Samson had already decided to hire his former subordinates; when it came to personnel affairs, Jint had vested him with full authority, not only because he trusted him, but also due to logistical realities. After all, contacting people outside the star system required messages to be carried by ship through planar space, so it was impossible to seek the Lord’s approval on every single matter.
“In any case, we should take lunch together. I aim to take my time interviewing you.”
“Lunch today?”
“If you can make it. Are you in Baidec?”
“I should be able to make it, yeah. If you want, I can even make it to breakfast if I fly out the door. Is the House of Hyde treating?”
“Sure is.”
“Sweet. Mind if I pick out the place? I know a good one. Though it is a tad pricey.”
“Can’t have that. Your taste is not to be trusted.”
“Based on what?”
“How can I place my trust in the taste buds of a man who scarfed down Star Forces food with such relish?”
“Dude, it wasn’t that bad. Especially when you’re hungry. And I agree that it’s not the best food ever.”
“See, there you go. You appraised it as ‘not that bad.’ Those are not the words of a man with a functioning palate.”
“You’re horrible. Don’t you ever feel like broadening your horizons?”
“Guess you’re right,” said Samson. “Just once, trying my chances with expensive and unappetizing eats ought to build character.”
“Then it’s a date. I’ll message you back after making the reservation. That okay?”
“If you could do that for me, it’d be a huge help, since I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment, but by the same token, I’m only free from 12 to 13 o’clock. I leave it to you.”
“Okay, got it. It’s a shame we can’t set aside more time, though.”
Samson felt much the same. “Sorry, bud. There’s always next time.”
“Right. So, seeing as you don’t have much time, I’ll ask now: what made you want to be a servant vassal? Did the kid, err, I mean Lonh-Dreur ask you?”
“No, I asked him.”
“How come?”
“Well, you know how I’m gonna go back home and start a farm, right?”
“Yeah. That’s why you have me wondering. I thought you’d be flinging around livestock dung as fertilizer on your home planet right around now.”
“I figured I’d learn a lesson or two from raising up a new territory-nation that I could apply to running a farm.”
“Really? And here I assumed you were just doing it for the money again.”
“The money? That’s not an issue. If I can make myself a fair bit, then you won’t see me complaining.”
“You won’t see me complaining, either.”
“Mr. Samson, sir,” whispered the waiter from nearby. “Your companions have arrived.”
“Ah, thanks.” Samson faced the wristgear. “See you later, Paveryua.”
“Sure thing.” The line dropped.
Samson then stood up to greet the three women.
“Mr. Samson? Of the House of Hyde?” asked the one in the middle.
“Yes, I am Gabotiac (Main Retainer) Samsonn Baurgh Tiruser Tirusec. Sehrnye Ltd., I presume?”
“Yes; I’m Faigdacpéc Sérnaïc,” said the middle woman, nodding, though not without a faint tinge of disappointment in her eyes.
“I hear you’ve a letter of introduction from Fïac Lartnér.”
Chapter 2: The Vorlash Countdom
The meeting room was within the flower gardens, where it was the Earth-origin plants that were in glorious bloom. They were leagues easier to cultivate then Martinh-origin flowers, and all the more beautiful for it.
Seated upright in a luxurious chair (and amidst the choking floral fragrance) waited a man with light indigo hair. He was the Bélycec Bhosorr Bauchïmiacr (Chancellor’s Office Financial Affairs Bureau Investigator), Ïestaich.
“Good morning, Lonh-Dreur,” he said, getting up and saluting after the fashion of the imperial court upon seeing the two of them. “Fïac Bœrr,” he added reverently.
As might be gleaned from his ominous title, he was in tax collection — an alien concept among those born and raised as gentry within the Empire. For the vast majority of imperial citizens from landworlds, taxes were a nightmare of the past, one they jettisoned alongside their landworld citizenship. In fact, the major share of both gentry and imperial citizens lived out their lives never becoming aware that the Empire had any system of taxation to speak of.
It was a different story, however, for nobles in possession of star-fiefs, for they were the only people in all the Empire to enjoy the dubious privilege of paying taxes. Grandees, or nobles with inhabited planets to their name, were guaranteed the right to monopolize their respective territory-nations’ trade, as well as the right to produce antimatter fuel around their systems’ suns and extract mineral resources from any uninhabited planets. In return, they had to offer up a portion of their production output to the Empire. In the case of the Countdom of Hyde, the landworld administration had no mining bases, plantations, or other settlements outside of the planet of Martinh.
Consequently, it was the Empire’s view that preferential rights to all space and celestial bodies outside of the system’s sole inhabited planet went to the House of Hyde. And the most vital of those celestial bodies was none other than the Hyde System’s sun, also named Hyde. If they were to develop and expand on the antimatter fuel factories surrounding that sun, they could produce antimatter fuel for the next five billion years. Such was the privilege of the House of Hyde, but also its duty. No matter whether it was a populated territory-nation, or merely a small domain with no indigenous population, the primary role of any star-fief was to serve as a fuel resupply base.
And it was the job of a bélycec (investigator) to determine the appropriate amount to levy.
Few societies in the cosmos welcome tax collectors with open arms, and the Empire’s aristocracy was no exception, but Jint found this Yestesh a dependable fellow. Providing counsel to the liege was included in the man’s work duties. And from what Jint had heard, he was
