Book 4 Chapter 2: The Promotion
Book 4 Chapter 2: The Promotion
++The current limiting factor on operations is simply manpower. It takes too long for new employees to make their way to the refineries as they are set up. Vornholt’s takeovers of existing refineries, with established workforces, is offsetting this, but it will still be some time, likely months, before another large wave of expansion can occur.++
- General report on the running of Bountiful Oil, placed upon Isabel Vornholt’s desk. 1,882 A.E.
Alira Bella Paula was not having a very good day. In fact, she hadn’t had a good day for quite some time. It was indeed hard to even recall what a good day looked like, but she vaguely remembered them not being filled with an inexhaustible amount of paper-work and a spine-crushing degree of responsibility.
She missed having good days. She always had more free time in them.
Currently free time was more of an abstract dream, as she sat in her new office and eyeballed the pile of forms littering her new desk.
Growing up, Alira had never imagined she’d get a job like this. Her current office was hers and hers alone. Despite that, it was a good thirty feet long and twenty wide, with a ceiling tall enough that a Demigod wouldn’t need to slouch under it. It was lit by arcane lamps, expensive and difficult-to-make pieces that belied the general wealth going into this place, and it was utterly spotless thanks to the two passes it got each day from a cleaning girl.
Just looking at it, soaking the sight in, replenished Alira’s mental energies and had her ready for work again in mere moments.
Isabel had placed Alira in charge because she’d wanted someone she trusted to run the main refinery while she was out snatching up more. This was a decent idea in theory, with the major problem, of course, being that Alira didn’t actually know much about running a business.
She had some knowledge. Partly from her father, and partly because Winzorth apprentices were given a halfway decent education on just about every topic possible. But she was far from qualified, and it was painfully clear to Alira that her personal failings were taking effect. For now the refinery was still going strong, but she’d wanted to make sure she stopped being a weak point as soon as possible.
That meant classes taken in-between work, which in turn meant little rest. Alira’s job alone wasn’t hard, it was the learning and doing all at once that left her so mind-shatteringly occupied.
On the other hand, she’d also had the chance to adjust to this sort of thing already. The Winzorth Institute put all its students through their paces, and Alira had reason to suspect that it actually worked its most talented prodigies even harder on purpose. What she was doing now was no harder than her education had been back then.
That didn’t make it pleasant, but it did mean that she knew she could handle it.
A knock on her door interrupted Alira’s thoughts, and the fact that it was opening before she gave permission pretty much just narrowed it down to Isabel. Sethira wouldn’t have knocked. The girl entered looking to be in a particularly fine mood.
“Acquisition went well then?” Alira asked her.
“Perfectly,” Isabel replied, taking a seat with an especially smug look on her face. “I am almost starting to get bored of it in fact. Not one has been especially challenging, perhaps I should make things less interesting by not reproducing the storm once I have acquired all the refineries affected by it.”
“You’re not really planning on doing another of those are you?” Alira asked her. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she brought the topic up. She wasn’t sure how Isabel had conjured the first storm, as far as she could tell the levels of energy involved in such an event approached those of a volcanic eruption. Isabel was powerful, but she was no closer to that level of energy than Alira, Blakely or a totally mundane infant.
Still, whether it was considered impossible or not, if Isabel made a habit of conjuring one up every time she wanted a chance to pilfer people’s refineries, the powers that be would eventually make that connection.
“I was joking about that,” Isabel clarified. She seemed annoyed, like she always was after a failed attempt at normal social interaction. Alira didn’t really know what to say, so she said nothing.
Fortunately, Isabel had come there with a particular conversation in mind, and she didn’t take long to get back on track.
“My business is now essentially secure,” she noted. “With enough income and enough redundancies that I am confident it is proof against bad luck or outside interference.”
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“I think I’d agree with that,” Alira said slowly. Far from an expert, she still knew scale when she saw it.
“Then I do not need to continue focusing directly on sustaining or expanding it for a while,” Isabel continued. “And I can turn my attention to other means of accumulating power…” Alira saw the consideration on the girl’s face, the caution, and it wasn’t hard to draw the obvious conclusion from that.
“You’re thinking of looking into a marriage properly now?” she asked.
“I am now in a position where I could have my pick of them,” Isabel noted. “Before I would only have faced exploitative offers made to take advantage of me and ensnare my talent without giving me anything in return. Opportunism and ambition. Now, though, I am powerful enough that such offers can be weeded out. I cannot be sabotaged, as the Vorets have found out, and I can very easily go on to exist by myself without aid, or take my pick of weaker candidates and enjoy a truly dominant role in my marriage.”
“Why don’t you then?” Alira asked. “I mean…it’s the modern day and all, and I’m as thrilled as any girl that we can own property regardless of our husbands now, but you’d still be shackling yourself with this, right? Hard to see why you’d choose to do that.”
“There are things a man can do in Garamon that a woman simply cannot. Connections and associations to make. So far I have been making do with my father and brothers for that role, but it has never quite been a full replacement.” Isabel scowled at that. “Besides, morons consider it improper for a woman to go too long without marrying, and that will eventually start to interfere with my other goals as well.”
Always on-target, was Isabel.
“Still though, that’s a big risk to your independence,” Alira pointed out. Isabel smiled at that.
“That very much depends on the circumstances of my marriage. Besides, I can now afford to take my time in setting up a favourable one, as I said my position is strong now.”
Alira didn’t need to be told about that. When Isabel had first come to recruit her a few months ago, she’d been moderately wealthy. Now her fortune was quickly skyrocketing. By income alone she was probably in the top percentile of Garamon’s nobility, making more from her oil than most did from their vast tracts of inherited land. Her business was only looking to expand as she speculated yet more oil fields, and then there was that uncanny magic production from the leyline.
She’d heard that Isabel was looking into other forms of income too, creating magical machinery and composite items rather than just naturally occurring artefacts. It was actually getting hard to imagine just how much more her wealth would grow, there were so many sources and each one looked more promising than the last.
“Well, I trust your judgement at least,” Alira shrugged at last. “But I’m not sure about the others. People might balk at the idea of your leadership being subverted by some man they don’t know.”
Isabel’s eyes frosted over. “Leave that problem for me to deal with,” she said, speaking in a voice that left Alira feeling rather sorry for anyone Isabel deemed to be in need of being dealt with. She seemed to be in a heavy-handed mood of late. “Regardless,” Isabel continued. “I am checking up on you to warn you about the fact that I have an absence planned soon.”
Alira groaned, and resisted the urge to smash her face down into the desk. “Just my luck,” she muttered.
“You are not managing?”
“I am,” Alira said quickly. “Just not comfortably. You going means a change, which means that I’m probably going to have more paperwork. It’s just how these things go.”
Everything led to more paperwork. A bolt of lightning could cut through the sky and somehow lead to more paperwork. Alira had come to terms with that fact early into her new job, but that didn’t mean she liked it.
Isabel, for her part, seemed terribly amused by it all. “Would you like a secretary?” she asked.
The question surprised Alira. “I…don’t know,” she frowned.
“It is no problem at this stage, we can easily weather the expense.”
“Would it help much?” Alira frowned.
“That depends on how much you abuse your position to have them do more work than they are meant to,” Isabel shrugged. “If nothing else it will remove some amount of labour from your own load.”
“And give it to someone else,” Alira frowned.
“Along with a wage,” Isabel retorted. “If you are really bothered that much we can just pay them more, as I said I have money to spare now anyway.”
It was funny how much Alira’s perception of the world had changed in such a small amount of time. A few months ago the wages of a secretary were not that much less than what she was working for, and the idea of hiring one on just to make her own life easier had simply been unthinkable. She’d just not had the freedom to go for such luxuries. And here Isabel was telling her that she could not only have a secretary, and not only have them deliberately overpaid to alleviate her guilt with the world, but that doing so would merely be a rounding error in the grand scheme of their finances.
Of course, Alira didn’t need to be told that anymore. Taking on the position she now had brought with it an increase in salary as well, right now Alira was bringing home a thousand or so crowns a year. She could’ve hired five secretaries and not even decimated her own income.
“Sure,” she said at last. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.” Isabel just waved a hand like the whole affair was nothing, which, to her, was probably true.
“If there is anything else you need, you may send it to me via a memo,” Isabel added. “I will read it later. For now I am departing for Garamon.”
Alira found it interesting to look at her face as she said that. Written there was a clear mix of dread and, paradoxically, glee.