Chapter 30

  The south of Ithica was the heart of the nation’s economy, with their arable plains and numerous port cities dotting the coasts along the peninsula. Shipping remained the biggest avenue of trade, even with the neighboring Kingdom of Triton with whom Ithica shared its landlocked borders to the north-west.

  While Ithica didn’t have the most fertile of lands, nor the most available acreage for agriculture, the largest of their farmlands were by the coastal areas and on the plains between the coasts.

  Closing in on their destination, Samuel Croft observed the land before him. Very much a man of the south, the immediate surroundings were a stark comparison.

  The southern territory of Ithica were close to flatlands, the steady plains with their gentle hills and small plateaus. There were rivers and lakes a plenty, but very few wild forests, mountains, valleys, or other great monuments of nature, or obstruction as Samuel would call them. Thus, the roads were straight and travel was convenient.

  The north was a very different animal. While the south of Ithica became the epitome of modern civilization and progress, the north retained its wilderness and stubbornly paid homage to legends of olde. Where the south was of a mind to race to the future, the north remembered.

  As the train rounded by mountains and burrowed through tunnels in rocky hills, crossed bridges over valleys and cut through ancient forests, Samuel reaffirmed that he disliked the north. His preference wasn’t based on something as flimsy as aesthetics, but on commerce rather.

  It was about ten times more bloody expensive laying railworks in the highlands of the north compared to the plains of the south.

  At least the land was cheaper to buy, Samuel reasoned. Only to remember the higher maintenance costs eating into that profit as well.

  As they got closer to the city proper, farmhouses and tiny hamlets started popping up by the countryside with an increasing abundance. Such small communities were always the first signs leading up to a bigger settlement.

  Soon enough, the people in the train could spot the city of Faymoren enlarging to their right, getting closer and closer.

  Even from afar, Samuel got the impression of forethought and order from observing a portion of the city. The outer districts were more often than not the poorer communities in any settlements, but Samuel could make out the even spacing between city blocks and the unform height of erected buildings. He couldn’t help but be impressed by the high standards.

  Samuel had visited places twice as grand as Faymoren, only to have to pass through slums and shantytowns to get there.

  Something about Faymoren, however, appealed to Samuel’s sense of integrity. That this is how things should be and that Faymoren should be held up as an example for others to follow.

  Things turned hectic as the train entered the outskirts and neared the station. Eleanor became a whirlwind upon herself as she began fussing over everything and nothing. Samuel tuned her out, knowing from experience that there was no use corralling his wife when she got in her excitable moods. Samuel chose his battles carefully when it came to Eleanor. His poor back was all the reminder he needed of trying to match his wife when she got rowdy.

  The train came to a stop, but the Crofts remained in their carriage to let the majority of passengers disembark and clear the way. It also provided time for their guards to get ready and make preparations.

  A coded sequence came through the knocker on the carriage door. Thelma adroitly opened the door ajar to let the messenger deliver his message. She conversed a bit and returned to report that a certain Captain sent by the Duchess would like a word.

  Expecting such a scenario, Samuel gave permission.

  A man donning the regalia of Faymoren stepped in and crisply bowed. “Welcome to Faymoren, Mister Croft, Lady Croft and Miss Croft,” he greeted formally. “The Duchess sends her regards. I am Captain Herricks, and Her Grace has sent me to provide assistance. I have my men stationed and at the ready with a clear path to your estate.

  “Should you allow it, I have a squad waiting to join your guard detail and aid in transporting your effects,” The Captain delivered with military precision.

  Samuel preened a bit at the respect offered to him. “Well received, Captain. Our gratitude to the Duchess for the welcome and we graciously accept your service. Please coordinate with my head of security Mister Pinker with any questions you might have.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  The captain gave a quick salute and exited.

  Ten minutes later, the Croft Family were in their carriage, their escort very much a procession at this point as they set off.

  “The entire city will know that we have arrived!” Eleanor was very appreciative of the pomp and attention.

  “That’s the point,” Gwen muttered.

  As they made their way, all the Crofts couldn’t help but make comparisons between Faymoren and the capitol city of Isca.

  The Capitol was a cluster of chaos, having undergone an explosive growth in population and housing, monstrously more than the original city limits could handle. With space at a premium, the overcrowded city was bursting with buildings big and small jam packed in every location feasible.

  The streets went narrow and the alleys narrower, twisting and confusing like a maze with dead ends.

  Faymoren, in comparison, was spacious and well put together. The city was designed in a grid like fashion, with the major throughfares and streets all arranged in straight lines going either east to west or north to south, with smaller lanes crisscrossing in parallel and right angles.

  Unlike the mad diversity of Isca, Faymoren shared a uniformity throughout its districts. One could easily navigate their way across with ease by marking many of the monuments across distances because of clear sightlines and open spaces allowed between the taller buildings and towers.

  While Faymoren’s architecture and open spaces made for the most eye-catching features for the Isca natives, Samuel’s trained eye glimpsed at the city’s more intrinsic properties.

  The first thing that jumped out at Samuel was the lesser degree of poverty. The city had its unfortunates, the vagrants and beggars, as well as the unkempt sections amongst the districts. But Samuel saw the least discrepancy in the wealth-spread and social divide than in any city he had visited before.

  The poor weren’t as destitute and the wealthy weren’t as stinking rich.

  Samuel knew that to be truly successful and affluent in Faymoren meant the slow and methodical accumulation of wealth over years, decades even. Very few made it ‘rich and quick’ in the Duchy of Faymoren.

  That meant that the wealthy had substance to their claims. Samuel could respect these people who had amassed their fortunes over generations through hard work and commitment to their professions. At the same time, Samuel could spot the difficulty a fresh entrepreneur or an outsider with new ideas would face in such a market.

  The second thing that Samuel picked up on was the strict adherence to law and order about the city. And not just to its policing of the citizenry, but also to the stringent administration of rules and regulation.

  To the first, the Duchy of Faymoren had the lowest crime rates of anywhere in the nation. For goodness’s sake, other lords and ladies poached personnel from Faymoren to supervise their own territories!

  To the second, Faymoren also boasted the best living standards for the average citizen anywhere in Ithica. Those came with a very competent administration and strict adherence to rules and regulations.

  Samuel saw it in a different light. For he knew that Faymoren was the Duchy that spent the most from in its own coffers upon its citizenry and territory. Samuel gazed at a simple, yet meticulously erected three storey building, knowing that to construct such a thing anywhere else in the nation would cost at least thrice as much as it did in Faymoren and that was with him being generous.

  More accessible education and health care were other benefits the people of Faymoren enjoyed. Along with stellar civil and municipal services.

  Faymoren met such high standards with higher taxes, but still nowhere near the extortionate levels that were in the south. As to how Faymoren could afford such amenities, the Duchy kept honest books and enjoyed tax deductions from the Crown as the biggest provider of military in Ithica and the largest labor force in the north.

  At the same time, the Duchy held a majority stake in community services and business, unlike the south where private sectors bid for the privilege.

  But for all the things that made Faymoren appealing to most, it turned Samuel away.

  Ironically, Faymoren’s propensity for law and order, with its honest and to the book administration had given Samuel conniptions in his dealings with the region. The lack of corruption in the Duchy had vexed Samuel more than he cared to admit. In his experience, he found it so much easier to extort and bribe than follow slow bureaucratic protocol.

  It was hilarious that a competent government cost Samuel more dearly in comparison to his more ‘conventional’ dealings.

  It wasn’t that Faymoren wasn’t fair with Samuel Croft or treated him with prejudice. It was the very fact it didn’t that irked Samuel. He was Samuel fucking Croft! He had earned the right to be treated ‘more’ fairly than others. To be given his due and preferential treatment.

  That Faymoren didn’t, grated on Samuel’s nerves and remained a sore spot to his pride. Equality be damned!

  “I prefer our home,” Gwen commented, drawing Samuel out of his thoughts. While Faymoren was a breath of fresh air, it was mundane and uninspired in her eyes compared to the Capitol.

  “I wholeheartedly agree with you, dear,” Samuel agreed, but for his own reasons. “Faymoren is very much a step back from Isca,” he shot vindictively.

  “You two!” Eleanor scolded-whispered, as she enthusiastically smiled and waved to everyone who curiously looked up to the travelling procession.

  Meanwhile in the castle, Hektor had found a little time off and was in his room catching his up on his magical training.

  A knock at the door had Hektor lower the levitating objects gently on the table.

  “Enter.”

  Mister Gideon sauntered in the room “The Crofts have arrived,” he stated plainly.

  Hektor went still and then slowly looked out his window as if in anticipation. He searched for a few moments and then turned back to Mister Gideon.

  “I was expecting you to arrive out of sorts to fling the door open and shout at me the dire news. When you didn’t, I thought crack of thunder would have been appropriately dramatic,” Hektor half joked.

  Gideon quirked an eye brow at the gallows humor. He deepened his voice and croaked magnificently in an eerie hiss, “It has begun!”