Struggle. Taste of power - Владимир Андерсон
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— For the time being, proceed according to the plan…" said Raven, having heard everything to the end. — And when the time comes, I'll talk to the Mountain myself.
Governor
Being the broz of a column is not an easy job after all. After all, the next step is to become a member of the Central Committee of the Empire. But they are always fighting with each other for a piece of bread, but the governor is his own king and god, no one can interfere with him here.
Blukh used to think that he was the king and god in the Slavic Column, but now the situation has changed so much that it is not clear what is left under his command. The Donetsk-Makeyevka grouping is under the SCK, and everything near it, in fact, is also under the SCK. The edges of Wild Field all the way to Kiev are in constant massacres with the Maquis, it's already too scary to move away from the district centers there, and the Rostov-on-Don-Lugansk grouping is not as powerful as it used to be. In fact, this is the only thing that remains in his subordination at this level, where his order still has unshakable force. And yet, it's clearly a matter of time: SCK will conduct a couple more operations, fight with the Maquis, and then make another autonomy there. And he will be left with his headquarters in Rostov-on-Don on a pair with the headquarters of the imperial army….
He no longer doubted that the confrontation between the SCK and the Inquisition had reached the highest point, where they began to exterminate each other directly. Maybe it would stop at some point and for a while, but then… Then they would just tear each other apart. And it's unclear whether there will be a winner at all.
Bluh's office in the building of the central office of the plague administration was equipped conservatively enough, but rather luxuriously: sculptures of human tibia, silk-embroidered pictures of wild leopards and tigers half a wall in size, sapphire-encrusted furniture and window frames of pure gold. Some might say, of course, that it was all stolen, but in Bluh's mind all these things were merely the merit of his hard work for the Empire. There wasn't a single action that could hurt its interests, and there wasn't a single action that didn't result in success. And the fact that somewhere could have been done cheaper, faster or better is a very subjective matter. Who will count, verify, and, most importantly, it all has to be done, not just shown on paper.
He was well aware of such managers, who drew on paper some options that did not exist, and such results that could not even be dreamed of. But in reality, they had nothing. Nothing. Just reports for bureaucrats. That's why they didn't last long, until the first proper audit. Not like him.
He had a way of doing things that matched expectations. And when it came to figuring out his budget and his spending, Bluh always got away with it. Always. There was never a time when he had to pretend the unfinished was incomplete and the expensive was cheap. Sometimes some of the committee tried to put a stick in his wheel, but he did not go into his pocket for a word, when it was necessary to make it clear that it was not worth saving money on such things, and to criticize — it does not take much intelligence at all. And it worked every time….
But he had his own connections in the central apparatus, and one of the six was not a bad acquaintance of his. Too bad it was only an acquaintance. Now he had a lot of things to do there, and he had his own problems, so he was no longer available to him at once. And it's harder to defend himself. And the BCC has been split up…
Bluh turned in his chair toward the window and looked out into the distance: small hills and an old avenue that went first down and then up. Most of the buildings there had been destroyed and never rebuilt, but the view was still majestic. How many things people had built. And then they destroyed most of it themselves. Looks like we're heading down the same path…
The governor turned back, took a bottle of whiskey out of a drawer, a glass, poured it almost to the brim, and drank it down. The empire was going down. It was becoming obvious. Whoever won the battle between the SCK and the Inquisition was a clear sign that the Empire was falling apart. What pieces…
The phone rang. It was a gold antique phone his grandfather had given him. It was still plastic and unadorned, but now it was much nicer to look at. He wanted not only to preserve the memory, but also to multiply it. Bluh picked up the phone:
— I'm listening.
— Imperial Minister Donghor to see you.
— Send her in.
Almost immediately, Donghr walked in. They had become true friends as of late. Now they had no points of contact where they had to share loot or budgets, and after Bluh had helped him with the
