Demesne 348 - The Final Negotiations (Patreon)

As much as I wanted to eat at that place with the doughstrands, the men probably wouldn't enjoy it as much as I would. So once we were back out on the street, we asked the guards at the door if they knew any good places to eat. Fortunately, we were early since it was only the early parts of late morning, and founds seats at a corner table before the early crowds started coming in.

By unspoken agreement, there was no stew of any sort. Instead, we ordered shredded meat served on long bread buns—actual bread and not just flatbread— meat balls dumplings, chlyp skewers and mugs of booze for Multaw and Cyuw. I made do with cold tea, which actually had little ice shavings floating on it, as I'd never really managed to developed a taste for booze. My tongue rebelled at the taste.

I'm told I'm missing something really good, but I don't like what I don't like.

Because of the number of people coming to the eatery, we didn't have the table to ourselves for long. Fortunately, because of the proximity to Emborin and Sons, it wasn't unusual to have people from other demesne eating there, and people were friendly enough.

"Oh, our demesne is a long way inland," I said when asked were we were from. "It's new, we only started it last year. The first time a dragon came…" I didn't have to play up the shudder that came over me. That had probably been the point the demesne had been closest to death. If Lori hadn't managed to keep up the protection's she'd set… if she hadn't been capable of maintain what she was doing while she'd been all but asleep, one quivering, partly open eyelid away from true unconsciousness… "It nearly finished us, but thankfully our Dungeon Binder was too stubborn to fall asleep, and the dragon was gone quick." If the first dragon that had passed over them had lingered for a week…

One of the men, Toltar, made a face. "Yeah, you hear stories about that. Everyone knows you don't bother to remember a new demesne until it's survived a dragon or two. I heard a whole bunch of the new ones burned down in the last dragon. Not ready for exploding rain, or just fell asleep in the middle of it and their wizards couldn't keep up what they were doing."

"I heard someone was killed by one of their own wizards, and then the fool didn't know how to do anything so the whole demesne died," another one of the men eating with them, Yhoe, whispered conspiratorially.

"If everyone in the demesne died, how does anyone know they were killed by one of their own wizards?" Multaw asked.

Toltar rolled his eyes. "Don't mind him, he just likes to spread that one around."

Yhoe unashamedly gave a wide grin. "You wouldn't believe how many people don't ask that question when I tell them."

After some chatting, a casual question let me know where the nearest job placement board was. It was as good a place as any to look for Deadspeakers, and one of the men who'd come to eat with us even commented that it wasn't unusual for a demesne looking to recruit a wizard of some sort to post bills there.

We'd have stayed longer, but noon was approaching, and while there was the possibility that we might be made to wait in the usual power-play of wasting our time, it's more likely we'll be asked to wait because they haven't come to a decision yet, or were still hashing out all the points of the decision. Fortunately, the guards still remembered us from earlier, so we were allowed to wait while someone was sent to tell Ravia that we were back.

It wasn't long before the merchant was coming down the stairs, his usual professional smile on his face. "Ah, there you are Master Rian," he said. "You are very prompt. I trust you enjoyed your meal?"

"It's so good to be able to eat something besides stew for a change," I said. "Are you done already? We don't mind waiting a little if you still need to discuss things."

"There's no need. The deliberations are finished. Please follow me so we can finalize matters."

I let out a small sigh as I climbed up the stairs, my eyes on Ravia's back. That was a great weight off my mind. While the following negotiations were still important, unless I was completely unreasonable—and I liked to think I wasn't—then it was unlikely the merchant house would go back on their decision. They could threaten to, but it wasn't a threat they could use lightly, and I doubted they would.

I followed Ravia back to the hallway with the meeting room, but instead of the meeting room from before, the merchant led us towards the door at the end of the hall. Nodding to the guards on either side, he opened the door for me.

I reminded myself that I was a lord, for all the good that was when our demesne was all but non-entity, and stepped through with a confident smile and a firm step, Multaw and Cyuw following behind me.

Directly opposed the door was a wide window that, while only showing a view of the buildings beyond, let in a lot of light and even a slight breeze. In the room was a long table that was parallel to the window, and on one side sat Emborin, three other men that were probably the sons besides Ravia mentioned on the sign as they shared their father's orange hair in various shades, the Whisperer from before, as well as three other people. One of them seemed to be taking notes, or possibly dictation of the proceedings, but that didn't necessarily mean they were some kind of menial. Maybe they just had the best handwriting.

"Master Rian," Emborin greeted me as I sat down, Multaw and Cyuw at my back. "Allow me to introduce everyone. This is…"

I listened attentively as Ravia sat down on an empty chair on their side, getting a handful of names. The one taking notes was a brother-in-law who was in charge of the house’s record keeping, Leji; and the other two were the house’s primary lawyer and accountant, which I supposed only made sense. There was a good chance that at least one of the people in the room was a Mentalist, if for no other reason than so that they could have an exact record of the event. Those last three were the mostly likely ones to be it. All three might be, for all I knew. There was no reason to not have more than one.

“We’re thankful that you allowed Ravia to keep a sample,” Emborin said. “It made our discussion much easier.”

“It’s no problem,” I said. “I hope you didn’t have to use up all of it.”

In response, one of Ravia’s brothers placed a wispbead on the table. I reached for it, then paused. “Uh, no one swallowed this, did they.”

“No, I didn’t swallow it,” Endlew the Whisperer said, the left side of his mouth pulling back in a half-smirk. “It’s clean.”

“Uh… let’s leave it there for the moment, then,” I said. “So… what have you decided? Do I have to try my luck somewhere else?”

“No. After discussing it, we’re decided to accept your offer. However, we have certain conditions.”

“What a coincidence. So do I.”

Emborin nodded, no doubt having expected it. “And they are?”

“I’ll bring them up when they become relevant,” I said, “however, I’d like to request that Ravia continues to be the one who handles dealings with me as much as possible.”

Everyone turned to look at the merchant in question.

“Is there any particular reason why?” one of Ravia’s brothers asked.

I shrugged. “I’ve enjoyed my dealings with him, and see no reason to change to someone else unless he says that he can’t stand talking to me.”

Everyone looked at Ravia again.

“I have no objection to continuing to handle our dealing with Master Rian,” he said, looking amused.

Emborin nodded. “All right, then. That sounds reasonable enough. Now, Master Rian, you said you can’t commit to regular deliveries, but you must have some idea of how often you can deliver new products.”

“At the moment, with the resources we have available, the most I can promise is making another delivery of beads once, perhaps twice more if we’re lucky, before winter sets in,” I said. “If we had a better boat, we could probably be more regular, but at the moment it’s not something I can promise.”

“Hmm…” one of Ravia’s brothers hummed thoughtfully. “What if as part of the agreement we commission such a boat for you? We could provide the wood at cost, and arrange the commission with the relevant Deadspeakers and workshops?”

I blinked. Huh. That… honestly, that actually sounded like a good idea. All this time Lori and I had been thinking of having to build a new boat ourselves, but… well, even if we had a Deadspeaker with the skills we needed, if the rate that Lori could build things in River’s Fork was any indication it would still be months before such a project was completed. And Lori had the advantage of having a Dungeon Binder’s endless supply of magic to assist her. The Deadspeaker would probably be limited to how much magic he could work with.

Having a boat built here would be much easier. There would be a large workforce, both of Deadspeakers and woodworkers, to call upon so they could probably solve any problems with attrition… but doing it that way would require funding. I doubt Lori would be happy with me deciding to spend all our earnings on a new boat. Then there’d be the issue of bringing that boat back home with us. I’m not sure the Coldhold could tow such a thing behind it.

“I’m afraid I can’t make that decision alone,” I said. “It’s something I would need authorization for, not to mention a plan so we can get an estimate for the amount of wood it would need and labor. Can we put that suggestion on the side for now?”

“I see. Very well, then. Onto the next matter. How many wispbeads can you deliver per trip?”

I had to shrug. “It depends on my Dungeon Binder. They’re the ones who produce the wispbeads, and…” I sighed. “I’ve asked them to record how much they can make in a day, but you try getting a Dungeon Binder to do anything they don’t want to do.”

“No, I suppose not…” Emborin said slowly.

“The only thing I can guarantee is that I will have beads for you to sell when I come back,” I said. “The amount… well, it’ll depend. I can reasonably promise maybe a hundred beads, but I don’t dare go above that. Not without speaking to our Dungeon Binder and finding out how much time they’re willing to devote exclusively to production.”

“Is that why you preferred to price them by bead rather than by weight?” Ravia said.

I nodded. “Partially. We just didn’t have any scales back home, but we had plenty of time and people to count. So we counted, and some poor girl had to add it all up.”

“How many wispbeads do you have, then?” Ravia asked.

“Before I tell you that… I’d like us to agreed on the price per bead,” I said.

Emborin narrowed his eyes. “And how much were you thinking?”

“As I told Ravia, I want ten bead-tani per wispbead,” I said. “That’s well below the likely value of any remaining large wispbeads in the demesne, and it’s reasonably low enough that most workshops would still be able to afford it even if you added a profit margin of that much again.” They’d probably already discussed what they were willing to pay, so here comes their counter offer—

“Done,” Emborin said, nodding placidly.

I stared, blinking. “What, really?”

“Yes. Why, did you think we would refuse?”

“A little? I fully expected you to give a lower price, and then we’d haggle until we met in the middle…”

“You’ve heard too many stories, Master Rian. Why would we turn down a price that’s already good?”

I considered that, then considered the possibility I might have underpriced my product. But… “I have no objections—it’s the price I quoted, it would be silly of me to object—but I have to say this feels very strange.” I really hoped Lori didn’t ask me to renegotiate the price next time I came here. I’d do it, but… No, focus! Don’t let yourself be unbalanced. “So be it, then. However, you’ll need to pick up the beads from us at the dock, as you’ve been doing with our salt. We don’t have the resources to get the wispbeads here in a timely manner, never mind safely. I want you to be the ones responsible for transferring and securing the beads from our ship to your inventory.”

“Agreed,” Emborin said. “A few beads in your belt pouch is one thing, but…” He shook his head. “We’ll have a wagon ready as soon as we finish here. That way we can have guards on the inside with it.”

“And my men as well,” I said. “So they can keep each other company.”

Emborin glanced at one of his sons—the eldest of them, as I recalled—and the man nodded slowly. He was probably in charge of security or something.

“Well, with that settled Master Rian, perhaps you are now willing to tell us how many beads you have to trade?” Ravia said.

I took a deep breath. “Right now, my ship is carrying eleven thousand large wispbeads.”

There was silence. Even the brother-in-law taking notes had stopped as he realized what I’d just said.

There was a reason I said that I would bet on Lori’s work ethic against any other Dungeon Binder on the continent.