Imperial Diet & Rules

[Zim]

A loud bang disturbs the dozing servants as the doors to the hall are flung open. In comes a plain looking man, with a mop of brown hair overlooking watery blue eyes and a slightly too large nose. Although his clothes are dirty and disheveled, apparently from a long ride, his livery plainly identifies him as one of Duke Becker's men. He strides to the center of the room and pulls out a scroll, clearing his throat loudly before reading aloud.

Greetings, nobles of the Empire,
As the first to assume the new position of Spymaster I thought it would behoove me to make a general report of the departments current assets and goals, hopefully setting a precedent for those that follow. I regret being unable to deliver this report personally on account of being on campaign against the perfidious Venetians, instead leaving the task in the capable hands of my faithful aid Wilhelm von Staufen.

Wilhelm takes a bow before continuing.

Several days before you likely received this message I sat down one evening with the members of our spy corps. We carefully pored over the assets left to me to do this job and I include this list for you. Names of our agents have been changed to protect them.

Staff:
Hans, a mostly bedridden octogenarian.
Sven, a somewhat clumsy todler who we nonetheless hold great expectations for after he comes of age in 14 years.

Physical assets:
1 small shack to meet in, with leaky roof.
1 IOU note for the taxes that would have gone towards training spies over the last ten years, signed by the previous spy guild leader, who was conspicuously absent.
Last, found under a bench, 1 florin

That essential task completed, we moved on to take action. Our first action was to determine that the shack we were meeting in was far too rat and flea infested to ever be cleansed except by fire, so we burnt it to the ground. Sifting through the wreckage we discovered 5 more florins, only one of them being made of now very charred wood. Our funds were thus increased 5 fold (six if one is a dishonest sort, which I suppose many spies are by nature). We immediately celebrated by moving on to our new meeting place, a nearby tavern rather accurately if unimaginitively going by the name "The Seedy Pub". Once there we had a few drinks (on my tab, not using our newly gained fortune. And of course Sven had a milk) and bemoaned the state to which the Empire's network of spies has fallen.

Not all news is so grim, however. After many rounds we decided that at least we had nowhere to go but up. To that end I have raised taxes in Nuremburg with the hope of building new facilities from which to hire spies. If some of my colleagues ruling over other parts of the Empire do the same, we can not only once again have a competent spy force, but poor Hans can finally retire.

Somewhere around midnight Sven's mother insisted he come home, and we decided to call it a night.

Your servant,
Helmut Becker.