Spice & Wolf XI (DWT) Page 10

  “I just can’t seem to get used to seeing you in those clothes.”

  Fleur didn’t care about that, so she just tidied her coat a bit and intentionally answered in a man’s voice.

  “Farewell!”

  “Take care..”

  Fleur felt like laughing at Beltra’s nervousness, but it really did suit her character. As she walked outside, she couldn’t help but feel happy in the morning air. After such a cold and dry winter, it was finally warming up. The air smelled fresh, like a forest. The buildings and trees were slowly getting busier under the brighter sun, as if compelled by the nice weather. It was spring, and flowers were blossoming. A green summer seemed inevitable.

  Fleur made her way past several goat-tending merchants, and noticed herself speeding up to meet with a certain someone at the unloading zone of the port. After walking down several streets, she finally arrived and saw the many boats blocking up the port. Dock workers were working hard to unload the goods on those boats as quickly as possible.

  Most of the dock workers rose before the sun came up.. indeed, before the church bell rang for morning mass. Working times for the market in town were strictly regulated, but not for the port. After all, no one could refuse a boat’s entry into port, not when they’d braved storm and rain and came back battered after nearly being sunk.

  But that was just how merchants liked to view it; perhaps it was true, but it could also just be a myth. Still, the market certainly wouldn’t open just because a weary horse was transferring goods from the port to the market.

  “Alright, you’re all loaded! May the gods go with you!”

  A shirtless dock worker shouted out after landing on a wagon, but his voice was quickly drowned out in the din. Once the sun rose, any merchant could ship his goods no matter his age.

  This time of day was the busiest for travelers as well. The various companies’ loading docks were crammed with wagons, as well as staff ferrying goods around, merchants inventorying stock, and beggars grabbing the salt that spilled onto the ground from barrels of pickled herrings.

  It was every inch a crowded port. You’d want to leave this noise the instant your cart was loaded.. and yet, strangely, you’d end up missing the noise later. It was an odd situation that took effort to adapt to. Fleur didn’t expect to ever adjust as well as Ora had, but she needed to at least learn to remain calm in such environments.

  “Is that the last batch? How many? Twenty? No problem! Load ’em on!”

  Fleur soon spotted a young man in the crowd, directing everyone on where to place their cargo. He wore fine clothes among all the strong-looking shirtless men around him, making him look rather oddly like a poet on a battlefield.

  “Alright, I’m off! We’ll meet up at that hill! May the gods go with you!”

  In this atmosphere, it probably took all a man had to relay directions. That young man seemed to be giving it his all. Fleur watched in interest as she walked over to him. He seemed about ready to set his horse running, until he noticed her.

  “Ah..”

  “Good morning.”

  She hesitated on whether to greet him more politely, and settled on doing so. Milton glanced over at his goods, then back at her, then smiled.

  “Hello.”

  “I seem lucky to have caught you.”

  “Haha.. I didn’t expect you would visit today.”

  He laughed, and some white breath also left Fleur’s mouth, dissipating in the cool morning air. Milton then moved behind the horse and urged it forward with a gentle smack.

  “Shall we walk and talk?”

  “Let’s.”

  She began walking beside him, thinking about the different kinds of nobles in the world. Some lived in noisy, crowded towns. Others in monasteries in far-flung plains. Milton was currently heading out to visit a family that owned a large forest estate with a river.

  Fleur hadn’t slept well the past few days, but she still looked sharp. Not one hint of exhaustion was visible on her face. She yawned not even once as they strode through the crowds of people. She simply breathed in under her scarf, quietly and deeply, to keep herself calm. She had appearances to maintain.

  “Right, so what we talked about yesterday..”

  She finally began talking after they had left the port and were making their way past the various inns and vintners’ shops in the business district. But her voice trailed off. It wasn’t because anyone urged her to stop, but rather because Milton smiled at her as he pulled his horse along.

  “I-is something amusing?”

  If she didn’t lower her voice, she would have indeed been the butt of jokes. Or was he laughing at something else?

  “Ah, my apologies.”

  He covered his mouth. But she couldn’t bring herself to get angry at someone smiling so happily. It was the kind of smile that was contagious. It was just too fine a morning to get upset at someone like that.

  “It’s just incredible, that’s all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He smiled again in embarrassment as she shot back. She wasn’t looking at him, but nor was she upset. They were business partners, and she wanted to hear his advice.

  “Oh, just that if this were a year or two ago.. heck, even just a little while ago.. if you spoke to me in that voice I wouldn’t be able to hold back my laughter.”

  Their voices were drowned out by the sound of the horses’ hooves. She closed her eyes, wondering how his matter-of-fact reply wasn’t making her angry. Maybe, as he said, she had changed as well in recent times.

  “Of course, that’s not to say that I’ll be able to hold it in much longer.”

  He grinned, but because he was only joking around she couldn’t help but smile in response.

  “Ah, sorry, I’ll stop joking around. So you’ve considered my offer, have you?”

  The closer they got to the market, the more travelers passed them by. Apprentices were preparing for their work at the many smithies and crafts-houses they walked past, and the bakers were obviously busy (if the smell of baking bread was any indication).

  “I accept.”

  Her reply was succinct. She said it purposely as they attentively eyed the bakery they were passing, then stared at him. He turned to her in surprise.

  “Really?”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  She realized that right now she was dressed like a merchant, and breathing intently under her scarf. It made her feel guilty to see his happy reaction, and in that instant she suddenly learned what “shining eyes” looked like.

  “Thank you.. thank you very much!”

  He breathed in deeply between his words.

  “Um.. haha.”

  She replied awkwardly, in a voice so weak she herself could barely hear it. Ora’s image popped into her mind, reminding her to not take him at face value. And Ora was always right.

  “I stayed up all night thinking it over, and decided to accept your proposal.”

  “Oh, uh.. my thanks, really.”

  “..”

  She watched him smile, doing her best to hide her concerns and calm herself as they walked on.

  “That said, is there really nothing we have to worry about? Buying or selling?”

  “Hmm, well I believe the company who introduced us really wants to cooperate with us.”

  Ora’s faced popped back into her mind, urging her to question him a little more.

  “So they’re trustworthy? You don’t think they’re just doing this to mess with the other companies?”

  “Well, that’s always possible of course. But I think of it this way: clothes are light, and a boat can carry a great deal of them. And, the more we ship out at once, the lower our costs. But of course, it’s all for naught if we can’t sell all of them. But even so, we can still sell them at a lower price, since it won’t hurt as much if we buy them in large quantities in the first place. Our chance to profit is that much greater. And Jones’ aim is to become the largest company in town. Have you ever been
disparaged, by any chance?”

  He smiled at her as he asked in a bitter tone. Evidently, they hadn’t treated him kindly when he first made his proposal to them. It seemed she’d misunderstood him, judging him to be a merchant only interested in profits. He carried on.

  “Everyone in the world is suspicious.”

  Fleur, a former noble who wasn’t experienced with worldly affairs, was intrigued by this.

  “Everyone only thinks of their own profits. Of course, I’m no different.”

  “Then..”

  She stopped herself from finishing with, ”..why should I trust you?” It would have been childish to ask such a question. She’d just look like a kid trying to debate him for fun. Thankfully, she had managed to spare herself that embarrassment.

  And yet, oddly, she wasn’t sure if she should have stopped herself. When she spoke like a child, she felt something well up inside her. But for now, she just hid all those doubts behind her scarf and quietly studied his face. It was a gentle face, which now spoke gently.

  “It might be comical to hear me say that, but it’s all I can say.”

  They had arrived at the edge of town, so Milton stopped and continued.

  “Please, at least trust what I said.”

  She smiled while squinting slightly, no longer sure what she was seeing in front of her.

  They were coming up to the toll booth outside town, where many farmers were transferring their crops. Many travelers were there too, also having to pay their share of taxes and pass inspection. There were oxen, horses, chickens, ducks, and humans.. a mess the likes of which wasn’t matched elsewhere. But Fleur wasn’t listening to all of that noise.

  “You’re hardly being convincing.”

  “Of course, you never remembered my face.”

  She laughed under her scarf, thinking that being a fallen noble might not be so bad after all.

  “Attack, retreat, and then attack again..”

  “And see if you catch a butterfly, cat, rabbit, or fox.”

  It was a phrase from a short poem that a young noble had written, in love with satire. She and Milton were possibly the only people in town who’d heard it, and so they laughed merrily as they stood together. As that laughter subsided like ripples on a quiet lake, Fleur gently replied.

  “I’ll trust you.”

  It was a concise statement, yet far more powerful than the long contracts normally drawn up by merchants. Milton nodded gravely, and set down the horses’ reins.

  “Then I’ll be counting on you.”

  She replied as they shook hands.

  “That’s my line.”

  With that he took the reins once again and shot a glance at his horse, but turned to her once more.

  “If I may, I’d like to end today’s conversation with that, alright?”

  He looked at her with a serious expression, though it was more aptly described as mock-seriousness.

  “You’re a better speaker than I expected.”

  “The key to whether or not one’s words truly reach the listener’s heart comes at the moment of parting.”

  “To act as though you are interested in someone, so she’ll be thinking of naught but you the entire night.. is that what you mean?”

  Even Fleur was surprised to hear herself saying that so naturally. It was utterly refreshing to wear the now-rusted mask of aristocracy that she’d sealed deep in her heart for such a long time.

  “It appears I’m unfit to be a merchant, having my thoughts reads like that by another.”

  “Is that so? And I hadn’t yet even asked for the time we would next meet.”

  Playing the part of a noble maiden waiting for her knight’s next visit, her heart yearning so much that a day felt like three autumns - it felt quite pleasant to play that role.

  “Three nights hence, in the evening.”

  “I shall be waiting for you.”

  She gestured to him almost unconsciously, wondering if the noble blood flowing in her veins had compelled her to do it. She hadn’t even been able to avoid tilting her chin up slightly. She immediately attempted to conceal it by lowering her chin and gently averting her eyes.

  “Farewell.”

  He rode off with that, though she was fully aware that he had pretended not to notice her reaction. The sound of his horse trotting away gradually melted into the distance.

  Three nights hence, in the evening. She murmured this to herself as she watched his back receding, suddenly realizing that her hands had been pressed up against her chest. She immediately withdrew those tightly-clutched hands and smoothed the wrinkles they had formed on her clothes.

  Milton greeted the soldiers at the inspection post, and made it through successfully. He only turned back to look at her once. She turned and walked off when he did, to leave the impression that she’d already long forgotten about him. Of course in truth she was afraid to keep staring at his back.

  Three nights hence, in the evening. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the town that had sprung to life around her, Fleur murmured those words in her heart as if holding dearly onto a treasure.

  * * *

  The clear and bright springtime sunlight was beating down. But it was common for the buildings in a town to be so tightly packed together that not even a piece of paper would fit between them.

  It might seem natural for sunlight to creep into every home, but in reality that could actually be considered a luxury. And when even sunlight - that inexhaustible radiance from the heavens - could be considered a luxury, it was easy to see how tough it was to live the life of a commoner.

  These kinds of thoughts swam in her head as she leaned against the window frame, her cheek resting in her palm, watching small birds gather around the breadcrumbs from lunch.

  “Milady.”

  What a poorly-timed utterance. And yet she couldn’t get angry, and could only continue staring out the window absent-mindedly. By all rights, Ora was the one who should be angry.

  “Milady!”

  The birds flew off in a panic. That was finally enough to make Fleur lift her head up and leisurely turn it to the source of her agitation.

  “Why must you be so loud..”

  “If that’s what it takes to get you to listen to me, then I’ll shout even louder!”

  “Alright, alright.. it’s just such a lovely day..”

  She yawned as she exhaled her last word, stretching mightily in her chair. The table in front of her had some papers, a quill, and an inkwell strewn upon it. The paper nearest to her was covered in words written in a smooth hand.

  It listed the common set-phrases used for contracts between merchants, as Ora had written them: words such as ”purchase”, ”sale”, ”loan”, ”lending”, and even prayerful lines that often ended on such documents. Merchants often engaged in deals with foreigners, so they tended to use common phrases for convenience in their profession.

  Fine details aside, one could not afford to misread a single word or line in a contract, especially ones involving sums of money large enough to result in bankruptcy. One had to be well aware of the traps that opportunists used to prey on the dull-witted; these were the basics of the game, so to speak.

  As Fleur ruminated on Ora’s exaggerated-feeling lesson, she flipped over the next sheet of paper. On it was a large table of currencies, and their exchange rates. To Fleur it might as well have been a complicated spell incantation.

  Of course one wishing to gain their independence as a merchant needed to memorize these rates fully, and Fleur knew she would have to do so even if Ora wasn’t urging her.

  “Milady.”

  His voice had gone flat; he had seriously lost his patience. She shot him a frown.

  “Oh, don’t be so upset.. I too hate that I am like this.”

  He was a keen observer, so he naturally realized that she wasn’t talking about her laziness in the face of fine weather. The wrinkles on his brow scrunched up as he opened just one eye to study her.

  He was carefully c
hoosing his next words; a clever and loyal man, who didn’t abandon Fleur despite her hopeless demeanor and behavior in front of him. He even responded courteously.

  “Milady, as your bookkeeper and mentor, I must be frank.”

  “Hmm?”

  He breathed in deeply at her short reply.

  “Don’t mistake the truth.”

  What farcical dialogue. Fleur hated such pretentious musings. Merchants seemed born to be vague, saying things that could be interpreted in many ways. Her smile darkened upon hearing him, which was just what he expected. He touched his head and continued.

  “I shouldn’t speak ill of him, but the lord of the Pabst family succeeded his predecessor by attracting his wife. I’ve heard that everything is handled by the women of that family. And so..”

  “And so Milton, who inherited that blood, also inherited that dependence on women?”

  She stared at the walls after finishing his sentence. In the silence that followed, only birdsong was heard; perhaps those same birds had returned to sing their childlike songs. Then, that wise bookkeeper’s sigh joined them.

  “Yes, I know that he is Milton Pabst, a merchant that trades with blue blood, and that I am just a girl.”

  “That’s not what I meant..”

  “There is no need to explain, for I understand. I’m aware of the truth. I’m a bird with no other place to land. If I leap from this windowsill, I must forever remain flying.”

  She squinted darkly at the garden as she spoke. Ora opened his mouth as if to speak, but ultimately said nothing. His former master was her ex-husband. He had borne witness to their union, and felt even worse about it than Fleur did.

  And so, as the Boland family fell, he helped her when she had nowhere else to go. She was his redemption: the pathetic daughter of a noble who had been forced into a marriage only describable as loveless.

  But he was determined not to give up. That’s how strongly he felt, and perhaps that was enough to justify his actions. This was all her conjecture, of course, but it was likely the truth in spite of being awful. And so she turned back, with a look as though mocking herself.

  “So, in business, a person changes their tune the moment profit is involved, is that right?”