The Tyrant by Eric Flint and David Drake

“As for the danger of rebellion,” he continued harshly, “that is your problem, not mine. I am charged with the task of conquering the Western Isles—a martial feat which has never been accomplished in the history of the Confederacy. You, on the other hand, are charged with the simple task of maintaining public order in a province—something which any competent governor can manage easily with a bit of thought and effort.”

He rose to his feet. Unlike Willech, he had been sitting erect on his couch, and could thus rise easily and quickly. An old soldier’s habit, that. “I will also remind you that, not so many years ago, I was the governor of this very province. And I managed to keep order, with no difficulty at all, using only two regiments.”

Willech’s face was like a nut, now, hard and wrinkled. Demansk gave him a smile which ended just short of a sneer.

“Of course, I used those troops to check the worst depredations of the tax farmers. Instead of using them to enforce outright robbery. I dare say you’ll have the same success, if you adopt my methods.”

Willech’s face, as impossible as it seemed, tightened even further. But he said nothing.

What was there to say? Since becoming governor of the province three years earlier, Willech had attempted to extricate himself from his bad loans by squeezing the Emeralds mercilessly. It was an open secret that Governor Willech was taking a cut from every tax farmer in the northern province. That was illegal, under Confederate law. But, for several generations now, Demansk had been one of the few governors to obey that law. The main attraction to becoming a governor nowadays, in fact, was that the post allowed just such chicanery. The modern Vanbert aristocracy, most of whose members couldn’t tell one end of a pig from the other, raised taxes the same way their ancestors raised swine.

Not even that, really. No swineherd was stupid enough to think that the way to get rich was to starve his pigs.

Demansk realized that Willech was going to remain silent. Not saying anything was, ultimately, the last resort the governor had. If he said “no,” he would be in open rebellion. Demansk had enough of his own troops in Solinga now to crush all six of Willech’s regiments—even assuming they would obey the Governor, which was highly doubtful. And if he said “yes,” he would be officially acquiescing to Demansk’s demand.

Demansk decided he could live with the silence. By the time Willech could even begin to figure out a way to circumvent Demansk’s plans, it would be too late anyway. Unlike the Governor, the Triumvir was popular with the army. And he knew already which four regiments he was going to select. The best, naturally, with the best officers. The commanders of three of those four regiments were former protégés of his, in fact, and he’d already spoken to them privately.

So, matching silence with silence, he turned on his heel and marched out of the Governor’s private audience chamber. He even closed the door himself on his way out, before a slave could do so. Partly, because he thought a formal display of politeness was to his advantage. Mostly, because he wanted to test the door a bit—in case it proved necessary to come back through it at the head of a squad of soldiers.

Which, he suspected, would happen very soon. Demansk had plans for Willech’s money as well as his soldiers. And unless he was badly mistaken, the Governor would part with the latter far more readily than the former.

* * *

The docks were swarming by the time Demansk got there. Not with soldiers, or sailors, but with Emerald workmen drawn by the rumors sweeping the city of a massive new shipbuilding project. Governor Willech’s tax farmers had, in a few short years, impoverished half the artisanry of the northern province—along with most of its fishermen and all of its peasants. Most of the workmen teeming on the piers and in the harbor taverns were shipwrights and other skilled craftsmen; or fishermen, whose trade was closely related. But many of them were simply farmers who had abandoned their land, with nothing to sell except a strong back and pair of hands.

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