Varangians (3)
“Are you telling me to sort these documents by region?”
Alberto blinked and asked me again. I looked at my document slave—no, my retainer, Alberto—and nodded.
“Yes. Don’t worry about the content. Just sort them by region.”
“A…understood, my lord.”
With that, Alberto settled in and began dismantling the stacks of reports one by one.
Angelos, watching this, shot me a baffled look and asked, “What in the world is this?”
“We’re classifying them.”
“Do you even know what that means?”
In response, I picked up one report and read it slowly aloud. “A report from the Optimatoi military district. One thousand trees. Types: olive trees, stone pines…”
Angelos’s face lit up with surprise as he addressed me. “Not only can you speak it, but you can read it too? Don’t tell me you can write as well?”
“No idea how to write it.”
To be honest, the Greek of this era was so different from modern Greek that reading was a struggle. Fortunately, the letters were similar enough that I could piece it together roughly. Writing, though? Impossible in this situation.
“Impressive.”
I smiled at Angelos’s praise and continued. “Anyway, how do you think we should compile all these reports from the various districts into one?”
“There’s so much information… we’d start by classifying it… ah…!”
“Exactly. First, I plan to separate what kinds of trees each district produces.”
It was basic work any modern office worker could do. Of course, computers handled it back home, but here there were no computers, so humans had to do it manually.
“Even with classification, there are too many districts for it to fit in one book.”
Angelos seemed to think one page per district for tree production. If reports had been processed that way, his boss would’ve rejected them outright. We needed to refine the data several more times.
“What if I told you I could do it on a single sheet of parchment? Would you believe me?”
Angelos burst out laughing, his face a mix of incredulity and amusement. “What, some kind of magic?”
“You could call it that. Listen closely.”
Angelos leaned in as I began my explanation, simplifying it for him. His eyes gradually widened.
“If we do it that way… we really could fit it on one sheet.”
“Easy to view, easy to read. And since it’s all visible at a glance, comparing is simple too.”
Angelos’s face lit up with joy, as if the task were already done. “You’re my benefactor. My benefactor!”
“What are friends for when they’re in a bind?”
At my words, something sparked in Angelos’s eyes. “It wasn’t just me—this was a team effort. How about we both go see His Majesty?”
“His Majesty?”
“Yes! Explain this brilliant invention of yours. He’ll be thrilled.”
An emperor obsessed with peak efficiency. Yeah, he’d probably lose his mind over this.
It was a solid proposal. I’d offered it as a gesture to win Angelos over, but I hadn’t expected it to boomerang back like this.
“You sure that’s fine?”
The prickly Angelos from earlier was gone; he nodded warmly, without a hint of issue. “Of course. I accept your kindness. But first…”
“First?”
“We’ve still got work to do.”
Right now, only my retainer Alberto was sorting reports. Angelos caught on and waved dismissively, as if to say not to worry.
Suddenly, a swarm of his attendants appeared from nowhere.
“Assist my friend’s retainer with the classification.”
At his command, five or six attendants dove right into the sorting.
“Deadline is this evening.”
Angelos’s firm order. The attendants’ faces fell.
* * *
The emperor returned to his office weary, letting out a long sigh at the stacks awaiting him.
“Too many documents.”
Yet the corners of his mouth were turned up.
“So much to do—the day will fly by.”
Anyone else would call him mad. Most people hated work. But Basil II was no ordinary man.
“Report from Bukellarion. Poor weather this time—horse supply issues…”
Tsking at the news, the emperor muttered, “Two hundred horses. Last year’s output was 240—a drop of forty. Major loss. Cavalry operations could suffer.”
He knew last year’s reports by heart, even the one from the year before. It was possible because reading reports was the emperor’s hobby.
“Next report… more of the same.”
Duplicates. Seeing identical content on twin parchments ignited his fury.
“Efficiency! Efficiency! I stress it endlessly, and yet they squander parchment like this—waste it outright!”
For a frugal emperor, parchment waste was unforgivable. Especially when it came with such incompetent administration.
“If only there were an efficient solution to prevent this.”
He loved efficiency. It drove him to constantly seek ways to curb wasted resources and administrative effort. That’s why he’d tasked Angelos Moselaph, heir to the Moselaph house, with it: summarize district wood reports into a single book.
The empire grew countless tree varieties, and wood required five years’ worth of data. It would take time.
“A sharp one might do it in a week. Otherwise, a month.”
The stacks before him were ten man-height piles. With that volume, he estimated a week to two. No deadline was set, but exceed his personal benchmark of two weeks, and he’d cut support to the Moselaphs and groom another house.
As he pondered Angelos, Parakoimomenos rushed in, face urgent.
“Pardon the intrusion, Majesty. The Protokentarchos and Varangian Akolouthos say they have a report on Your Majesty’s assignment.”
Senior centurion Angelos. Varangian deputy Robert. Hearing both had come, the emperor tsked.
“Send them in.”
The eunuch backed away, noting the emperor’s clear disappointment.
Once alone, the emperor muttered his true feelings. “One day since the task, and they’re already waving the white flag. Tsk tsk.”
He’d issued it today, and here they were. It meant one thing: too hard—give hints, or more men. Either way, failure by his standards.
As he vented, two men appeared on the purple carpet.
“Great successor to Rome, lawful Ba—”
Angelos began the formalities, but the emperor waved them off. Knowing his aversion to ceremony, Angelos bowed and awaited orders.
“I hear you’ve come to discuss the task I assigned.”
The emperor confirmed again.
“Yes, Majesty.”
Angelos’s voice rang clear and proud. The emperor replied with undisguised disappointment.
“If it’s about needing more help, I’ll revoke the order.”
Angelos looked stunned. “N-no, Majesty. We’ve come to report it’s complete.”
“Then you’re forfeiting… wait. You sorted all those reports in a day?”
The emperor couldn’t hide his shock.
“Even the empire’s finest kankliklios and protovestiarios would need a week. You claim a single day? Are you mocking me?”
Amid the emperor’s astonished roar, Angelos waved his hands frantically to dispel the misunderstanding.
“I-it’s no lie, Majesty!”
“Ha! Show me, then. Lie, and I’ll have your eyes and tongue for deceiving me—exile from Rome.”
Undeterred by the threat, Angelos stood firm. The emperor instantly knew the Protokentarchos spoke truth.
Angelos presented the report. The emperor took it, alternating stares between it and Angelos in disbelief.
“We aimed for a book, but the summarized data was too sparse…”
It was a meager sheaf—barely a booklet. The emperor shook it incredulously.
No tricks. Resigned to being fooled, he opened it.
Strange patterns emerged: what we’d call a table, filled with countless Roman numerals.
Angelos turned to Robert beside him for aid.
Robert stepped forward and addressed the emperor cautiously. “May the Varangian Akolouthos, Robert Guiscard, explain, Majesty?”
The emperor gestured permission eagerly.
“The numbers at the top classify wood production by year.”
True to Robert’s words, the top bore Roman numerals matching the latest report years.
“The side lists tree types.”
“Tree types and production years… the intersections must be quantities?”
“Precisely, Majesty.”
Robert’s succinct reply. Suddenly, the emperor set the report down and shot to his feet.
Angelos, fearing wrath, moved to shield Robert. “Forgive us for not making a full book as ordered. We’ll redo—”
The emperor crushed Robert in a bear hug.
Angelos, who’d cried out desperately, fell silent at the sight.
“Hahaha! This is it! Efficiency! Efficiency! What was your name? Robert? No—you’re Rogerius now! Haha!”
The emperor verged on mania. Unlike his ecstatic sovereign, Robert scowled and turned his head away.