Demesne 355 - Installments, Bound Tools And A Deadspeaker (Patreon)

When I finally got to talk to Ravia, the news was good. The materials we'd asked them to procure were coming in, albeit slowly. Honestly, I wanted to buy more things, but we also needed the space for those we'd be recruiting, especially if they had a family accompanying them. And while what we were buying was a lot, it only used up a significant amount of the beads we made from selling the salt, skins, and furs, not all of it. That wasn't getting into the profit from the wispbeads.

"I actually wanted to discuss that with you," he said.

"You don't actually have that much in beads on hand," I said.

The merchant nodded. "Yes. Do not fear, we will honor our agreement, but… well, at the moment it's physically impossible for us to gather enough double-large beads to do so, at least in the time remaining."

I nodded. "I realize." Then I chuckled. "You realize this makes you a bank, right? Holding my beads and keeping it safe?"

"Should we charge for keeping your beads safe then?" Ravia said dryly.

"Please don't," I said. "I'm perfectly willing to accept payment in more goods, it's just we don’t have enough space in our ship for it. Personally, I'm inclined to take all those beads and use it to fund building a boat, but… not my decision. We'll simply have to put the transaction in abeyance, and slowly transform it into goods as we go."

"We'll probably have enough beads for the full amount when you return in a month or two," Ravia said. "If you're willing to accept a partial amount, we can accomplish that now."

"Payment in installments?" I said thoughtfully, then nodded. "I believe I'll take you up on that. It will make explaining the situation to my Dungeon Binder easier." I grinned. "And to save us all headaches, I won't even bring up interest."

"How generous of you," Ravia said.

"It's the least I can do for being a bank that doesn't charge to keep my beads safe for me."

The two of us shared a laugh. While I still only knew Ravia in a professional capacity, I was a getting a better understanding of his personality, and he was probably doing the same. Better, most likely, since he did this for a living. I technically did as well, but these days I already knew all the people I usually had to deal with, and had the implied threat of Lori's anything if my sweet reason didn't work. I would have to be careful of Ravia influencing me, but I'd be influencing him too. It was all the usually circle of people talking to people. He and I were just more aware of it and less offended when someone tried to do it to use as a result—within reason, of course.

"Speaking of which," I said, "I know it's early but how has the bound tool market been?"

Ravia smiled in the self-satisfied way of someone's plan coming together. "We've managed a respectable early haul. Various pawnshops had bound tools they couldn't unload in their inventory that they were willing to part with. Most are functional. I believe you you've expressed an interest in wisplights and hand tools?"

I felt myself smiling as well. "I don't suppose you have a list of what's available?"

"Well, I could go get you the list…" Ravia said, then winked. "But wouldn't you like to see the bound tools yourself?"

See, that was manipulation right there!

The merchant house's stockyard had a warehouse for the materials that couldn't just be left outside, or for gathering together orders. In one of the smaller rooms, the bound tools that the merchant house had already bought were already in the middle of being refurbished. Metal was being cleaned, wood elements were being examined for replacement or reinforcement, reflectors were shined and whatever else were needed. Ravia led me to where the ones that were finished and waiting to be examined were set aside.

The wisplights were obvious. They'd been shaped to resemble oil lamps or candle holders, depending on whether they were meant to stay put or be carried around. They actually weighed only a little bit more than the wisplights Lori had made. Unlike hers, some of the wisplights had mesh or metal-bottomed glass receptacles so that the size of the bead remaining was visible. All had a switch to activate and deactivate them, and a few had a knob to adjust the brightness of the wisplight.

The hand tools were more varied. There were bound tools that rotated circular saws to cut through wood, like the one on Master Yhosed's bound tool. Others had rotating cylinders with blades mounted on them which I recognized as planers, cylinders with a rotating mount on the end and a handle on the side that were probably drills, what looked like a water cutter that was either handheld or had been detached from a larger bound tool…

"Any chance you found a bound tool that blows out cold air?" I asked.

"If we did, we're keeping it."

That was fair. "That's fair," I conceded. "Do they work?"

Ravia nodded. "Endlew has tested all the ones here and confirmed all their functions work properly."

I nodded and picked out two of each bound tool that I recognized the carpenters might want to have, as well as a dozen of the wisplights shaped like lamps. We should be able to find the space for those, and it would let Lori reconfigure some of the wisplights she'd already made into something else. For example, a bound tool that moved air around!

"Could you deliver these with the rest?" I said to Ravia as he wrote out something on what was presumably their bound tool inventory. "It'd be suspicious if we were walking around with these outside."

"Of course, Master Rian," he said. "Set them aside here, and I'll add these to the list."

Once we were back at the negotiating tables, Ravia updated our order, marking the bound tools as fulfilled, and I sighed off on the changes.

"By the way," Ravia said as he tucked away the sheet, "I have a recommendation for you, as per our wager."

I blinked. "That was fast." A thought occurred to me. "You didn't just post at a job-placement office, did you?"

"I had the thought, but decided it was against the soul of the wager," Ravia said. “No, this is someone who was recommended to me by one of our lumberyard workers, Firif. They’re friends who came here aboard the same ship. Telref fell sick earlier this season and as a result lost his employment at a carpentry workshop.”

“Wait… he’s a Deadspeakerfell ill?” I said incredulously.

Ravia nodded grimly. “From what I’ve heard, the workshop master drives all who work for him a bit too hard. They are well-compensated, hence why Telref stayed for so long, but…well, I suppose he put off tending to his own needs for too long and got sick as a result.”

“I get the idea,” I sighed. “Pays well but wants his money’s worth, and maybe a little bit more.”

Ravia nodded. “Telref recovered, but he was bedridden for some time as he worked to cure himself and then had to spend some time to make sure his family didn’t become as sick as he had. That time away led to him losing his job. He’s looking for employment again, which is what brought him to my attention. If you wish, you can meet with him beforehand and see if he’s willing to be recruited by you for your demesne? If not, then we can consider offering him a job here instead.”

I tilted my head. It was a silly habit, but the familiar movement was comforting as I thought. “Well, I wouldn’t want to make your hard work go to waste. When is a good time?”

––––––––––––––––––

The good time turned out to be after lunch.

That meant we had to go out early and have our own lunch. I let Hans and Liggs pick, though I limited them to one cup of booze. The food was delicious, some sort of meat in a dark sauce that was not, in fact, stew. It had flavor and spice, even if it was just simmered vauang and sharrods. While we had some of both back home, it was still a seed crop. With so many people to feed every day, we’d need a lot before we’d be able to notice the difference, so I'd had the farmers focus on just growing a lot for now and replanting as soon as viable.

After lunch, Ravia had me wait at one of the merchant house's negotiating tables. I sat there nervously as I waited for the prospective recruit to arrive. This wasn't something I'd ever really done before, recruiting someone for the demesne, but as the lord most likely to be sent to Covehold I would probably be doing this more in the future.

I reminded myself of the positive reception I'd gotten last time when I'd told people what our demesne was like. Sure, some of the people I talked to probably didn't believe me, but they seemed to like the idea. I just… had to do that again. After all, the worst that could happen was that they turned me down and I had to keep looking. At the very least, I'd get practice on how to recruit.

Eventually, someone hesitantly approached the table I was sitting at. He was wearing hardy cloudbloom trousers that seemed in good condition, a clean shirt, and leather boots that appeared to be both very well-worn but in good repair. For a Deadspeaker, that probably wasn't hard. Actually, shouldn't a Deadspeaker be able to manipulate the threads in clothes as well? They were usually dead plant material, weren't they? Or was it like using Deadspeaking on paper, where there was a distinct difference in the deadspoken material?

The man himself looked about my age, but that didn't mean much. I'd gotten very bad at being able to tell how old people were as I'd gotten older. Of average height, he had dark hair that initially looked black but, on closer observation and by the edges where the light was through it, was a very dark shade of green. For a man who'd gotten so sick he'd been bedridden he seemed healthy enough, even if his limbs weren't notably muscular or fat. His eyes were a very bright and striking pink.

"Are you Master Rian?" he asked hesitantly as he reached my table.

I nodded, smiling briefly to try to put him on his ease. "I am. Wizard Telref, I presume? Please have a seat."

With visible nervousness in his body language, he sat down as he nodded. "Yes, that's me."

"Thank you for meeting with me. May I ask what were you told about me so I know what your expectations are?"

"Just that you were looking for a Deadspeaker to come back with you to your demesne, and that they would like me to talk to you first," Telref said, licking. He was starting to relax, and I recognized the way he was breathing as the same as what Lori did when she was calming herself down. I suppose it was a wizard thing. Still, he looked tired and not just from a lack of sleep. "They said if I refused you, or if you found me unsuitable, they would still be willing to consider hiring me on as a wood presser."

I nodded. "That's correct. We're looking for a Deadspeaker for our demesne, and if we both like what the other is offering, we're willing to help move you and your immediate family to our demesne at our own expense."

"Immediate family?"

"Your spouse and any children," I clarified. "If you happen to have an unmarried sister-in-law or something… well, we can talk about it."

"That's… very generous…" he said cautiously.

"In addition, we will provide you with a house to live in for as long as you choose to be part of our demesne.” I said. Then, because I’d seen the quality of the housing in the area, I added, “It will be solid Deadspoken wood, the roof doesn’t leak, and there’s a firepit in place for warmth in the winter. It will be provided rent-free, and you will have assistance when it comes to repairs from storm and dragon damage."

He blinked and those tired pink eyes glinted. "Rent-free, you say?"

I had to struggle to keep my smile from getting wider. "Yes. I can personally attest to that, and so can my friends." I nodded to where Hans and Liggs were sitting against the wall. The latter had taken the opportunity to take a nap, his head lolling as he slouched with his arms crossed.

"What sort of Deadspeaking are you looking for, exactly?" Telref asked hesitantly, and the smile I was still suppressing wanted to widen at his too-casual tone.

"Why don't you start with telling me what you think your strongest skills are and we'll go from there?" I said.

I was sure my casual tone was much, much better than his.