by Lars M.
I frowned. "Does it have to be? We just have to get them to work, and half our problems will be gone. Sure, there's bound to be new issues further on - but there always are. The important part is that we'll have two dozen new skilled workers laboring for the progress of Grant's Crossing, and the same number of unskilled labor to help." Also, a dozen potential troublemakers and wastrels, but I wasn't going to go into too much detail on that at the moment.
"Yeah, sure. But who's going to teach them? You?"
"I... have had some thoughts on the issue. Not about me teaching them, obviously." I rolled my eyes. "But hear me out. First, we compile a list of the people we have in our village who have the skills we need. Then we see about delegating teachers to the proper number of trainees, and add the other kobolds as unskilled labor where needed. Hey presto, everybody's busy, and in a couple of months we're packed with skilled workers. How's that sound?"
He looked at me like I'd been drinking. "Erm. Unrealistic. At best. First of all, we can't just tell everybody that they have to accept teaching somebody who might be the competition half a year from now. Second, who's going to fund all the items they'll need to get started?"
"Of course. You've seen right through my bluff. Now, if only we had somebody who was known for being able to talk people into doing stupid things. Maybe even several somebodys." I wriggled my eyebrows at him.
"Bah. Point taken. Okay, let's say we actually manage to talk everybody into it. Where's the money?"
I squirmed. "That part's...well, it's a work in progress. I have an idea, but I'd like to ensure that it's viable first."
"Really? I'd figured you were going to ask the Council to pay."
I shook my head. "Nah. That wouldn't be fair for any of you, and it's going to be expensive. Actually, if you guys could come with an incentive for anybody who takes on a student, it'd help a lot in convincing people. It wouldn't have to be much, either. Call it an investment in the future of the village."
He ground his teeth, but relented. "I'll see what I can do. Your idea isn't too far-fetched, and we have a meeting tonight to consider the situation, anyway."
"Thanks, Gillem. You know I rarely fail to deliver. Heh - speaking of which. Thank you." I passed him a tiny purse with the three gold coins I'd borrowed from him.
Gillem swiftly pocketed it. "Don't mention it. I mean it. I don't want the word to spread that I've lent somebody money."
"Sure." We were approaching the gates to the village, and I checked the in-game clock. Past noon. Hmm – my stomach was rumbling. With the bad food I'd had in Nerit, I wanted nothing more than to hide in my room with a king-sized platter of delicacies. Even so... "When's the meeting?"
"Huh? Oh, with the Council? A couple of hours from now."
I nodded. "I'll have to meet up with you backstabbers later. I'll try to get this thing with the finances solved straight away, so you can get moving."
Gillem raised an eyebrow, smiling. "You know, things used to be so quiet before you arrived. We used to be able to bicker over a tiny decision for weeks."
"Meh, sounds boring." I laughed ruefully. "To be fair, I could do with a month or two of boring – not until we've fixed this, however."
I saw off the two collaborators at the gates and headed straight to Mrs. Bertinga's shop. Pausing in front of the building, I marveled once again at the sight of it. Whoever had thought that painting tons of different items in any garish color available made for wonderful decoration ought to be put in front of a firing squad. Still, I'd grant her this: no caravan guard, regardless of how tired or drunk he was, would fail to notice the shop.
Mrs. Bertinga was busy when I entered. One of the kobolds had made her way into the shop and was haggling over a cookpot, so I stood back, observing the two. Not for the first time, I was forced to admire Mrs. Bertinga’s acting skills. She had the 'adorable old lady'- act down pat. The kobold, who'd been used to living her life from day to day and fighting for survival, was clearly confused about the whole thing. Within moments, the shrewd shopkeeper had the rugged young kobold eating out of her hand, even as she overcharged her in the deal.
When she was certain the door was closed, Mrs. Bertinga let out a full-throated chuckle. "Oh, Arcangelo. I've missed you. Things have been ever so dull without you. Do tell me you're here to entertain me for the rest of the day."
I laughed. "I missed you too, Mrs. Bertinga. Nerit didn't have a single person who could hold a candle to your wit and wisdom."
"Oh, you are laying it on thick today, youngster. One wonders what that indicates about what you're preparing to propose." She adjusted her shawl and folded her hands before her.
Exasperated, I shook my head. "I can't hide anything from you, can I? Well, I have some mundane business I'd love to get out of the way first, if it's all right with you?" At her nod, I continued. "Appreciated. I need a ton of basic Tinkerer materials - the cheapest you've got. I'm aiming to break through to the next level of expertise within the next couple of days."
She clapped her hands, so like a grandmother approving of her grandson's drawing that a chuckle escaped me. She pursed her lips, tut-tutting, "Do allow me my simple joys, son. It has been ages since I was able to talk about the intricacies of tinkering with anybody. You are about to break through to the level where things become truly interesting." She piled up items while she talked; cheap, low-quality stuff, just what I needed to improve. A few coins changed hands, and I poured the items into my inventory. One side of her mouth curved up. "Now, you've already gone and gotten me in a good mood. What are you trying to sweeten me up for?"
I cleared my throat. "Well, I'm going to make a proposition. One that involves you losing out on a rather large amount of earnings by hinting at even larger future earnings - and of course, by appealing to your better nature."
She snorted. Immediately, she held a hand over her mouth, clearly as surprised as I was by the un-ladylike behavior. Then she exploded into a burst of laughter that eventually petered out with her gasping for breath. "Oh, sweet Tharlenn, I needed that. Now I'm really curious."
"Okay. Here's the deal. Sixty-odd kobolds are about to become proper parts of Grant's Crossing and start to work for a living. Some are going to be horrible workers, and some are going to try a new career when the first one doesn't take.” I tapped the table, emphasizing the next words. ”Each and every one is going to need equipment."
Her eyes lit up as she glanced involuntarily at her shelves, filled with the collected paraphernalia of a hundred caravans passing through, stacked alongside things crafted by the villagers.
"Exactly. You stand in a situation to make a killing. However," I lifted a finger. "I would suggest that you offer each kobold the opportunity to buy the equipment as a long-term loan, interest-free and at cost." She raised one eyebrow but I soldiered on, "I know. Why would you want to deprive yourself of what could be immense profits? Three reasons. First, if every kobold has to trade for or buy their own equipment immediately, few will be able to do so right away. You'll have to wait a long time, and many may stay poor. Second, if you agree to this, you can get rid of a lot of old crap that's cluttering your shelves and get a fair price for it - guaranteed income for years. Third, you'll be establishing yourself in the minds of every damn kobold out there as a wondrous person and the go-to woman for future trades. Of course, once they're earning a wage, you're well within your full right to fleece them of everything they have when they come to you for trades." I drummed my fingers on the counter. "Did I miss anything? Oh yes - the appeal. Would you rather earn a big slice of a small cake - or a slightly smaller slice of a huge cake, once the kobolds have helped Grant's Crossing grow?"
She did a double take. "Appealing to my better nature, indeed. Are you really telling me that greed is my better nature, Arcangelo?"
"You tell me. Hah! In all seriousness, though - tell me that I'm wrong. Any way I approach this, the good thing to do is also the way that nets you the best income in the long term."
She mulle
d it over a bit. "Your logic would depend on me remaining as the largest trader in the village for years, though."
"I know. So can you do that?" I stared straight at her, challenging.
Her nostrils flared and I knew I had her. "All right. I will accept, on one condition. Before we get into that, I must correct you on one misconception, Arcangelo. I care about the future of our village. Greatly so." She snickered. "Mind you, if I can do something for the village, and out-earn everybody else at the same time, I would take pleasure in that. Indeed, I would."
"Wonderful. Which condition would that be?
"It's the one thing you forgot in your sales speech, dearest. Nice speech, too. You managed to cover almost every exception I could come up with."
Oh, she was definitely enjoying stringing me along. I summoned all my patience. "So, what did I forget?"
"The risk involved for me, should the kobolds destroy or lose the items. Odds are, they wouldn't be able to pay me back in that case. They are, as a whole, unknowns, and me taking a large chance on the entire group could as easily end up with the lot of them establishing their own village deeper in the forest. Therefore, my condition is this: I need the council or somebody else to take on some of the risk, in case a kobold is unable or unwilling to pay me back."
I grimaced. "You're right. I didn't think that one all the way through. I'll... see what I can do. Is there a limit to how low you're willing to go?"
Her response was instant, as if she'd already done the calculations while we had been speaking. "Half. If every single lizard takes off with their items, and I only recoup half, I can avoid having to sell the shop - barely."
"I appreciate the candor. I'll try to see if we can't get this done. You'll remain the biggest merchant in a growing city, and I'll be the one who made it happen." I put on my best smile. "Obviously, you're not the type to forget that fact whenever we're going to trade in the future."
"Oh Arcangelo - it's good to have you back, deluded as you are. You get going now, and make things happen, and we will see about a tiny discount."
Mrs. Bertinga practically pushed me out the door, and I strode back towards the tavern, whistling as I went.
Chapter 5 – Mrs. Bertinga Has Wares If Council Has Coin
To my relief, I made it back to The Warlock's End without incident. Before entering, I paused for a while to regard the tavern. It was a silly, almost nostalgic sensation, but the feeling of coming home still left me contented. As I opened the door with a satisfied sigh, a handful of familiar faces rose to meet me and I smiled. Chertog was there, feet on the table and already looking half tipsy. He was probably already telling everybody how he'd outwitted me, too. Judas. Greck was sitting by himself with a flask of what was undoubtedly foul rotgut. Gillem was busy waiting tables, and I spotted Millerd trying to wave me over for a game of Fingers. I told the coin-hungry ratling I'd be over later and found a table in the corner. Arack had clearly been waiting for me. The moment she spotted me, she ran over to pester me at the table.
Five minutes later, Gillem slid into the chair across from me, carrying two foaming brews. He pushed one across the table. "I've got a couple of minutes. Kiff can make it for that long without burning down the place." He paused. "At least, I think he can." We shared a laugh and he continued, "Want to take it to your room? There's more privacy there."
I shook my head. "No. I trust Arack. Also, she's clever and... well, it would be good to have a kobold's perspective on it."
His eyebrows raised, but to his credit, he just nodded and motioned for me to get on with it.
Heads close together, I gave Gillem and Arack the Cliffs Notes. Gillem pulled his legs up to rest on the adjacent chair while he cradled his ale, sipping every once in a while. Arack, meanwhile just stared at me, eyes open wide in shock.
When I was done talking, she asked, very quietly, "Why are you doing all this for us?"
"I..." I interrupted the snarky comeback I was about to make. Arack was uncharacteristically serious, and the answer clearly mattered to her. "A couple of reasons, some of them selfish. For one, I think the Fallen are going to make Grant's Crossing an even better place to live, once you settle in and become a part of the place. Also, my reputation probably isn't going to suffer if we make this work. Mostly, however, I believe you guys deserve a fair chance, and I don't mind trying to browbeat a few workers to get there."
She bowed her head and didn't add anything. Gillem was being unusually silent himself. After a while, he cleared his throat and, with obvious dismay, said, "It's not going to happen."
Arack and I both started speaking, but he just raised a hand. "No, listen, Arcangelo. You've done a fair bit of legwork, but at this point, it's not a matter of faith or investment, but one of math. Wait here." He jumped up from the table and went to the bar to fetch a piece of parchment and a quill. He started to scribble furiously. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong. We were looking at mix of gatherers and farmers, twelve in total?" Without waiting for confirmation, he droned on, "Gatherers are cheap. They just need weapons to fend off the wildlife, housing and food to start out, and a tiny bit of equipment. The farmers, however – we'd have to break in new fields on both the east and west banks of the Rush. Add to that an assortment of tools and a hand-operated plow. Good thing we have seeds in plenty, though. Hmm..." His voice trailed off while he wrote. Pointing the quill at me, he continued, "You had the updated list showing a total of ten craftsmen, right? That's tools, outfits, and ingredients. Leatherworkers, woodworkers, and a single woman who knows her way around pottery. Hmpf. Costly. Hunters will require weapons, armor, and items for traps. Same for the warriors, less the traps, obviously." Gillem seemed to have forgotten all about us while he mused aloud and filled in the piece of paper with increasingly illegible calculations. Finally he underlined a number twice, exhaled hard, and pushed the piece of parchment toward me.
"There. This is your likely cost, in gold, for outfitting everybody properly." Gillem looked tired.
I looked at the number and then looked again. "320 gold pieces. That can't be right!"
"I know. This is just a guess on my part. Mrs. Bertinga and Mr. Callahan would likely be able to pinpoint additional costs right away. This is on top of the several hundred that we're already shelling out in order to pay for food and lodging over the next half year." Gillem pointed despondently in the direction of the Mayor's house. "Now, Autoria and Mr. Callahan together would probably be able to front the cost. I sure can't, and Mallard already invests all his money into the village anyway. I – just don't know how we could possibly convince the two to bear any additional risk."
"What are you saying? That they'll just leave things to fall apart while kobolds slowly become our enemies?" Couldn’t he see how shortsighted that would be?
His brows furrowed. "Not at all. Everybody in this village has the chance to make or break their own fortune. The Council will do what we can in order for everybody in that camp to have the same chance. I would love to do more for them, but I can't see it happening. Besides, wasn't that all they wanted in the first place?"
I could feel my temper rising. "That's not at all the same, and you know it, Gillem. These people..."
A voice interrupted from the side. "Erm, you guys? A question?" Arack glanced tentatively at both of us.
A glance at Gillem told that he was as relieved by the interruption as I was. "Of course. Go ahead."
"So, obviously I'm new here, right? But the big issue here isn't the money, is it? I mean, not when the nice lady's already got all the stuff on her shelves and she's promised that she'd lend it to people."
Gillem put on a placating smile. "Arack, right? At some point, I will have to hear exactly how you and Archie crossed ways. Now's not the time, though. No, it's not really a question of money, it's more about the risk. Mrs. Bertinga wouldn't want to lose her shop from taking a gamble on your people if most of them flake on their responsibilities. Also, the Council is already way in the red in investments, when it comes to the F
allen."
"In the red what?"
I added."He means that they're already standing to lose a lot unless everything goes well."
She lit up in a smile."Ah. Weird sayings you have. Well, if it's just a matter of risk, why don't we just promise that we'll pay you back?"
"Well, if you promise? That changes everything." Gillem smirked. "Sorry, kid. You seem like a nice enough sort, but when we're talking about this kind of money, promises just won't cut it."
To be fair, there was a lot I didn't know about Arack. We still hadn't had many heart-to-hearts, but I had learned a lot about her personality and mannerisms. Today, I learned an additional detail: she did not enjoy condescension. She pushed back her chair hard enough that it teetered on two legs for a second before regaining its balance. She rounded on the astonished halfling in a fury. "Is this fun to you? We leave everything behind and go off into the unknown because we're promised a safe haven, and you dare smile?" She bristled before the baffled halfling, shaking a finger at his nose. "Well, I'll tell you something right this moment. You, sir, are not as smart as you think you are." Her sudden anger disappeared off the radar, like kids faced with bedtime, and was replaced with satisfaction. "And if you're as slow as you are slow, I might have to use smaller words."
A laugh bubbled from my lips. Oh my - this was so much funnier when it happened to somebody else. "Check your pockets, Gillem." His subsequent horror as he patted himself down had me hiding my face in my hands.
Arack did not let him off easy, though. She started stacking his belongings on his table right in front of him, talking all the while. A pile of coins. A handkerchief. Two rings. A pocket knife. "That's right. I'm the best damn thief in the Dawnlight Forest. If money was the problem, I'd just go get it - and nobody here would be able to catch me in the act. Please listen to what I am actually saying."
Gillem's gaze stared down at the table and back up at the kobold who had folded her arms, waiting. "We’ll talk about you nicking my stuff later. For now, you have my undivided attention. What are you proposing?"