After spending a week reviewing all the ledgers, Malin felt elevated—there were no errors in the books, every entry matched perfectly with the numbers in his mind, the so-called potential errors, or rats that might have crept in betraying the ladies, were nowhere to be found.
They were all nonexistent, all illusory, all empty talk.
What have I been doing this week, this was the question Malin was recently most adept at asking himself.
And he always failed to find an answer, how could he possibly find one? He had issued bonuses equivalent to half a year's salary to the loyal old stewards, but these elders did not accept the bonuses, instead, they requested Mr. Malin to select some children of suitable age from his grandchildren to join the preparatory military academy.
