The Pretty and Competent Administrator (4)
Apenzel was a region up in the frozen north, battered year-round by biting winds and blizzards. A barren pioneer town clinging to trolls, snow, and frozen earth—that was all there was to it. Criminals preferred life sentences over forced relocation there. At least imprisonment offered a chance at parole, but Apenzel froze out any shred of hope.
What the hell had gotten Hildeva assigned to a place like that?
"Why do you think? 'Cause I'm competent," Hildeva said with a wry smile.
"They want me to go build up that pioneer town."
"They worked you half to death here and now they're sending you to suffer more?"
"The old fogeys in the capital's logic goes like this: 'You dragged a dying city back from the brink here, so you're perfect for a northern pioneer town. The administrator slot just opened up—the last guy died—so pack your bags and head up ASAP.'"
Rosens and a pioneer town were worlds apart. What the hell were those idiots at the capital thinking with this boneheaded personnel move? I'd always felt it before, but the way they handled things at the palace was utterly baffling. Incompetent king, greedy ministers, nobles who jumped at every vested interest. No wonder nothing ever ran right. I'd lost count of the insane orders I'd gotten back in my hero days, sending me into battle.
"So... you're really going to Apenzel? You know it's brutal out there."
Hildeva traced the rim of her wineglass with a finger, listening silently.
"I stayed there briefly once. All I saw the whole time was snow and trolls."
"I know."
"The last administrator probably died in some accident. Froze to death or got smashed by a troll."
"That's what I think too."
"You won't last long there. Might be better to just retire."
Hildeva gave a bitter laugh. "Retire? And do what, starve? They're offering hazard pay, at least... I'll tough it out three years, then apply for a transfer."
"Why offer hazard pay if it's not hazardous?"
"You got a better idea? Gotta send some pocket money back to my folks in that backwater marquisate—they went broke raising me."
"Ah..."
Even administrators had their own struggles and headaches. No wonder she couldn't decide easily.
"Cheese, please. Something to go with the wine. This stuff's bitter."
I sliced some thin and brought it out. Hildeva snatched a piece and popped it in her mouth, chewing away.
"Whew..." She sighed. "They promoted me straight to 7th grade and shipped me off to be city administrator here—thought it was great. Busted my ass to revive the place, and then some punk shows up treating me like a corrupt official."
She chugged her wine.
"Phew... Just when I thought I'd snag an easy desk job, they send me to a pioneer town."
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to help. I was just an innkeeper with no official position. Hell, even back as a hero, I was basically a special contract agent—no authority over personnel transfers like this.
Hildeva kept downing wine like water amid sighs, then suddenly perked up. "I've got a great idea."
"What?"
"What if I quit and come work for you instead?"
"Out of nowhere like—?"
"You need accounting ledgers, inventory management, right? How about a 7th-grade central bureaucrat lady employee?"
Hildeva propped her chin on her hands, staring right through me. "You're loaded, Bertrand. You could afford one more, right? Hmm?"
"It'd be great, but... the inn's still too small-scale..."
"Oh, that? Easy fix."
"How?"
"Marry me. I skip Apenzel—win. You get a pretty, smart wife—win."
"Ah... haha..."
As I floundered, she grinned mischievously. "Kidding, kidding."
She drained the rest of her wine and stood. "I'm heading up. Gotta leave early tomorrow."
Even after all that booze, her face hadn't changed color. Insane tolerance.
"Goodnight."
The next day, Hildeva left for city hall but came right back.
"Why're you back so soon?"
She flashed a sad smile. "I'm leaving now."
"What...? Already?"
"Not already—they said ASAP, so today's late."
I stood there dumbfounded, speechless. She brushed past me and headed upstairs. By the time I snapped out of it, she was coming back down with a small bag.
"Knew it'd be like this, so I packed last night. Hehe."
She stood before me with a forlorn smile. "Bertrand. Short time, but thanks."
"Administrator... how're you getting to Apenzel?"
"The new guy's carriage'll drop me in Bue. Transfer to a relay coach there."
"At least take something for the road—"
"No. Don't. Gotta go now—no time."
She held out her hand. I hesitated, then took it. Soft, a bit cool.
"May your inn prosper!"
She let go and hurried out.
"Bye, Kali!"
I chased after, but she was already boarding a two-horse carriage. It rolled off, and I stood watching until it vanished into the Buren River mist.
What the hell was all this...?
The next day, bucket in hand for milking, I spotted Hamond trudging up from afar. No reason for him to head this way unless it was for the inn, so I waited.
He entered the yard holding a scroll.
"What's up this early, Hamond?"
"Brought this."
He handed over the scroll. I untied it and unrolled—an official notice from the new administrator. About taxes on me.
I read it carefully, growing dumbfounded.
"So you're saying I gotta pay property tax?"
"Properties get taxed. Obvious."
He looked at me like what's the problem?
"Sure, but the direct territory rate I know doesn't match this."
Standard property tax was about one-tenth appraised value. This demanded one-third.
"This the right rate? Looks fishy."
"Surcharge for owning three-plus properties. Nothing fishy."
"Never heard of that law."
"It's there. Rosens direct territory ordinance specifies it."
He flicked his finger—check the next page. Another tax bill.
"Livestock tax? Taxing animals?"
"More. Keep going."
Next was worse. "High-rise tax...? For three-story buildings...?"
All tailored to screw me over. Rough math: massive sum.
"What the fuck..."
The curse slipped out loud.
"Pay within a week. Or we seize the property."
"What? A week? Seize?"
Hamond paled at my face, edging back.
"What bullshit authority for this sudden tax grab?"
"To revive the fallen city, the new administrator needs revenue—"
"Fuck, even that's got limits! This is straight-up robbery!"
"I... I delivered it!"
He bolted from the yard.
I reread the bill. No matter how I looked, it was insane. Sure, temporary hikes happened for disasters or crises. But not inventing livestock or high-rise taxes out of thin air.
Hildeva was right—new guy's planning a big score before bailing.
Della entered the yard from deliveries. "Master! You hear?"
"Hear what?"
"New administrator's exempting citizens' taxes for three more years!"
"What?!"
She tilted her head at my shock, spotted the bill. "What's that?"
I handed it over silently. Her face drained of color.
"Wh-what's all this...? Why these absurd taxes...?"
She flipped through repeatedly, baffled. "They said tax exemption... why us...?"
I was just as lost. Targeting the richest guy in town—me—for a huge haul? Levy everyone and risk riots; easier to fleece one innkeeper quietly.
Yeah, low noise. Perfect shakedown.
This... I needed to see that new administrator's face. Whoever the punk was, time for a lesson in backfiring schemes.
I set down the bucket and headed downtown.
At city hall, Hamond emerged from the warehouse, spotting me and jumping.
"Wh-what brings you here...?"
"This."
He scowled at the bill. "Already paying? Or didn't get it first time?"
"Where's the administrator."
"Talk to me. I'll handle it anyway."
Hands on hips, he sneered down. Already pissed about taxes, I couldn't stomach the arrogance.
I snapped. "Hey, you fucking prick."