121. Flourishing Businesses

The stocky fisherman glanced at his friend. “We better hurry if we want a seat,” he muttered, already elbowing his way forward.

Behind them, the sea whispered against the docks, but all thoughts of fishing were forgotten for the night.

A Few Days Later — Ravenna’s Office, Lord’s Castle, Jola City, Jola Island

The tropical sun had begun its slow ascent over the horizon, casting golden shafts of light through the arched windows of the Lord’s Castle in Jola City. The warmth seeped gently into the stone walls of Ravenna’s office, bathing the room in a soft morning glow.

Alice stepped into the room, bowing slightly before handing over a fresh document. “Here is the initial report on the first week of operations for the casino in Ronin Town, Your Highness.”

Ravenna took the document with a nod, the edges of her lips curling slightly with interest. “Thank you. I’ll examine it in due time.”

Rather than opening it immediately, she placed the report aside and reached for another folder—one that bore a more ambitious title, written in elegant gold-leaf lettering:

“Quarterly Report: Jola’s Innovation and Business Initiative.”

“I’d like to review this one first,” Ravenna said calmly as she flipped the pages.

The Innovation and Business Initiative was one of Ravenna's most defining programs—launched shortly after she had assumed full administrative control of Jola Island. after the emergence of her controversial decision: to abolish the presence of private businesses operating independently within Jola. From that point forward, all businesses started to function under the supervision and strategic direction of the Dukedom itself.

This wasn't simply a matter of control—it was protection. Ravenna believed innovation should be nurtured, but also safeguarded. Independent enterprises could too easily be exploited by foreign interests, especially given the mordern knowledge in a remote region like Jola, where the capital’s ignorance had spread lawlessness and inefficiency.

“It seems to be going well,” Ravenna murmured, scanning a breakdown of activity over the past three months. The core philosophy of the initiative was straightforward: anyone with an idea, whether it was a new type of stove, a method for drying fish faster, or a way to improve city sanitation, could present it for evaluation. However, their success would be tied to the state, ensuring mutual growth and preventing the bleeding of valuable innovation to outside powers.

To facilitate this, the Dukedom had constructed a network of Innovation Convention Halls across Jola’s major districts. These halls functioned as open-access platforms where inventors, entrepreneurs, and thinkers from all walks of life could pitch their ideas before a rotating panel of dukedom-appointed evaluators—composed of workers, engineers, and administrative officials.

If the idea held promise, the individual could receive dukedom’s funding, materials, workspace, and even a workforce—depending on the project's scale and feasibility. For those with their own financial backing, a streamlined application process was available directly at the Duke’s Castle. These individuals could skip the pitch process and instead submit proposals for a license of legitimacy essentially, a government-sanctioned approval to operate.

“Ah, so that explains the restaurant boom,” Ravenna mused as she flipped to the commerce sector overview. “We’ve had nearly two dozen food establishments open in the past six weeks alone.”

There were now three primary pathways for employment within Jola’s new system:

First, through the Herptian Church’s Educational Pathway. Students who completed the formal curriculum could sit for the Job Assignment Examination, a standardized test that gauged aptitude in various fields. Based on their scores, they would be recommended for positions in administration, infrastructure, teaching, logistics, or security. Students were allowed to list three preferred roles in order of priority, with the top performers gaining access to the most competitive roles.

Second, through the Innovation and Business Evaluation Panels. Aspiring business owners or inventors could present their ideas at the convention centers, and if their concepts were accepted, they could either be appointed to existing projects that matched their strengths or given funding to launch new dukedom-monitored ventures.

Third, through direct personal applications. Citizens retained the freedom to apply to dukedom-managed businesses or institutions by submitting a personal resume and letter of intent. While this was the most traditional route, it had recently begun attracting more attention due to the growing variety of institutions now operating under Dukedom supervision.

“And legacy industries…” Ravenna turned the page, her eyes scanning a chart of revenue distribution. “We’ve allowed the existing owners to remain in place , provided they agree to full compliance of dukedom’s oversight.”

These "legacy industries" included blacksmithing, tailoring, and boat-building, etc. sectors that had existed long before her reforms and were deeply tied to Jola’s identity. Rather than dismantle these long-standing institutions, Ravenna chose a more pragmatic approach. She introduced partnership contracts—agreements that converted the licenses of these independently run businesses into Dukedom-endorsed operations. Under this new arrangement, the master craftsmen retained full authority over daily operations, hiring, training, and maintaining traditional practices. However, the revenue was now collected and monitored by the state. In return, these artisans received monthly salaries from the Dukedom, the amounts tied to their business’s performance and productivity.

This model allowed the preservation of heritage while ensuring that all economic activity fed into the larger system Ravenna envisioned—a unified, centrally-managed island economy with no room for outside corruption or fragmented power.

“There’s still a great deal of fine-tuning to be done,” Ravenna muttered under her breath, her fingers tapping lightly on the wooden desk as she set the report aside, “but for now… it’s in a good place.”

With a small sigh, she reached forward and pulled the next folders toward her. Their titles, written in bold ink, “Proposed New Defensive Measures for Jola Island” and “Public Executions and the Official News Press of Jola.”

Before she could open either, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Your Highness,” came the voice of a palace attendant from outside, “High Priest Jamesis is here, requesting an audience.”

Ravenna glanced at the stack of documents before her and allowed a small smile to touch her lips.

“Perfect timing,” she said, folding her hands. “Let him in.”

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