“Why didn’t we support one side more firmly?”
“I might have an idea, but can we really be judging Balduin, and even Dressen before getting to meet either of them face to face? That wasn’t the kind of argument to get involved with either; other than Geralt, Indra, and Fiona, the rest were spectators themselves.”
I could tell by the look on her face she didn’t really get it. But that was the reason we were settling down for a while.
“Lucy, have you spotted anyone you’d like to go play with?”
“Even if we don’t have a pottery workshop, that still sounds too frivolous.”
Dragging your feet on this, are we? The first step is the hardest, so let’s just reframe the problem, and properly frame it later. My mysterious nature should allow me to do this without appearing untrustworthy. It’s all for the greater plan.
“Ahem, I shall restate. Go and find those of your own age and gain their trust. Learn their ways, and discover the information kept by youths. Ones unbound by diligent labor, what do the eyes without preconceptions of should see?”
“Alright then.” Liking magic and muscles might just be symptoms of chuunibyou. She may not express herself that way, but things piquing her interest all seemed to go above and beyond in some sense. Panache presentations prompted a proper performance per my precocious ‘prentice. Not that she was unaware of this ‘trick’. She really wanted to do her best to improve, so even this sort of tenuous rephrasing could get her worked up enough to dive in.
At least until she was in an unfamiliar situation and felt lost once more.
Stamping the butt of her spear into the ground, Tagalong Girl looked back and forth, trying to decide where to go. Looking down streets, she spotted the canopy of a towering tree that managed to remain standing despite the village’s development.
“I think the children would like to gather there. As long as I stay there, I should see them sooner or later.”
“Mm, I can see it now.” Get her some red hair dye and a gourd, and she’ll be terrorizing kids in no time. If only I had a way for her to stand upside down. “Have fun.”
“… I’ll try.”
Patting her on the back to usher her away, hopefully one of us could find a meaningful inroad to the community. Personally, I sought to get a little more information on what currently has the attention of Ullool before making my presence and personality overblown.
Now, time to break away and try to get some work done without worrying about if it doubled as an appropriate lesson plan.
Naturally, without Lucy nearby, my face settled into an unpleasant look. Less sardonic aloofness, a dash more contempt veiled in civility. Since a vara was present here, I switched out the simple cord used to hold back my hair for one with two silver(or given the tarnish near the loop, a cheaper alloy) charms, a lotus (wouldn’t usually be my first choice visually, but it fit my personality, and honestly the metalworking in this area was poor enough that I was lucky to get anything halfway decent) and a dagger. Both with clear religious connotations, and exhibiting a demeanor of mild indulgence to avoid appearing overly ascetic.
I began my stroll to the east. Ullool kept a rather spacious feel, maybe because trees interrupted and diverted many streets, and these odd angles kept the village from having tightly packed plots. Or I had simply gotten too familiar with buildings built skyward for the sole purpose of having more space to carve decorations on the timbers. Two stories was the norm here, so the sky was rightfully dominated by a bright blue instead of pointlessly large workplaces.
A larger well resided at the intersection where I paused. No longer attempting to look amiable or unobtrusive, the waterbearers began casting uncertain glances my way. One stumbled over her own foot while distracted, spilling water over the nice uniform provided by the estate she worked for. I’de yet to see anyone convincingly rich, but four servants getting water in a town as small as Ullool implied a minimum level of prosperity at Terdri’s level. And since none wore the rough clothes of a manufacturer, I was approaching what might be called the high-class neighborhood that could afford to send servants to fetch water.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
No matter how earnestly you profess self-sufficiency and laboring in your beliefs, making mortals do menial tasks is truly natural.
With a dismissive huff, I turned away and kept moving. An area of more skilled tradesmen, or descendents of formerly successful families, Important People that having a run in with could start something productive. Not so important to be bourgeois, I could match a few currently at home with their shops around town. Probably a third of those were working out, a tenth sat on prayer mats or cushions, and the rest relaxed and played around.
Reaching the edge of where I could keep Ria inside my field of control, I spotted a luxurious siheyuan. Technically it would have been out of my line of sight, but putting a
Out in front, as suspected he had guests; their carriage sat out front with a coachman waiting. A red wheel was charred and then painted onto the side, the symbol of a travel company I’d not bothered to remember properly.
My approach needed to wait for the reason I sought them out. Sparky needed to mosey forward inconspicuously to stay in my radius of control. For solo travel he was convenient, but otherwise he was an anchor.
After he crossed the street, I could progress forward.
“Driver.” As he jumped up from his slouch, his horse softly whinnied at the sudden movement.
“Er, how may I help you, sir?”
“Does your company offer their services here regularly? I am seeking occasional, but regular trips to Medean.” Looking directly into his eyes, he shifted in his chair. To be treated as dust by high and mighty clients, or to be directly noticed by a mighty and tall client. It was easy to see he would have been part of the 60% if it wasn’t necessary to work every day.
“Well, Rotham’s is based in Medean, but we only come out here at the request of our clients. It’s too small to set up a branch out here.”
What a delightfully poor explanation. This was perfectly teeing up my callous side, with a possibility of making my presence known in Medean before my arrival. Were you a mind reader, I would be full of praise for you!
But you’re not. A wastrel more useful as a corpse. At least I don’t have to put on a smile for him.
“There’s no need to set up a branch for me. Can you schedule a visit every other month?”
“Oh, uh, hmm. They’ll probably be fine with that…” On the bright side, his noncommittal answers meant I was going to see Dressen walk the client out of the manor.
“The rate?”
“Ah, an argent and thirty or thereabouts, depending on who could come by.”
“Make sure the next coachman sent this way knows the business.”
I stepped away towards the paifang, I took note of its decorative tiles. Ceramics, likely the work of my predecessor, in a gaudy variety of colors. Not just the tiles atop the entrance, but the central courtyard had numerous small statues and paving stones with what must have been every color Dressen knew how to make.
A muffled farewell passed through the door before it opened. In back were three servants led by a young man who could possibly be the inheritor of the business. Jars sealed tightly to prevent the escape of low-viscosity dyes— for dyeing threads, the guest was a clothier. He looked up at me, quickly trying to evaluate my presence, but calmed down as I showed no reaction or regard.
Perhaps too calm if he felt confident enough to silently scoff at my clothes.
Beside him stood the man that most captured my attention in Ullool. Scrambling for power, having power and spending it to create fundamental changes in your surroundings— both incredibly common personalities you’ll see a thousand times over.
What if you pursue tradition with generational wealth, but still end up losing out to those neophytes? What mistakes must you be making, what principle would you not betray even as it leads to your own defeat?
He looked no more than 70, but withered enough to be over 100. His nails fused almost seamlessly into fingers in some hitherto unknown vitamin deficiency. His hair thinned, and his skin possessed that smell of the elderly. Altogether, intuition struck.
Letting Dressen complete the transfer of goods, I observed and waited my turn.
With 4 total assistants putting away the jars, the process went quickly and Dressen attempted to quickly lead everyone back inside.
“The name is Aldrich. I supply the pots now. Aside from Daron’s brewing, you will be using most of my work. Congratulations on another deal by the way Dressen.”
“Halsten, schedule an appointment for Friday. It should still be empty.”
“Yes sir.” Halsten, the predicted successor, responded succinctly. With a bead of sweat running down his brow, he stepped forward into my space. “Please depart Mr. Aldric. At roughly half past noon, we shall have a meeting. Perhaps you’ll have better prepared yourself at that time.”
Merely filled with disdain, I didn’t push any further aggression retreating to create space. Before they closed the gate, I took another peek into the color vomit that spread across the courtyard’s interior. No wonder he just made the dyes. He had no talent with composition. Haphazardly mixing cool and hot colors, metallic paint splashes on natural things, pastels on centerpieces, a general lack of composition.
If this was all his forefather’s work then fair play. But given how unperturbed the paints were, I doubted.
With the sound of a deadbolt sliding into place, I was rejected and left outside.
Meeting Friday… okay, I’ll put it in my day planner. My schedule wasn’t nearly filled up yet, but at least I had a better read on him. Next an elf, the vara, and Balduin needed to be added, but at least this day no longer remained a complete waste.
Time to make a 180. I’d eat a wooden hat if an elf owned property in the upperclass district. With some luck(and extensive scouting) Balduin should be found lurking closer to the city center, negotiating something or another, preaching virtuous behaviors.
Winging an interaction with a vara required more thought now, but it was also easy enough to just go when she led a service.
As long as Tagalong Girl doesn’t act completely out of character as Lucy, a better foundation was on the horizon. A glass of friendliness, a dash of conflict, that’s what good neighbors are made of.