Arabat Flamesoul IV crawled out of a carriage and reeled towards the foreign councilors' mansion, the Myrrhmeadow, with an emaciated but happy face. He resembled a somnambulist; all he could think of was a soft mattress and a warm blanket.
He had spent several exhausting, with far too little sleep, weeks traveling around the Empire analyzing the situation with strategic facilities in his new homeland. Compared to the Old Empire, the new land was an industrial monster: every location, both in the very heart of it and the back of beyond, were tightly filled with as many mining, machining and production facilities as there could fit, sixteen per location. That made the noble Demon's task especially laboured; in order to introduce newer, more called-for facilities, the Empire would need to demolish the existing ones, and the Demon willingly took the responsibility to personally judge which facilities weren't marketable enough to get them replaced.
The job was done, the plans were finally submitted to the Palace. The Economy councilor literally slammed through the mansion's front door and blessed the moment when he chose the nearest bedroom in the ground floor shortly after they moved in. He didn't need to personally witness the changes with the Empire's strategic facilities; after so much effort spent on them, he would probably see that in his dreams anyway... |
