Chapter 64

  Hektor needed money.

  For the first time ever, Hektor experienced poverty. When being born an aristocrat was akin to winning at the dice roll of Fate and Fortune, having the Duchess of Faymoren for a mother was a different kettle of fish when it came to privilege and birthright.

  For being Sabina Ashworth’s brood, suffice it to say that Hektor lived the life of the most exclusive of elites and was afforded the highest privilege in Ithican society. No expenses were spared. Nothing was left for wanting.

  To his credit, while accustomed, Hektor hadn’t grown a slave to such a lifestyle of entitlement and wealth. To the contrary, he harbored an aversion to courtly life. Though, with growing maturity, he had come to appreciate his mother more for her commitment, for providing him with such excess. It was when he had left home for new pastures that he came to realize the value of what he had had, of how much Sabina must have invested in him.

  That a mother was to care and provide for her child was only right. But beset by financial conundrums, Hektor couldn’t help but wonder and worry if it had all been wasted on him. A small niggling thought that he had been undeserving, that he had hoarded what could have been better used for many others.

  For it’s worth, he was mindful for what he had and felt indebted to his mother anew. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Hektor from looking to her all the same for an answer to his troubles.

  The issue remained that Hektor needed money. Not for himself, but for his county. It would have been so much more feasible if the situation were otherwise. Amassing personal wealth was relatively simple in comparison to uplifting the collective fortunes of a territory and its people.

  Roheim needed revenue. More precisely, Hektor needed money to flow into Roheim from outside the territory. Roheim had little to no industry and was similarly lacking in regards to any kinds of exports. The people lived off the land and cohabitated in a tight community, needing and wanting for little from the outside.

  It was a sustainable way of life. Very possibly with better values than most did in the big cities. And Hektor wasn’t of a mind to change that. To the contrary, he had come to appreciate Roheim and its placidity in the short time he had been there.

  A notion the natives agreed with. The general sentiment vehemently favored preservation and carrying on as they were as opposed to some great transformation of their society. Hektor, in line with his duty as count, was thusly more inclined to guard such a place against change than uproot it to conforms of modernity or twist it to replicate an urban lifestyle.

  Rather, Hektor wanted to improve and work with what was already there. Improve, not revolutionize.

  He was driven to do so. That Sabina had willingly given him the means to serve the people better meant that Hektor was compelled to do just that.

  First and foremost, Hektor needed money to facilitate his court. His retinue of advisors would be the envy of any count, a marquess even. It was a crime of nepotism that Hektor had been lent their allegiances when he was little more than a lord presiding over a relatively small territory.

  His title of count was singularly due to his lineage and to further credit the Croft’s by his higher rank of nobility as their son in law.

  Yet, in the circumstances, Hektor was only too grateful with the elevated boons presented to him. Even with the caveat that Sabina had only promised the services of his advisors for the duration of five years, after which Hektor wouldn’t be able to afford even one of the aether-blessed that were currently in his court.

  So, quite simply, Hektor had five years to make the most of the hand he was dealt. Anything less would be a waste.

  The immediate plan centered around healthcare and education. While Hektor had plans for investment and territorial upgrades, they were far into the future and so circumstantial that they lent more towards wishful thinking at the moment.

  Mercifully, he had enough funds to get the ball rolling. The treasury could hold out for a few months with the tax exemptions offered to Hektor on his inauguration.

  The educational initiative had begun with the apprenticeship of the locals under his court. The project had been easy enough to implement. It was light on the budget and showing early success in building trust and goodwill amongst the locals and newcomers. With forethought, it was also the first step towards training those who would go on to become senior members of the administration.

  Empowering the locals aside, apprentices always made cheap labor.

  On the other hand, the healthcare reforms were a sinkhole for the treasury.

  Despite having a team of healers, alchemists, doctors, volunteers and whatnot, it did not detract from the fact that any manner of healing involved essentials. Herbs, reagents, minerals, ingredients that racked up a cost even before they were processed into medicine at the further expense of alchemy and chemistry. And while certain treatments could be mass produced for cost-cutting, the more serious and individual cases always ended up expensive.

  With Sabina paying for the services of Healer Holmes, Doctor Pascal and Alchemist Fennel, Hektor saved a ton on hiring, but he couldn’t shortchange the local doctors and healers in good conscience. The expenses only rose taking in account the medicine, laboratory work, operating procedures and nursing, with exports taking a chunk of it.

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  All of which necessitated for the count’s charity to be guided by cold logistics.

  Which meant that treatments could be discounted, but not free. Which was still a problem when the locals with the more severe ailments could not afford the remedy even at the reduced prices.

  Which in turn meant that Hektor couldn’t afford to be a saint. His goodwill would otherwise bleed the coffers dry.

  An uneasy compromise was with improvised payments.

  The silversmith with the cut index finger would pay in trade and take on new apprentices at the court’s behest.

  The parents of the boy with the mangled knee would pay in interest-free installments. The debt will still take them years to repay.

  Missus Boothe, however, Hektor hadn’t the heart to charge. Having met her and witnessed her dementia, Hektor simply couldn’t demand payment from the elderly. The treatment itself would shorten her life expectancy to five years and Hektor wished for Missus Boothe to live her time remaining without the leash of debt around her. No one argued with his decision.

  Hektor’s gaze lingered on his mother’s most recent correspondence that had only arrived earlier that day. Having grown up with the invention of the telephone, communicating across letters was a novelty. Adding to the unfamiliar was that Hektor didn’t have any experience with long distance relationships. Nor had he been separated from his mother, nor had he left home before.

  Curiously, his interchanges with Sabina over post felt peculiarly unique, almost as if they were both slightly different versions of themselves.

  Hektor found it insightful when he read the letters. Almost as if he was an observer to the dynamics between two people who were more than just mother and son to each other. A duchess and a count. A senior and a junior. A teacher and a student. An ideal and a pursuit of said ideal.

  As it were, Roheim didn’t have telephone lines to other settlements. It was another expense included in the list of things to rectify for the new count.

  Despite the convenience of the telephone, Hektor could make do without. Majority of his letters were from the Duchy and if it were urgent enough, Sabina could have her correspondence hand delivered within half a day depending upon train schedules.

  The latest letter had been urgently anticipated. The contents of which would go some way towards lessening Hektor’s money troubles. It wouldn’t completely solve the issue, but Hektor could use it as a stepping stone to build momentum.

  The eventual goal was to remain independent, but to make the most of the situation, Hektor had doubled down on asking Sabina for more help. Perhaps shameless, with Hektor abusing the charity of the Duchess and running to his mother for help. Hektor didn’t much care for potential the rumor mongering. He was more concerned with finding solutions and making money than his public image.

  If any had a problem with the Count using his connections to make deals with the Duchess, Hektor would happily direct the hypocrites to air their grievances to the Duchess and leave him be, thank you very much.

  Instead, Hektor would argue and flip the narrative. Afterall, the countship had been forced onto him and it was only logical that he was supported through the transition. And it wasn’t like Hektor was filling his own pockets or taking advantage of the coffers of his mother’s Duchy.

  This new arrangement between Hektor and Sabina was all business, entirely transactional. Fair and above board, the deal had been planned well in advance even before Hektor’s arrival in Roheim. The preparations had been delayed to limit overspend and not strain Roheim’s already fragile resources.

  As a ritual, Hektor and Sabina exchanged correspondence weekly. While some of their communications did bear the official seals of their station, most of their letters remained of a personal nature.

  Hektor always looked forward to the letters. He was surprised at how he found it easier to talk to his mother with ink and paper rather than face to face. And Hektor promptly chose to avoid that nugget of introspection for as long as he could get away with and just enjoyed bonding with his mother.

  But as he went to store the letter, his mood soured. For looking to the stack of letters in the drawer, there, on top, was last week’s communique that had brought the news that Albert, Hektor’s half-brother, would be returning to Faymoren. That Sabina had allowed her son to come home.

  Hektor didn’t know how he felt about that. No, that wasn’t true. He felt so many things all at once. It confused him fiercely.

  He felt the rooted fear of a scared child. The righteous anger of the wronged. And the wounded pity of the discarded victim.

  And yet, he also felt detached from it all. Almost as if he relived it watching through a glass window. Like the chains tying him to the past had lengthened enough that everything wasn’t as visceral, as close as it had once been. Painful still, but not as crushing. Where once the fire burned, now it was an uncomfortable heat that he could walk away from.

  The past had shaped Hektor, but maybe, just maybe, he had broken free of the mold.

  He still wasn’t happy. Far from it. He may understand the reasons, the politics, but he didn’t like Albert returning to Faymoren.

  It felt like betrayal. Felt like the villains got away with it while their victims were left unmended and ignored.

  The annoyingly sensible side of Hektor acknowledged that Albert wasn’t the one who had hurt him when he was ten years old. No, there was no mistaking that it had been Reginald who had broken Hektor when he was a child.

  But sides had been picked. And Albert had shown his allegiances and taken to protecting his big brother.

  It was hardly a surprising turn of events. Hektor and the Farley brothers had never been close. Ever since Hektor was a tot, Reginald and Albert had distanced themselves from their half-brother. They weren’t cruel; they just kept their distance. To them, Hektor as an outsider, an additional extra that didn’t fit into their perfect lives.

  Partly out of fear of Sabina, they didn’t bother the bastard and treated him akin to an unpleasant distant relative whom they were keen to get rid of, but couldn’t.

  That they were so much older than Hektor both helped and did not. The age gap allowed the brothers to maintain a tolerance for Hektor, but it also prevented them from bonding. That they didn’t see Hektor as an equal but a child protected Hektor from their rivalry and ambitions. But they also never came round to seeing him as their true kin. Never family. Only a black sheep.

  No surprise then when Duke Farley and Albert had sided with Reginald and protected him from Sabina’s wrath.

  They were guilty by association in Hektor’s eyes. Thinking about it, Hektor’s mood turned darker. For he saw the writing on the wall. It starts with Albert. It would end with Reginald.

  Reginald’s return to Faymoren was inevitable.

  While Hektor was evicted, Albert and Reginald would get a homecoming.

  It made Hektor mad. And sad. But there was nothing he could do but stew in his emotions.

  He knew that he should talk it out with someone. Thadeus or Gideon. Jamie or Marolyn even. That he was surrounded by people he could trust went some way to ease the pain and not make him feel so alone and abandoned.

  But he was not ready to share this mess with others. He had earned the right to feel angry. Earned the right to hate.