(Author's Note: I know I am getting a lot out suddenly. I had wanted to post some of these earlier, but rl sucks. It is a little dry in the beginning, but it is an update for you concerning my hopes for Brookshire as much as it is for Darell catching up. Hope you enjoy.)
The frost rimed glass squeeked beneath Darell's clearing fingertips. The casement was still murky on the outside and undoubtedly would not be cleaned until the Spring thaw had settled in, but that was normal and did not bother the Duke. Some details simply did not matter to him and he enjoyed his private study the way it was. Too many bustling cleaning maids would most certainly disturb his haphazard order. The Duke of Brookshire brushed his chill, moist fingers off on the knee of his soft wool breeches and tried to rub a little warmth into them against the fabric. Having only meetings with his trusted managers and steward today, he had forgone any impressive courtly finery for more comfortable work-a-day clothes and was taking each person in turn up in the loft tower instead of his lower office that was cleaner and organized to the maids liking. By the gods he detested such pomp and was happy in his loose tunic of heavy linen. The shirt might have been warm enough in the lower levels of the Keep, in his private office, or even in the suite of rooms that he shared with Aurine and their new baby, but near the top of the great square-towered Keep he had doned a coat of thick black wool that reached the tops of his knees and had only a little golden stitching along the lapels -- and attempt by his sweet Aurine at needlepoint. Darell's bright golden eye peer out of the cleared smudge of window at the sparkle of fresh morning snow below. It gleamed like fallen diamonds upon the gray-smokine rooftops in the lower village along Lok Luina's southeastern shore. The lake itself was frozen over in a cracked sheet of pale ruby, tinged red as all of the surrounding beach with the silt from the mountains to the northeast. "My Lord?" Charrelz, the Brookshire steward, paused as he was reading off the Myst Lily harvest reports. "Is everything alright?" "Hmm? Oh yes, Charlie. It is just difficult to slip back into the swing of things. Since Aurine was returned, I have spent more time seeing to her comfort and care than to the estates. And then with Paeter being born, I devoted all of my time to my family." The Duke straightened from the window, his coat swaying about his thighs as he turned towards his man, his right hand lifting ominously to rub at his sore temple. "Please, go on. You were saying something that the harvest this year was higher than last by about ten percent? That would yeild another two score of vials." As important a source of income as the Myst Lily scent and philters were to Brookshire, Darell's mind was more occupied with questions of the new industry he was breaking into: Shipping and Shipbuilding. "Excellent. Tell me about the flax and hemp harvests. How much of our goods did we have to trade off to make up for the lack?" The elder steward took a moment to flip through a few sheaves in his leather portfolio and seperated a few into layers onto the Duke's desk front before him. Meanwhile Darell walked to his leather padded chair and sat down, his fingertip immediately tapping upon the unfurled sketch of the Wavecutter he had commissioned. "Ahh, yes, here it is, Sire. Flax harvests were down twenty percent of estimates and Hemp down almost thirty. I am sorry, m'lord, but it is not our major commodity and the crop was planted a little late. We needed to sell extra of our wool to make up for it. I was able, however, to procure a fair deal and had to only part with thirty bales for all of the other materials we needed. I fear the villagers maybe a little upset that they will not have the best prices on wool this winter." "Yes, yes. Quite understandable. I really do try to treat them fairly and lately have not been able to. I can only hope that they will understand soon. How goes the processing of the hemp and flax? The snows have been pretty bad, surely the time has been abundant for the rope and canvas making?" Darell was scribbling a few notes to himself about a celebration or lowering taxes on the wool even though it would sink needed profits. "Actually, that is a bit of the good news I have to offer, Sire!" Charrelz face nearly beamed, as brightly as his thin and astute face could. Charrelz had diligently been the estate steward as Darell had grown up. The man had also tutored the boy Darell in the arts of business and industry, planting the seeds that had grown into the imaginative corporate mind that the Duke displayed today, and his exuberantly frivolous father definately had not. "Canvas and rope manufacturing are up almost fifteen percent. We are currently ramped up to finish well before the first nail is pounded into the hulls. Also, the docks and shipyards in Shanty Town on the ocean's coast are nearly completed. And I might add that despite the snows, the timbering effort is up by a fortnight's worth of work which has our lumbering work backed up now. If you would give permission to have men moved from the one crew to the other, I believe it would help to even out the processes and increase productivity." Charrelz was also a brilliant mind for resources management, and though Darell had already learned much, he was more confident in Charrelz' abilities. There were even some times that he wondered what he would do without his trusted man. When the current Darell had succeeded to the Ducal throne, he had inherited a mess of debits and complications from Darell the II's inept tinkering. Within only a span of nine years, and the assistance of Charrelz, Darell has brought Brookshire back to the point of supporting its people and thriving with them instead of from them. "That it splendid news, Charlie! Spendid indeed. A perfect reason then to offer a banquet for the town, don't you think? A reward for their hard work." "Yes, Sire, that would definately boost morale," Charrelz said drily, though nodded his head in definate approval. "What other news do we have? As cloistered as I have been, I know there is news of the Isles I am not up upon." Charrelz proceeded to explain to Darell various news stories of the kingdom; everything from the extended leave of the Queen and her return finally, the newest benefit for the Widows and Orphan's Fund (to which the Brantons were always large contributors), and to the local disputes of Brookshire, including the incident concerning the ex-Captain Rue Denali. "Terrible, terrible," said the Lord as he rubbed his dark brown goatee upon his chin. "I feel horrible that I was not informed earlier, that there was not something we could have done for the woman who carried his children. Worse yet, I wish I had been able to speak with him more since he had become the Captain of the local guardhouse. Charrelz, I want you to send a dispatch to this man. Surely he is still around the Duchy. I want the letter to express my grief and wish to meet him personally. Make it sound polite, please, but at the same time firm that this meeting is to take place." The Duke reached into a drawer of his desk and withdrew a large signet ring; the Brookshire rampant Bear. He did not usually send anything so firmly addressed and added as he passed the sealer over to Charrelz, "And make the dispatch as official as possible; scroll-case, ribbons, seal. Everything. Schedule it for later this week, before we leave to MystHaven for the benefit please." -- To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: [EMAIL PROTECTED] Archives & Other DMI Lists: http://islesofmyst.com/lists.php3
