How To Survive Wuxia’s Patriachy 101 - Chapter 2
The town of Gurjua was bigger than Dori had thought. To the north were the grain fields, spanning for miles. To the south was River Gatri that channeled a good number of trade-boats inland. East was bordered by the Dinkly forest with its large bounty, while the west was a vast hilly area, all the way to the mountain range of Ruffmore.
There were hundreds of thousands of people that called Gurjua their home and thousands more would come and go every day for trade and leisure.
Her Leafheart family owned at least one-fifth of all the shops, one-third of the granaries and a quarter of the grain fields, yet the wealth spread thin, considering the size of the family.
Dori’s father was in charge of a trade chain and owned four shops. To her delight, two of the shops were related to potions and medicines while the other two sold bulks of grain and game meat. The shops were managed by her close relatives and she knew most of them. There was a cousin of hers with a crippled leg, a buff uncle who always looked dusty, an old uncle with pockmarks and an aunt with thinning hair.
She spent an entire week with the aunt. Widowed and wrinkled, the woman was proficient in bookkeeping and liked to talk all day about her life experience. And the woman loved to tell stories. Dori didn’t mind as long as she got to analyze the potions that came in and went out of the shop. Most of the dealings were in bulk so she didn’t get to fiddle around too much, or she’d be troubling the workers.
Her aunt was cooperative, though she discouraged Dori’s interest in the medicinal field. “No one trusts a potion brewed by women,” she told her, though admitted there were rare exceptions. She told her the story of Healer Meiner who treated people disguised as a man and only after she had died that people found out she was a woman. There was also the folklore of Maiden Mouri, who to save her future husband brewed a potion out of her heart blood, but no one believed her so she took her own life to convince them.
Dori hated most of her stories.
Her potions’ screen had ten new entries, most of which were disappointing.
Soothing Tea Essence (20%)
[Cost: 1 RP]
[Usage Restriction: <= Elite]
[Effect Duration: 2 hours]
[Overuse Restrictions: 2 hours]
[Perception: x0.5]
[Pain Tolerance: x1.25]
Mohua Essence (15%)
[Cost: 1 RP]
[Usage Restriction: <= Elite]
[Effect Duration: 2 hours]
[Overuse Restrictions: 20 hours]
[Damage Proficiency: x2.75 (against germs)]
[Damage Range: 1% (against germs)]
There were parameters she didn’t understand and she had no references to check against. One thing she realized, the potions she was rewarded by the system were way better, and nothing she analyzed so far came even remotely close. One gulp of her diluted nutcracker juice and she could probably go toe to toe against boys twice her age.
Now that she had a comparative cost, the cost of her rewarded potions seemed very high. With no guidelines to earn points, she wasn’t foolish enough to squander them.
“Is there no potions to raise strength and likes, Aunt Lilu?”
“Need Guild permits to sell and buy those in large numbers. We have one, but that shop is in the capital,” Aunt told her. “Larger families and the sects dabble on those.”
That made her worried. She needed to reign in her wild horse yet her rewards usually came from being volatile. Too much showing off might backfire spectacularly, but the temptation was there.
Then the week of peace was over when her family finally got the wind of what she had done.
No, no letter came from the loser of the fight. Instead, a cousin of hers came to tell her father that he was summoned by the family head along with his youngest daughter. When asked why his little girl would be summoned too, the guy told on her.
She wouldn’t know that she was in trouble if not for her mother suddenly rushing into her room, yelling and beating her with a cane. In her six months of experience, that was the first time she felt like she was too tiny for this world. She endured, not knowing how severe the consequences would be and why. The cane her mother used was a thin tree branch, meant for disobedient slaves. The deep red marks left on her back and arms would stay for weeks. She had cried, apologized and her mother finally caved to emotion and stormed out with teary eyes.
Dori didn’t understand the escalation. She was more worried about her father’s response. The silence was usually the sign of disaster.
No maid came to escort her that day, and she didn’t go look for one. Her father came to tell her to dress properly. They’d be visiting her great-great-grandfather, the family head, Ramier Leafheart.
An hour later, they left in a carriage. Her great-great-grandfather lived in the port city of Ruffmore, overseeing the family’s trade center. They had to take a few detours to get past the hills and the mountains, and it took an entire night’s journey.
In any regular day, Dori would be thrilled at the prospect of traveling. It wasn’t any regular day, the journey was long and awkward, and she couldn’t see anything in the dark.
Her father gave her advice on how to behave and how to address the head and the elders, but his words were short and precise. Dori tried apologizing on a whim, but her father said not to worry too much. She didn’t know if he meant it, but she knew it wasn’t over.
What was the hurry that it couldn’t wait till the night had passed? She still couldn’t understand why it was such a big deal that she beat up a guy in an almost fair duel. Did someone realize her use of potions? Was there any proof? Was it really that big of a taboo?
Did the boy turn impotent? It wasn’t that hard of a kick!
The whole journey was torturous to her psyche. By the time they arrived at the city at sun-break, Dori had dozed off twice.
The city of Ruffmore was the eastern hub of the overseas routes, managing large chunk of the kingdom’s total trade traffic. As Dori had expected, the city was in piss-poor condition. Polished by overuse, the roads were filled with slaves carrying cargo, and people who were yelling. The air was rancid, cold and damp.
The carriage stopped twice for inspection, and thrice more to prevent crashing into people. There were numerous taverns and trade halls made of woods and rotten timber. The ocean was probably close, but not close enough to hear the waves. There were a lot of seagulls though, lurking around on the roofs of the building.
She wondered how the city would smell once the sun was high. Her father laughed at her cringed nose and told her that the inner city wasn’t that bad. This place was the gateway to the docks. They could enter the inner city by another route but it’d take an extra half an hour at least.
The inner-city of Ruffmore was better. Not as tidy and comfy as Gurjua but tidy enough compared to what she had seen thus far. And her great-great-grandfather’s estate was huge.
The entire estate was crowded and there were dozens of houses sporadically erect. They had to walk a good ten minutes before they saw the mansion on a hill. The curved path to the mansion was well kept and easy to hike. She wondered why an old guy would build his mansion up a hill.
The mansion was awake. Maids and slaves clearing the floors, tending the indoor plants, people eating at the dining hall.
“Damien! Here,” One of the guys saw them and called them over to the table. Dori could see the family resemblance; perky nose, dark hair, wide chin and tall stature.
Her father went over and Dori followed. He asked the old man, “Is the Head up yet?”
“Saw him gurgling near the pond a while ago. Who’s this?” The guy pinched Dori’s nose.
“My youngest.” Her father ruffled her hair, “Greet your second grandfather.”
That was a reductive introduction, Dori wanted to complain. She had three great-grandfathers and twelve grandfathers in total. Her father was the third son of her fifth grandfather, who was the son of the first great-grandfather. She didn’t get which one this second grandfather was supposed to be. The second in line, or the second son of her great-grandfather, or the second son of another great grandfather? The guy was probably in his fifties, judging by the crows’ legs on his face and the hints of gray hair.
“Hello.” Dori greeted and bowed.
The guy laughed. “Hello. Were you the one who beat up the youngling of Panrose?”
Dori looked at her father who smiled back awkwardly.
“It was just a friendly duel.”
Her second grandfather’s laugh widened. “Don’t challenge the head to a duel,” he said in a humorous tone.
Dori didn’t understand the joke but she still smiled politely.
She wasn’t hungry but still had to eat a lot to be polite to her second grandfather’s constant nagging. She was full and she felt like an immovable object.
She was called over, along with her father, before she had the time to digest.
It was a big room, almost empty, with a few chairs surrounding a long table. On the farthest side of the table sat a man with a stack of parchment in front.
Ramier Leafheart, the founder, the guardian and the head of the family. Her great-great-grandfather. Smooth, suntanned skin, dark eyes, a head full of neck length, black, wavy hair. He was wearing a plain, brown tunic and a silk, white trousers.
She wouldn’t have believed that the guy was old enough to be doubly great, if her father hadn’t addressed him such, and showed his respect by kneeling. The man looked younger than her grandfather and barely older than her father. The knowledge hit Dori hard. How would she judge his age? Thirty? Sixty? A hundred?
She had seen the head twice before, once during the last winter celebrations after the spring harvest. She didn’t know who the guy was back then. To her, most of her family had the facial resemblance, and she thought the portraits of the head was from when he was younger.
“Miri!,” she heard her father whisper.
Oh. She went closer to her great-great-grandfather, bowed and kissed his hand.
His hand moved to her chin and raised her face. “You took after my side of the family,” the man spoke gently. “You resemble my mother more than you resemble yours.”
Probably a good start, Dori thought, unsure of how to respond to that. “Thank you, great-great-grandfather.” It felt weird and inefficient way to address someone, but who was she to argue.
“Come,” the head held her hand and guided to another room. Her father was still kneeling there. Dori was suddenly alarmed.
They went to a larger room. The walls were covered with tall shelves filled with ship models, books, ink bottles, quills, scrolls, canes and ornamental boxes. There was a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The table at the middle was long and wide, almost empty, with a large map painted on it. She followed the Head and he led her to a corner. There, from a box, he picked up a white foggy ball the size of his palm.
“Hold it tightly,” he said to her.
Even though the ball was palm-sized for the man, Dori had to grab it using both of her hands. The ball was heavy. It felt solid, smooth and cold to touch. The fog inside swirled at the disturbance, then slowly gathered near where she was touching the walls. Probably the static, she deduced. The foggy ball had a hypnotic charm, with whirls of cloud drifting around.
She looked up at the Head curiously but was promptly disappointed at his poker face. He took the ball from her hands and put it back in the box. She wanted to ask what that thing was but she didn’t have the courage to do so.
Then she was led to the table. “Do you know that this is,” he asked, pointing at the drawing.
A test?
“It’s a partial map of this continent.”
“Can you trace border of our country?” The Head didn’t show any interest in his voice, making her more nervous by the seconds. Dori was very much interested in the world she was in and spent days looking at the map scrolls that her teacher provided. She traced her index over the map, following a line that wasn’t there.
“Hmm. Where are we on the map?”
Dori tapped on a point near the top right corner. The Head looked pleased.
“What do you know about the Panrose Family?”
‘Here it comes,’ she thought
“They own half of Gurjua’s land. They are a strong family. They have” Dori pressed her lips trying to squeeze out her knowledge.
“They own a bit more than one-third of the land in Gurjua,” he corrected her. “That’s not their significant portion of wealth but it soon will be.”
The Head sat on the only chair in the room. “The Builders’ Guild has been assigned with connecting eight cities to this port in a string. The Head of the Panrose family is an old friend and he’s spent a fortune to get the main route pass by Gurjua.”
Gurjua and the port city of Ruffmore weren’t close, and the hill and mountains prevented a straight road. Dori’s eyebrows rose. Was that a round-about way of telling her that she shouldn’t have beat up that boy?
“And you’ve beat up one of their young lords.” There was no accusation in his tone.
‘Dueled,’ she wanted to correct him back but kept her head down and her lips shut. The marks of the cane still itched under her long sleeves and on her back.
“I’ve been trying to forge an alliance with my old friend for quite awhile. Imagine my surprise when I got a letter from him, asking specifically for you to be married to one of his descendants. The dowry would be a ten years long trade pact. I didn’t know what to say. Yesterday, I didn’t even know you existed.”
The man continued, ignoring her widened eyes. “My original plan was to offer one of your cousins that have been raised properly. Smart and charming enough to form a cohesion between the two families and beautiful enough to keep her husband in check. And now, my friend is asking for a rash, bratty child who goes around fighting kids in the streets. Maybe the old man probably wants a token girl for the alliance, one that he won’t have to worry too much about being too clever.”
Dori couldn’t help but blurt out, “I don’t want to get married.”
The Head looked amused. “Marriage comes way down the road. You are not of age yet. You’ll be betrothed at nine, leave your home at fourteen and consummate the marriage at sixteen.”
“Because I beat up some guy, you are selling me off to him?” Dori could feel her voice rising and her throat heating up.
“You won’t be marrying the guy you beat up,” The Head said. “There was another boy, one of Panrose’s first line in succession. He saw you beating up his cousin, and decided only you can be his future wife. To each their own. It won’t be much of a marriage alliance without at least one of our prime lineage.”
“Do not worry.” He continued. “The boy is healthy, and from what I heard, is well mannered. If he will remain loyal will be up to your own charm. Or you could beat him up into submission.” He chuckled at his own humor.
“I’m not marrying a guy I don’t know!”
Watching the enraged face of Dori, the Head sighed. “You have no idea how fortunate you are. Your aunts and cousins have been trying to entice the boy for weeks, and they are way more beautiful than you. Don’t let immaturity destroy your future. My mother was a muddle-headed woman, like you. My father left us for a younger, gentler woman when I was two, and never came back. She spent her later days cleaning the floor of a tavern. The strength of body isn’t for you, girl. Yours is the strength of mind. If the Gods are kind to him, the boy will one day command a city. And if you are able, you’ll be commanding him.”
Dori fumed up. “I’ll be strong both of mind, and of body and I’ll command the world on my own. Your mother ended up clearing the tavern floor because she wasn’t strong enough, not because she was hotheaded. I am nothing like her.” She stopped for a breath. “I want the meet the boy that wants to marry me.”
Milestone Achieved!
Rebellious 201
Unlocked Perk: ??? (insufficient access)
Unlocked Skill: ??? (insufficient access)
Respect Points: +100
She waited for the storm to come. It didn’t. The man instead smiled. “And they said you are speech impaired.”
He stood up and came closer. “You have a sword for a tongue and ember for a heart. You act dumber than you are, I’m not sure why. I would’ve rejected the old man’s proposal if I thought of you as stupid as my children think you are. But now, I don’t know what to think of you. What’s your secret?”
“I want to meet him,” Dori demanded again, ignoring him.
The Head shook his head. “I don’t trust you, so, no. You’ll try something reckless. Your father will be promoted and he’ll leave for the capital to assume his new position, along with the rest of your family. You’ll remain in Gurjua and stay with a family of my choosing until I’m sure you are properly disciplined.”
Then he shooed her. “Off you go.”
She stormed out.
Her mind was racing. The Head was way too perceptive for her taste. She felt like the guy could see through her flesh. She needed to leave home and go far, far away. She could sell a few potions in secret and get enough money.
But before that, she needed the old man’s guard to wear thinner, and the time to plan out an escape. She still had four months till her name day and probably a few weeks more till the betrothal.
