Chapter 28: Special Laws of Vikir (1)
Vikir made his way to the city hall in the center of Underdog City.
He made his way across the buildings that housed the many employees, and found his office at the far end.
"The new deputy magistrate is coming today, so make sure the place is clean."
"Who will he be?"
"I don't care who it is, I just hope it's soone who's a little more hands-on."
"Hey, what do you expect, I heard he's fifteen."
Employees sweep, mop, and clean throughout the building.
On a high wall hung a banner welcoming Vikir van Baskerville, the new Deputy Archon and Acting Archon.
Vikir walked nonchalantly past the workers.
He was supposed to start tomorrow, so they didn't pay much attention to him.
"Is this your kid, did the staff bring him here?"
"Honey, you're not supposed to be here."
"It's temporarily closed because the High King is coming tomorrow."
"You can go out there and play, there's a playground outside for the staff kids."
A few employees blocked Vikir's path.
"Move over."
When Vikir sees the letter of appointnt in his hand, he ducks his head in confusion.
"..., you're early for work, Mr. President."
The staff falls flat on their faces, looking as if they've seen a ghost.
Vikir walks into the office and sits down in the overstuffed chair.
His first order, as soon as he assud his position as de facto ruler, was order number one.
"Colonize the liquor and the won."
* * *
Baskerville, Chihuahua.
For ten years now, he'd been the clerk of the town hall here, and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"I can't believe I've been drinking since day one.
And he's only 15 years old.
After all of his predecessors were suspended for bribery, it's hard not to feel sick to the stomach when a new kid cos in and starts getting promiscuous.
'What an asshole, and in a sacred workplace, too!
Chihuahua Baskerville rubbed his forehead with his hand.
He was from outside the clan and had been given the surna Baskerville in recognition of his administrative prowess.
Although he had to settle for the title of secretary because he didn't have a middle na of "Les" or "La" or "Van," he was working hard.
"Man, I've got a lot of work to do, and then so rascal cos rolling in and says.... At least I had so hope that Baskerville was from the inside."
I hadn't gotten my hopes up when the 15-year-old kid said he was coming, but now they were dashed.
Even now, the sound of clinking glasses, giggling won, and singing clowns could be heard outside the window.
Baskerville, the Chihuahua, twitched his goatee nervously and threw down his filing cabinet.
"Yeah, damn it, it takes a damned underdog cigar to wake
up and just...!?"
But he couldn't get his complaint out.
Creak-
The door to his office opened, revealing a boy.
Vikir Van Baskerville. The new Archon.
He was finally officially in the office.
"You're the head of the office."
The Chihuahua Baskerville gave Vikir a mock polite look.
"Yes, sir. I'm Chihuahua Baskerville."
"You don't have a middle na."
The Chihuahua's expression hardened slightly at Vikir's words.
To not even have a middle na for a half-breed or illegitimate child was to be from outside the family.
Usually, those brought in from the outside were indentured servants within the Baskervilles for three years before being given the Baskerville surna and formally admitted into the family, which was exactly what Staffordshire and Chihuahua had done.
Strictly speaking, they are not blood relatives, but users.
The new deputies would always use this as a way to discriminate against the newcors.
So Chihuahua had to put up with the bitterness of this atmosphere.
But.
"Good."
Vikir's assessnt ca as a surprise.
As the Chihuahua's eyes widened, Vikir recalled a mory from the past.
"Chihuahua Baskerville, yes, I recognize the na.
He's a skinny guy, and his goatee gives him the image of a lowly ganeshin, but he's surprisingly kind-hearted.
And because he was an outsider, he faced a lot of discrimination, and his accomplishnts were often labeled as those of a ruler or deputy ruler.
This was sothing that Vikir identified with.
Vikir also doesn't trust his own family mbers, and outsiders with proven credentials are much more trustworthy.
"I took a quick look at your bio on the way in. You're from Underdog City, right?"
"Yes? Yes, yes, I'm a native, born and raised here."
"Then you know the lay of the land better than I, a newcor to the city."
"...That's right."
The Chihuahua hesitated to answer, then realized he shouldn't have.
He knew from experience that this would be followed by a string of "If you know so much, why don't you do it?
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