“No, there’s one more thing.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I want you to help me buy up pyrite.”
Mark stared blankly at Lawrence. “You didn’t secure a source before making the margin contract?”
“There wasn’t time. Will you help me?”
This was the flaw in his plan.
No matter how ideal the plan, without all the components in place it would come to nothing.
And what Lawrence needed to do was far from easy.
He could wait until dawn to purchase pyrite in the marketplace like any other merchant. But if he bought several hundred trenni worth of pyrite all at once, a sudden spike in price was inevitable.
He had to work behind the scenes and buy up pyrite in such a way that his purchasing would not disturb the market value.
To do this, the best way would be to make many small purchases via various town merchants.
“Payments will be in cash. I’ll even pay over market value. If the quantity is enough, I can even pay in lumione.”
If trenni silver was a sword, then lumione gold was a phalanx of spears. When buying high-value commodities, a more powerful weapon did not exist.
Lawrence had coin but lacked connections, and outside of Mark, he had no one he could turn to for aid.
If Mark refused, Lawrence would have no choice but to gather pyrite on his own.
He couldn’t even consider how difficult it would be to buy up the mineral in an aboveboard fashion in this town, where he only did business a few days of the year.
Mark was unmoving, staring off in some unclear direction.
“I’ll make it worth your trouble,” Lawrence added. It was clear he was offering more than a simple service fee.
Mark glanced over upon hearing those words.
He was, after all, a merchant. He wouldn’t work for free.
Mark’s answer was short. “I can’t.”
“I see, so… Wait, what?”
“I can’t,” he said again, looking Lawrence in the eye.
“Wha–”
“I cannot help you with this,” he said flatly.
Lawrence leaned forward. “I’ll pay you a consideration and not a paltry service fee, either. You’ve nothing to lose. It’s a good trade, is it not?”
“I’ve nothing to lose?” He frowned, his square-cut beard making his face look even stonier.
“But you don’t, do you? I’m asking you to help me find and purchase pyrite, not shoulder a risky investment. What have you to lose?”
“Lawrence.” The sound of his name cut Lawrence off.
Yet Lawrence did not understand what Mark was thinking. It made no sense for a merchant to refuse a deal that promised a sizable reward with no risk.
Why then the refusal?
He wondered if Mark was trying to take advantage of him, and something like anger roiled in his gut.
Mark continued, “You’d be able to pay me, say, ten lumione at the outside, am I right?”
“Well, given that you’re simply making some purchases for me, that’s more than generous, I should think. It is not as though I’m asking you to cross a mountain range alone and bring back an entire caravan’s worth of ore.”
“But you are asking me to go about the marketplace and buy up pyrite, are you not? It amounts to the same thing.”
“How is that–?” Lawrence stood suddenly, knocking back the log chair with a clatter. He was a moment from bodily grabbing the wheat merchant when he regained his composure.
Mark was unmoved.
His even, businesslike expression did not change.
“Er – I mean, how is that the same thing? I’m hardly asking you to run around all night or to traverse some treacherous mountain pass. I’m simply asking you to help me buy pyrite with your connections.”
“It’s the same thing, Lawrence,” said Mark almost patiently. “You’re a traveling merchant who crosses the plains; I do battle in the marketplace. The dangers you see, they’re the dangers of the traveling merchant.”
“So…” Lawrence swallowed his protest. Mark’s face was also strained, as if he’d swallowed something bitter.
Mark continued, “To a town merchant, leaping at every chance to make a quick profit is no virtue. It’s making a steady living through an honest, reliable business that makes my reputation, not making big profits on fleeting side jobs. I may be the owner of this stall, but its reputation is not just mine. It extends to my wife, my relatives, and anyone connected with it. If it’s making a bit of coin on the side, that’s surely not a bad thing…”
Mark paused here, taking another quaff of ale. His knit brow was surely not owing to the ales bitter taste. “… But helping you find and buy five hundred trenni of pyrite is quite another matter. How do you think the townspeople would view me and mine? Would they not think of me as a villain, who cares nothing for his real business and has eyes only on easy riches? Can you pay me enough to take that risk? I was once a traveling merchant myself, and I’d venture to say the trifling sums a traveling merchant handles cannot compare to the amounts town merchants deal with.”
Lawrence could say nothing.
Mark made his final statement. “This shop may seem small, but the value of its name is surprisingly high. If the name were to be tarnished, ten or twenty gold pieces would be far from enough to cover it.”
It was a compelling statement.
Lawrence had nothing to say in return and stared at the table.
“That’s how it is.”
Mark was neither taking advantage of Lawrence nor mocking him.
It was simply the truth.
Lawrence saw that though both he and Mark were merchants, they lived in different worlds.
“I am sorry,” said Mark.
Lawrence still had no good reply.
It was hardly worth counting the number of allies that remained to him.
“N-no, I should apologize for asking the impossible.”
Lawrence tried to think of who else he might turn to; only Batos came to mind.
Since Mark would not help him, Batos was the only option.
But Lawrence remembered that when Batos tipped him off about Amati’s plan, he’d said the boy’s plan was not exactly praiseworthy.
Batos hauled ore through dangerous mountain passes – he would no doubt consider the quick buying and selling of pyrite to be rather odious.
He doubted that Batos would help him, but Lawrence had no choice but to put aside his misgivings and ask nonetheless.
Lawrence steeled himself and looked up.
It was just then that Mark spoke again. “So even the ever-composed Lawrence gets like this sometimes, eh?”
Marks face was neither upset nor amused; he simply seemed surprised.
“Ah, apologies,” Mark continued. “Don’t be angry. It just seems unusual,” he said, hurriedly explaining. Lawrence was also surprised at his own behavior and far from angry.
“I can’t say I’m surprised with your companion being who she is and all. But you needn’t go to all this effort to stop Amati, do you? Surely she won’t leave you so easily. I thought as much the first time I saw her at your side. Have more confidence, man!”
Mark finally smiled, but Lawrence was expressionless as he replied, “She gave me a signed marriage certificate. The other party is Amati naturally.”
Mark’s eyes widened, and he realized that he’d said the wrong thing. He scratched his beard awkwardly.
Lawrence saw this and slackened his shoulders. “If nothing had happened, sure, I’d have more confidence. But something did happen.”
“So it happened after you came by here? We never know what lies even a step ahead in life, do we? But you still have hope, so you’re still running – I see.”
Lawrence nodded, and Mark stuck out his lower lip and sighed.
“Still,” said Mark, “I knew she was a person to be reckoned with, but I can’t believe she’d be so bold… Anyway, do you have any oth
er leads?”
“I expect I’ll go talk to Mr. Batos next.”
“Batos, eh? Ah, so you’re going to have him talk to the woman for you,” murmured Mark.
“… The woman?” asked Lawrence in reply.
“Huh? Oh, so you’re not going to have him talk to her for you? The chronicler, I mean. You met her, right?”
“If you mean Miss Diana, I’ve met her, but I don’t see what she has to do with this.”
“So long as you’re not worried about the consequences, you might try dealing with her.”
“Look, what are you talking about?” asked Lawrence.
Mark looked over his shoulder conspiratorially, then lowering his voice, he spoke. “She practically coordinates the northern regions. Especially the alchemists – you might as well call her their storefront. It’s because of her that the alchemists that have managed to escape persecution gather here, from our perspective. Of course, only the local nobility and elders of the town council know the details. Oh, and–”
Mark took a sip of ale and continued, “Everybody knows that the alchemists have pyrite, but nobody wants to make waves, so they don’t do business with alchemists. In old Batos’s case, he deals mostly with the alchemists and rarely with anybody else. No – it’s more accurate to say he can’t deal with anyone else because he deals with alchemists. So if you can risk the trouble it might bring, getting Batos to talk to the woman for you is an option.”
It wasn’t clear to Lawrence whether this sudden revelation was the truth, but Mark had nothing to gain from lying.
“Depending on the circumstances, it might be worth trying. The flames are getting quite close, after all, are they not?”
It was pathetic, but Lawrence had to admit that with Mark’s refusal to help, the situation was quite desperate.
“I’m actually quite pleased that you’d turn to me for help, but this is all I can do for you,” said Mark.
“No, I appreciate it. I nearly overlooked a huge opportunity.”
Even Lawrence felt that Mark’s reason for refusing him was completely justified.
Mark was a town merchant, and Lawrence was a traveling merchant. The abilities and limitations of each were naturally very different.
“I know I refused you… but I’ll be praying for your success nonetheless.”
Now it was Lawrence’s turn to smile. “You’ve taught me something valuable. That alone was worth my time,” he said with complete sincerity. In the future, when he dealt with town merchants, Lawrence would have today’s experience to draw upon. It was indeed something valuable.
Whether or not it was in response to Lawrence’s words, Mark stroked his beard noisily.
He frowned and looked off to the side as he spoke. “I may not be able to help you directly, but I might be able to whisper the condition of someone’s wallet in your ear.”
Lawrence was visibly surprised, at which Mark closed his eyes.
“Come by the shop later. I can at least tell you who to buy from.”
“… Thank you, truly,” said Lawrence with complete honesty.
Mark shook his head as if at a loss, sighing. “When you make that face, I guess I see why that girl would be so bold.”
“… What do you mean?”
“Ah, nothing. Just that merchants should stick to business.”
Lawrence wanted the laughing Mark to explain himself, but he was already focusing on Batos and Diana.
“Good luck to you,” said Mark.
“Thanks.”
Lawrence’s chest was still tight with anxiety, and if he was to go negotiate, the sooner he did so the better.
He thanked Mark again and put Mark’s stall behind him.
It was often said that the traveling merchant has no friends. As he walked the streets, Lawrence decided this was not true.
Lawrence first headed directly to the trade guild.
He had two goals: first, to discover whether Batos had a stock of pyrite on hand or any connections to buy some, and second, to have Batos take him to Diana.
He remembered Batos’s dismissal of Amati’s plan to raise money – not entirely praiseworthy, Batos had said.
The man hauled ore and precious stones from the mines over dangerous mountain paths. He might well find this pyrite-speculation business downright shameful.
Even though he knew he might be asking the impossible, Lawrence still had to go.
He made his way through the back alleys to the guild house, turning a blind eye to the festival, which was even at this late hour continuing with an atmosphere that was near riotous.
He finally arrived at his destination – a street lined with trade companies. Each company had lit lanterns, and there were circles of people dancing about here and there. Now and then, Lawrence caught sight of employees continuing the festivities by holding clumsy mock sword battles.
Pushing his way through the congested street, Lawrence approached the Rowen Trade Guild building. He silently slipped through the open doors and passed the guild members that were drinking and carrying on there.
The delineation between those who wanted to quietly drink inside and those who wished to join in the clamor outside seemed quite clear. Beneath the glow of the distinctive-smelling fish oil lamps, the guild hall was filled with quiet conversation and pleasant laughter.
A few seemed to notice Lawrence’s arrival and looked at him curiously, but the greater part were wholly concerned with enjoying themselves.
Lawrence spied the man he was looking for among those gathered and walked straight toward him.
The man sat at a table with several other older merchants. Beneath the dim lamplight, he looked somehow hermitlike.
It was Gi Batos.
“I apologize for interrupting in the middle of your celebration,” said Lawrence quietly. The older merchants with their decades of experience immediately understood that he was here for business.
They sipped their wine wordlessly, glancing at Batos.
Batos smiled briefly. “Ho there, Mr. Lawrence. What can I do for you?”
“I’m sorry this is so sudden, but I need to speak with you.”
“Business, is it?”
After a short hesitation, Lawrence nodded.
“We’ll talk over there. We can’t let these old codgers steal all our profit, after all.”
The other merchants at the table laughed, raising their cups as if to say, “We’ll keep on without you.”
Lawrence gave a quick bow and then followed Batos, who was heading farther into the guild house.
Standing in sharp contrast to the lively lobby, the halls of the guild house were like back alleys; the lamplight soon failed to reach them, and the clamor from those gathered faded like a fire burning on a river’s distant shore.
Batos then stopped and turned. “So what is it you want to speak about?”
There was no point in beating around the bush. Lawrence spoke simply and to the point. “I’m trying to lay in pyrite. I’m looking for someone with a stockpile, and I thought you might have some idea of where to start.”
“Pyrite?”
“Yes.”
Batos’s eyes were a dark blue that bordered on black. They looked gray in the faint yellow light of the lamp.
Those eyes looked evenly at Lawrence.
“Have you any leads?” Lawrence asked again.
Batos sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Mr. Lawrence, you–”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember what I said when I told you about what the young Amati was planning?”
Lawrence nodded immediately. Of course, he remembered. “Not only that, I remember that Miss Diana hates business discussions.”
Batos took his hand from his eyes and then stopped, his gaze now for the first time what one would expect from a merchant.
It was the look of a man whose life was devoted to the safe transport of goods through incredible hardship, unconcerned about how much profit would be made.
Those eyes
seemed somehow wolflike.
“So you’re eyeing the alchemists’ stock, are you?”
“That will make this conversation easy – yes. However, I’ve heard that without Miss Diana’s permission, no business can be had. That is why I’ve come to you.”
Lawrence suddenly remembered when he was just starting out as a merchant – with no connections, he would visit without notice and say whatever it took to increase his business.
Batos’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before he forced them back to their usual expression. “Is pyrite so lucrative that knowing all this, you still wish to deal with them?”
“No, that is not it.”
“Then… you want to know your fortune or ward away illness as pyrite is rumored to do?” Batos smiled indulgently, as though he were playing with a grandchild. It was his way of poking fun.
Lawrence was neither angry nor impatient.
If it was for his own gain, a merchant could stare at a swinging scale all night, if that’s what it took. “I am acting in my own interest. That I will not deny.”
Batos stared wide-eyed, unmoving.
If he was turned away here, his best chance of finding a stockpile of pyrite would be gone.
Lawrence did not have the luxury of allowing that to happen.
“But I’m not after it because I’m trying to gain from the pyrite bubble. My aim is more… more basic.”
Batos did not interrupt him, and Lawrence took this as his cue to continue.
“Mr. Batos, you’re a traveling merchant, so surely you’ve had times when the goods you’re hauling fall into a crevasse.”
Still silence.
“When our wagon sinks in a mire, we weigh the difficulty of saving it against abandoning it to the mud. The value of the goods, the gain, the amount of cash on hand, the cost of getting assistance – the danger of being attacked by brigands even – we weigh it all and decide to abandon the cargo or not to.”
Batos spoke slowly. “And you’ve found yourself thus, have you?”
“I have.”
Batos’s keen eyes seemed as though they could see to the end of a dark road.
He’d traveled the same road for a lifetime and came to Diana to hear tales of the roads he hadn’t taken.
Those eyes would surely see through any lie.
But Lawrence did not waver.
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