Chapter 264: Spare the shovel, and spoil the hell pit.

Chapter 264: Spare the shovel, and spoil the hell pit.

The party of imperial accountants and their entourage left Rowan Keep, Theordis stating he had finished for the day and would do the rest on their return trip. He was quite shaken by something. When Manfred and Geoffrey heard the story being passed around by the guards, they chuckled. Theordis saw things one way and would rather try to change the course of a river than admit he built the bridge in the wrong place. His main expertise was in overlooking the work done on roads, Legion outposts, and other infrastructure. His opinion was that everyone cheated and did subpar work. This was reinforced by actually proving that 53% of the time, he was correct. When he couldn't find a problem with a project, he assumed they were better at hiding things than he was at finding them.

Geoffrey dealt with the movement of goods from one place to another within the empire. An excess of wheat was moved to where people had no bread. The breadless paid for it in wood or coal, which he moved where that needed to be. The empire kept a system of credits and debits for each area, and a local baron or village Mayor could draw on Imperial storehouses in times of need and pay back their debt later. With interest, of course. There were complaints that the credits were never equal to the market value of the goods, and the prices were on the higher side. The imperial accountants waved aside all complaints. Storage and transportation had to be paid for, especially the mana used if the goods had to be sent by teleportation.

The system had worked for hundreds of years, with those in charge of the system and those controlling production making large sums of money. Some of which fell into the pockets of local functionaries. Theirs was a hard job; if no one appreciated them, they could at least live well. Or so they said to themselves. Sedgewick and Gadobhra were exciting projects for Geoffrey. Until two years ago, no one at all cared about the little village at the end of nowhere. Gadobhra was a forgotten ruin. Even the reason for Rowan Keep was largely forgotten. The main Legion presence was in Northguard; even that small army had hardly seen use in generations. The empire hadn't needed a storehouse in Sedgewick, where there wasn't even a local mayor and nothing to buy but groats.

That had changed, and the empire was here to do business in their usual efficient manner. The Legion had been buying dozens of barrels of smoked meat from the Baron each week. Someone had noticed that a portion of those barrels were high quality in both taste and the number of bonuses the meat gave. An imperial storehouse that could buy the excess meat was needed. It could be sold all over the empire.

He'd also heard whispers that the Baron had a man capable of producing weaponized bacon. The Corp of War-Mages had made a specific request to acquire either the man producing the bacon, his recipe, a large stockpile of the food, or all three. He had a small bag of gold to offer the man if he couldn't induce the Baron to sell him his chef. If that failed, he might need two guards to encourage him to take a trip to the capital.

Sedgewick also produced excellent beer, ale, and surprisingly good apple wine that was heavy enchantments. Barrels of each were appearing in the taverns that served a swill called Bludgeon Beer. Geoffrey suspected a connection but had yet to find it. Any idiot could brew Bludgeon Beer. The corporation was located in a town near the capital. All they did was buy inferior-quality materials, repackage the ingredients, and ship the packages to cheap taverns all across the empire. By contrast, the beer and wine from Sedgewick was crafted with care, and the taste reflected it.

"Sorry about that, fellah. It's still misbehaving. The boy coddles it too much, thinking it will be good if he keeps it busy. Spare the shovel, and spoil the hell pit. That's what I was taught."

Geoffrey stood up, recovering his nerve. "I must agree. Sound advice. Now, could you explain what that hellish building is?" The large square building was four stories tall, with several chimneys and belching smoke pipes jutting from the sides. Stonework made up the bottom ten feet, and the construction was of heavy timbers after that. The peaked roof of red tile softened the look. A rich scent of smoked and burnt meat came from the house. Even as he asked the question, it seemed apparent that this building was tied to meat and bacon production.

The old man spit his tobacco to the side. "It's a Charnel Pit. Our Butcher uses it to concoct all of his smoked meat. A handy thing to have around, but it has a mind of its own. Most folks know to stay away from it or can read the signs. Those that don't can end up inside, hanging from a chain. Pay attention next time. No place for tourists."

"So I see. And the ship? Is that the one that flies to the planes? Can I speak to the Captain and get a tour? I would like to conduct some official business."

The old man laughed. "Yeah, you and everyone else, I bet. I'll tell you the same thing I told that Fae Hellwitch. "Go talk to the Baron, and stay away from the ship. I'll emphasize that for someone who was enough of a darn fool to get close to a charnel pit: Stay away from the ship, off limits. The crew is a bit touchy about it. Two merchants who got too curious are having their legs splinted as we speak."

Geoffrey thanked him for his time and retreated. He had learned a little. No sense in risking broken bones. He would talk to the Baron. Barons were always more reasonable than Butchers and Sea Captains. All the pieces were here. He simply needed to convince all of the various parties that they would be better off doing business with the Office of Acquisitions and letting him handle the fine details.