Chapter 23:
The Merchant Scrutinizes the Duke’s Son
MIGUEL WAS IN THE MEETING ROOM at the Lindsays’ estate, decorated with a stately table of dark walnut with leather armchairs lined up around it. The wallpaper was moss green, hand-embroidered with an enormous pine tree. Unlike the drawing room, where the Lindsays invited most guests, only a select few were ever received in the meeting room.
This was where the heir’s true trial was taking place. Twenty people were gathered to decide whether Virgil was fit to be the next duke.
Yeah, perfect timing for a refugee crisis, Miguel thought glumly. It was tragic for the people driven out of their homeland, and he wasn’t too optimistic about his company’s ability to make timely deliveries with the added burden. Still, he wasn’t entirely pessimistic either. The Lindsays were a rich family. He was more worried about the other regions. We don’t want to deal with any spillover from elsewhere.
Miguel stroked his carefully groomed mustache.
The church had proclaimed its intentions with the saint as its mouthpiece, and her words had stirred unrest among the populace. It was no wonder the poorest in society were upset; it was only natural to expect the regional administration to focus on their needs over those of others.
Harland avoided sending refugees to regions with the lowest revenue. They were trying to keep the refugees separate from their own impoverished population—but regardless of their intentions or reasons, they couldn’t stop people from speculating the worst. One could isolate people, but one could not so easily block and compartmentalize information. Such was the case with the saint’s words, which spread and created a wave of apprehension.
Goods distribution was as pivotal to a region as blood flow to the human body. Blockages could have a devastating impact. It was up to each regional lord to manage such an issue with their own resources, but not all aristocrats were skilled at administration. Duke Lindsay was much more flexible than his peers, and that made him a rarity.
How does his son measure up?
Virgil was talented, to be sure, but Claudia stood out far more. Her accomplishments were unending, from her recent appointment as A Priori to supporting Arakaner through her trading firm.
Miguel’s group had undertaken the task of transporting her goods from their region to Claudia’s firm. He’d accompanied them personally for the first trip.
Never thought I’d be riding a boat.
The two countries could see each other’s harbors in the distance because there was relatively little sea between them. Short as the trip was, it still counted as a sea voyage, and Miguel had never dreamed he’d live long enough to see his grandchildren’s faces—let alone sail. Life was full of surprises. And he’d never let his grandkids know how it unnerved him, looking into the endless depths of those waters.
Virgil was involved in the daily administrative work for the region, but his accomplishments didn’t quite stack up to Claudia’s. As someone who served the ducal house, Miguel hoped Virgil would earn himself more prestige.
Why’s he only motivated when it concerns his sister? Everyone knew Virgil doted on Claudia. Miguel wished the man would show a little more restraint in the public eye. A man’s supposed to be the one standing out and soaking up the spotlight.
Miguel had no qualms about Virgil being wrapped around Claudia’s finger, to be clear, but there was a time and a place. There were other times a man needed to fight—to be a sword or a shield, whichever the situation called for. But instead of giving off an unyielding martial aura, Virgil gave off the impression of a graceful and dignified lordling.
The Lindsay siblings entered the meeting room together. Claudia kept her lips sealed during the talks, perhaps because her studies revolved around being an assistant. But she was still captivating in her silence. There was something about her that stole Miguel’s breath away. She huddled in her seat, eyes downcast on her lap in a way that made her look vulnerable—which in turn made him want to protect her.
This is no time to be staring, Miguel scolded himself.
Today’s meeting was about long-term support not just for the refugees but for their people as well. He’d received word ahead of time.
From beneath a chiseled brow, Virgil’s blue eyes regarded those assembled. His azure depths spoke to his strong determination, his expression stern and focused after long workdays in his office. Yet there was a luster to his skin and hair, betraying none of the exhaustion he surely felt.
Visiting their subjects had been a resounding success. There was no reason for Virgil to announce the tax increases—which netted him a few negative points, but perhaps that was a strategy on his part to prevent any surprises when the increases happened.
Looks like weakness to me, though.
A general was supposed to be strong and imposing. Virgil showed no signs of regretting his decision to be transparent. He was no less confident and assertive than his father.
He controls himself well.
Miguel had heard that Claudia empathized greatly with the refugees. Anyone’s heart would ache at seeing the refugees’ condition, having barely escaped with their lives. Nonetheless, there were times when a leader needed to prioritize themselves, even if others might call them callous for it. Miguel had learned that lesson during his mercenary days, when he’d been on death’s door more times than he cared to count. Falling while trying to save another was the pinnacle of noble idiocy. One only achieved an accomplishment fit for the history books if they survived.
Worried though Miguel was for Claudia, she showed no shadows of doubt or unease on her face. He nodded in approval to himself.
Virgil laid out their planned policy. It was met by a slew of shocked whispers.
“Did you say ‘regional healthcare’?” Miguel demanded, voice rising above the rest.
“Correct. And as a special exemption, we’ll allow the refugees to enroll as well,” said Virgil. What he’d proposed was a healthcare initiative that would cover all their region’s people.
The others questioned whether this was any different from a tax increase.
“It’s different because the revenue from this program will be used solely to cover people’s medical expenses,” Virgil reasoned. “But I won’t deny that it’ll feel like any other tax increase. We can label it a healthcare tax, but as I said, it will not be pooled with the rest of their taxes but rather set aside as a separate fund.”
“Separating our tax money, hmm?”