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“Hey, Ida. Greenie and I are going over town business. Ally is on her way, so tell everyone else we’re busy. We need to have an officers’ meeting without Fabulosa and Yula. We’ve too much to cover to wait for their return.”

Ida’s customary acknowledgment usually involved a dissatisfied grunt, but she turned her entire body to face me this time. A pregnant pause preceded her reply, giving me time to brace myself for backhanded compliments. I backed away after she stood up.

“I’m attending officers’ meetings from now on. If you want me to verify that everyone is doing their job, knowing the town’s business will help.” Her leveled gaze implied everyone included me.

“Um, you don’t have to, Ida. I trust my officers.”

She picked up a sheet of vellum and quill as if the almighty governor hadn’t spoken. “I’m taking a more active role. I can do more than pass along notes and deliver messages. You don’t want to waste my administrative talents, do you?”

“No, I guess not. The more I think about it, you ought to be an officer anyway.” I promoted Ida to officer status, giving her more access to the town’s interface. Ida’s promotion allowed me to delegate low-hanging decisions.

After the three of us sat, I turned to Greenie. “We can wait for the building queue discussion when Ally gets here. Until she does, do you want to tell me why the market is such a big deal?”

“Of course, governor. As you know, our current economic model is closed, allowing no foreign trade. Caravans offer our farmers opportunities to unload their surplus yields for a profit.”

“Do we even have surplus yields?”

Ida gestured to my desk. “You’d know about our barley situation if you read your messages. It’s another reason folks want warehouses.”

Greenie retrieved a list of excess crops from my desk. “Our first summer with Forren produced a bounty. I hadn’t accounted for her fertility buff when calculating logistics.”

“Okay, so we’ll need storehouses.” I jotted the note down on my building wishlist.

The goblin picked up another piece of vellum. “I’m afraid that’s only part of the problem. Once we switch to a planned economy, citizens selling surpluses and making profits will make the civic workforce, the kitchen staff, and town guards jealous.”

“I see the problem. Not every job produces a surplus.”

“Correct. Not every independent citizen can support themselves like the Sternway guild. Farmers of spinach want to eat more than spinach.”

I could see where Greenie’s argument ended. “And the market facilitates the need to barter for goods and services. It provides a place for people to get what they need.”

“Not exactly. Rory and Fin are too busy with the town’s needs to fulfill independent orders. It’s unreasonable for them to forgo profiting from the market. Even if they could, it’s unfair to the work crew who built their facility for blacksmiths to do so.”

I hated discussions about economics. They usually boiled down to one-sided lectures about how things worked. And it sounded like this market only tangled things into a mess. Going three steps back for two steps forward didn’t sound like a smart move.

I looked for Beaker, hoping to use him as an excuse to break the meeting for dinner. He snuggled into his nest for the first time. He slept contentedly—the traitor.

Greenie piled on. “Some vocations, like town guards, officers, and the work crew, will never become independent. Others can build, buy, and grow everything they need to survive without public housing or communal meals in the town hall. Without a system flexible enough to encompass the needs for both, Hawkhurst would fall into chaos.”

I rolled my eyes. “That sounds wonderful. It’s a good thing we built this market. But what if we just paid civil workers for their past and future labor? Capitalism solves the problem, doesn’t it? I’ve got thousands of gold pieces—surely it’s enough for 143 citizens.”

Hawkhurst’s chamberlain nodded. “That is undoubtedly the solution for someone wishing to own every brick and beam in Hawkhurst. Unless you can find a worthy buyer, it tethers you to this town forever. Without taxes and a complicated banking system, you’ll find your exchequer depleted of funds in a short while—depending on how much the town grows.”

“I don’t care about owning everything. We could give it away for all I care.”

“To whom? People will resent new owners—and splitting it amongst townspeople will sow jealousy. What makes an equitable division? Who gets the town hall—Rocky? His staff?”

I groaned at the questions.

Ida offered no help to the conversation. She sat primly in her chair, sporting a self-satisfied grin.

Spreading my fingers across the table, I audibly exhaled. “Can you just give us the answers? I know you’ve already figured this out?”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

My exasperation ebbed after detecting a suppressed smile on the goblin’s countenance. Greenie enjoyed the exchange.

“Of course, governor. Might I suggest a work hours program where citizens gradually earn property and structures? For instance, if our workforce builds Fin a smithy, he may own it after working off an agreed-upon term of service. If we feed and shelter him, that term increases—if he can provide for himself by marrying Murdina or another farmer—”

Ally interrupted Greenie as she entered and took a place at the table. “I wouldn’t wager my last slice of cheese on it. Murdina would murder Fin if he ever looked at another farmer—at least, so says Maggie Hornbuster. She says the two have been bunkmates for donkey’s years.” When we acknowledged Ally’s entrance, she gave us a proper greeting. “Good afternoon, lads and lasses. Sorry if I’m late. Am I breaking your rhythm?”

Ida tried to recapture the conversation. “Not at all, I was just saying if Fin and Murdina come into sudden funds, they can buy owed work hours from the settlement to reach independence.”

All that bean-counting didn’t sound like the fantasy game I wanted to play. “That sounds like a complicated system.”

The goblin shrugged. “Its elegance rather pleased me. We need only an exchange rate for work hours and account for what everyone owes. Incremental independence doesn’t upset continuity. It fosters community spirit and private ownership. Compensation for civil service can be a mix of goods, services, and wages, so it’s flexible enough for everyone.”

Ally shook her head. “And all this guff over swapping trinkets? The market stands as one of our easiest projects to date—nay more than stalls, tents, and canopies. Hammer me if I know its purpose. Not one of us owns a copper piece.”

Greenie turned to me. “Issuing funds to the population alleviates this problem.”

“But you said I didn’t have enough to sustain monetary compensation.”

“I suggest issuing copper pieces proportional to time spent working in Hawkhurst. For future labor, citizens may devote work hours for food, rent, buildings, supplies, and equipment provided by civil workers.”

I leaned back in my seat, distancing myself from the issue as much as possible. “Do you have an exchange rate in mind?”

Greenie handed me a sheet of parchment tallying every citizen’s service, minus food and shelter provided by the town. At the bottom, he circled one hour per copper piece. Its simplicity appealed to me, but if Hawkhurst would survive, the rate needed to compare to the wages in the capital cities of Arlington and Grayton.

Ally nodded and handed the sheet to Ida, who scrutinized it more carefully. Never had the room hung on someone’s opinion so much as this.

Ida’s experience in betting parlors gave her a better estimation of money’s value. “A copper an hour is a standard Arlington wage but generous for Grayton and upriver folks.” She wasn’t displeased, and seeing so relaxed me a little.

Ally ruined the moment by waving her hands. “If’n you’re expecting me to keep track of all ye, can forget it. I’m a wee bit busy flitting about from hither and yon, counting resources so construction starts on time. We can’t kick off a building until I gather every batten of timber. My 130 percent managerial bonus doesn’t come from catnapping.”

By shirking from the responsibility, Ally landed the hot potato squarely in my lap. It would tie me down, preventing me from adventuring. I’ve already missed the trog train and had plans for a relic expedition in the Bluepeaks. Tracking and balancing everyone’s work hours involved a bookkeeping nightmare.

Greenie didn’t have time for the task. Goblins weren’t comfortable outside during daylight hours, and keeping track of every parcel would overwhelm him. Fabulosa wouldn’t do it, and Yula made herself scarce half the time, busy preparing for goblins anyway.

And then my gaze settled on my newest favorite citizen—Ida.

“This is a perfect task for you, my dear. I’m promoting you to the chief financial officer. It’s a lot more than delivering messages. You finally have something you can sink your teeth into.”

I looked at Greenie, whose nod of approval moved so slightly that only I caught it.

To my surprise, Ida admired the names, tasks, and work hours, her eyes narrowing as she studied the list. “It is exactly that and more than a mouthful, but I can chew it. I’m going to need a ledger.”

Her agreeability made me nervous, but creating a monster wasn’t so bad as long as I wasn’t on her menu. “You got it, Ida.” I turned to Greenie. “Does that wrap up our problems with the market?”

“After Ida distributes copper pieces for wages owed, I’ll change Hawkhurst to a planned economy.”

“I’ll make you an officer to give you access to the exchequer funds.”

After I promoted Ida in the settlement interface, she smiled appreciably, the first I’d seen, before returning her attention to the list.

“Right! That takes care of that. Next, let’s talk about the build queue. Ally, you mentioned we need warehouses, but Greenie and I uncovered problems with the goblins that necessitate a priority shift to defensive structures.”

“Ye heading north to stir up the gobbers?”

I nodded.

“What in the moons for?” Ally leaned forward at the mention of her old captors. Given her history, I expected and empathized with her reaction.

Forestalling questions with an upraised hand, I disclosed my theory about the relics. After finishing my theory, Ally’s first question stumped me. “If ye and the Lieutenant Guv head north in a few months, who is chief?”

“I assume you’re still recusing yourself from gubernatorial status?”

Ally nodded.

Yula would be great in wartime but showed no interest in day-to-day operations. I couldn’t count on her to be around. She patrolled, communed with nature, or surveyed the territory in her absences.

“That leaves Greenie. I’m not sure who should be the L.T. in Fab’s stead. Greenie, do you have any preferences for your second?”

The goblin gave Ida a questioning look. Instead of Maggie, Fin, or one of the more even-handed dwarves, he chose his office mate. I don’t know why his choice surprised me. They worked together every day, so it made sense.

Ida cocked her head to the side and told her first joke in my presence. “You people pass out promotions like biscuits. I should’ve attended an officers’ meeting a while ago.”

After a round of smiles, I asked what I expected to be the next most obvious question. “What should I tell everyone? The full story or stick to the broad strokes?”

The three exchanged glances. The question ground the conversation to a halt. After a pregnant pause, Ally placed her hand gently on mine. “Dithering doesn’t become a guv’nor. It’s your strike to make. What do ye want ‘em to know?”

I wasn’t sure, and the trio avoided my gaze while I considered the question. “I guess I want everyone to know the risks ahead—and they should know that freeing the relics came from my doing.”

Ally nodded. “If that’s what ye want them to know, then that’s what ye tell them.”

I grunted at the rather obvious statement, but I wished I knew that telling everyone that Fabulosa and I had put these events in motion was the correct leadership call.

I wasn’t expecting applause, but the officers made no appreciative responses or endorsements on the matter. Perhaps they were right to distance themselves, and their silence spoke volumes. A leader should take ownership of what they say.