Shortfalls [Solo] [Searing 122]

[Valentin]

Searing 3, 122

The Office of Imperial Revenue

In the functioning of any state apparatus, the line between “minor and necessary functionary” and “dangerous subversive traitor” was always just a bit blurrier than anyone would like. Though the myriad gears of the great engine of State generally ticked over in a way invisible to the average citizen, every rotation of the mechanisms of empire required a thousand tiny decisions which could, in hindsight, be construed as treasonable activity. The great survival skill of any bureaucrat, then, was to identify in advance where the points of danger lie and take particular caution with them.

Being a skilled bureaucrat, Mr. Valentin attended the Post-Quarterly Budget Reconciliation Working Group Meeting with considerable trepidation.

The meeting was held four times a year in the OIR’s main offices, and while the OIR sent invitations to the directors of the largest branches of Imperial government, all of those high officials traditionally dispatched secretaries and administrators to attend. So it was that Valentin entered the State Room on the twelfth floor of the building and found it occupied by a motley cast of functionaries, many of whom he recognized on sight.

There was the Assistant Dean of Finance for the Imperial Academy, a thin and nervous man who was going bald twenty years before his time. The Assistant Dean was rabid for promotion, and it was widely thought that he might work himself to death in the next decade. Valentin held the man in high regard.

Across the table, looking unexpectedly sullen, was Captain Allgeier, a short and severe woman who had been shuffled into a permanent post at a finance desk five years ago for some undisclosed breach of conduct. It was strange to see her looking so grim- the Imperial defense funds were generally the great beneficiaries of these meetings, and she had always gloated over every aven she wrung from her fellows.

[Valentin]

To her left was an enormously fat man, dressed in expensive fashion which was just a bit less in-date than he probably realized. Secretary Corper, special representative on behalf of the Duchy of Dardouen, was here for no purpose other than to make things difficult for Valentin’s office- thankfully, the other provinces had yet to understand the value in that. Hanging about behind him, like an anxious shadow, was a singularly gaunt man dressed in antique regalia; a fortuneteller who had been “accredited” by the government pursuant to a particularly stupid regulation passed a century ago and which nobody had ever found time to repeal. He would not be suffered to spout his nonsense during the actual meeting, but technically the actual minutes had to have an astrologer’s projection attached, so he had to be present.

Then there were several other functionaries whom Valentin did not recognize, and the secretary diligently preparing the ledger to take meeting notes. He took his seat, ignoring the eyes of the others on him. Though few in the government would own up to it, the sole and exclusive purpose of the Post-Quarterly Budget Reconciliation Working Group was to shake him down.

Just as Valentin took his seat, everyone else stood. After a moment of confused hesitation, Valentin did too- just in time to see the representative from the Palace of Spires walk through the door.

He didn’t recognize the man, but there was no missing the Imperial sigil on his lapel. The Emperor’s representative raised a conciliatory hand, and the group took their seats once more. Valentin could have cursed. Why was there an Imperial representative here, of all places? He tried desperately to imagine any wrongdoing from the last meeting which might have drawn the Palace’s eye, but he could imagine nothing. But if he had done nothing wrong, why had the Palace declined to notify his office beforehand?

Everyone settled down without a word and began the meeting as though there were no issues. Something must be terribly awry.

"Good morning, everyone, thank you all for coming here today." As the OIR’s representative, Valentin naturally chaired the meeting, but none of these people were subordinates and he had no choice but to err on the side of pleasantry. Given the presence of the Imperial bureaucrat, in fact, he was rapidly buffing all of the customary small slights and polite insults from his mental roadmap of the meeting. "You should all have copies of the OIR’s quarterly projections, which I have verified with our staff. I won’t waste any time, but will open the floor to objections from the departments."

This was the purpose of the Post-Quarterly Budget Reconciliation Working Group Meeting. Every year, the Imperial Government created a budget, approved by the Emperor, setting forth how much each branch in Gel’Grandal and each of the outlying provinces should receive from the excises- with that information, in theory, each organ of government could set budgets within those funding constraints.

You could plead with the Palace for a higher budget, but once you got your number for the year, that was the end of things unless you wrangled an emergency dispensation (career suicide, if the emergency was your own mismanagement). The sanctity of the budget assignment, however, was only a bar to obtaining extra money during the year if you were either very stupid or, worse, very honest.

At regular intervals, these departments received payment from the OIR according to complex calculations determined by the size of the budget, projected needs, and the amount of processed income. And while OIR kept receipts, the records of mere clerks weren’t afforded the sort of deference the proclamations of the palace received. So it was that all of these mid-level flunkies had showed up; to argue that the OIR had underpaid in some transaction, and try to wring a few extra avens out of Valentin to cover their own little fiefdoms.

“Herr Valentin,” began Secretary Corper, sneaking a worried glance at the Imperial watcher, “I believe there has been an issue with the provision of reserve currency to the Duchy, which you’ll recall is mandatory under the recent Act Eleven, to aid in the establishment of a regional reserve in the event of destabilization of war. There is a 3.5% discrepancy in the ledger for the vault cars on the Glade shipment, which I am sure was merely a miscounted figure and not theft. However, the amount must be made up for next month’s train, yes?”

Corper thought himself a conniving man, and perhaps he did rate as a master schemer in the relative backwater of Dardouen. He had been smart enough to realize that this meeting was an opportunity to try to get OIR to hand over some extra cash, and had come up with a figure he thought was small enough that OIR was likely to cave rather than risk a fight.

Unfortunately, he was neither smart enough to realize that OIR’s leadership didn’t worry about the Duke of Dardouen’s pull in court nor to understand that traincar shipments were special. This mistake would be fatal to his attempt today.

"Herr Corper, it is with supreme reluctance that I must tell you that you are wrong about the source of your discrepancy." Valentin reached into nothingness, then produced a small sheaf of papers, fetched from his office through slipspace. "I have here a copy of the affidavit signed by the inspectors at the port who weighed the shipping crates… along with the statement of the Guild of Coins observer, who has made an oath under Avenna. They certify that the shipment was missing not a single aven, and so the coins must have been misplaced on arrival, which is beyond our jurisdiction. Unless you would like to file a complaint against the Guild for perjury…?"

Corper’s face visibly paled. The Duchy would be within its rights to prosecute that challenge, but the Guild would not accept slander- it would hunt his lie down, and undoubtedly the Duke would offer him up rather than accept the enmity of the banks. Evidently, he had not realized that any shipments made in connection with banking were blessed by an acolyte from the Guild when they were separated from the original reserve, for precisely this reason.

"Pretty words as usual, Valentin," Captain Allgeier said, apparently feeling no pressure to be polite from the Palace’s presence, "But you can’t wriggle out of mine. It’s the same issue as last quarter. Your clerks aren’t sending the border units timely requisitions. They’re tens of thousands off quota."

It was all Valentin could do not to grind his teeth at the appalling woman’s allegation. Firstly, she knew perfectly well that he hated being addressed by his first name in these meetings. Second, the border requisitions had been dispatched on the dot- just as they had been last quarter. Allgeier had figured out two years ago that since the requisitions were delivered by the logistics branch of the army, she could simply manipulate her own records and “prove” the OIR had been late. He still hadn’t figured out a way to fight this claim.

"Captain Allgeier, with respect, we-."

“Herr Valentin, my apologies, but if I could interrupt?”

Valentin shut up immediately as the man from the Palace of Spires spoke, his voice soft but effortlessly confident. “Thank you. Honored friends, I would not wish to take up too much of your time, but the scribes in the Palace have examined the shortfalls reported, and determined that there are none this quarter.”

The entire room fell silent.

First, it was obviously a lie. The Palace of Spires could have investigated the claims, of course, nobody was going to tell the Imperial ministers they couldn’t look into any record they wanted, but everyone present knew they hadn’t.

Second, it was, realistically, the end of the meeting. The fact that everyone in the room knew the claim was a lie meant nothing, just as Valentin knowing that their claims were bullshit meant nothing. Not one of the people in this room had enough clout to gainsay the polite functionary from the Emperor’s own halls.

Third, it made no sense. Why would the Palace bother coming here at all, much less to meddle in the OIR’s favor? The Palace could get as much money as it wanted, at any time, and the squabbles in the lesser departments were not the Emperor’s concern.

“But with that settled, Herr Valentin, there has been a shortfall in the requisition for the Palace’s maintenance this year.”

The man from the Palace produced a missive, bearing the Imperial seal, and pushed it across the table towards Valentin. The OIR man picked it up, willing his hands not to tremble, and cut it open with a thin penknife. It took him only a few seconds to read the figures on the claim.

What?

This claim dwarfed all of the others, and by a lot. Fulfilling it was going to require more than creative accounting, they were going to have to… Valentin wasn’t even sure what. Special collections for some industry? Cancel an ongoing contract?

"But this-" Valentin stopped himself, blood draining from his face. He’d come this close to contradicting the Imperial will, even if it was just one of the Emperor’s clerks. "I- I don’t know how this could have happened. Please accept my profound apologies… on behalf of the Office."

The other man smiled blandly. “We all make mistakes, Herr Valentin. Make sure this one is promptly corrected, and we’ll speak no more about it, eh?”

~~~

It had been an hour since the meeting concluded, but Valentin hadn’t managed to sit back down in the chair in his office. He hadn’t delivered the missive to his boss, who was certain to take it poorly- he wanted to be able to suggest… something? Anything, really. Anything to get around the brute fact that the Palace of Spires was shaking the OIR down for a lot of money, and he didn’t know why.

The Emperor, after all, could order anything done, and it would be paid for. Even if it were a secret project! The Palace simply did not have to justify itself. Why, then, would it bother to disguise a demand for funds?

This made sense only if the Palace didn’t even want the news of the requisition itself to exist. Disguising a major budget addition as a shortfall meant that only the bureaucrats in his office would ever realize anything had happened. But who would question any requisition? Why the secrecy?

It didn’t matter. Valentin wasn’t here to second guess the Imperial will. No, he needed to take this to the OIR’s executives, and he needed to be able to suggest a way to disguise this. But what? It wasn’t as though there was an ongoing disaster which qualif-

Valentin stopped as he heard a scream from the hallway outside his office. His usual annoyance overpowered fear, and he pushed his door aside, glare at the ready… only to find that a half-dozen of his colleagues were gathered in Walther’s office, staring at a communications terminal. He crept in, quiet, craning his neck to see what had caused such an unusual commotion.

“...reports that the new ship has just experienced an accident during its first flight, suffering major damage on the airstrip. The engineers are examining the airship to determine the cause of the crash, but it already seems like this may be the largest aeronautical disaster in five years. Our sources on the ground…”

As his coworkers gaped in horror, Valentin was filled with a sudden sense of elation.

"That." he mused aloud, "Ought to work."