Chapter Forty – Vim - Negotiations

      “That would be no problem at all, Vim,” the older man said.

I nodded, expecting such an answer from him.

“Another water wheel is needed anyway, based off our own report,” he added.

“They’re willing to pay for half the construction,” I said.

“Always with the generous efforts,” Jabson said with a sigh.

“It’s a wheel to grind our own wheat, and divert water for a new section of farmland. Who else but us to pay for it?” I asked him.

“Us, who reap all the rewards,” Jabson said, tapping his finger on the scroll before him.

As Jabson tapped the scroll, a young boy probably not much younger than Lomi shifted in the chair next to him. The young lad, dressed in lively colors and silk, shifted in his seat next to his uncle. His eyes were screaming concern, as if he was hearing secrets not meant for his ears.

Maybe they were.

But all children had to start learning somewhere.

“Our contracts with you, as they have always been, sustain themselves by being the way they are. You allow us our freedom, we give up some small profits. What more needs to be said?” I asked the owner of the Bordu Wheat Merchant Guild.

“How about our embarrassment?” Jabson asked.

“What’s some embarrassment between friends?” I asked.

The man’s nephew tilted an eyebrow as he went into thought. He hadn’t understood my question.

Jabson sighed as he sat back, no longer looking like the upright and proper lord that he had presented himself to be a few minutes ago.

All of his retainers were gone. The four men who had been bothering Montclair were now outside, talking amongst themselves and the other guards that had accompanied Jabson and his nephew here.

Luckily Montclair was out there with them. He sometimes tried to sit in on these conversations… not because he believed himself needing to be here, but because he wanted to serve the humans. He wanted to make sure their cups were always full, and plates stacked with food.

Ridiculous.

“Last month I returned from a trip to Ruvindale,” Jabson said.

“Before the snowfall started. Wise,” I complimented him.

The nephew looked at me, and then to his uncle. He sat there, studying his uncle’s face for understanding. It made his own face easy to read.

What does he mean? The boy wanted to ask. Poor boy didn't realize I was just messing around with his uncle.

Jabson didn’t bother with my comment and continued his tale, “I spoke with Master Ultip. They had just renegotiated their contract with the river traders,” he said.

I nodded, and let the man continue his story.

“The profit margins, even after the expected upcoming taxes going to be instilled at the docks this summer by the church, are only eleven percent,” Jabson said with a stern face.

“Wow, that’s not bad,” I nodded.

Honestly it wasn’t. Especially if the church was going to start its taxes too.

“We’re at sixty!” Jabson raised his voice as he waved at the scroll in front of him.

“Sixty? So low? We’re just so greedy,” I groaned, covering my face as if in shame.

“Vim!” Jabson groaned a complaint, and with a peer between my fingers I saw his genuine worry.

“You’re a good man, Jabson,” I said.

“Not if I shake your hand and accept this contract!”

I smiled at the distressed man, and noticed the obvious look of distraught on the young boy next to him. He was completely aghast at what he was hearing, and seeing.

He’s probably never seen his uncle, the greatest merchant he’s ever known and the ruler of his family, act like this.

Let alone saw him negotiating with a man who was acting as foolish as I.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Be reasonable!” he said.

“Okay fine. Fifty-five percent,” I said.

He moaned a wordless complaint and went to rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“You’re the only merchant I know who actually fights to give up profits,” I said.

“Then you only know sinners! If the church saw this contract…” Jabson said as he went to reading it again.

Oh.

Sitting back, I realized now exactly what was wrong.

He and his family had always sniveled over the unfair contracts we created. Even long ago, when we first started, the Lord of Bordu at the time who had been an older woman… she had returned every day for months trying to make it more just and fair.

Humans as greedy as they are, sometimes found too much greed to be a sickness.

And once you brought religion into it…

“Do you plan on inviting the church to Bordu?” I asked.

“It’s already begun, Vim. An abbey will be built soon too,” Jabson said lightly, still focused on the contract.

Hm… that was a problem.

Not so much for the Society, but for him. That meant, since the church would indeed demand a copy of the contract, he really could get in trouble.

The church for all its lies and deceit still had to play the part. If they saw that he accepted that contract, he would be publicly shamed… probably even charged as a criminal. If not by the church, but by his fellows. They would see him as a greedy unjust man, taking advantage of the hard working farmers who he led.

“How about this then,” I raised an open palm, getting his attention.

I had both of their attention in full.

“Two new waterwheels. Plus the extra dike, to prepare for the next hill of farmland,” I suggested.

“That won’t change the profits,” he started to say, but I raised my hand up farther so I could continue.

“We modify the contract. Have the profits of the contract pay for the expansions. Let’s throw in some other things too, if the percent is still too high. Say something for Bordu. A few new wells, or something. Something charitable, fund an orphanage or something,” I advised.

Jabson’s mind worked quickly as he sat forward. He stared at the scroll in front of him, but his mind was reading numbers that weren’t written upon it.

The young boy stared at me for a moment, and then looked at his uncle. Based off his expression, he thought it a great idea.

“Yes. We might need to add a few other things, but it’d work. Would you be agreeable with fifteen percent each?” he asked.

I blinked, and was a little surprised he offered such a thing.

Either he and his family were already obscenely wealthy… like the snakes, or he himself was a far better man than I thought.

“Seventy of the profits for expansion. Thirty to split between us,” I verified.

Jabson nodded quickly, hopeful. His eyes begging me to agree.

A part of me wanted to argue. To haggle a little, and give him twenty instead of fifteen… but I knew better.

This wasn’t just his good nature trying to argue, this was concern. Concern for himself, and his family. For the young boy next to him.

If he was too greedy the church would smite him.

“Deal,” I said.

Jabson immediately relaxed with relief. He even let loose a great sigh. “Thank you!”

I nodded, amused at him. Hopefully the young boy would grow up to be like him.

Though I’d need to be careful from now on. This meant the church was firming its hold on him and the people of Bordu.

That meant eventually those here would have to deal directly with the church, or at least facilitate them.

The snakes could… but…

“I’ll have Montclair write up the new one,” I said as Jabson began to roll up the one before him.

“Please. Would you mind letting Trim here watch? There are only a few scribes in our guild, and it’d do him good to see the skills of another master,” Jabson asked, gesturing to the boy.

Trim sat up straight, suddenly alert as he was now the focus of the conversation.

“Of course. He’ll have to be careful however, Montclair might make him write it instead as training,” I warned.

Jabson smiled, and seemed even happier that such a thing might happen.

As I went to stand from the table, the door to the room opened. Sure enough Montclair quickly entered. “Lord Jabson, Sir Vim!” he greeted.

“Great timing, Montclair. We have new terms. Would you please sit with Jabson and Trim here, and write them out for us?” I asked him.

The squirrel nodded quickly, and hurried out of the room to get the necessary materials.

Walking around the table, since Jabson still sat, I reached out my hand to him.

He took it firmly, but I noticed it was a hand of thin bones.

He was aging faster than he looked. Maybe disease.

“Thank you Vim,” Jabson said.

“Thank you, Jabson. You and your family have always been great to work with. I look forward to next time,” I said as we shook hands.

“Next time it might be Trim, I fear,” he said lightly.

I nodded as I stepped around Jabson’s chair to offer my hand to the young boy.

His face went a little pale at my offer, but he found the nerve to reach out and take my hand. The young boy trembled as we shook hands.

“It was nice to meet you Trim. Learn as much as you can from your uncle and others, so that when it’s your turn you don’t embarrass yourself like some of your ancestors,” I said to him.

Trim smiled, but it was an unsure one. He wasn’t entirely sure what to think of my comment.

“Thank you as well Jabson for letting Pelka work in the city,” I said to Jabson as I stepped away from the table.

“Of course! I’ll put her in my branch. I’ll keep an eye on her for you,” he said.

“Please do,” I said.

I walked out of the room right as Montclair returned. He hurriedly went to putting the papers onto the table, and I listened only distantly to their conversation.

There was absolutely no reason to worry Jabson would deceive Montclair on the terms, but a part of me did wonder if he had the gall to lower his percent even further. It’d be interested if he did.

Walking down the hall, I turned a corner and paused.

Sitting on the ground against the wall, with a strange look on her face, was Renn.

“Why did you not sit in one of the rooms nearby?” I asked her. She had quite literally sat there the whole time. Nearly two hour’s worth of talks.

Renn slowly stood, as if she was stiff from sitting for so long. I knew better. She was simply a little embarrassed.

“My hat is thick, and… it makes it hard to hear,” Renn said, pointing to the hat on her head.

Yes that was thick leather and fur… but…

Maybe it was also the angle her ears were forced into. I knew beneath that hat, her cat-like ears were probably forced downward.

“I see,” I said.

Stepping past her, to the study where I knew I’d find Trixalla, I didn’t mind it when Renn went to following me.

“He seemed nice,” Renn said.

“Jabson’s a good man. He learned his kindness from his mother,” I said.

“He knows what we are?” I asked.

“He does,” I admitted.

Even during the negotiations… Jabson and I had not ever said such a thing aloud. But since Renn had listened to the whole conversation, she probably had been able to easily figure that out.

“Does the boy?” she asked.

Opening the door to the study, I found Trixalla and Mork inside. They were discussing something. Mork was probably telling his wife the details of the conversation between Montclair and the boy.

Trim sounded very excited. Montclair was offering to teach him how to make scrolls.

“Only the heirs learn the truth. But yes, the boy probably knows. Or at least was told that we were special, based off his reactions,” I said.

After all he had trembled at my mere presence.

Entering the study alongside Renn, I took a seat next to Mork.

“Montclair’s agreed to teach the boy a few times a month,” Mork said.

“Even better. He’s to be the next Lord. This will allow our families to become deeper bonded,” Trixalla said.

“Is it safe?” Renn asked as she closed the door.

She stood near the door, looking at us with a strange smile.

Looking around I realized why she was standing there. There were no other chairs for her.

“It’s safer than the alternatives,” I answered her.

Renn didn’t like that answer much, but she didn’t voice it her complaints. She only furrowed her brow and glared at me.

“Thank you Vim. You did well,” Trixalla said.

“I always do,” I nodded.

“Structuring the deal like that will reap us great rewards,” Trixalla said with a nod.

“For now. Until the church takes hold and claims the credit,” Mork argued.

“That will be years from now. And the human’s won’t forget quickly. You’re talking generations,” Trixalla argued back.

“Only a couple,” I threw in my argument.

“Why was it so wrong for him to make too much money?” Renn asked cautiously. She spoke as if she was okay with being ignored.

“He’s a good man. But he also fears retribution,” Mork explained.

“From his people?” Renn asked.

“Them and the church. The church collects the taxes usually, since the humans see them as incapable of favoritism. So when they come in the next few years to overlook the contracts and deals amongst the businesses, like ours and Jabson’s, if they see him making too much on a simple wheat deal they’ll strip him of his duties and titles,” Trixalla said.

“Oh. I see.”

Glancing at the cat, I watched as she pondered it. She probably had already somewhat understood, she had just…

“You wanted to confirm your suspicions,” I said to her.

She blinked, and then smiled lightly. “Yes. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t making assumptions,” she said.

I scoffed and looked away from her. I didn’t like that smile.

It fit her face far too well.

“Hmm…” Trixalla hummed oddly, and I ignored her strange smirk too.

“Once they’re done, and the humans head back to Bordu I’ll be leaving,” I said.

Renn startled, but I ignored her as I nodded to Mork and Trixalla.

“We understand Vim. Thank you for sticking around this long,” Mork said.

“I’ll return in a few years, to check on Lomi and Pelka,” I said.

“Thank you for that too. It’s much better for her to be close that way,” Trixalla said, happier with that than the contract with Bordu.

“Obviously,” I said, and stood from the seat.

Renn stood up straighter as I turned to her. She blinked wide eyes at me.

“Get ready. Get your bag, and anything else you need,” I said to her.

She quickly nodded and turned to open the door. A moment later she hurried out.

“Don’t be cruel to her,” Trixalla said softly. Probably in hopes of not being heard by the one she spoke about.

“I don’t have the luxury of being kind,” I said.

“Yes you do, Vim. Out of everyone, you’re the only one who does,” Mork said. He didn’t whisper like his wife had. Probably knew it wouldn’t matter if they did or not.

Glaring at the two snakes, I was about to say something but Montclair hurried down the hall.

The contract was done. He was coming to get their signatures.

“Goodbye. I’ll see you in a few years,” I said to them.

“Safe travels, Vim. Farewell,” Trixalla said as I left.