Chapter 323 - 236: County Town Brahmins
"Father, something feels off lately, don’t you think?"
"How many times do I have to tell you? Use my title at work!"
"...Alright, alright, Director Tom!"
"Yes? What is it?"
In Westwood Laine Keep, a father and son, both officials—Old Tom and Little Tom—were in their office, staring at each other.
Old Tom was a director in Henry’s tax department, responsible for tax collection in the North City of Westwood Laine Keep. Little Tom, on the other hand, was a young man who had just entered the official system, tasked with assisting his father with various matters.
Normally, having relatives work together in the same department should be avoided at all costs to prevent situations like deceiving their superiors while enriching themselves.
But Henry’s domain was an exception. The army was Henry’s primary means of governing his lands.
Little Tom leaned in conspiratorially. "Father, I feel like something huge and terrible is about to happen."
"Call me Director!"
After saying this, Old Tom thought back on recent events. According to financial records of income and expenditure, not long after Lord Henry returned to his domain, he had ordered the entire existing army to be dispatched to various regions for patrol and stabilization missions.
A large number of Dinars were allocated from the treasury and disbursed by the army’s records department.
The military mobilization had tensed the atmosphere throughout the entire domain for a while. They had thought Henry was going to execute another batch of officials.
It wasn’t that they had done anything wrong, but who could guarantee their own absolute safety?
Then, Henry’s army departed from Westwood Laine Keep and dispersed to the various border outposts and inland villages. They were exceptionally "well-behaved," making no unexpected moves, which allowed everyone to finally breathe a sigh of relief.
As long as the axe wasn’t falling on their own necks, everything was fine.
While handling financial affairs, Old Tom had also felt the pressure from the army’s movements, as it was necessary to provide these soldiers with more supplies and equipment.
The large influx and allocation of Dinars were all recorded on file.
Although weaponry was handled directly by the military records department, it was still classified as materiel, and a copy of the records had to be backed up to the tax department.
That wasn’t even the most important part. Soon, a sum of money so enormous it took everyone’s breath away entered the tax system.
’Holy hell, how do you even count this? The numbers are beyond our ability to calculate!’
Needless to say, with money comes spending. The domain was to develop vigorously. Agriculture, mining, and trade—get it all done!
A single word from a superior, and those below would run themselves ragged. Naturally, Old Tom’s workload had exploded recently as he busied himself managing the flow of these funds.
Little Tom shuttled between various offices, responsible for recording the source and use of every single fund, ensuring the books were clear and preventing any chance of corruption.
Of course, he also had to compile the information with others, then send a copy to the Civil Affairs Department for their records and to the Inspection Department for auditing.
A few days after the massive influx of funds, an enormous number of serfs arrived, completely overwhelming the Civil Affairs Department and the agricultural department. There were just too damn many of them.
They could only register them while quickly dispatching them to various locations to be put to work immediately. Every day these people were delayed was another day they were eating for free.
These serfs were assigned to newly opened lands for farming, land reclamation, animal husbandry, mining, and road construction throughout the domain.
Like other officials, Old Tom and Little Tom had to coordinate with officials from various departments to ensure the serfs were settled and their basic needs were met.
The departments in the Earl’s Domain now had a clear division of labor and worked cooperatively. Although they still worked on things together, responsibility was assigned to individuals, and the power of each official was strictly controlled.
This might slow down the pace of administration slightly, but it was more standardized and accountable. It was no longer a matter of one person waving their hand and everyone else simply following orders.
If it were just this, it wouldn’t have been enough for Little Tom to conspiratorially claim a disaster was imminent. The real issue was the massing of personnel and the expansion of the military barracks.
Everyone knew what kind of man Lord Henry was. Now that the domain had money, grain, weapons, and people, a military expansion was a natural consequence.
But this expansion was a bit too much—nearly ten thousand men! It was enough to scare a person to death!
The expansion plan had made the garrison camp at Westwood Laine Keep abnormally busy. Large numbers of serfs and commoners were gathered at the barracks for recruitment screening and training.
Due to the sheer number of people, space in the barracks quickly became tight, forcing an emergency expansion.
This created even more work for every department. As a cog in this machine, Old Tom was naturally well aware of the situation.
However, if there was really going to be a disaster, it could only mean one thing: Lord Henry was preparing for another war.
"Stop being dramatic. Spit it out, and if it’s nothing, get back to work."
Little Tom sat down and said to his father, "Dad, you’ve saved up all your salary from the past seven months, right?"
The moment he heard his son asking about his money, Old Tom’s brow furrowed. ’What is he up to? Has becoming an official made the boy’s wings grow strong? Is he trying to fly the coop?’
"If you need money, use your own salary."
After several revisions by Tommy, the provisional salaries for the official system were set: Civil Servants earned a monthly salary of thirty Su, Directors fifty Su, Section Chiefs ninety Su, the Secretary-General one hundred twenty Su, Ministers two hundred Su, and the Governor three hundred fifty Su.
It might not seem high, but in reality, it wasn’t low at all.
The salaries for ranks like Civil Servant, Director, and Section Chief appeared to be more or less the same as those of city commoners or army soldiers, but the differences were night and day.
Soldiers risked their lives for pay, licking blood from the blades’ edges, and could die at any moment.
Commoners working in Workshops and entertainment venues had to endure verbal abuse from their bosses and difficult customers.
But them? When they went out, everyone treated them with respect and courtesy. Even a mere Civil Servant was regarded as a model citizen by the local residents.