Chapter 4

"Well, Your Grace," Dieter Schwartz began. "Your idea has reversed the balance of payments deficit. We're now ... quite comfortable. Tourism is up, and not just for the Seraglio. Migration is down to a trickle, and those who come are doing so knowing what to expect. The men are willing to work and trying to raise themselves, and so are the women. The Seraglio is almost full, but the numbers have begun to drop, slowly. The visit from Amnesty was useful. They tried to make out we were evil, abusive and so on, but we gave them free access to both men and women. Most of the reports were favourable. Very favourable. There were only a few complaints and we let the inspectors see the files. I offered to let them take anyone they genuinely thought was being mistreated with only the condition that they never let them return to Centrovia. They did, in fact, take one girl and I'm delighted. She was a trouble-maker of the first water. So, all that is positive..."

"Just a moment, Dieter. Do I need to get Gisela in here? Her advice, and Nastya's, I have found useful."

"Yes, sir. I should have thought of that. Shall I call them?"

The Duke shook his head, and reached for the phone on his desk. "Oh, hello, Nastya. Could you and Gisela come to my office, please? No. I just want your advice. Well, perhaps later. Oh ... okay. Definitely later." He looked up at Dieter, who was surprised to see his sovereign blushing. Wisely, he didn't comment. "Oh, by the way, How is your lady? Latya, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir. She's fine. Makes me feel like a teenager again. Of course, I pay for it in the mornings. She's pregnant; due in a couple of months. I never realised how randy a pregnant woman could get."

The Duke quirked a smile. "I know what you mean. I'm glad I sent most of the girls on their way, though. Two is more than enough for me." He broke off as the office door opened and two attractive women entered. The older, a beautiful woman in her thirties, auburn haired and clearly pregnant, was followed by a younger, slim brunette. "Good. Come in, come in. Do sit down, Gisela, Nastya."

The redhead chose the nearest, comfortable, chair and lowered herself into it, but the brunette rounded the desk, pulled Duke Gehardt's chair away from the desk on its casters, and snuggled into his lap. The Duke saw the smile quivering at the corners of his Seneschal's lips, and shrugged with a smile of his own, wrapping his arms round his concubine.

"So, what can we do for you?" the Duke's wife asked.

"I'm not sure yet," the Duke answered. "Dieter was just getting to it. He was saying that our balance of payments is good, tourism is up, and the Seraglio seems to be working. Migration is just a trickle and in fact more girls are leaving than coming in, overall." He paused, and glanced at the other man. "The other day, you were saying offences were down, too?"

"That's right. The problem is infrastructure. The main Seraglio buildings are the Communist era barracks blocks, but they were not well built. The concrete was of poor quality and is crumbling. It's not an immediate problem, but I think we need to look for a solution quickly, at least, if we're going to build."

"What are the alternatives?" The brunette, Nastya, lifted her head from the Duke's chest as she spoke long enough to look round, then nestled back.

"We either build, or phase the Seraglio out and demolish the barracks."

"How would that affect the balance of payments?"

"I think we'd stay in the black. Some of the tourism is sexual, after all, but more is for the scenery and wildlife." The older man shrugged. "What worries me is we might find ourselves back in the position we had in the first place. Increasing economic migration."

"And," the redhead, Gisela, interjected, "a lot of the girls who are currently making something of their lives, even if they're working as prostitutes to do it, will find themselves out in the cold."

The Duke sat for a moment, then lifted Nastya's chin with his finger and kissed her softly. He whispered in her ear, "I love you, you know," though the others couldn't hear, and the girl clung to him. Out loud, he said, "I don't feel I have any choice but to continue. So we need to get an architect up to speed and start building."

"I have a suggestion, though," Gisela said.

"Your suggestions are always worth listening to, my dear."

"Build a hotel that can be used as a brothel, rather than a purpose-build replacement for the Seraglio. If the number of girls is declining, perhaps we need to consider the long-term future when perhaps the Seraglio is no longer necessary."

"Very good, my dear. Excellent, in fact. Dieter – why don't you make enquiries about an architect who can build something more in keeping with the country than those barracks? Get him, or perhaps them, here and we'll all rough out what we're after. Get some feasibility studies. That sort of thing."

"Yes, sir. If that'll be all?"

"I think so, Dieter."

"Then I'll be on my way. And..." he glanced at Gisela, who nodded, and at Nastya who was still snuggling, "I'll make it clear you're unavailable for the rest of the morning."

"Make it for the rest of the day," Gisela smiled, "my husband has been working too hard. He needs a break. And some exercise."

The Seneschal managed to suppress the giggle that bubbled up inside, behind his lips, smiling, and turned and left.

Gisela stood. "Come, my husband. You have husbandly duties to perform."

"But..." the Duke got no further before Nastya fastened her lips on his. The protest died unborn.