By the time our carriages reached the village, the twin suns were already sinking toward the horizon.

  We passed a dozen or so houses clustered along the main road and headed straight for the lord’s residence. To someone accustomed to skyscrapers and urban villas, the lord’s manor was quite underwhelming. Still, compared to the small timber houses we’d just passed, it was undeniably imposing. In fact, set among those hovels, it looked almost like a castle: two stories tall, built of stone brick, with a square tower grafted onto one side.

  Waiting for us at the courtyard gate stood the village’s bailiff and his family.

  My first impression was that he was a rather unpleasant man.

  The man’s most striking features were his bulging belly and a prominent goitre, poorly concealed by a thick golden choker. His beady eyes gleamed with malice beneath a perpetually smug expression, stretched across a round, jowly face. Though dressed in fine clothes, they fit him poorly and came off as gaudy rather than elegant—especially when paired with his greasy hair and generally unkempt appearance.

  No amount of lipstick would help this pig...

  “Your Grace, Lord Karl Ludwig!”

  I hadn’t even stepped out of the carriage before he scurried forward, his nasal voice grating on my ears. He nearly tripped over himself as he bowed deeply at the carriage door. “It is my greatest honour to receive Your Grace in my humble estate! Truly, a once-in-a-lifetime blessing to be graced by Your Lordship’s presence! I have already prepared a feast in your name, as well as something to sate your more… refined tastes, should you wish—ehhh, gheh-hehh…” He raised his head and winked lewdly.

  It was an ugly sight. Even the ever-composed Adalbert failed to fully hide a faint scowl as he stood beside me.

  “Uh—yes, thanks—uh, I mean, ahem, I am very pleased by the warm welcome, honourable Sir...?”

  “Ugo! Ugo von Ekelhaft, Your Lordship! At your service!” He bowed again, so low I half-expected him to start slobbering on my boots. “Please, do go inside! Let my servants handle your baggage. I’ve made sure to remind them of the consequences should they make even the slightest mistake.” The dark smirk that accompanied his words made my skin crawl.

  In the next moment, two boys hurriedly run up to us and begun unloading the second carriage. It carried the rest of the prince's entourage: bottles upon bottles of booze. Even the selection of 'company' betrayed the prince's plans for this content. If he could, he'd have filled up the first carriage with wines and brandies too, but the Duke made him bring Adalbert instead.

  Muttering curses under my breath, I crossed the courtyard and was led into the great hall. As the bailiff had promised, the feast was already laid out. Adalbert and I were seated at the high table beside Ugo and his family, overlooking an open hearth, and beyond it—a long table groaning under the weight of food.

  The food itself was quite a sight.

  At the centre of the table stood a grotesque culinary monument: a roasted bird dressed in miniature armour, perched atop a boar that clutched a large fish in its mouth. Around it lay a ring of small bread rolls, each skewered with yet more meat. And further down the table, wooden platters held short, fat sausages, honey-glazed drumsticks, three massive meat pies, herb-crusted fish, and a veritable tower of cheese.

  There was so much food I doubted the dozen or so people currently in the hall could finish it in three days, let alone one sitting.

  Well, unless one gorges himself like a pig…

  Once the feast strated, the bailiff didn’t merely clean every plate placed before him—he demanded seconds for each course. And was washing it all down with tankard after tankard of beer.

  “Mmph—those priests at the cloister really know how to make a good brew!” he mumbled through a mouthful, spewing bits of food and spittle. “I just—guh—wish they weren’t so stingy. Even when I said I needed ten barrels for the duke’s son, they only gave me six—hrnk—said they had to stock up in case another famine hits the peasants this winter.” He wiped his greasy chin with his sleeve. “What disrespect! A few hungry peasants are a small price to pay to fill a prince’s belly with good beer, I say!”

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  By the end of the third course, his face had gone red and his breathing heavy, but neither did much to slow him down as he crammed three whole stuffed apples into his maw, one after another.

  “So—urkh—Your Lordship,” he said at last, turning to me after finally finishing. This time, at least, he used a napkin instead of his sleeve. “I understand you are here to help manage the village? His Grace’s letter was… rather light on details.”

  I set down my cup and fixed a polite smile on my face. I despised the man but appearances had to be kept—for now.

  “I suppose so. The Duke has entrusted me with this domain for the next three years. He wants me to… develop its potential, or something like that.” I had to play just a bit dumb to maintain the prince's persona.

  Ugo’s eyes gleamed as he let out a wheezing chuckle. “Ahh, potential! Yes, yes. A fine word indeed.” He leaned closer, his breath heavy with beer and honey. “Then I suppose Your Lordship and I will be working very closely from now on. I’m sure it will be most enjoyable.”

  My stomach twisted, but I held my smile.

  “Indeed,” Adalbert cut in smoothly before I could reply. “Which is why we would appreciate a detailed report on the village’s current state. Tax yields, population, arable land, livestock, infrastructure, obligations to the duke—everything.”

  The old man was focused on the task as always. No doubt it was why the Duke insisted for him to accompany the useless prince.

  Ugo blinked, clearly not having expected that level of specificity. “R-report?” he stammered, turning his eyes to me and then back to Adalbert.

  A strange silence settled over the table.

  Ugo’s wife—an equally rotund woman dripping with jewellery—shot him a sharp glance, while one of his sons suddenly found the grain of the table intensely fascinating.

  “Ah—of course! Naturally!” A few awkward moments later Ugo suddenly snapped his greasy fingers. “Boy! The ledger! Bring the ledger!”

  A thin, pale youth hurried in from a side door, clutching a thick book bound in cracked leather. He bowed awkwardly and handed it over. Ugo dropped it onto the table with a meaty thud, flipped through the pages with practiced speed, and jabbed a finger at a random spot.

  “Here! You see, the village is prosperous. Very prosperous. Last year’s harvest was… satisfactory. Taxes collected in full. No issues worth mentioning.”

  I leaned forward slightly. “No issues at all?”

  Given the hollow-eyed peasants I’d passed earlier, I found that hard to believe.

  “Well,” he said, waving a dismissive hand, “peasants always complain. Bad weather, sick children, broken tools, wolves, bandits, Hollows in the woods—same nonsense every year. None of it affects taxes. I make sure of that.”

  “And from how many households are those taxes collected?”

  Adalbert shot me a brief approving glance, clearly pleasantly surprised at my interest.

  “Erm… uh… nine, ten—eleven… thirt—no, that whole family died in last year’s famine…” Ugo muttered, counting on his fingers. “Fourteen. Fourteen households, Your Grace.”

  Fourteen. Probably not even a 100 people were living here. Judging by the numbers in the ledger and the bailiff’s obscene lifestyle, he was bleeding the village dry. It was no wonder everyone looked like they were one poor harvest away from starvation. And this presented a problem as a poor and hungry populous is not a fertile ground for any kind of industrial developments. Poor and starving people don’t have time to innovate and improve—they worry only about how to secure enough food to live another day.

  Still, not everything was bleak.

  Thanks to Adalbert’s relentless questioning—and the pressure exerted by my title—some good news were pulled out of the bailiff with great effort.

  First, the region was rich in natural resources. The nearby mountains held surface deposits of lead and iron ore, while the valleys were thick with forests. Furthermore, a fast-flowing river lay an hour’s ride away, near a local count’s castle. And most importantly, there was a skilled blacksmith in the village. He had worked for the Emperor’s army and later arrived to Rand as a part of frontier settlement program.

  Raw materials. Energy. Skilled labour. They were all the essential components of industry.

  But before I could make use of any of them, there was one problem that had to be dealt with first: the sleazy bailiff.

  After the feast, I retired to my chambers thinking of different ways to put the bailiff out of the picture. From bribing him with some of the money I was given, to organising a rebellion against him. Some vapid medieval noble should be easy to deal with for someone with modern ideas and knowledge.

  I fell asleep making plans.

  Unaware that the bailiff was making his own.