V2Ch67-News of the World
“News of the world?” Tybalt asked.
“Certainly,” Carlos said. “My caravan has been from one end of this continent to the other, all in the pursuit of personal profit.”
Dero snorted. “Don’t believe him. I think this man secretly loses money on all his ventures. He just likes traveling. Fortunately, he inherited a lot of money, and he occasionally gets lucky.”
The merchant affected a wounded expression. “Dero, I inherited almost nothing. My father was a humble cobbler!”
“Most successful cobbler in Sarda,” the dark elf replied. “Did you forget that I met your father?”
“He operated on a shoestring budget, always barely breaking even,” Carlos said without missing a beat. “You never saw his books. I did.”
“Shoestring budget,” Vidalia said. “I’ve never heard that one. Where did that expression come from?”
“You don’t need to know it,” said Dero. “I doubt it will ever catch on outside of Sarda.”
“People started using it a few years back, when the city was having a liquidity crisis,” Carlos said. “Poor folks couldn’t get their hands on silver or even coppers, but everyone needs shoestrings, so they became a kind of currency…”
The merchant transitioned into discussing his travels and spent the next few minutes enthralling Vidalia, Kistana, Victoria, and Mariella after the latter two came back in - and even Tybalt, to some extent - with his news of the world.
“So, the most exciting piece of news is, there’s a new Great Bloodlady in the Discontented Lands, trying to unite the disparate factions of that blighted place into a single people through violence and fear… as has happened many times before, until they inevitably break down into factions and in-fighting again. Being frank, ogres are not famous for their intelligence or ability to keep their word. Alliances are hard for them. But maybe this time it will stick…”
Through Vidalia’s questions, Tybalt learned for the first time that the ogre people - the Bloodlady was an ogress - actually had the opposite size disparity between males and females as compared to humans. And the females were also more intelligent than the males.
A chill went through his heart as he realized that the random ogres he had occasionally fought when marching with the Nietian Army in the border regions must all have been males.
If I’d had to fight a female, both larger and smarter than the males… Well, it doesn’t matter, because I don’t intend to do much up close fighting myself anyway.
“In less interesting news, the Walian Emperor just died, and he didn’t leave any sons,” said Carlos. “The one boy who lived to adulthood was too fond of the gladiatorial arena, and he lost his life there a few years back. So it’s his eldest daughter who’s trying to take the throne against a handful of her male cousins… with the possibility, of course, that one of them will marry her and unite their claims.”
“Tybalt, you intimidated by all the female rulers?” Dero asked suddenly, giving him a teasing look.
“No, I think they’ll kneel just as well as the male rulers,” the necromancer replied immediately. “Maybe even better. Practice makes perfect, you know.”
She rolled her eyes in a way that told him she was actually amused.
“If we ever fight, we’ll see who kneels,” the dark elf muttered after a moment.
“That brings me to the primary reason I wanted to meet with Lord Tybalt,” said Carlos after a moment. “I heard you are, um, trying to start your own empire? Or at least overthrow the Kingdom. Is that right?”
The necromancer smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Valuable information you’re asking for. What me and the beastfolk plan to do in the future. I can’t help but wonder if you mean to repeat it in some other hut, around some other fire - or maybe in a more elegant setting, to the Grand Duke in Enh?”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop for a moment, before Vidalia spoke up.
“Darling, Carlos isn’t like- ”
“It’s all right,” the merchant interrupted. “It is good and reasonable for a man like Lord Tybalt to be suspicious. If he is harboring such ambitions while taking any responsibility for safeguarding your people, then this is the bare minimum standard of caution to take.” He looked the necromancer in the eyes. “It’s true that this is the sort of information that those close to the Nietian Royal Family would pay dearly for. But please believe that, despite my protestations against Dero’s slander, money is not my primary concern.”
“Merchant,” Tybalt said, pronouncing the syllables almost as two separate words. “Guess I’ve never met a merchant quite like you before. Putting literally anything else before profit. You might be the first. Then again, Dero said you throw money away almost on purpose.”
“Perhaps,” Carlos replied, shrugging and showing no sign of offense. “Listen, I think you and I have something in common. Something that separates me from most merchants who follow Lord Vika and Lady Astara. Something more important than money. Perhaps the reason I have yet to be killed, even traveling through lands in the midst of chaos.” His hand rose to a pendant he wore around his neck. It looked like the shape of a forking road.
“That’s an interesting necklace.”
“The symbol of the God of Travel,” said Dero quietly.
“We do have something in common, then,” Tybalt agreed, looking the merchant carefully in the eyes. “You would consider yourself a devotee of this god?”
“I would,” Carlos said. “Lord Panacosmus is the only god I make offerings to. My neighbors back home… tolerate my eccentricities better than I understand the authorities of Niet would accept your own religious deviations.” He gave the beastfolk a sympathetic look.
“What a beautiful friendship I can already see forming,” Dero said, using an imaginary handkerchief to dab at imaginary tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Heimar, come in here,” Tybalt sent telepathically. He had left the nachzehrer outside, but the undead’s own views seemed suddenly relevant.
“Do you just want to commiserate together?” the necromancer asked skeptically. The merchant still had to want something.
The tall, strong undead opened the door behind Carlos before he could answer, and Tybalt noticed the merchant looked a bit nervous for the first time. Heimar could have that effect.
“Not at all,” Carlos said after a moment. “I wanted to see if we could be useful to each other. There are other gods besides love and war, and I’m only bringing this up to show why I might be more aligned with your side than with theirs. A full pantheon’s influence has been squelched by the ambition of two, not just the God of Death.”
“Hmm.” He looked at Heimar. “The other day, you told me you follow a god besides Astara, Vika, or Mudo, correct?”
“If it is your wish, I will make offerings to Lord Mudo, master,” Heimar said somberly. “But yes. I have worshiped Lord Yeitan quietly for many years now, ever since he saved me from death at sea.”
“The Sea God,” muttered Carlos. “We have the beginnings of a real coalition here.”
“They lost the fight before, so I’m sure now, starved of influence and worship for centuries, they’ll do much better,” Dero said, studying her fingernails.
“You’re too young to be so cynical, Dero,” said the merchant.
“I am four and a half fucking hundred years old, Dad,” Dero replied, sticking out her tongue.
“She’s rounding up,” Carlos said, his expression completely deadpan. “And if I remember correctly, among her people, that age would mean- ”
Dero growled at him, and he stopped talking just to smile indulgently at her.
“How can you be so comfortable acting like an embarrassing father when I’m multiple times your age?” the dark elf asked after a moment.
“As you have agreed with me before, it’s not the life in your years- ”
“It’s the years in your life,” she finished. “But I’ve not only lived longer, I’ve also done more shit than you.”
“Then I suppose it’s merely an attitude of maturity. Perhaps also a matter of biology. You are the dark elf equivalent of a twenty-five-year-old, right?”
She scowled at him but nodded. “Just like that, all the respect I was due, gone with a few careless words.”
“What exactly did you think we could accomplish together, Carlos?” Tybalt asked. “Besides making a more religiously tolerant world.”
“If we agree we wish to combat the unearned domination of the Gods of Love and War, then there are many ways I might assist you in your new nation-building enterprise. I have entree into financial networks and trade networks, to help you set up favorable terms for lending and commerce. I also have shipping connections. If you want to challenge a Kingdom, you will need money and resources. If you want to hold a country that you’ve conquered, even more so. Then there is the matter of information networks… which, you guessed it, I can also try to help with. Fellow merchants talk. They especially warn each other about matters that will make travel and trade difficult. You need to know the movements of your neighbors before they make them. Otherwise, before you could levy your first tax on your new subjects, you would probably be invaded from three or four different directions. I think there is a lot of overlap between my capabilities and knowledge and your future needs.”
“Your help does sound potentially valuable,” Tybalt said. “What do you want in exchange?”
“Nothing immediate or concrete. But I am a merchant, and I have to think of my future, my family’s future, and the future of our enterprise. If you intend to offer any merchant special status within your country in the future, I would ask to be given first shot at a bid for such status.”
The necromancer smiled. There were crown-sanctioned guilds and monopolies in Niet, as there were in other regions he was aware of. A little greed on Carlos’s part didn’t bother Tybalt at all. In fact, it made him more comfortable - made it easier to deal transparently with the merchant, without as much suspicion of his hidden motives.
“If you’re as valuable as you’re implying, I’m sure that could be arranged,” Tybalt said after a moment. “Where are you heading after you leave the Salt Waste?”
“As I was telling Dero, I was thinking that I need to go home and see my family. But if you had something different in mind…”
“Oh, no,” Tybalt said. “Sarda is a port city. I think that would be ideal.” He looked at Heimar.
“How would you feel about going with the merchant?” the necromancer asked. “If religious deviations are tolerated more in his part of the world, perhaps you could get a Temple of Yeitan set up. Port cities are always full of sailors… and they would love to be able to sail beyond the horizon safely.”
“If it is your will, master,” Heimar replied stoically.
And so the beginning of a longer term plan was set into motion.