Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Percival sat facing his uncle’s desk.
“These numbers are impressive.” Uncle Ignatius flipped through Percival’s ledger. “Very impressive.” He paused. His gaze flicked to his son. “Much better than Cyprian’s.”
Breathing heavily, Cyprian sat in the chair beside Percival.
Percival suppressed a smile.
Soon after taking him in, his uncle had told Percival it was time to prove himself, and he was put to work in Everflame Glass Factory. Not on the factory floor, of course. As management.
There’d been a time when phoenixes had uncountable wealth throughout the kingdom. They’d had lands, property, influence, and power. But as the number of phoenixes decreased, so too had everything else.
His uncle was now the wealthiest and most powerful phoenix in Anorra. He was well respected by anyone of importance in Anorra. And as his uncle often said, reputation was everything.
His uncle believed the only way for the phoenixes to survive and prosper once again was by being tougher than everyone else. That was why he’d had Percival trained to fight, in human and phoenix form.
And that was why he’d pitted Cyprian and Percival against each other from the moment Percival started working here. For years, they’d been forced to compete, their accomplishments and failures examined and compared.
Recently, it had all intensified. Uncle Ignatius had plans to expand; he wanted more factories, more wealth, and more power in Anorra. So he planned to leave the running of the company to either his son or his nephew and start a new venture.
His uncle had gone so far as to put them each in charge of half the factory. The individual who ran their half better would be declared the winner and would take over.
“I had my doubts about your methods, Percival. Honestly, they seemed like nonsense.” Uncle Ignatius shook his head.
“Changing layouts, a cool room, regular breaks, improved sanitation, and more safety precautions.” His uncle scoffed.
“I thought for sure I’d be handing over the factory to my son. But your numbers speak for themselves.”
“The better working environment has led to fewer errors and greater productivity,” Percival said simply.
Percival had consulted Nix and several of the overseers on what might help the workers.
He’d listened, trialled, and implemented the different suggestions.
He had also done his research. He’d gone throughout Anorra, visiting the best-run factories and studying their working conditions. He’d then implemented them here.
“And I thought you were mad when you suggested shorter hours!” Uncle Ignatius snapped the ledger shut and placed it on his desk. “It made no sense!”
Percival inclined his head in a respectful manner. “Well-rested workers have more energy to work.”
His uncle rose and walked around to the front of the table.
“I am a proud phoenix. I do not like to confess my errors. But I’ll admit I was wrong.
” He paused. “When I took you in, I had my doubts that you would amount to anything. But you have not disappointed. Under my strict training, you have proved yourself useful, Percival.”
Then Uncle Ignatius turned to his son. “And what have you to show?” He held out his hand.
Grimacing, Cyprian extended his ledger. Uncle Ignatius took and opened it. Slowly, he turned the pages, studying them, as if he hadn’t studied them already. His uncle did daily checks on both of them.
After several moments, he shut the book. He stared at Cyprian, face blank. “You can leave now, Percival,” he said, not taking his eyes off his son.
Percival rose and grabbed his own ledger.
“What is this, Cyprian?” his uncle asked before Percival had even left the office. “Is this really the best you can do?”
“I—” Cyprian started.
“You better raise your game if you don’t want to end up working under your cousin for the rest of this life!”
Percival closed the door to his uncle’s office and strode down the hall.
Then his uncle’s voice rose, barrelling down the corridor. “I taught you everything I know! And this is what you have to show for it? This is the best you can do?”
Percival gritted his teeth. As someone who’d taken the brunt of his uncle’s rage, his shouting, and his cruelty for years, he felt sorry for his cousin.
Then he remembered how Cyprian had relentlessly bullied him after his rebirth. Percival had regularly felt Cyprian’s boot in his gut and ribs as his cousin taunted him. Still, it had made Percival resilient. That was why his uncle had allowed—no, encouraged—Cyprian’s treatment of Percival.
But now Percival was coming out on top. He was beating his cousin fair and square.
Cyprian had thought he could succeed by yelling at the workers. He forced them to work longer hours. He pushed them harder. And when they didn’t meet their targets, he docked their pay and made them keep working until they hit them.
But that had just caused more errors and accidents. Which meant more costs. It also meant more injuries. His uncle didn’t care about that by itself. However, injured workers struggled to meet goals. It was hard to work when your arm, leg, or eye didn’t function.
All in all, his cousin’s cruel efforts had resulted in less productivity.
Soon the factory would be Percival’s.
But his uncle was wrong. Cyprian would not work for Percival. Percival would not allow that. And he doubted his cousin would tolerate it either.
His uncle could take Cyprian with him when he left. After all, his uncle wanted the factory to continue making money. Percival might be put in charge of it, but his uncle would still own it and profit from it. And there was no way Percival and Cyprian could work effectively together.
Percival paused in the corridor outside his door. He stared down at the factory floor. All the while, his uncle’s shouts reverberated down the corridor.
The imps, fire demons, and volcanic nymphs moved through the heated factory. They could handle the heat. They could even touch the glass directly to mould it or put their hands in the furnaces and flames. But extreme hot temperatures for too long could still be draining.
It couldn’t be helped though. The furnaces had to be hot enough to melt glass. Then parts of the room needed to be heated so the glass could be moulded and shaped.
An imp left the factory main room and entered the side room, the cool room. There, they could cool down for a few minutes and then return to work. The workers appreciated the ability to take breaks and cool down. And they tended to return to work refreshed.
He watched the employees. He smiled. Soon the whole factory would be in his capable hands.
He’d continue to improve productivity. Which was the most important thing to Percival. But he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction in his belly that by improving working conditions, he was making the lives of the workers better too.
And for a second, he thought his parents might be proud of that. But that was just a foolish thought. A soft-hearted feeling. That should not motivate him.
“Lord Everflame.” Nix hopped down the corridor, glancing towards Uncle Ignatius’s office, where the shouting continued. Nix’s shoulders hunched forward, as if he was worried Cyprian would appear at a moment’s notice and continue berating him.
Percival turned towards him. “Yes, Nix?”
Nix stopped before him. “I wondered if we could add some water and food to the cool room. If the workers are not hungry or thirsty, I believe they can work better.”
Percival considered that. It made sense. When hungry, he struggled to work. His stomach gurgled at the thought of the pies still sitting on his desk. “Very well. See it is done.”
“Thank you, my lord.” He bowed his head and turned to leave.
“And, Nix.”
The imp stopped and looked back. “Yes?”
“Good idea.”
“Thank you, my lord.” He smiled.
“Also, soon the factory will be under my control,” Percival said. “Which means you will only have to answer to me.” At present, as the foreman, Nix worked for both him and Cyprian, implementing both their orders on the different halves of the factory.
“That would be good.” The imp bowed his head. Then he turned and hopped down the corridor.
His uncle still shouted and berated Cyprian.
Letting out a heavy breath, Percival turned and entered his office. It seemed he’d be listening to shouting whilst he ate.