Ruling Slothjemia is no easy task. A medieval society on the brink of enlightenment, far advanced in some measures from those around it, and with a large population of energetic peoples eager to make their mark in the world. Harnessing all of that energy and keeping it focused for the good of the nation would be a monumental task for any person. Luckily, Slothjemia has a solution for that.
Enter in for your consideration, the Royal Bureaucratic Council; a strictly governed board of overseers for most every aspect of Slothjemian life. With a rigidly enforced hierarchy of titles and tasks, ranging from “Lord High” on down, the government functions on everyone fulfilling their assigned role, without deviation or interference from other offices. Fully one third are dedicated to laws restricting criminal behavior and their enforcement, an admission of the importance in keeping people inclined to misbehavior from running amok. Within each office are subsets dedicated to the minutiae of everyday life within the scope of their mandates. A bewildering maze of offices occupies the bulk of the capitol, with each major component locked in constant competition with every other for space, jurisdiction, and authority.
Goblinoids thrive on this sort of lawfully ordained chaos. One of the principle concepts of being a Slothjemian is knowing who you need to address in order to rectify a problem or identify an issue. The Royal Bureaucratic Council has all of the answers to such inquiries. With astonishing speed, a farmer concerned about a blight on their crops can find, gain access to, and receive assistance from the office in charge of such things. Getting things done quickly and efficiently has made Slothjemia an example to anyone seeking to learn how best to delegate power within their government.
And then, there is the downside. As wonderful as the system is to get things done quickly, it is also the perfect weapon for those that don’t want anything done at all. Corruption is not tolerated in the least, so don’t imagine that anyone is taking a bribe to slow down the progress of a rival. No, this is a more insidious means of using “red tape” to hinder a person or their pet project from going forward. The Empress, or her agents within the Royal Bureaucratic Council, may deem a particular person or their ideas as a threat to the smoothly tuned, well-functioning machine that is the bureaucracy. Operating well within the law, these officers will create a confusing and monumental series of obstructions that must be overcome, including the triple-threat of needing permission from one office in order to proceed, but that must be preceded by another official who needs the first permission in order to give their approval, and all of that must be signed off beforehand by a third office. Simply stated, once the Empress says no, there is no plausible way forward. The malicious glee that lifelong bureaucrats take in such circumstances serves as a counter-balance to their otherwise impeccable efficiency on behalf of the common citizen. Or, as they might say, “everyone needs a hobby.” The more powerful you become in Slothjemia, the more likely you are to fall prey to such hobbyists. The best advice one can give in such circumstances is to give up.
And that is how governments run.