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Before the Storm: Act 09, Chapter 06
🕑 Added 2024-11-26 04:29:29 +0000 UTCMuch to everyone’s relief, Liam’s read on Pierre Ulenieu seemed to be accurate. The Merchant asked no questions, made no comments, and most importantly of all, he paid in coin. Negotiations were straightforward, with Ulenieu simply offering them a price that he claimed was fair considering their circumstances.
Liam’s appraisal abilities as a Rogue similarly gave him a sense of what was fair, but most with those abilities understood that it was relative to some unknown scale of value that did not directly represent real prices. It took familiarity with local markets to figure that part out and while a Merchant could be quite quick at it, Liam hadn’t had remotely enough time in the city. The best he could do was keep Ulenieu from cheating them outright. Intimidation might have been an option, but Liam wasn’t sure whether the Merchant would complain to the Adventurer Guild in retaliation.
At the end of their bargaining, partially to distract him from the sight of Claire awkwardly fumbling bags of coin into their iron-bound strongbox, Liam went to speak with Ulenieu.
“Would you like us to help deliver these goods to your accommodations?” Liam asked, “We just arrived in the city yesterday and I’d like to hear more about what’s been going on.”
“Would you be so kind?” Ulenieu said, “It would save us the trouble of hiring a wagon and the Mercenaries required to guard it.”
“Just to be clear,” Liam said, “I didn’t mean to say that House Beaumont was offering security forces for the duration of your stay.”
“Yes, of course. I will be leaving the city as soon as possible, preferably by way of the harbour. The gods permitting, I’ll be in Re-Uroval in less than a week.”
“Do you need to stop anywhere in the city along the way?” Liam asked.
“No. I’ve already checked out of my room at the inn and it’s best for the both of us if I didn’t report this transaction to the Merchant Guild.”
“Right.”
The Merchant’s eagerness to leave was palpable. Liam instructed Reed to get everything back on the wagon and helped an overly nervous Claire move the strongbox back into its compartment under the driver’s seat. The street outside looked exactly as they had left it, save for the insufficient drainage leaving a layer of water that submerged the cobblestones.
“Does it ever stop?” Clair complained as they left the main plaza behind them.
“I heard it was even worse along the coast,” Ulenieu said. “The Farmers up there usually fear the frost that comes around occasionally, but the rain’s just as bad.”
“Will it be as bad as people are acting?” Liam asked.
“Why do you think I’m getting out of here?” Ulenieu answered, “This place was going to turn into hell before the fire. Now…now, only a miracle will save this place. Those are in short supply around here if you haven’t noticed. House Blumrush will be standing on a mountain of corpses by spring.”
He didn’t seem to care that the commonfolk were within earshot of their procession. They were starting to look like the citizens of Hoburns, yet had only begun their journey to the depths of desperation. Then again, House Blumrush was far more willing to resort to violent suppression than the Nobles of the Holy Kingdom, but Liam couldn’t tell whether that would help or harm things as the situation steadily deteriorated.
“Shouldn’t it be possible to import food from abroad?”
“It’s too late,” Ulenieu said. “Argland will have suffered from the same weather that we have – not that they’re much for farming. The Holy Kingdom got invaded well into the spring, so they’ll be suffering their own food shortages. Shipping food in from further down the coast will take months.”
“What about the Empire?” Liam said, “The nearest imperial port is only a few days away from Re-Uroval, isn’t it?”
The Merchant gave him a strange look.
“No one crosses the Azerlisia Mountains and lives,” he told him. “That includes trying to go around the range by sea. Frost Dragons, Frost Giants, and sea monsters have kept that route sealed for centuries.”
“I see,” Liam nodded. “I wasn’t aware of that. The maps make it look so close.”
“You’re not the first to see it that way, Mister Liam,” Ulenieu chuckled, “nor will you be the last. Trade from the northern coast can only go through the Argland Archipelago and into The Gyre. Re-Robel steals everything decent coming from down south, so it’s mostly unprofitable for Re-Uroval.”
“In that case,” Liam said, “where are you going to go?”
“Anywhere in Re-Estize is out of the question,” the Merchant replied. “The whole country’s going to look like this in a few months and it’ll only get worse. Argland’s the best bet for anyone with the means to get there.”
“What’s Argland like?”
“Different,” Ulenieu said. “The place looks like an untamed wilderness save for a few developed areas. Damn cold, too. Cold and wet. You have to know where the Human communities are to live comfortably. I figure I’ll work up there until the dust settles down here. That might take a few years.”
The Merchant glanced in Liam’s direction a few times, as if trying to gauge his reaction. Liam was pretty sure he knew what the man was looking for. The Draconic Kingdom’s aristocrats found the willingness of Merchants to abandon their homes in the face of danger revolting, and that perspective should have been nearly identical in Re-Estize.
“I don’t understand how you can stand to do that,” Liam said. “Shouldn’t you do whatever you can to help our people survive? There’s plenty in it for you, as well. The rising food prices will make you unimaginably wealthy if you can secure a reliable trade route.”
“Hah! Don’t give me that. You can’t expect any profit from feeding a ravenous mob. Any shipment of food that comes in will be overrun and stolen.”
This guy really has no faith in others.
Unless they were suffering from some kind of problem that messed with their heads, people were generally grateful when they received what they needed. In times of crisis, Humans banded together to survive. Ulenieu’s behaviour, on the other hand, was something he had seen all too often: the man was all too happy to profit off of the community, then separated himself from it in times of trouble, claiming it was no business of his and he would be back when he could profit off of it again. Liam wouldn’t have been surprised if he didn’t even see the soon-to-be victims of the impending famine as people at all – they were at best potential thieves and threats to his person, undeserving of even the tiniest bit of empathy.
Was letting him sail away to safety just? Legally speaking, he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but Liam found his behaviour morally reprehensible. Those who acted like him tended to be rewarded for it, encouraging others to follow suit and fill the world with self-centred individuals.
Liam released a long sigh, misting the air in front of his hood. He couldn’t do anything that would put his assignments at risk, so all he could do was pray that Ulenieu eventually got what he deserved.
“Looks like trouble,” Reed said.
Ahead of them, the waterfront was packed with people. Most faced the river, or rather the ships moored at the piers. Ulenieu clicked his tongue.
“See what I mean?” He said, “It’s already started.”
“I don’t see any ships being overrun,” Liam noted.
“It’ll happen eventually,” the Merchant said. “We need to force our way through before this gets any worse.”
They’re just standing there…
By the looks of it, the waterfront had become a major encampment. Shelters formed out of the debris from the fire had been raised in and around the destroyed warehouses. Women and children huddled together in their makeshift homes while the men lined up along the wharf, calling out to the ships and their crews. One section grew particularly loud as a ship emerged from the rain to approach its berth.
“What’s yer cargo?”
“How many hands do ya need?”
“Taking on any crew?”
The men pressed in, jostling a uniformed official and his escorts. Pained cries sounded out as the armsmen pushed back, using clubs to strike at any limbs or heads that came too close.
“Sir Bainne!” The official shouted, “Sir Bainne! Where in the gods’ names are you, you lazy brute?”
Reed’s men formed a picket as the scene grew increasingly chaotic. Both Claire and Ulenieu looked around themselves nervously, rising to stand on their seats.
“Reed!” Liam called out, “Don’t hurt anyone if you can help it!”
“Are you mad?” The Merchant’s panicked voice rose above the din, “Put down any of these animals if they threaten to come close!”
In a single, swift motion, Liam pulled himself onto the wagon and grabbed Ulenieu by the collar. The man let out an undignified cry as he was thrown onto the tarp covering his cargo.
“Y-You! You dare–”
“Shut up!” Liam said as he checked their surroundings, “Are you trying to turn all these people against us? Just lay low and let us get you to where you need to go.”
The Merchant glared up at Liam resentfully, but said nothing in the end. Liam looked over to Reed, who had thankfully not acted on Ulenieu’s words.
“I don’t think we can get out like this,” the woodsman said.
“You’re probably right,” Liam replied. “We’re going to have to wait until things settle down.”
Thankfully, the crowd’s attention was directed at the newly arrived ship and the official standing between it and them. All Reed and his men had to do for the time being was redirect anyone who came too close with a firm hand.
Liam’s head snapped over to focus on the sound of a scream north of their position. The scream was joined by shouts of pain and panic. Moments later, the crowd shifted to flee from some unseen threat. As the people melted away to hide in the shadows of the ruined buildings along the waterfront, the distinct form of a Blumrush Knight appeared at the head of a cavalry squadron.
“Clear out, you vermin!” The Knight thundered from atop his dark warhorse, “Get back in your holes!”
As if to make his point, he slashed open the back of a man who had stumbled while trying to flee. The man’s tortured cries only earned him a kick into the river with a steel-shod boot. The official didn’t miss a step as he came forward to berate the Knight.
“Sir Bainne,” he fumed, “you are supposed to prevent these parasites from swarming the waterfront in the first place! Where have you been?”
“Reed,” Liam said in a low voice, “let’s move.”
“Move where?” The woodsman asked.
Liam looked over his shoulder to where Ulenieu still lay prone atop the tarp.
“It’s not as if I had any time to make arrangements,” the Merchant said. “I intended to board the first departing ship we came across.”
“Then which ship is that?” Liam asked.
Ulenieu pushed himself up to his hands and knees and crawled back to the driver’s seat. He wiped his face clear of rain several times as he scanned the piers.
“That one,” the Merchant pointed upriver. “The one that’s sitting low on the water.”
He didn’t single out one of the many barges moored along the waterfront, but a ship not unlike the knarr that sailed between Warden’s Vale and the Upper Reaches. Reed urged their horses onto the street, seemingly as eager as Liam to dump the Merchant and his cargo as quickly as possible.
Liam scanned the faces of the destitute citizens as they watched the passing wagon. He couldn’t tell if Ulenieu’s callous words and the brutality of Sir Bainne had incidentally also painted House Beaumont as a target of public resentment.
As they waited for Ulenieu to negotiate passage, the harbourmaster caught up with them. He eyed the wagon and Reed’s men before walking past them to address Liam.
“What business does House Beaumont have here?” The harbourmaster asked.
“We sold a few odds and ends and offered to help deliver them,” Liam replied. “That may have been a mistake. Do incidents like that happen often?”
“They’re a recent occurrence, I assure you,” the harbourmaster replied. “These fools have gotten it into their heads that incoming ships are their only hope for relief. Nothing could be further from the truth: the north is in an even worse situation than we are.”
“Then why not say so?”
“Oh, I have,” the harbourmaster sighed, “but people believe what they want to believe. They deserve every bit of what’s coming to them.”
“I’m afraid the aftermath of this disaster will put the marches behind come summer.”
“Lord Reginald has the situation well in hand,” the harbourmaster told them, “and that will remain to be the case with House Beaumont’s continued support.”
“Have we heard anything from the other houses yet?” Liam asked.
“The nearest fiefs are at least a day away by horse,” the harbourmaster answered. “The Nobles in residence sent couriers to contact their territories, so we should expect some kind of response by tomorrow or the day after.”
“No one sent anyone to check on the city?”
The old man’s expression soured.
“No,” he said. “I can only assume that this cursed weather has left the countryside ignorant of our plight. Lord Reginald has sent as many Knights as we can afford to inform the territories. I doubt we’ll see any sort of organised response from them for at least a week.”
“Is food being delivered from the nearby towns?”
“Yes, of course,” the harbourmaster replied. “Some of the more hysterical citizens may claim that mass starvation is mere days away, but pay no mind to them. Moving so much grain takes time to prepare and deliver, but it is on its way.”
“I see,” Liam said. “I will inform my lady of what you’ve shared with us. Perhaps she can help encourage the other houses to cooperate with Lord Reginald.”
Liam received a nod in response and the harbourmaster turned away.
One hand washes the other, I suppose.
The man made corruption look so natural that Liam had no doubt his entire career was marked with similar interactions. In return for the additional support Liam implied, the harbourmaster didn’t bother inspecting their cargo. Thus far, Re-Blumrushur appeared to be a city where one’s place in the grand scheme of things superseded law.
Once they were done with Ulenieu, they returned to the Beaumont estate. The Countess appeared in the doorframe to welcome them back.
“How did it go?” She asked.
“I can’t say it went exactly according to plan, my lady,” Liam answered, “but we got what we needed.”
The young noblewoman placed a gloved hand over her breast, breathing a sigh of relief before instructing them to come inside. Reed brought the strongbox into the manor with a couple of his men. A weighty thud sounded as they lowered their burden to the polished wooden floor at the base of the central stairwell.
“The Merchant we negotiated with assumed that I was one of your footmen,” Liam told the Countess, “so Claire didn’t get to do much. We followed your instructions, though. The coin is divided between platinum, gold, and silver.”
“Excellent,” Lady Beaumont said. “Let’s get this thing up to my solar. We can start distributing everyone’s pay after that.”
“Pay?” Reed’s voice perked up.
“Yes, pay,” the young noblewoman smirked. “Our accounts must be settled so I can figure out where we can go from there.”
Liam watched with a bemused expression as Reed’s men picked up the strongbox again and whisked it up the stairs. Another thud sounded as it was placed on the floor of the solar office. The Countess unlocked and opened the container, transferring the sacks of coinage within to the broad oak desk dominating the room before sitting on the leather chair behind it. Everyone waited quietly while she sorted through the contents of each bag, recording her findings in a leather-bound ledger. She looked up from her work after nodding to herself.
“Claire,” she said.
The recently-hired Maid gingerly made her way to stand in front of the Countess’ desk. Everyone watched as six gold coins were counted out on the desktop, followed by sixty silver coins.
“This is your winter pay, Claire,” Lady Beaumont said. “Given your current level of training, please understand that I can only justify the salary of a junior household member.”
Claire was too busy staring at the stacks of coins before her to answer. Going by what Liam had seen of her work in Beaumont Town, it was an amount that would have likely taken her years to save up.
“Claire?”
“Y-Yes, my lady? Th-Thank you, my lady!”
The Countess watched with a slight frown as her Maid swept the coins into her apron and hobbled out of the room. In her excitement, Claire had missed the empty purse that was sitting right beside her pay. Lady Beaumont cleared her throat.
“Mister Reed.”
Reed stepped forward to stand before the Countess, looking just as apprehensive as Claire had been. The woodsman’s eyes threatened to fall out of their sockets as the same amount was placed before him.
“That can’t be right,” Reed said.
“It’s the standard quarterly salary of a sergeant in any armed retinue,” Countess Beaumont said.
“Quarterly?”
“A fief’s budget is divided by the seasons,” the young noblewoman replied. “Nearly everything is done by the quarter.”
“That wasn’t what I meant, my lady,” Reed said. “I was thinking this was a bit too much…”
“Am I to understand that you desire a pay cut, Mister Reed?”
The woodsman snatched the coins off the table and fled. The Countess called for the next man, who was paid the equivalent of a journeyman’s wage as an armsman. Liam remained standing at Lady Beaumont’s shoulder as she called people in one by one to hand them their pay. As with Claire and Reed, everyone expressed their shock at how much compensation they received for their services, but the amounts felt normal to Liam. The houses in Roble followed a similar schedule and it wasn’t much different in the Sorcerous Kingdom. He supposed it would seem excessive to someone who lived out in the countryside where everything was much cheaper, so a taste of city life would probably make things feel more reasonable.
Once they were done, Liam helped the Countess put away her strongbox. Despite paying roughly seventy men their quarterly salary, four-fifths of their total proceeds remained.
“What now?” Liam asked.
“We’ll be visiting with several houses that House Beaumont is friendly with,” the Countess said as she turned her head to look out of the nearest window. “We’ve still a few hours until lunch, which should be enough time for one.”
“So you’re going to speak with a house that focuses on agriculture.”
“Several houses,” Lady Beaumont replied. “Copses supply most of the fuel for everyday living in farming villages, but this early winter will have them looking to import the difference.”
“But the Azerlisian Marches are mostly forestry and mining,” Liam noted. “Doesn’t that mean you’ll be competing for the limited food grown here?”
“Yes,” the Countess nodded. “We must use our fortunate timing to secure the deals we need before everyone else drives the prices up.”
“Then what happens to the other fiefs?” Liam asked.
The young noblewoman looked away from the window, remaining silent for several moments.
“Liam,” she said, “you are a kind man, but please understand that my obligations as a Noble lie first and foremost with my land and its subjects. The unfortunate fact of the matter is that there isn’t enough to go around and I will do whatever I can to ensure that my fief survives the winter.”
“Doesn’t that apply to everyone else, as well?” Liam said, “If every Noble is willing to do whatever it takes, then that means they’re also willing to do things like attack caravans and raid across their borders for food.”
Lady Beaumont turned pale and swallowed.
“That…that’s a possibility, but…”
“…but?”
“I don’t know,” the young noblewoman replied in a small voice. “Once the shipments get onto the river, they should be safe enough, but…I believe we will need to hire more armsmen. As for border raids, the only way to combat them would be to raise a levy. The people should understand the need for an organised defence…urgh.”
A troubled expression fell over the young noblewoman. She probably didn’t expect to be dealing with a potential war against her neighbours.
“A-Anyways,” she said, “the sooner we secure these deals, the more time we’ll have to make the appropriate arrangements for everything. Will you accompany me, Liam?”
“Sure,” Liam said. “Who are we seeing first?”
Lady Beaumont picked up a sheet of paper from the desk, glancing over it before replying.
“Out of all the men I sent to call ahead, two of them were chased away in an aggressive manner. We shall be visiting those manors first.”
Reed’s men didn’t look anything like household staff, so it wasn’t a surprise that they didn’t receive a warm welcome.
“Why those two first?” Liam asked.
“The mistreatment of my men grants us a superior bargaining position,” the Countess answered. “I won’t lean too much on it – just enough that I can push for them to deal with me.”
That seemed like a lot to Liam, but, then again, he wasn’t a Noble. The things Lady Beaumont discussed already felt way too big for someone like him.
Out in the solar’s drawing room, they found Reed and Claire sitting on the couches with glum looks on their faces. It was in stark contrast to the excitement they expressed over their pay. Claire brightened as she rose to speak with Liam, but her smile evaporated when Lady Beaumont called her away to help her prepare for their outing. Liam took a seat across from Reed, frowning at his frown.
“What’s wrong?” Liam asked.
“We got paid,” Reed answered, “but there’s nothing to buy. City’s burned down, yeah?”
“Did you want to get something special?”
“Sorta. Me and the boys wanted to celebrate our payday with a drink. Then we realised there’s nothin’ to drink.”
“That’s all you wanted? A drink?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
Liam ran a critical eye over the woodsman, who had laid out his pay on the table between them.
“I don’t think you understand why you’re being paid what you are,” Liam said. “Being a retainer isn’t the same as being a labourer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reed asked.
“This is professional pay,” Liam answered. “Like any other professional, you’re supposed to use it to improve your effectiveness as a professional.”
“I don’t follow…”
“Think of how artisans build up their careers,” Liam said. “As journeymen work themselves up to become masters, they buy tools, rent workstations, look for opportunities to train, and eventually look to be a master of their own workshop. Being an armsman is similar. Your tools are your equipment and you’re being paid to better yourself through training and work experience. No one will fault you for indulging in a few luxuries, but the expectation is that you continue to grow for the sake of House Beaumont.”
“But I already have equipment,” Reed said, “and what we do looks like it’s good enough.”
Liam silently shook his head. It was all too easy to forget what followers of The Four were like, especially when they had spent most of their time together working.
“Is that what you want, then?” Liam asked, “Just ‘good enough?’”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“You’ll probably have a family one day,” Liam said, “especially now that you can reliably provide for one. Wouldn’t you want the best for your family? What about your heir?”
The woodsman’s face screwed up at the latter.
“My heir?”
“I don’t get why you’re so surprised,” Liam said. “You’re a retainer of House Beaumont; a part of the aristocratic establishment. Loyalty and lineage matter. When your son grows up, chances are he’ll also be an armsman because of your history with House Beaumont. Right now, the legacy you’re leaving him is an old bow, some well-worn leather, and a handful of drinking stories.”
“…you sure have a way of makin’ things all heavy.”
“It feels that way because it’s important,” Liam told him. “If I were in your boots, I’d be upgrading all the equipment I can. Not only because it helps me perform better, but it improves my heir’s chances of survival and achieving success. I’d train as much as possible and learn all the Skills and Martial Arts that I can. That stuff can be passed down to my heir, as well. If I do really well, I could even afford to groom multiple heirs – being a retainer doesn’t require a title, after all.”
Reed leaned back in his seat, pursing his lips as he considered Liam’s words.
“Don’t suppose all that improvement comes with more pay?”
“Of course it does,” Lady Beaumont’s voice sounded from her bedroom door. “Securing talent is a perpetual challenge for any organisation. For an aristocratic house, establishing a relationship with an elite cadre of loyal families is especially prized. If you do as Liam suggests, even knighthood is not out of the question should you or one of your descendants prove their mettle. This of course applies to anyone in the service of House Beaumont.”
“Huh. I guess I should start takin’ things more seriously, then.”
“I look forward to the results, Mister Reed,” the young noblewoman smiled. “For now, however, we have some friends to visit.”
Comments
GodImSoSorry
Weather is a weapon that transcends time
Mirror Drop
"Liam Girls" doesn't really have the same ring to it, what should we call them instead?
Duke of Coffee
Oh God Liam is 007 reincarnate.
Gopard
Thanks for the chapter!
Gopard
Well for now she has Liam with her... He is essentially James Bond on supercrack lmao. Impossible to beat can sneak in anywhere always succeeds, seduces any lady he comes in contact with without meaning to lmao!
Zarik0
Weather Weapons are simply terrifying, the whole North minimum get fucked by it , good job demiurge :P "Thus far, Re-Blumrushur appeared to be a city where one’s place in the grand scheme of things superseded law." That interesting, you can be callous here and see it in another way and say that in fact one's place in the grand scheme of things become the law and rule here, as law are product of how society work and what system people put in place into it, and that what they are doing here, feel like a transition phase with informal rule/law and etc who become the norm and so will become the 'law' at some point in their society/civ Poor lost Ranger country bumpkin :P That sure is some heavy realization and change of life and perspective that need to be digested :) Annnd first little crousty little detail on how Argland is !!!! :)
Stalbourne
She got quite the head on shoulders, be a shame for it to be separated.
Duke of Coffee
Well then, Lady Beaumont minions get paid and the city is still it's wretched state. She better get more protection because angry mob might rise and go after anyone that looks rich.
