[Measure of Devotion 01.0 - 03.0] Box Set

by Caethes Faron

“Just water, we’ll save the harder stuff for after the work’s done.” Jason smirked and winked at Mr. Pernicky and Mr. Jones across the table. The other men chuckled, and the smile on Jason’s face was not feigned. The dynamic with these men was so very different from the staid and proper dealings in Perdana.

  Martin sat at Jason’s right, fumbling through some papers. He had looked supremely uncomfortable during lunch. They had eaten at the inn where Jason and Martin were going to be staying for the night, and it wasn’t the type of place Jason thought Martin would ever choose to patronize. There were nicer places in town, but Jason didn’t see the point in spending more than necessary. He was there to do a job, and as long as he had a private room and bed at the end of the night, nothing else mattered.

  Mr. Walnick came back in carrying a tray with a pitcher of water and five glasses right about the time Martin was done pulling out his notes and arranging himself for the meeting.

  “Thank you, Mr. Walnick. Now that we’re all settled, let’s get started. The first thing I wanted to say is thank you. Productivity is up. Efficiency is up. Profit is up. Don’t think for a minute that I take any credit for that. Compared to what you gentleman do every day, I have it easy. You make it easy. So take a moment to congratulate yourselves.” Jason met the eyes of his head foreman first and then his general manager.

  “Thank you, Mr. Wadsworth,” Mr. Jones said. “We appreciate you noticing.”

  Jones was a brawny, middle aged man who had spent his whole life working first in mines and then steel mills, and he came from a long line of miners. It hadn’t been a popular move when Jason came in and made him general manager. Such positions were usually reserved for men of higher social standing. Jason found that such men were out of touch with certain realities, and that led to waste and inefficient management. Jones might not have been traditionally educated, but he had a naturally quick mind and was eager to learn. His humility meant Jason could train him to run the mill the way he wanted, but his strength of character also meant he’d stand toe to toe with Jason if he thought the occasion warranted it. Jason found him to be a valuable asset.

  “I do notice.” Jason held his gaze a moment before turning to Mr. Pernicky. “This is your first inspection with us.”

  “Yes, sir. I trust you’ll find we’ve followed your instructions adequately.”

  Pernicky was an entirely different creature from Jones. Pernicky was actually an employee of a labor firm—a company that hired out slave labor. Like every slave foreman Jason had known in his life, Pernicky looked as tough as the steel they milled. Jason didn’t particularly like him, but as long as he did his job, Jason wouldn’t complain.

  “You realize your predecessor’s firm was fired because of their inability to modify their procedures to fit the way I want my mills run.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you had any such difficulties?” Jason locked eyes with the man and watched as he fought an internal battle. The second Pernicky decided to speak his mind, Jason noticed. He had never been the best at reading people, but being as wealthy as he had been for the past several years, he had grown able to tell when a man was going to lie to appease him and when the man was going to speak his mind. Without knowing it, Pernicky had just risen a few notches in Jason’s eyes.

  “No, sir. I’ve made the necessary alterations to our regular procedures. I will admit it is strange, and it’s a struggle. I’m used to having a free hand in my work.”

  “I understand. I know I’m a peculiar man.”

  “I could increase production and save you money if you let me have my way.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Every other place I’ve overseen, we’ve worked them twelve hours straight. They eat before work and after.”

  “And you don’t approve of my methods?”

  “Frankly? No. Having them stop for water breaks every hour instead of just passing a bucket ruins the momentum we build up. Breaking for lunch, again, breaks the momentum. It also makes them lazy the second half of the day.”

  “Hmm.” Jason leaned back in his chair and surveyed Pernicky. No matter how long the silence went on, the man never fidgeted or looked away. Appearances weren’t deceiving here. Pernicky really was as strong as the steel he produced. His honesty was welcome, and once again Jason’s opinion of the foreman rose a few notches. “First, about the water. Did you know that, before I put that in place, we routinely lost at least one man a month to heat and thirst? It’s an oven down there.”

  “Surely that loss is acceptable. When it comes down to the lost production time and the money spent on food, I don’t see how things are as good as you make them out to be.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing it’s my money, isn’t it?” Pernicky seemed to have nothing to say to that. Jason saw a man who was used to being good at his work and who took pride in his results. All Jason had to do was convince Pernicky that he was right. “Martin, why don’t you show Mr. Pernicky the numbers?” Jason turned an expectant gaze on Martin.

  “Of course.” Martin rummaged for the appropriate papers. Once he found them, he slid them to Pernicky. “As you can see, we’re producing more under Mr. Wadsworth’s revised guidelines than under usual working conditions. The added cost is more than made up for by the increased output. When Mr. Wadsworth first proposed the idea, we did a study and found that the improved conditions produced an increase of over twelve percent per hour.”

  Pernicky pored over the numbers. In his eyes was the confusion of a man trying to accept evidence that the way he had always done things was wrong. “I hope this convinces you and makes your work easier for you,” Jason said. A moment passed before he saw the confusion in the foreman’s face clear.

  “Aye, it does. Thank you. I admit to not understanding it, but there it is.”

  “You feed a man and, I swear by the gods, he’ll work harder for you.” It was a concept that Jason had not only tested and proved, but one he knew was innately right. Slaves were a part of life, especially in the higher classes, but they weren’t subhuman. There was too much proof in Jason’s experience to let him believe otherwise.

  Mr. Pernicky handed the papers back to Martin, and he carefully tucked them away. Jason turned to Jones and spoke. “We’re moving ahead with the plans to install another blast furnace. There is even more reason to increase production now.”

  Jones quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

  “Yes. I trust that you’ll keep this confidential. We’re going to be supplying Lord Conrad’s new shipyard.”

  “Nothing’s final yet,” Martin hurried to inject.

  Jason looked at Martin with narrowed eyes. “But it will be. It’s just a matter of time.” Turning back to Jones, he was all smiles. “We need to prepare now.”

  “So it’s more than just a rumor that he’ll be getting into the ship business?” Jones leaned forward in his chair.

  “Others may think it’s just a rumor, but he’s going to take the plunge. I was with him yesterday, and there’s no way that man doesn’t close on a shipyard by the end of the year.”

  “But won’t the southern mill be supplying him?” Jones asked.

  “Of course, that’s what the southern mill is there for, but you’ll need to pick up the southern mill’s current production load. I want them dedicated to the shipyards.”

  Jones’s eyes widened, but he was too proud to object. Jason knew he wouldn’t want to appear as if he were not up to the challenge; in fact, he counted on it. Instead, it was Mr. Walnick, Jones’s fastidious secretary—the one who handled all the paperwork and tried to decrease Jones’s stress level—who spoke up.

  “But, sir, that’s impossible!”

  Jason wagged his finger at Walnick’s bespectacled face. “Not impossible.” Turning to the rest of the group, he added, “In addition to adding another blast furnace, we’re going to add another shift. Instead of two twelve hour shifts, we’re going to have three eight hour shifts.”

  Predictably,
Pernicky couldn’t stay silent. “Why cut the hours?”

  “Because, Mr. Pernicky, this is the way I want it run. I think we can produce more with three shifts of fresh men than with two exhausted shifts.”

  “But we can just use two shifts of men working eight hours back-to-back.”

  “We’re going to be using three shifts. Eight hours between shifts is not enough, especially when transportation time is taken into consideration.” The long working hours had been weighing on Jason. This change should have been made long ago.

  “Please tell me we’ll at least be cutting lunch now. There’s no need for it with such a short shift.”

  “No. When you own the biggest steel company in the country, you’re welcome to run your workers into the ground and get less production out of them. Until then, we’ll continue to do it my way. I’ve already shown you proof that my methods are sound. You’re going to have to trust me.”

  Pernicky nodded his understanding. “You’re the boss.”

  The rest of the meeting was spent going over the finer details of operations. It was the most relaxed Jason had been in days. He knew all the nuances of this business, and Martin had all the details available when they were needed. This was Jason’s element, and he felt good in it.

  “Is there anything else that needs to be gone over before tomorrow, gentlemen?” Jason glanced at Pernicky, who shook his head, and then at Jones who, in turn, looked to Walnick.

  “We’ve covered everything that was on my agenda, sir.”

  “Good.” Jason glanced at Martin, who was making a second pass over his notes. Only when he was done did he look up.

  “We’re good here as well, sir.”

  “Excellent.” Jason slapped both of his hands on the table and stood. “I will see you all tomorrow, then. Martin and I will be surveying some land nearby at nine o’clock, so I believe we should be here around ten-thirty.” Jason raised his eyebrows in Martin’s direction for confirmation.

  “Yes, sir, around ten-thirty.”

  “Until then.” Jason shook hands with the other three men, and he and Martin left.

  Walking through the mill on his way out, Jason glanced at the floor below where slaves were hard at work. An inexplicable chill went down his spine, and he wondered what discoveries tomorrow’s inspection would bring.

  Chapter Ten

  “Has the new production line been working well, Mr. Jones?” Jason had to yell to be heard above the noise in the mill. The offices were sequestered away in a quieter part of the building, but on the floor, the sound was deafening.

  “Yes, sir, it has. Logistically, it all makes sense. The numbers support it, and there’s no downside that I can see. It took some time for everyone to get used to, but now it’s running smoothly.”

  “Good.” Jason was obsessed with efficiency. It was the easiest and fastest way to increase profits. The business was like a game to him, one his mind loved. Spot the weak links in the operation and strengthen them, rather than build on top of the problem.

  “This is the blast furnace that was down for maintenance last month,” Jones said as they drew near it.

  “Problems like these need to be anticipated and prevented, Mr. Jones. With another blast furnace coming, you’ll need to be even more diligent in maintaining them. Don’t get slack just because there’s another one to oversee. That’s a lot of lost production for no good reason.”

  “I apologize, sir,” Mr. Pernicky said. Jason looked at the foreman, impressed that he was stepping forward to take responsibility. “I should have done a better job of making sure the slaves kept up with the maintenance. We’ve put new procedures in place to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Yes, I saw your report on it. Diligence will pay off in this, I assure you.” Jason left the furnace and continued on his way. Mr. Jones pointed out different aspects of the operation that had changed or that he had concerns about. Martin followed, scribbling notes as needed, and Mr. Walnick similarly trailed Jones, making notations and reminding him of points he had wanted to bring up.

  As the group walked into another section of the mill, Jason felt a familiar tingle in his spine. It was the same one he had felt the night before when he’d glanced down at the floor. What was causing it? Something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and his heart began to race.

  No. It’s impossible. It can’t be true.

  Slowly, he turned to the right to get a better view, to prove that he was just seeing things. Every nerve in his body was on edge. How could his blood feel cold at the same time his skin was so hot? When his eyes focused on the scene before him, he still couldn’t believe it. Twenty yards in front of him, a row of slaves shoveled ore. One shirtless figure stood out. The shape was unfamiliar, all muscle and bone, the skin tone too red, hair too short and dark, face covered with too much stubble. All pathetic excuses. Jason’s eyes and his very soul were telling him the same thing. Still, he made a last ditch attempt to explain it away, for no other reason than to try to preserve his sanity. But then the slave moved his lowered head to the side and there was no mistaking it; the profile was his.

  This man was Kale.

  Jason’s world narrowed to hold only himself and Kale. Everything else was peripheral. There was no sound other than the rushing of blood in Jason’s ears. How could this be? Kale was a gentleman’s valet, not a mere labor slave. Suddenly Jason was aware of how dry his mouth was, and his hand started to shake, keen to curl around a bottle.

  “Is everything all right, sir?” It was Martin asking, and Jason could hear the concern in his voice. The men around him stopped and stared at him. Jason was acutely aware of his surroundings. The blazing heat, the thick air, the acrid smell of sweat and smoke, and the sound of a whip cracking caused him to flinch. This was hell, and he needed to get Kale out of it. The thought of him being here was too much for Jason to handle. The only way he could function was if Kale was somewhere else.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Must be the heat getting to me.” Jason smiled at the others, and they accepted it as proof that nothing was amiss. Looking at Martin, though, he could tell the secretary wasn’t entirely convinced. “That slave over there,” Jason pointed to Kale, and he couldn’t help his breath catching, resulting in an unnatural pause. “I want you to take him up to the office and have him wait for me there. I want to ask him some questions about working conditions.”

  Martin searched Jason’s face with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure you’re fine? You look drawn.”

  “I promise you, I’m all right.” Jason not only smiled, but reached out and touched Martin’s arm in a comforting gesture. It was more than Jason was accustomed to doing, but he wanted badly for Martin to give up his line of questioning. “Go get the slave, have him wait for me, and then you may rejoin us.”

  “Very well.” Martin nodded and started off, but Jason stopped him after a few steps.

  “Martin.” The secretary paused and looked at him again. “Make sure he understands he’s not in trouble.”

  Another nod and Martin continued on his way. Jason knew he should turn back to the other men and continue the walkabout, but he couldn’t help watching. Inside, a war was being fought with one part of him wanting desperately for Kale to look up and see him and the other praying he wouldn’t.

  When Martin reached Kale, Jason wished he had continued on his way. What he saw made his stomach turn. Kale shuffled to a halt, his head resolutely bowed. The foreman for the area approached, hand on his whip, and Martin stilled him with a raised hand. Words were exchanged. The foreman went about his work. Martin talked to Kale—there was no sign that Kale even heard him—and at the end of it, he walked off the floor with Martin following. Shoulders hunched, head down. He was different.

  No, not different. Broken.

  Martin looked back to Jason and nodded on his way out. There was nothing more Jason could do.

  “Let’s continue on our way. What were you saying before my interruption, Mr. Jones?” The words
poured out of Jason’s mouth as if they were spoken by someone else. The last three years of feigning interest in others for business were paying off. He could now appear engaged when his mind was up in an office with a slave he had thought never to see again.

  What would he say to Kale? What could he say? Clearly, he had failed in the one thing he thought he had done well for Kale: getting him to a better life. While he could keep up a conversation with his manager and foreman while he was thinking about other things, he wouldn’t be able to do that with Kale. There would never be any faking with him. Kale had been able to see through him even before Jason knew there was a façade to see through.

  How would Kale react to seeing him? Anger was the only emotion Jason could imagine. Jason had raped him and then apparently sold him into hard labor; he could expect nothing else. From the looks of it, though, there might not even be enough left in Kale to stir up anger, and the thought sickened Jason. Perhaps he shouldn’t even talk to him.

  No. That was the coward’s way out. Or at least that was the excuse Jason gave himself. Any excuse was much easier than admitting the fact that three years had passed and his heart still raced for Kale.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Sir, can I get you anything?” Martin’s voice was soft and concerned. Jason couldn’t help feeling grateful for his secretary at that moment. There was a good chance he had just saved Jason from appearing a fool.

  How long had he been standing outside the office door? Jason could have closed his eyes and reproduced that door with the tarnished doorknob and chipped wood at the bottom in perfect detail. He had stared at it long enough. On the other side of that door was Kale. The thought was incomprehensible. It had been so long since Jason had last seen him. Yet, in some ways, it seemed like hardly a day had passed since he had watched another door close and separate him from Kale, seemingly forever.

  “Sir?”

  This time, Jason turned and looked at Martin. His secretary’s furrowed brow reminded him of what a sight he must be. The amount of effort it took to focus his eyes on Martin was evidence of the vacant look that must have been on his face. As he closed his parted lips, he tasted the sweat trickling down his face. For the first time, he noticed his hand flexing, his fingers dancing for a bottle. If there was ever a time that Jason needed a drink, it was now. Even at his lowest, in the dark, drunk nights, the one hope that had kept him from going over the edge was that he had saved Kale.