Chapter 9
The old guard reacted badly.
Expected.
Three captains resigned advisory positions in protest.
One said I had publicly humiliated my father.
Interesting.
Not Linnea.
My father.
They saw seating a maid beside me as insult to Benedict because it reversed the visual hierarchy he intended.
Exactly why I did it.
Not to make Linnea powerful.
To make clear she was human.
Apparently revolutionary.
Another captain asked:
“Where does this stop?”
I answered:
“With people keeping their hands off staff.”
He hated that answer.
Good.
Then the deeper issue emerged.
The House Purse was not the only old ritual I had banned.
There were informal debt games.
Punishment dinners.
Public apology circles.
All methods where lower-ranking people performed submission in front of higher-ranking people.
Benedict believed those rituals prevented real violence by giving humiliation a controlled outlet.
That argument had some logic.
Bad logic.
But logic.
Remove symbolic punishment, he said, and men settle disputes privately.
I countered with structure.
Clear consequences.
Loss of roles.
Loss of access.
No theater.
He called it corporate.
I called it predictable.
The family split emotionally.
Not operationally.
I allowed disagreement.
Openly.
That mattered.
No secret second table.
No shadow council.
Argue in front of me.
May you like
Tell me I’m wrong.
Just do not put a maid on her knees to make the argument.
