by Pirateaba
“Of course. He can’t see.”
Ryoka murmured the words. It was necessary for Laken, but the effect it caused was impressive. There he was, standing in the center of a whirlpool of attention, waiting. The effect was also immediate.
It wasn’t a lowly [Receptionist] that came hurrying towards Laken across the floor, but a balding, portly man that Ryoka pegged as a [Merchant] or some higher Guild official. She saw him stop as Durene turned to block him, and then hurry forwards and seize Laken’s hand. After a few moments of discussion, they walked over to some chairs and a table set to one side of the room.
That was ordinary. But Laken was not. He sat politely across from the [Merchant], eyes closed, smiling as he talked. And Durene stood protectively next to him, a half-Troll bodyguard while Gamel stood on the other side, looking fiercely proud despite his simple clothing.
What was going on? Who was that man? Why did he catch the eye so? Ryoka heard the murmuring, and saw the people waiting in line or doing business sneaking glances over at Laken as the guild slowly began to get back to business. Some people took seats at tables next to Laken’s, others simply wandered over as they chatted quietly.
It was a Skill, or something about Laken. Ryoka watched, arms folded by the doors as Reynold scribbled in his notebook furiously. Laken sat and smiled as he talked to the [Merchant], radiating confidence like a beacon.
He did nothing dramatic, and his words were inaudible except to the people closest to him. And yet, he had a presence that weighed down on his surroundings and dragged every eye to where he sat. Slowly, the room began to revolve around him.
—-
I sit with the [Merchant] named Merec in the center of his guild and thank god that they have padded seats in here. The bench in the park wasn’t bad, but after more than an hour of sitting on it’s hard surface, I could use some support for my backside.
Especially because I have the feeling I’ll be here for a while. I sit with my back straight in the chair, hearing quiet voices around me, people haggling, or buying goods in bulk, negotiating deliveries to other cities.
Doing business, in short. It’s not distracting to me, and I can tune it out, but it’s a reminder that we’re sitting in the open, in the center of the guild.
“Again, Mister Laken, I would be quite happy to seat you in a private room to discuss any business. I’m sure a man such as yourself might prefer the privacy.”
“I feel quite comfortable conducting my affairs out in the open, Mister Merec. I have nothing to hide, after all.”
The Merchant’s Guild has private rooms of course, although they might not be that private. I’d bet some of them have listening spells or peepholes…I smile in the general direction of the merchant. I hear him swallow, and then speak.
“Well then, I’m happy to get down to business. What ah, did you say the nature of your visit was about? Did I hear your—your helper correctly when she said you wanted to place a big order?”
“Indeed, Mister Merec. A large order. I would like to purchase food, supplies, livestock, tools, and so on for a village of around a hundred people. Of course, not just for one meal or two—I’d like to make a purchase that will last them the rest of the winter. To that end, I’d like to hire at least…twelve wagons, I suppose, and the appropriate guards to protect such a delivery. I was thinking at least two teams of adventurers might do.”
I don’t quite hear Merec inhale his tongue, but he comes close.
“S-supplies? For a village? May I ask what this is about, sir?”
“Riverfarm, my good man, Riverfarm.”
“Where…? I’m sorry, Mister Laken, but I’ve never heard of such a village.”
“Really? You haven’t? But their cabbage exports are a local keystone of the markets!”
I try to sound upset, but the truth is I’m laughing inside. I steeple my fingers and lean forwards over the table.
“I happen to be a great friend of the villagers there, Mister Merec. You may not have heard, but an avalanche hit the village and surrounding region not three days past. It was a tragedy, and many lives were lost.”
“I—I had heard something of the kind, sir. So these goods are for the village?”
“Yes indeed. I’m in rather a hurry, so if you could have the wagons loaded and sent out in, oh, an hour’s time that would be best.”
“I—well, hold on now.”
Merec tries to take back command of the situation. I hear saliva moving as he pauses, and then his tone becomes genial, professionally good-humored.
“We would love to fulfill your request, Mister Laken. But before we talk details, may I ask how you intend to pay for all of this? I hesitate to ask, but with such a huge transaction in mind—”
“Of course! Let’s not beat around the bushes, Merec!”
I raise my voice and feel the man wince. People around me go silent as I sit taller in my chair.
“Riverfarm needs aid, Mister Merec. Posthaste! Today, if it can be managed! I came to the Merchant’s Guild because I was told you could help me better than the Runner’s Guild.”
“Well, that’s certainly true, sir. We have the goods—those Runners would have to come to us for supplies. But about payment—”
I wave an impatient hand at him.
“Money is no object. Durene, would you please put the bag on the table so Mister Merec can see it?”
I hear Durene riddle with her belt, and then a heavy thump. Merec’s chair screeches back, and then I hear him and voices around him gasp and exclaim.
“Dead gods!”
“Is that—”
“Are these gems, sir? And this—”
“I’m afraid I didn’t have time to convert it all into gold—but I believe exchanging gemstones is one of the functions of your guild, isn’t it? Well, I’ll leave sorting out the exact worth till later, but I assume this will be adequate?”
“Ah—ah—”
I think I broke the poor man. I tap a foot on the ground until Merec manages to speak again.
“Of course. Of course—you there! Bring over some chairs for Mister Laken’s escorts, now! And have drinks sent for—may I offer you some refreshments, Mister Laken?”’
“I wouldn’t say no, but I am in hurry, Mister Merec.”
“Yes, sir. I completely—thank you. There’s just one matter I must attend to. I’m terribly sorry, but in cases like this—would you mind taking an oath on a truth spell? It’s just that in cases like this where we cannot be sure where this money has come from—”
“Are you accusing me of having stolen that money?”
I interject a note of frank incredulity into my tone. Durene makes an ominous noise.
“Laken didn’t steal that. All of this is his!”
Merec makes a very small sound, and I imagine him shrinking back as Durene towers over him.
“No, of course…it’s just a matter of protocol, see? I’d never question—please, Mister Laken—”
“It’s okay, Durene.”
I wave a hand at her and hear her step back. I smile brightly at Merec.
“I understand completely. Can I assume you have a stone of some sort I’d put my hand on?”
“Yes sir. It’s right here…if you just keep it close to your person, it will shine and uh, tell the truth.”
“Very well. In that case, allow me to go a step further so I may clarify matters.”
I reach out and find the stone on the table after a few seconds of searching. I pull it closer and speak carefully.
“This money is mine.”
I hear a murmur as the stone presumably lights up. I trust that I’m not being made out to be a liar and go on.
“I am a relative newcomer to this land, but I am deeply concerned with the wellbeing of the people of Riverfarm, who took me in and offered me hospitality during my time of need. My wealth comes from my, ah, class. It was not stolen from anyone to the best of my knowledge, and it is mine by right.”
More murmuring. I lift
my hand away from the stone.
“I trust that satisfies your questions, Mister Merec?”
“It does indeed, sir. I apologize most sincerely for the inconvenience, but—ah—may I ask what your class is?”
“You may ask, but I may not answer.”
I smile at Merec. I hear him hesitate.
“You wouldn’t happen to be of the aristocracy, sir? Forgive my curiosity, but it’s very rare to have someone of your status in our guild. Most nobles send servants you see…”
I just smile. No reply. But I hear the small intake of breath, and know the crystal has probably changed color again. Tricky, that. But all to the better. An [Emperor] is the highest form of nobility, after all. I gently push the stone back across the table just to be sure I don’t trigger it again.
“Well then, now that the truth has been established, let us go back to business. Food, Mister Merec.”
“Of course! We can have a shipment prepared—at a very reasonable price, as well. Ah—however, I hate to mention this, but at this point in the year grain and meat and so on is very dear. I’m afraid you’ll be paying quite the steep rate for all of this…”
I raise a hand and the man falls silent.
“As I’ve said, money is no object. I know you would not cheat me or drive up the price unfairly, Mister Merec.”
“I would never—”
“I know. I don’t need a Skill, spell, or even eyes to see that. An honest price—and coin in your pockets for work well done—is all I need. I don’t fear being lied to, you see.”
“You…don’t?”
“Of course not. You see, liars and cheats have a way of revealing themselves to me, Merec. Which is why I trust you. After all, being blind means that when people try to pull the wool over my eyes, it doesn’t do a thing.”
I laugh a bit at that. After a second, I hear a polite, rather forced chuckle from Merec. I smile as if I’ve told a good joke. It’s all in the face. I keep it as open and as normal as possible, acting as if I’m talking with a good friend. It helps that I don’t have to do anything with my eyes.
Telling lies? I’m not telling lies. And I’m not dancing about with the truth either. I really don’t have a way of telling if someone’s lying to me. But I can make him think I do.
I’m just letting Merec and all the others do all the thinking and plotting and analysis of every word and move I make. The key is to make them think I’ve got depths, when in fact I’m about as deep as a puddle.
Mind games. From what Reynold and Ryoka said, the important people in this world like to play games with each other and read into every move anyone of power makes. My hope is that in a world of backstabbing, duplicitous schemers, they’ll never expect an honest man.
Well, semi-honest. Sort of. At least I make an effort.
—-
Ryoka rubbed at her eyes as the discussion went on. Laken sounded exactly like some kind of antagonist explaining his modus operandi on a television show to her. She’d felt like cringing when he made that joke. It was an over-the-top performance, but, and she had to admit this reluctantly, it was working.
It was the way he said it that sold the acting, and that incredible presence he had. You could believe that Laken was some reclusive, eccentric nobleman helping out a village he had taken a liking to. Every eye was on him and some people were openly listening to his discussion, not bothering to hide their interest.
They were all probably wondering which royal house Laken came from, which noble family. Ryoka was wondering much the same thing, although her main question was how. She knew he…but the stone had…Ryoka’s head was hurting already from all the suspicions bottled up in her chest.
And yet, it was all working in Laken’s favor. His entire presence was a tantalizing mystery. Who was the strange man with the bag of gold and a Troll bodyguard? Ryoka could see the gears whirring in people’s heads and decided to give Laken a hand.
She looked over and saw Reynold still writing furiously in the notebook, dipping his quill quickly into the small inkpot he held. She had to admire that—pens were so much easier than having to balance ink and quill and notepad with just two hands. She moved over and elbowed him, making the [Butler] jump.
“Hey. Get in there.”
He stared blankly at her.
“What?”
She nodded toward Laken and Merec as they began to discuss prices and what exactly Laken wanted.
“Do something. Anything. Just enter the conversation, alright? It doesn’t matter what you say, only that you’re there, saying it.”
Reynold hesitated, and then shook his head slightly.
“Miss Ryoka, my job is to escort you.”
“And take notes.”
He flushed a bit and lowered his quill.
“Well I—I can’t just interfere in business like this. It’s not my place.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Ryoka shrugged and walked away. After a few moments Reynold went back to writing down what was being said. He glanced over towards Ryoka and realized she was gone.
Reynold’s head turned frantically, but she wasn’t anywhere in front of him. Then he felt two hands on his back. He half turned—
And Ryoka shoved him.
She pushed Reynold forwards, sending the [Butler] stumbling closer to Laken and Merec. Reynold regained his footing and posture immediately and looked graceful while doing it, but now all eyes were on him. Ryoka looked the other way and twiddled her thumbs behind her back.
“Oops.”
—-
I break off when I hear the scuffle of feet on the floorboards.
“Is someone there?”
I hear a man clear his throat, and then hear a familiar voice.
“Reynold, sir Laken. May I offer you my services in this matter?”
I hesitate, but only for a second. Why is he helping? No, don’t question it—just roll with the cards that are being dealt.
“I would be most grateful, thank you. Do you by any chance know how much I should be paying for forty bags of barley?”
I hear Reynold sniff delicately.
“Given the way the Merchant’s Guild does business, I would question whether the goods being sold are of acceptable quality. Master Merec, I trust these prices all reflect the condition of the wares for sale? I have heard of weeavils and Harvest Devils being found in warehouses in the city as of late.”
Merec splutters.
“Our goods are beyond repute, sir. I can have a sample brought over—”
“A sample might do, but a personal inspection of random bags at the site would not be objectionable, I trust?”
“No—no—”
“Very well then. But I also trust you are not wasting Mister Laken’s time with trivialities such as individual item counts? The Merchant’s Guild surely has a list of the cheapest and most plentiful products on hand, does it not?”
“I—will have some sent for right away.”
—-
Ryoka grinned as she watched Merec stand and hurry off to speak urgently with some harried employees.
“Not bad, huh?”
Ivolethe, munching down on another walnut, just shrugged in reply. Ryoka shook her head.
She didn’t know what Laken’s game was, not exactly, but she knew he needed to have the [Merchants] here thinking he was a big shot. And who better to help with that bit of fiction than Reynold the [Butler]? They might not know who he was on first sight, but Ryoka would bet every gold piece she owned that the people staring at him and talking behind their hands were trying to figure out which [Lord] or [Lady] he served. Once they found out he was Magnolia’s aide…
“Ooh, looks like they’ve put it together.”
She’d never seen a ruddy face go that pale that quickly. Merec made his way back to Laken with profuse apologies and offered him a frothy fruit drink. Ryoka could have used one herself, but only Laken, Durene, and Gamel were getting the deluxe treatment. The negotiations went on, and Ryoka shifted fro
m leg to leg until she heard adventurers being brought up.
“We have several good teams, Mister Laken. There are Gold-rank teams I could hire if you—”
“I want those two teams, Mister Merec. The Celestial Trackers and the Windfrozen Riders.”
“As you say sir, but may I ask why those two…?”
Ryoka saw Laken lean back and smile mysteriously. She wondered if he’d practiced that smile or if he was just that good at acting. Or maybe that was just how he smiled?
“Here’s the thing, Merec. May I call you that? I need adventurers to protect Riverfarm, but I don’t want to hire people who just want coin or who will look down on the villagers. Why those two teams? Well, early today, I sent my…man out to all of the adventuring groups he could find earlier this day, begging for help. Of the ones he talked to, those two were the only ones who didn’t immediately send him off or laugh at him.”
Ryoka turned to stare at Gamel. Wait a second—she remembered seeing him doing that! He’d been approaching the teams in the plaza, begging for help!
“Clever.”
Laken went on, explaining his reasoning to an enthralled Merec and the audience around him.
“When I was young, I heard a story about a [King] who did very much the same thing. Well, the story has many forms, but it’s always the same. The [King] would go out, disguising himself as a peasant or ordinary man and talk with people, ask for aid, or challenge them to ascertain their worth. Only after he had gotten the measure of them would he reveal himself. For you see, people aren’t genuine when they know you’re rich or powerful. I want those teams, Merec. They might not be famous, but they do care.”
“Of course, sir. I will have someone go over to the Adventurer’s Guild this instant—”
The young man held up a hand and Merec fell silent.
“I want to hire them not only to escort the wagons, but to guard the village for at least a month. If they won’t agree, then I will find another team. You may post more guards and adventurers if you want, but I need at least two groups to protect the village. Now, if you will tell me the price I’d be paying for that…”