Rubi shrugs, "It is what you make of it. As you may have noticed, Streve didn't exactly push himself. But it'll be up to you to enforce and organize how the law is done on the docks. You'll have a small staff under you, inspectors and the like. In many ways, you'll be the face of Androan customs." the old lady smiles, 'Not a bad job."
"I wonder how compliant the other commissioners are," she pondered out loud. "Corruption seems like a very real problem around here."
She would be in a good spot to implement her outline of the fees she'd planned out over her break. All in all it could work out well for her, in theory at least.
"What sort of connections would I need to make to be successful? Anyone you figure I ought to cozy up to?"
Yes, the Trade path was the more sensible. Of course it was. Sure it would be sad to give up on something as alluring as a position with arcane matters but she had to think about it from all sides.
Rubi ponders the questions, 'I know it varies widely. The Trade men in Timberfell are completely bought and sold by the Lumber Consortium. The ones in Tamuth are often considered the most honest, and rest are a mixed bag. You could make quite a name for yourself. Assuming you do a good job."
The graying woman shrugs, "As for who to cozy up to, that depends. I'd let them approach you, and don't overplay your hand. You'll probably get offers from half a dozen factions, to allow smuggling or illegal trading go on in your docks. Could be lucrative, and not just money wise. the information could be key."
Imperia gives a slow nod as she listens, the gears in her head turning slowly. She could accomplish something in that trade job. She wasn't sure what exactly, but she was inventive and resourceful. Something would come to mind. If nothing else Rubi would probably have some ideas. And she'd be the boss, which counted for a lot in her opinion.
"There's no part of Andoran government that isn't buried under six feet of dirt, is there? It's as dirty as Cheliax, just more chaotic," she said with a sigh, the question more rhetoric than anything else. "Sorry to have interrupted your speaking but I didn't know anyone else who could give me some insight."
The graying lady stiffens at the last remark. 'This is hardly Cheliax." she says, her voice harder then normal. 'We have our problem, but we are not an empire based on he consorting for devils and the slavery of others." She pauses then, looking at Imperia, then he face softens.
"I apologize. Just, we do not care to be compared to Cheliax. If I lived there, I would be taken, tortured and broken, probably killed, for my views. So would you, if I am not mistaken. Yes, we have corruption, corruption I have spent my whole life combating, but our worst is nothing compared to Cheliax even at their best."
Rubi shakes her head. "That has nothing to do with this. So, you are taking the Trade job then? Should be interesting, I have some applicants, if you do any hiring. Just let me know."
Imperia is slightly taken back by the sharpness of Rubi, but she should have expected it what with the anti-Chelish sentiments that run rampant through the country. It still surprised her every time. She just could not understand why people didn't like her country just a little more. As far as she was concerned, it was close to the greatest place in the world to live. She just couldn't openly practice her religion there. Nethys was a rather unpredictable god with many faces, and Cheliax frowned on anything unpredictable. Those Hellknights were... A shiver ran down her spine. Spooky, Hellknights were spooky.
"I've gotten used to that sort of reaction by now, I should be apologizing for the comment. You'd think I'd have learned to hold my tongue on such matters by now," she said back, holding back a cringe as the offended Ziggip bit down on the finger Imperia had placed over his mouth to keep him from speaking. He'd probably just practice all the swear words he was so fond of spouting off like a parrot when given a chance.
"The trade job makes the most sense. And from what the Minister said, there might be more opportunities to shift around later. Besides, I am still involved with the tracking on magical items with the trade ministry. A bit of a silver lining," Imperia explained. "And I suppose I'll need to take stock of my personnel. My position will need to be filled, but I don't know if they do a midterm lottery for that."
Rubi sips her tea, 'Sometimes, probably not for such a minor post. I wouldn't be surprised if you did some hiring or got some from a pool of applicants just for that purpose."
"While I am sorry for having bothered you while you were busy, I do like that we finally found a moment to catch a cup of tea together," Imperia said with a grin from behind the rim of her own cup. "Though I suppose I should run off and inform the Minister that I accept the offer sooner rather than later. She doesn't seem the sort to like to be kept waiting long."
Imperia finishes off the last bit of her tea and sweeps her hand over her lap to get rid of the crumbs left behind by imp's poor eating habits. She wraps up any niceties with Rubi before heading back to the Citadel to give her answer to the minister. Then maybe send a messenger to the fellow from arcane matters explaining the change in situation and she'd have to decline their offer.
The Trade Minister seems overjoyed at Imperia's choice. She says Imperia can start 'tomorrow.' and gives her a letter, giving the young arcanist the power to 'bind and loose', pretty much full writ ont he docks. She sends Imperia away, adding she expects 'great things' from her newest promotion.
Imperia is soon away from office politics and among the many shops and stores of Almas.
Imperia bobs and bows as she thanks the minister and takes her leave.
As she strolled the streets of Almas, she realized just how good it felt to be carrying a piece of paper that granted her a fair amount of power. Granted it was centred on the docks, but trade was an important role within any society. She walked a little taller and a little prouder than she had since her graduation. Best not to think on how long ago that was.
She peeked her head into a few shops, some with things far to gaudy for her tastes and others with things far out of her price range. What she needed was quality basics of simple make, and a handsome man to carry it all into her house.
With her budget in mind, Imperia, reluctantly, steered clear of the shops offering furniture in rare and exotic woods or laced with magic. One day, perhaps, she could get a self-sorting desk or a wastebasket with a never filling bottom. The newly minted Commissioner also avoided the pawnshops and the more disreputable stores.
She soon found a solid looking establishment run by a single large family. The owner, a stunted, brown skinned man (Katapeshi maybe?) bowed and scraped as if she were royalty. His strong sons oon had a pile of furniture for her to review.
The furniture store sends a well-stocked cart across town, to her new home. With practiced speed and efficiency her new home is stocked, although un-decorated. Still, it is better then the bare cell she had that morning.
It was simple furnishings sure, but they were her simple furnishings. Decorations could come later as she acquired them. People had a way of simply accumulating junk to put on shelves and what not.
She flopped onto her new bed and stared at the ceiling for a bit. It had been a long, long day and full of unexpected little twists and turns. She wasn't really sure what to expect when she went back to work. Was the office already rebuilt? Or at least started? What exactly was Streve's job anyways? Mostly he seemed to sweat, eat, and play chess if she recalled correctly. At least she wouldn't have to clean out that disgusting old office of hers now that it was burnt out.
Imperia tidies the house, all of it coming together nicely. She is just pondering what to eat for dinner when there is a knock at her door. Peeking out she seems a man and woman standing on her new doorstep.
Opening, they introduce themselves as 'the Gargins', her new neighbors. The woman is carrying a casserole of noodles and cheese that smells heavenly.
'Are you our new neighbor?" she asks shyly.
"Oh, uh, well yes I am!" Imperia says. Social calls felt a little foreign after all the drama. "I'm Imperia Voralius. Would you like to come in?"
Imperia gestures in towards her home, cringing when she catches a glimpse of Ziggip flying around in circles near the ceiling. That alone wasn't awful, but the crude song he'd heard at the docks was. It was like every other word was a curse or slur.
"Ziggip go to bed and stay there," she hissed at the imp.
She looked back to the Gargins, cheeks a bit rosy with embarrassment. "So sorry he get's a bit excitable."
"An...imp?' The wife says, her bright smile faltering. The casserole wobbles a bit.
At the same time her husband eyes light up, "An imp?"
"Yes, an Imp. Quite trademark for the graduates of the Acadamae. This ones a bit young yet..." Imepria explained as Ziggip blew a raspberry before flying off to undoubtedly cause some sort of havoc in her room.
The difference in reaction between the couple was notable, and Imperia wasn't sure what to make of it. Clearly the wife wasn't so fond of the idea so she'd have to tread carefully. For all she knew, the woman might faint upon hearing she was at the door of a Chelaxian.
"Oh, uhm, let me help you with that," Imperia jumped in, moving to grab the casserole before it found its way to her floor.
Imperia grabs the faltering casserole before it smashes.
The wife stands at the door, nervously but the man's eyes sharpen, "Should we expect trouble with the imp during the night? You see we have cats..." He seems to be fishing more then actual concern.
Judging and watching, Imperia notices. The man is wearing the outfit of a member of the Watch. The guy is a cop!
"Oh no. Cat's might actually be the bane of his existence and he avoids them like a mouse," Imperia explained, glad to have avoided a big messy clean up. "And he's too lazy to do much more than sing vulgar songs at inappropriate times."
A member of the Watch... well, at least there was some law enforcement nearby. If she ever went back home for the holidays she knew who she was going to ask to house sit.
"I take it you're a member of the Watch," she tossed out, hoping to distract the man's wife from the topic of imps. "Judging from your outfit I mean. I could be wrong, I am new around here. Did you want to come in or...?" Ziggip might have scared them off, but she felt like a horrible hostess just having everyone at the door.
The woman shakes her head while the man looks around keenly, "Yes, I am. Only a lowly captain, I'm afraid.' After his look around he nods to himself. 'No, we won't intrude. Just wanted to say hello to the neighbors. We'll be around if you need anything. Don't worry, we'll have an eye for you, if anything is amiss."
With that cryptic farewell the couple depart, the woman in tow.
It could have gone better.
"No such thing as a lowly member of the guard," Imperia said firmly, clearly really believing it to be true.
It was a little disappointing that they weren't staying but she could hardly blame them. She was comparatively odd next to the average Andoran citizen with her crazy Chelish accent and rogue imp flapping about.
"Well, don't be strangers. It's a pleasure to have met you both!" she replied chipperly, trying to sound jovial despite their ambiguous parting comment. She heaved a sigh and slumped against the door as she shut it behind them. That really could have gone better, but at least she got dinner out of it.
"Ziggip!" she shouted across the house sternly. She was going to have to have a serious talk with that imp about his behavior around company... and use food to bribe him into agreement.
Imperia spends the better part of the evening nagging and nattering at the problematic imp who only agreed to keep his mouth shut around houseguests after a three hour hunger strike. Apparently that's as long as the little guy could go before deciding he was near dying of starvation and caved to his mistress' demands.
The meal was better than anything Imperia would have managed, and she was grateful to her new neighbours. Perhaps she could pick some cookies up at the bakery to bring over in thanks. She wouldn't try to subject them to her own baking... that would just be cruel.
The rest of her night was fairly uneventful and mostly consisted of some minor housework and laying out her clothes for tomorrow. The prospect of returning to work was quite exciting, especially with a new promotion of all things! She could still hardly believe it. She fell asleep dreaming of the things she'd accomplish: cleaner docks, more forms and paperwork, and a take-a-number system in the office waiting room...
The next morning is dank and overcast, with bit of fogs rolling among the streets. Everything is wet and damp (even Imperia's hair is a sodden mess) but Ziggup seems to be behaving.
Outside, on her way to work, she spots the Watchman she met last night. Jak Gargin. He nods and waves her over, his coat hunched against the chilly damp.
His face is hard but not cruel. "Two things."
"One, we are a nation of laws and order. Not sure where you are from, but out laws are to be respected. Bribery and cutting corners is not allowed here. Understand?"
His face softens a bit, and she sees how tired he looks. Ragged stubble spots his chin and dark rings under his eyes. 'Secondly, we have had a thief striking in this area for a few weeks. Please, stay safe and keep an eye open. Report anything you see to me." With that he nods in dismissal and returns to his beat.
Imperia purses her lips, holding back an exasperated sigh at the continued prejudices. Not to mention the fact that their entire country is rife with political corruption and bribes. She settled for pulling her long hair forward and giving it a habitual tug rather than voicing any of this. Ugh, it was a soggy, tangled mess thanks to this dreary weather...
"Rigid adherence to lawful behaviour is beaten into the children across the border at young age, Captain," she assured him, hoping she wouldn't have to explain what border she meant. "You will be the first to hear should I see anything amiss."
With his nod of dismissal, she gets back to her new commute to her new job. It was exciting and nerve wracking, but she kept her chin up. Even if she was unsure of herself, she was going to feign confidence. A good boss never let underlings see weakness and demanded respect from day one.
Ziggip seemed to pick up on this vibe from Imperia and puffed himself up proudly on her shoulder.
It was hard to tell the time in this light, but she was sure she'd woken and left plenty early. Probably a good thing as she was going to have to figure out her new route.
Imperia's new commute is all on foot. It is a bit more tiring then the ferry, but faster and more direct. She passes through busy marketplaces and past bustling shops. The brisk commercial activity matches her mood. The wet sky doesn't though, and puts a damper on everything.
She soon arrives at the sight of the old building, that burned now. The charred ruins is gone with no sign. Instead a new building is going up, all scaffolding and timbers, with dozens of workmen swarming the sight. She sees a few temporary buildings set up, filled with clerks half-heartily doing their jobs. It all has an air of temporary and transience.
A few nod to her though, recalling her busy days here at the docks. No one rushes up to greet her though, not the builders, not the clerks.
Imperia looks about and vaguely wonders what exactly it was Streve did in his time here. It mostly seemed to be... well... not a lot. But, as the Minister said, the job was what you made of it. She would accomplish much more.
The confidence that she felt earlier wavered under the unfamiliar circumstances, but she made up for it by sticking her nose a little in the air. Not exactly a perfect fix, but hopefully she was still managing to come off as the confident, respectable boss she was hoping to be.
She approaches one of the nearest clerks and takes a quick look at what they were in the process of doing, if anything. "Good morning. I'm Imperia Voralius. I'm taking over Streve's position. Could you please show me where I can set up? And perhaps point out the head contractors working on the new offices?"
The clerk is stamping a series of records and ledgers, mostly without checking. The cargo approved and being imported.
The clerk looks up, bored. "Congrats. You can set up wherever you like, aren't you the boss?" The tone is lackadaisical and disrespectful.
'As for the builders, no idea, but that half-orc seems in charge." he points to a large, muscular half-orc in a bright blue jacket swearing over some papers.
Great. Someone was feeling sassy today. She looked about for the largest makeshift building and head towards it. If nothing else, she should orient herself to the temporary workplace and perhaps introduce herself around. She'd hardly met a soul besides Streve since starting here on the docks.
Oh, and please spread the word that I'd like the commissioners to check in with me at some point today," she added before she parted ways with the unhelpful clerk. "And the clerks. And could I get your name?"
"Marmo, Marmo Silvens." the older, graying man says. 'Been here five years. Remember that." and turns back to his work.
Imperia crosses the ground, close to the busy building site. A few captains and other businessmen walk up to her, chatting and trying to arrange meetings. A few, those who don't know Imperia, hint at bribes.
The largest is not a temporary building but a large, sway-backed warehouse. Poorly kept, and salt-stained it once housed cargoes of meats and still smells like old rancid sausage. Inside are a few dozens desks with clerks and long lines of bored men and women looking to do business.
As Imperia enters the half-orc int he blue jacket nearly barrels into her. 'Sorry, ma'am. My apologizes" he adds, respectfully.
'Tok Anerso, master architect. I'm the one they hired to build your new offices. They said you'd be back today. Glad to meet you." he sticks out a large, gnarled and callused hand.
"I'll make a mental note of that," Imperia said back behind her as she departed to go about her business.
She tells the captains and businessmen who were pestering her about meetings and the like to come by later once she'd had a moment to set up. She had a hunch she was going to need to pick up an appointment book for this job. If she was lucky, maybe she'd find some office supplies laying about.
The building that seemed to be the major hub of the temporary offices left something to be desired. Imperia would have to do something to keep that smell at bay if she planned on working in here. But her thoughts of bringing in flowers was disrupted when she was jostled by a large orc. It takes some effort to stay on her feet, but she manages, even if it was quite ungraceful.
"No, no. My fault for lingering in the door. Imperia Voralius. The pleasure is all mine, Master Anerso. I don't suppose you have a moment to update me on the progress of the new office? I'm trying to catch up and get my bearings around here."
"Sure" He launches into a very long and very technical description of the building, talking about 'bearing partitions', 'newel posts' and 'retaining walls' until Imperia is quite lost. The half-orc seems to warm to the subject, increasing in intensity and excitement.
Imperia just nods along politely as he updates her, and when he winds down she gives him a pat on the shoulder. "I can see we've found the right man to head up the job. Things seem to be moving along. Do we have an expected finish date yet?"
"A few weeks. Do you have any wishes or suggestions? I'd like to have your input for the layout or anything. need anything special for your office or something?" He laughs, "An acid pit, like int hose dungeons the adventurers talk about?"
Imperia ponders the point for a moment before responding. "Well, I'd like my office to be a bit larger, of course, and on a corner if it's manageable. More windows. But... if you could also build a two by two by one compartment under the floor in that same office, I'd appreciate it. Er, a rather discrete compartment, I should clarify."
The half-orc grins, 'I love the fun little nooks and secrets. Do you want it to lock? Trapped? Would you also like a formal, more visible safe? And windows...hmm." After getting whatever instructions you tell him, the half-orc vanishes, wheels turning in his head.
Behind him, is a graying, distinguished looking man. He bows, shallowly to Imperia. 'My name is Herni Jakob. I represent the Lumber Consortium. Do you have a moment?"
Imperia tilts her head to the side, considering all the possibilities. "You can do all that? Lock, for sure. Maybe trapped, but nothing too elaborate... last thing I need is to spring it on myself. A safe on the wall sounds good. Something I can hang a painting over perhaps. If anyone finds one poorly hidden safe, maybe they won't go looking for another." While speaking of this she keeps her tone low, not exactly wanting to advertise the planned safes to the world.
After crossing some Ts and dotting some Is with the contractor, the older gentleman approaches. She returns his formal introductions with one of her own.
"Imperia Voralius, and I suppose you know who I represent. I could spare a moment if you don't mind a severe lack of office space to host a meeting..." Imperia trails off, glancing around for somewhere she could potentially start taking meetings. Preferably something with some privacy, or at least a little quieter than where they currently were.
The warehouse is big and open, not well suited to private offices. There are a few rooms along the wall, where items were once weighed and where the ledgers were stored, but they are cheap and smell of rank sausage.
'Of course." Jakob says. "I understand this area is under your new management. Some settling in is obviously required."
The man smiles and says, "I merely only came to offer my assistance. In the past this office has had some...irregularities regarding timber shipments. We merely wish for the law to be more consistently upheld. Anything we can do to aid that process, we offer."
'Perhaps some art for your new office? As a gesture of goodwill and partnership?" the man offers easily.
"If I am to understand correctly, only lumber of a certain grade must be brought in through your import offices. I assure you that the trade office is aware of the laws. If it will put your mind at ease, I will remind my commissioners to check the quality of and lumber coming through the docks," Imperia offers forward, quite happy that she has some level of deniability in terms of her knowledge of wood quality. "And I could hardly refuse a gift in the form of a symbol of our mutual cooperation."
Guess she'd have something to hang over the one safe now.
Henri bows, "Of course. Thank you, Commissioner. I am sure this will be a profitable partnership. DO you have any taste in art? A Chelish piece, perhaps?" he says, eyes sharp.
Next is none other then the flamboyant female captain, Kellndra. Wearing high sea boots, a deep purple jacket, and a jaunty feather in her cap she smiles and steps in, looking around.
"It needs some work." She says, looking at the warehouse. "I've seen Chelish slave ships that smelled better."