So its all Helmus, then. You decide that you would want a tutorial to the job.
The road to Dora, the namesake seat of Dora province, despite being treacherous, is a well-maintained one. Several rope bridges, redundantly paired, span across valleys that are otherwise deemed impassable by any dignified, educated man. In other places, galleys hang precariously on cliffs, to let any man dared to brave it through.
Soon, after exactly 15 days, you have reached Dora. It is built across several hills by a river, and atop this, some sort of ramparts surrounds a group of buildings. You found you way up, and in no time you believe you were in audiance of two men in the main hall. One is a very unassuming, middle-aged man, in delicately straightened court uniform; the other is a big man, standing a head over the other one. He is in court clothes clearly too small for him, and you see leather armor under the gaps.
"Boy, show me your seal." Said the large man.
You obliged, and the small man nudged it onto a lump of red clay to make an impression before he returned it to you. He then spoke a few words into the ear of the large man.
"So, Rory Down," the large man spoke again. "We don't have your pictures here, and your seal is your only proof of identity. It is Helmus' pleasure to welcome you into the bureaucracy.
"Usually, governors were reserved for educated men from the plains. But you might not know most of them were out of favour, or they did something wrong, and are sent here as part of a punishment. They always seek an escape from their job. Humbug! We are on the frontiers; we need the most devoted frontiersmen who will not wilt under pressure. Luckily, we do have some leeway in appointing our own subordinates, and you are chosen to be part of this project.
"You may be worrying now; but from what I saw, anyone who can and willing to count from zero to nine will be good enough for this. Educated men might insist on the pen and the seal, but people here will look for men with strong spines and inspiring acts."
He looked at you for a bit, and continued.
"Now, problems. First of all, since we are so poor, your will be a subsidiary ninth-rank officer instead of the usual rank, and we can't give you much in stipends. Secondly, it is a hard job. your first order will be to consolidate control. There are reports of outlaws in the area, and we have to secure the place before this becomes a thorn in the neck. You will have to generate income; you will soon remember how much you need to collect as tax to our treasury which we have to pay our dues ultimately to the Emperor.
"Finally," he continued in a grimmer face. "There are always rumours of educated men unappreciative of our arrangement. They think that we are barbarians because we will not waste time to write prose or poetry like them." He then gaze at the small man in a diminutive sense.
"Rory Down. You will have to accept this. We have a room for you for a few days; meanwhile we will prepare you a set of court clothes in your size, a horse for you to ride on, and some money to buy you some supplies. Do you have any questions?"
((GM note: Last chance before leaving for your post.))