After breakfast, I call for all the department heads to assemble at my new office.

I find them loitering like naughty children waiting to see the principle outside the door. The head butler opens it, and I motion for them to all follow me inside.

I sit at the large wooden desk and watch them shuffle in. There’s not much in the room yet beside the desk and chair. The one picture frame window lets in a little light but most of it is blocked by a large tree.

Despite being the late Lady’s office, it’s sparse. There are plain white walls with a few half empty bookshelves. Almost like someone stole the paintings and half the records in here for some unfathomable reason.

For the department heads, it’s a standing room only situation but they all manage to cram in.

I take a cue from Jun and let them stew in their nervous energy while looking at them each in turn. It’s very effective.

Then I let them stew a moment longer before I say, “As I’m sure you’ve all heard, I am now in charge of managing the day to day of the manor for Lord White Fang. I have high standards and high expectations, so that this is a place worthy of our Lord.”

I might be a fake Lady, but he sure as heck ain’t a fake warlord. Keeping him happy is a great long term survival goal for everyone here.

“Though I do intend to do my best for Jun, I am still a Lady. And I am aware of my faults. First and foremost, I am a Lady of leisure who enjoys being lazy and am certainly unaccustomed to working as much as you.”

Translation, I expect you to start before I wake up and stop after I’m asleep. If I catching relaxing while I am working, it won’t end well.

“Now I know this has been a confusing time. Many of you have struggled and are perhaps second guessing your choices. But today is a new day. A great day to turn over a new leaf and start on a clean slate.

“I wish to start off our relationship with a most valuable gift.” They all lean in closer. “The gift of time. I am willing to grant you a day of amnesty.”

They all take a sudden step back as if they’ve been slapped.

“You know what I have seen, or in many cases haven’t seen. Anything returned, replaced or generally reported today will be forgiven. I want this place running in peak condition as soon as possible and punishing you all would take valuable time.”

They are all closely examining their shoes not wanting to attract attention as the first person requiring amnesty.

“Not that I won’t punish you and your assigned staff, but I value efficiency above your petty squabbles. You have until tomorrow morning to get me your current inventories and the expense reports for the last few years.”

At least half the room begins to sweat.

“I especially don’t care about what happened during the late Lord’s rule. For instance, if you had one account book for the late Lady White Fang to review and a second more accurate one, which kept track of where the money actually went. I want to see both.”

The head chef and head gardener start to fidget.

“Something tells me that most of the missing silver, paintings and portable accessories are surprisingly close if only someone would look for them.” I look at the head butler, who lacking the ability to feel shame, does not even twitch.

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Then I call out each department head and roast them for a bit about all those little details I saw on my initial tour. They don’t assist each other, it’s everyone for themselves in front of their new Lady.

I call out the head butler last. With the confidence of a con artist, he says, “Of course milady, I will have those reports on your desk in no time.”

Since I blatantly doubt him, I clarify the punishments. “Tomorrow, should any looting, embezzlement or other crimes against the White Fang Estate be discovered, they will be processed according the traditional house rules.

“Tell me head butler, what it the punishment for staff stealing from Lord White Fang?”

The edges of his mouth turn up slightly as he says, “Their hands are to be cut off, they are to receive at least 3 lashes, and then be thrown out bleeding into the street.”

He sounds familiar enough with this description, that I wonder if he enjoyed enforcing it.

“And embezzlement?”

“A public beating, where if the guilty confess to where the money is they get their head cut off in an honorable execution. Otherwise, they are to be flogged to death.”

What a lovely justice system I’ve found in White Fang.

“And those that aided and abetted?”

He is now smiling like a psychopath. “They are to have one ear removed, receive five lashings, and then be thrown out bleeding into the street.”

But there is still one more topic I must cover. “There is something I must make blatantly clear. I expect you to uphold a high degree of professionalism.”

The butlers in dead men’s undies has been rather unpleasant nightmare fodder. “I never want to see you or any of your staff in a state of undress ever again for any reason. During your working hours, I expect you to be working in uniform and not pregaming for an orgy.”

All but the head butler have the decency to look uncomfortable. I continue, “What you get up to in your personal time can stay your business as long as it doesn’t bring trouble back to me. I also do not want to see, to hear or to smell anything unpleasant related to such activities.”

I take a moment to look at each of them in turn again.

A bit louder than I mean to, I ask, “Do I make myself clear?”

They obediently chorus, “Yes, Lady Ellen.”

“You have until dawn to get this place in order. Tomorrow we will see if we have a good day, a day of progress or a day filled with blood and justice. I personally hope you show me that you can do better than the gross incompetence witnessed thus far. You are dismissed.”

They all run out of my office like bats out of hell and I don’t bother to suppress my eye roll.

Next on my to do list is to acquaint myself with the record books remaining in this office. The most recent ledger is from well over a year ago, so I decide to start there and work backwards.

Within fifteen minutes, I’m fed up with the ridiculous spelled out numbers they use. It might still be base ten, but it’s no way to do math. My brain might dribble out my ears before I can get through the first ledger.

I take some scratch paper and break out the Arabic numerals from my other other life. My bare basics of double entry accounting are better than this.

I make it about a quarter of the way through the first ledger, when the head chef comes in with a few books and falls to her knees.

With tears running down her face, she says, “Lady Ellen, I’ve come to beg for mercy for my son. Please let him live. He has such a bright future ahead of him and ...”

And she rambles on for a bit. Then hands over the double set of books she’s been keeping. I take the books.

She stays kneeling on the floor, forehead touching the rug. I look through the book. To my surprise only takes me a moment to figure out which was her private copy, it has her payment as the first line item.

When I look up, she’s still there. I say, “I am sure you have better things to do than stare at the dirt on my floor all day. Was there something else?”

“No, milady.”

“Then why are you still here? You are dismissed.”

She carefully stands up, looking closely at all her surroundings as if she’s about to be ambushed. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens.

She backs towards the door without making a sound, as if hoping I’ll forget she’s there. I don’t have the patience and say, “Get back to work.”

The news that I really am not taking heads today got around quickly. Within the hour, each department head arrives for at least one confessional.

To my surprise, I do have all the accounting ledgers by the end of the day. Turns out that when so many people are on the take, good records are a necessity.

The inventories appear to be taking longer. But if they work through the night, I might find the reports on my desk first thing in the morning.