of what each bonus chapter’s core premise is? E.G. this one could’ve come from a request for “a story about Teal before Vadrieny” or “a story about young Gimmick” or “more history on Falconer Industries”. I’m really curious what the Kickstarter backers specifically requested that resulted in the final form of the bonus stories we’re enjoying.
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The request for this one was a look into the reality of magical industrialization in the Bastardverse, which for being such a central feature of the setting is something that hasn’t been explored in much detail. I enjoy the opportunity to delve into that. It is a rather dry topic, though, so making a story of it requires branching into some other areas as well.
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Chapter will be on Wednesday, I’ll have to finish it up in the morning. I have about half done and I’m losing the fight with fatigue. Today was infuriatingly unproductive. Standard depressive episode, nothing to worry about, they come and go. It’s still the most frustrating thing, to have such a clear picture of what to write in my head and spend the whole day struggling to get it actually written down. A whole day for 2,000 words is an insult. Hopefully some REM will lubricate the gears a bit.
I must have the most patient readers in existence. Sorry, I know following this serial must be pretty frustrating lately.
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Hey, how are your teeth? Did you ever find a dentist within decent distance?
You write three chapters a week. That’s not cause for complaint.
You put out high-quality content more frequently than other webnovels I follow, even when you’re having health troubles. It’s not frustrating, it’s impressive.
2,000 words in a day may be low for you, but you’re still getting the writing done. That’s the important thing, at least according to some author interviews I’ve heard over the years from people like Jim Butcher or Laurell K Hamilton.
I hope you can take pride and comfort in the fact that you’re making continued progress no matter what.
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You do know 2,000 words a day more or less matches Brandon Sanderson’s normal first draft writing pace, right? And he’s one of the most prolific fantasy writers there is right now.
Actually I did not know that. Makes me feel a bit better; Sanderson is basically my hero.
I spent some time away from reading because I felt bonus chapters wouldn’t completely fill my yearning for chapters with the main characters. I guess I was pretty wrong. Your writing is wonderful and these chapters have been great in all senses. I loved the themes and the execution and the feeling each one gave.
Keep up the good work! Looking forward to book 15 🙂
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