Lord Steward.
Information sent prior to Baron Surdemer's announcement informed then-Councilor Treadwell of what would be the design of the new Council. Now it is up to him to see it happen.
One Councilor for every hundred families of the entire Wood, with equal numbers of landowning gentry and common folks voted in by their peers.
That's--
A moment to wiggle fingers in counting comes up wasted. Another moment to get up from his cushioned office chair, take up his cane, and stroll across his office. A bookshelf in the opposite, left-hand corner houses a very important document: a fat, leatherbound volume, the cover carefully dyed a dark green.
The title leaf? Census Numbers of Myrken Wood, Comprising of Myrkentown, Foggy Bottom, et cetera, late 213 AR. Aloisius H. Treadwell, Compiler, Councilor of Myrken Wood, Revenue and Finance.
It pays to be the tax collector, or at least formerly so.
"Three thousand and five hundred in Myrkentown alone, Aloisius. You remember that much, mmph."
Back to his cushioned seat, plucking a spare piece of parchment from a basket atop his desk. Ink is uncapped; with a couple of careful flicks, a quill is dressed. And then? Figuring sums. Pages are turned and tallies are noted. The result?
"Thirty-one thousand and a hundred or so, overall, give or take a few heads. It's been a year. I'm quite sure, mmph, there've been some folks born or buried since."
A pause. Quill is set aside, point down in its little holder on the ink bottle. He then stands again and returns the book to where it belongs.
"One for every hundred households, Aloisius. Say--what?--ten to a house? Husband, wife, children, maybe a servant or two, Grampa and Grammy. Average?"
He sinks back into his chair and nods.
"Use your own as a sample! You, Alice, the six children, Langley, Elizia. That's ten, mmph, and you've Gregory, Sascha, and the rest of the household servants, as well. Your home more than balances another's, like Tom Breckenridge, who's lunatic with no family of his own, or Catch, who's the same, mmph mmph. So, yes, ten people per household sounds good."
A snort.
"So, thirty-one, more or less, of the common folks, and an equal number of those who own sizeable tracts of land or have comparable titles, hm hm. Stuff like Lothbury, my own estate, and the like. Berdini should have enough land, mmph, if he wants the seat. No other Tubbians. None of them have enough land in their own name to land themselves--hee hee!--on the Council, but the common seats?"
Shoulders shrug.
"If they're voted into it, so be it, but with only so many positions drawn from the entire Wood, assuming equal representation, mmph mmph, that only leaves three or four--say four?--common folks sitting on the Council from Myrkentown, with likely as many of the same of the wealthier ones. Maybe a couple more of the latter. Myrken's not a poor town by any means, where there aren't quite as many very rich people around otherwise, hmph."
A sigh. A glance up from his desk, off to the side.
"There's a perfectly good kitchen in this meetinghouse, Aloisius, and this is hungry work, mmph mmph. Books and charts and maps and census numbers can wait for an hour, hm?"