The governor of the Colonial Company Sylvandria Corporation could not believe what he was seeing in the chart displayed before his eyes. Secretary Paine was showing it to him on the screen, and the numbers were alarming. Several years into his post as governor of the elven colony—part of the Kingdom of Borelis and established under British concession in the wooded mountains of Georgia—he had completely depleted the treasury. Despite having implemented drastic cuts to the operating expenses of the mining operations, he couldn't balance the accounts, and the numbers remained in the red.
This situation deeply worried Governor Hugo Huerkelin, as the risk of being dismissed was imminent. Moreover, a potential audit could reveal the embezzlements he had carried out to maintain a lifestyle of royal opulence, along with other dark secrets still hidden.
"We're screwed," the governor finally said, standing up. "We're sunk... Everything's falling apart, and once they find out on the Other Side, they'll hunt us like boars—mercilessly. Paine, what can we do?" he insisted, turning to the secretary. "There must be something we can do... Think, think."
"We could summon the board members and brainstorm ideas for cost savings," the secretary replied, scratching beneath his wig.
"No, never. This must stay between us. There has to be something solvable at my level, without involving them."
The secretary stood in thought.
"Well, we could make some cuts... postpone the renovation of the government house... maybe even relocate to a more modest building and rent this one out."
"Never. That would send a bad and suspicious signal to the board."
They both fell silent, trying to find a solution. Night fell while they were still in the boardroom, debating ideas.
"Perhaps there's something we could do..." Secretary Paine said at last, visibly tired.
"We can't halt the expansion works, nor the importation of Black slaves or golems," the governor said wearily.
"No, what I suggest is... summoning Hunka Enkelin."
The governor gave him a bored look.
"Why would we do that?"
"Well, he's been very involved in colony affairs and might have some ideas. He always has proposals."
The governor shook his head.
"No, not unless we asked him to raid galleons."
The secretary nodded.
"True. Although raids on galleons aren't very profitable anymore, they could provide us with some cash flow—and maybe help settle a few debts for a while... Sir, may I be excused? It's almost ten o'clock."
The governor nodded, and both men left the room.
Mr. Paine left the residence and headed toward his home a few blocks away, shielding himself from a sudden drizzle with his tricorne and cloak. In his hand, he carried his briefcase with the day's documents and a laptop.
As he walked, the elven city of Iant-Oerelben unfolded around him with the solemnity of a British colony nestled deep in Georgia's remote forests. Beneath rows of ancient oak trees draped in moss, wrought iron lanterns cast flickering light on the wet cobblestones. Everything looked deserted; only the lights in the upper windows of the homes indicated that their residents were preparing to sleep.
Turning a corner, he began to hear distant music and voices coming from one of the taverns. At that moment, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out and looked at the chromatic screen: it was the governor calling. Paine answered.
"Mr. Paine, have you left the office already?" asked the governor.
The secretary looked around.
"I'm a few blocks away, near Joey's Tavern."
"Can you come back?"
The ever-dutiful Mr. Paine turned around and, under the persistent drizzle, returned to the governor's residence. By the time he arrived, the drizzle had turned into a heavy downpour, and lightning occasionally lit the street with a cold glow.
The governor received him in his office. In contrast to Paine, whose tricorne dripped water from its corners, he was already in his robe, slippers, and nightcap.
"Mr. Paine, I've been thinking about what you said earlier," he began.
"About cutting expenses?" asked the secretary.
"No, about considering a solid business scheme. Call Hunka. I think I have an idea for how he can help us... If you have a moment, I'll explain."
By the time Mr. Paine left the residence again, the storm was coming down hard.