Demesne 340 - Back On The Streets Of Covehold (Patreon)

With the preliminary contract dry and secreted into my belt pouch, an address and name from Ravia, and plenty of daylight ahead, I had time to start working on trying to sell Lori's wispbeads.

The problem, as I saw it, was deciding what the best way of doing so actually was.

Ideally, we could sell directly to the workshops that would want the beads, such as carpentry or smithing workshops who had bound tools that have probably become very expensive to run. As long as the cost of the wispbeads was lower than the monetary value of the denominated wispbeads they'd otherwise need to use to run their bound tools, and that we proved to be reliable in providing them with their beads, we'd have steady customers for however long their bound tool was in repair and functional.

That was probably how Lori would see the problem, but as her lord—and more importantly someone who once worked in a lumberyard—I knew that satisfying demand was only a small part of properly establishing a monopoly. We needed to able to adequately supply that demand as well, and that was a problem more complicated than Lori spending her time making beads instead of expanding the demesne, ugh! If we sold her wispbeads directly to the owners of bound tools, we'd need to bring the beads from Lorian Demesne all the way back to Covehold Demesne. While each leg of the trip was a little under a week—though that was only because of the limitations of the Coldhold's design—that meant that to keep our customers, we'd need to provide two weeks' worth of beads for all our customers. Then we'd need someone to stay in Covehold to distribute those wispbeads to customers to fulfill orders. Repeat every week and a half or so to keep up a demand…

The logistics that I'd have to set up made me want to cry. Of course, we could hold back, maybe send a new batch of wispbeads once a month… but that would create scarcity, and if they were driven up enough, the wispbeads would be equal in value to denominated beads, disincentivizing purchasing them… or perhaps the workshops would only use them strategically. But still, I would probably need to find potential customers by myself…

It was a lot of work, and while it could be done… it was very labor and resource intensive, especially on my part since organizing everything would likely fall to me.

Alternately, we could employ a middleman. We could just sell all the wispbeads to Emborin and Sons through Ravia, and they'd be the ones who'd need to worry about finding customers and selling it to them. Since we'd be their only supplier of beads—as far as I knew, at any rate—we could name out own price, and as long as we kept in reasonable, the trading house would probably be willing to buy what we had, and I could foist all the headaches of selling the wispbeads to them. They'd be the ones who had to deal with the problem of controlling the price of the beads to keep them cheaper than using actual denominated beads.

Despite her grumbles, Lori has been amenable to that plan. It minimized work on our parts, we could have more time in between deliveries, and we wouldn't have to deal with the inevitable problems that would arise when we dumped the wispbeads into the market. The problem was when someone else discovered how to amalgamate their own beads—and someone would outside of Lori, it was inevitable—we would be subjected to market forces when we were no longer the only option available to our middleman.

If we directly sold to the workshops, we'd at least have a prior relationship, and even if we had to lower prices, I would bet on Lori's work ethic against any other Dungeon Binder on the continent. Our supply would be farmore stable than anyone else, so in the long run—or until Lori figured out how to properly mass produce beads the way older demesne do—I'm sure we would still be making a great profit.

Either way, it would only be a matter of time before the government administration of Covehold Demesne—probably not their Dungeon Binder himself, but most likely someone who answered directly to them—was going to find out that someone was putting wispbeads into the market. Regulation and taxes would probably be inevitable, but… well, even Lori was resigned to that.

Of course, if we wanted to try to get around such, we could instead make the government of Covehold Demesne our middleman by trying to sell the wispbeads to them directly. However, such a thing would immediately bring the wispbeads to the administration's attention, which would mean regulation like customs duties and perhaps special taxation of sales much, much sooner. It also would likely get political. And while Lori seemed comfortable with talking to Dungeon Binders, I knew she'd rather not. So while it was probably inevitable… best to procrastinate it for her sake.

However, even if I was reasonably sure I wanted to partner with someone to act as a middle man, I needed to do proper research. We had a supply, but even if I was reasonably sure there was demand, I needed to find out how great the demand was. Hence why I was off to talk to a carpentry workshop.

The carpentry workshop that Ravia had recommended wasn't far, and as the sun was still getting to noon, I could hopefully catch them when they were having lunch. Otherwise, I'd have to come back later, possibly even tomorrow.

As we set off, I glanced over my shoulder at Multaw and Cyuw. "How are you doing, you two?" I asked. "Do you still have your micans on you?"

"Have them here, L—Rian," Mutlaw said, holding up a bundle made from a carry cloth. "We got some for you too, don't worry."

"Can't have you getting lightheaded from missing lunch, Rian," Cyuw said, nodding knowingly. "You're the one doing the talking."

I opened my mouth to tell them they didn't need too, and just barely managed to strangle that sentiment before it managed to slip out. "Thanks, you two. Tomorrow, we're going drinking, how does that sound? Same place as last time, if we can remember where it was."

The two smiled at that. "Looking forward to it, Rian," Multaw said. "It's been months since I've tasted booze."

"Food," Cyuw sighed. "Some nice doughstrand soup, steamed buns, something fried…"

"Oooh, yes…" I groaned. "Fried beast thigh meat with breading, fermented bean sauce, sweet fruit juice…"

The three of us sighed as our stomachs reminded us that while we'd had breakfast, we were coming on to lunch, and all we had to eat until we got back on the Coldhold were micans.

"The two of you can eat when we get there while I'm talking to them," I said as we walked, turning down one street as we'd been directed. We passed an ice house, likely run by some enterprising Whisperers, a water wagon parked in front providing them with raw material, which was being pumped into a large wooden tank in front of the establishment. A butcher next to them was clearly a customer by the piles of ice in front on which the cuts of meat were laid out, shaded to keep them from melting in the sun. The telltale feeling of fairs rising on my arms told me the butcher had the same sort of binding that kept away bugs anchored in front of it, spotting the stone that had been inlaid into the wooden frame of its frontage.

"You sure, Rian?" Cyuw said.

"Sure. I can eat later." I hadn't really been planning to eat lunch today, but luckily for me the men were taking care of me.

Thankfully, Ravia had given me actual directions rather than some street name, as well as a name for the place, which allowed me to ask for directions on the way just to be sure I was on the right path. We passed smithing workshops ringing with the sounds of metal being hammered, ground and cut. At another workshop we passed, I saw large mesh trays and piles of what were probably still-wet sheets of paper. A small but prosperous-looking two-story building between two larger workshops shop had the discreet sign of a Deadspeaker—a root and a bone twined together—capable of some degree of healing. There were several people waiting outside it sitting on a bench, some holding their stomachs, while others had no obvious maladies.

Finally, the three of us reached the carpentry workshop we'd been directed to. I breathed in the smells of fresh sawdust, the oils, stains and glues the carpenters used, and knew I was in the right place. Men with saws, chisels and sharp stylus for scoring the wood were working, but many had the air of men putting on finishing touches, or at least preparing to stop working. The place was one of several workshops standing next to each other in a row, or at least, that's that they looked like from the outside. There were no walls between the neighboring shops, and which I knew from my days in the lumberyard was so that the shops could share workspace to work on projects. The second floors of the workshops were self-contained and where anything valuable was kept.

"Hello?" I called. A workshop was not someplace you just stood around and waited to be noticed. People had more important things to do, like carefully shaving off wood with a chisel so they could get the tolerances just right. "I'm looking for master Yhosed?"

For a moment, there was no reaction, until a carpenter who'd been scoring a board called out, "Yhosed, someone's here for you!" Then he took a saw and started cutting, not looking towards either the man he'd called or me.

"Thank you!" I said anyway, even if he didn't even so much as grunt. His work was important, so of course, he'd focus on it, but it didn't feel right for me to not acknowledge his help.

Soon, a man who'd been somewhere at the back approached. The already short sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up presumably to try to get some air under his shirt, and the lean muscles on his arms were on full display, implying the same of the rest of him. His dark blue hair was tied back in a bun and kept out of his eyes with a cloth, and he had the kind of scraggly beard of someone who cut it to get it out of the way once a week, but didn't particularly care about how it looked. "I'm Yhosed. What can I do for you?" Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that some of the carpenters had slowed their work and were watching us.

I took a moment to consider how this looked like. I was fairly young man who'd just walked in off the street followed by two older men who looked like they could handle themselves. Despite it being the middle of the day, we were here instead of whatever job we should probably have, while I could be here to commission something or perhaps even ask for a job…

I turned to Multaw and Cyuw. “Why don’t you to step outside and eat,” I said. “We wouldn’t want to get mican peels all over Master Yhosed’s workshop.” Hopefully that would dispel the image they were there to loom threateningly for me, and put a little food in their stomachs. I turned back to the carpenter. “Hello, Master Yhosed,” I said, doing my best to quash my reflexive desire to smile disarmingly and instead simply focused on sounding sincere as I introduced myself and the men. "We're from a different demesne, and someone gave us your name when we asked around for a carpenter with a bound tool." I held out my hand, and after a moment we exchanged grips. His was rough, hot, and had a little sawdust on his palm. A working man’s hands.

Don't smile, be sincere, don't smile, be sincere, don't smile…

Master Yhosed peered at me intently, then grunted and waved back at the other carpenters behind him. They relaxed, and many turned back to work, though those nearby kept glancing at us ever so often. "Is that so? What do you need done that you need a bound tool for? I warn you, even if we can do it, we'd need a wizard to run the tool. Best if you hire your own, the one we know asks for a lot."

"Can't we just use a wispbead?" I asked.

"If you do, you'll have to use your own," Yhosed said, shaking his head emphatically. "Since you're from off, you wouldn't have heard, but a while back word came down from the lords that we should stop using beads with bound tools because we were running out of beads. It took a while, but after I stopped seeing any small wispbeads I only used my bound tool with a wizard, and so did everyone else I know. Even wizards stopped using them."

"Ah… I see…" I said, nodding. "Did it affect business a lot, not being able to use your bound tool?"

He shrugged. "We've been able to get by. That's what saws and chisels are for.”

I nodded, frantically thinking of what I could commission that would need a bound tool to make quickly and not just a lathe or a saw…

A thought occurred to me. Well, if we actually needed to buy it, I was pretty sure it was something we could use at home. “I was wondering how quickly you could carve out a water screw?” I said. “We need it in something of a hurry, and no one in our demesne has the skills to make one.”

“A water screw?” Master Yhosed said thoughtfully. “That will take some work. It might be faster to commission one from a smith instead. It would weigh less and last longer. A wooden water screw would work, but…” he shrugged. “Well, it’s your beads. If we’re going to make it, it’ll take a lot of work to properly shape a log. You’re right, this would be faster if we could use a bound tool. As I said, you’d need to provide the beads for it though.“

I reached under the hem of my shirt and pulled out the wispbead I’d secreted in a little pocket I’d made with my handkerchief so I wouldn’t have to reach into the belt pouch I had hidden. Holding up the wispbead, I smiled, and did my best to keep it politely pleasant instead of mischievously 'I-know-something-you-don't-know'. "I only have a couple of the right kind of beads. Can you show me your bound tool, if it's not too much trouble? If I'm going to be the one providing the bead, I'd like to see how you plan to go about it, so we can manage with what we have."