ARC 6-Winter War-10 (Patreon)

“What do you think you’re playing at?” Kimbleford shouts as he jumps to his feet. “Just sign the damn thing!”

“Why should I?” Howie bares his teeth. “If I let you get away with these insults, I can never show my face in the provinces again. Teach you to treat me like an idiot. I meant what I said! Get out!”

“You saints cursed monster—”

“My lord!” his maid exclaims, grabbing his arm.

He shakes her off. “I won’t stand for this! Who do you think you are to make fools of the Seventh Sons? Do you think you can live peacefully in this city after screwing the guilds? I’ll destroy this dump myself!”

“I don’t mean to upset you, good sir, but this is highly irregular,” Cordy follows with a more measured tone. “We came here to strike a deal. Gold makes men unscrupulous but we are about to come to an agreement, are we not? Let’s not let a bit of brashness get in the way of that.”

“Hey, I’ve got a question for you all. Especially you.” Howie points to the young lord. “Would you do business with a group of people that blatantly insulted you and attempted to cheat you?”

“Do you think the merchants of the kingdom are all future saints? Of course I would! I’m not a child who can’t separate his emotions from business.”

“I understand your offense.” The consul’s tone makes it clear he thinks the brewer is being unreasonable. “Yes, I attempted to get the best deal possible for my guild. You hired an adviser to help you achieve the best deal. Surely, you wouldn’t be complaining if you talked us into paying more than your drinks are worth. It is the way things are done.”

“Well, that’s not how it’s done where I’m from. There, if you try to cheat someone, you lose your head. If you’re really unlucky, they could declare a blood feud. But you know what happens to the idiots who take it lying down? Worse!”

“This isn’t whatever barbaric—”

“Enough! I’ve made my decision. Knew I should have never gotten involved with you guild bastards. Get out!” He tosses the small potion vial back to Simone. “Out!”

The room turns to Bearskin as he stands. “If that is your choice, we won’t bother you further. I would ask what you plan to do with your wares. It would be a waste for something that can preserve lives to gather dust throughout the harsh winter.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“I’ll buy it.” I grin as the room turns to me. “I’m heading to Victory myself. Give me the whole lot.”

Howie laughs. “Yeah, I like that. Let them try and cheat the dusky. See where that gets you!”

“Keep the barrels coming. And you wouldn’t have some extra wagons laying around? If you do, I’ll take them too.”

“I’ve got a guy who can get you sorted out.”

“Great. I’ll send the money by later.”

“Is this a joke?” Simone snaps, looking rather annoyed while holding the discarded contract. “It is a rare thing when I agree with an officer of the Seventh Sons but how else are we supposed to interpret this nonsense? How can you begrudge me securing profits when you were just as eager to secure your own? Going back on your word now—”

“Oi, what was that about attacking someone’s character? I only gave you my word I would listen and I don’t like what I’m hearing.” He waves a hand in dismissal and heads for the counter. “Besides, it’s got nothing to do with me now. Talk to her.”

There’s a beat of silence, a moment rife with disbelief as the hunters watch the brewer grumble to himself as he cleans mugs. Slowly, their attention returns to me.

“I suppose I should start another contract.”

“Ah, no.” I stop the consul before he can start moving ink. “I’ve got a different plan. Think I’ll cart the whole haul to the north and sell it in a more competitive market. Something tells me that they’re going to value a drink that can ward off the cold a lot higher than a gold coin a barrel.”

“That’s cold,” Merven mutters.

“Oh, except you, big guy.” I smile at Bearskin. “I’ve got twenty barrels with your name on it.” What can I say? He made a good impression on me.

“I am obliged to the young lady,” he rumbles happily.

“Oh, you too, Cordy.”

“I thank you on behalf of the Torchbearers. The lady is a kind as she is beautiful!” Flatterer.

“If you’re willing to make a deal with them, why not sign a contract?!” Kimbleford roars. “Do you take joy in aggravating us?”

“Are you deliberating trying to sabotage the guilds participating in this campaign?” Simone asks with a serious frown.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I felt like buying his stuff, so I did. I don’t feel like signing a contract so I won’t. Don’t look at me like that. This is your faults. All you had to do was not be assholes. Just because it’s the norm doesn’t make it right.” I shrug. “You reap what you sow.”

“I’m not entertaining this madwoman anymore,” the young lord snaps, throwing his cup in anger as he jumps to his feet. His servants are quick to follow as he hurries out of the bar, throwing open the door with force.

“We should get going too.” Merven stands and offers a hand to his silent companion. “Looks like you’re going to have your hands full in the north.”

The woman’s head briefly turns toward me on their way out.

The Torchbearers and the Steelskins leave together, Cordy waving politely, Bearskin and the armored hunters inclining their heads as they pass.

Leaving only the irate consul.

“I know of you, Lady Lourianne Tome,” he says softly. “Do you think we forgot about how you assaulted and stole from our members? We decided to put that aside for the greater good. Yet you take basic business etiquette and use it to ruin an arrangement we have been anticipating for months.”

Am I supposed to be threatened by that glare? “Again, you reap what you sow.”

“You will come to regret this.”

“I doubt it. Howie already asked you to leave. I suggest you hurry.” I make a shooing motion. “Despite everything, tonight has been peaceful. You don’t want to change that.”

He glares at me for a moment before walking off. Once the door closes behind him, I retake my place on my stool. “Well, that was fun.”

“Was that smart?” Alana asks. “You’re going to be fighting alongside those people in a couple weeks and you’ve made enemies of two prominent guilds.”

“If they’re petty enough to stab me in the back over bad business, I’m better off.”

She smiles. “Agreed. Howie, give me the usual.”

“Drinking now?”

“The meeting’s over, isn’t it?” She downs half the mug immediately. “You’re going to have a problem selling that stuff at the fort. Father is strict with mercantile licenses.”

“I’ll sell it outside of the fort. On the road, if I have to. Or maybe on the battlefield. Doubt he’ll try to sanction me there.”

“…you’re ridiculous.”

-

“Coo!” [Master Lou, you have a guest.]

Hours later, my eyes snap open as Bell’s voice coaxes me from sleep. I glance at Alana, who is sleeping against my chest, and Kierra, who sprawled out on my left, before noting the sun hasn’t risen. Who is visiting me at this time?

[The halfling’s barmaid is downstairs, crying herself silly. It seems the brewer has been taken.]