The Slime Farmer - 121 Successful Exchange

“I know enough of romance as one would reasonably expect one my age to know,” he retorted. “And I find myself with no wish to cultivate so permanent a shackle.”

“Are you a man or a boy?” Brellor Ankerlan lifted his head from his work, smirking. “Yet so innocent, to think dalliance would lead to marriage. Should I recommend a few places in the city to encourage your education?”

“No.” Defi didn’t want to engage with such a conversation. “Are you satisfied with the balm then, mestre?”

“Surprisingly.” Brellor looked curious. “You have made this yourself?”

“So far from the city, there is need for some skill with minor medications.” Defi shrugged the feat off.

“It is usable then?” Erel took the rest of the small pot, examining the yellow balm inside.

“There is no danger.” Brellor agreed. “Go on and see if it works then.”

Erel turned to the clerk that was busy at his desk. “Meran. Fresh water and washcloths.”

The clerk stood and left immediately.

“It’s fine to apply directly to the affected skin.” Defi stated helpfully. “It may take multiple applications to fully heal.”

Erel frowned dubiously.

He poured out some of the balm into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and without ceremony slathered the mixture over his face.

Defi looked away politely.

Brellor snorted. “So many years we have been friends, and you still haven’t got a shred of delicacy. I really wonder about this woman of yours, that she would have such taste.”

Oh? It seemed that the guild officer’s efforts were part of a mutual courtship. The tone of the words told Defi that the two men had been friends for many years.

“Don’t wonder. You only need to stand and smile at the ceremonies anyway.”

Defi felt like laughing. This stern guild officer, unexpectedly he’s the kind of man to have already planned the wedding while still in courtship.

The man’s friend thought similarly. “Chelua. Have you even convinced her family yet?”

“Why do you think I consulted you for my face?” Erel questioned with acerbic exasperation.

“What would I know? You might have become vain at last.”

Erel twitched. Then he smiled slightly, the savras gloop on his face making the expression possibly more terrifying than the man expected it to be.

“To think, all your proud apothecary accomplishments, beaten by…what did you call it, ‘village herbology’? Is this all that is expected of a capital guild, I wonder.”

“Beaten?” Brellor scoffed. “We have not seen the results yet.”

“No? I feel that this concoction is very soothing.” He patted more of the mixture into his face calmly. “What is the name again?”

He lifted his head calmly. “It’s called savras balm, mestre.”

The clerk Meran entered with a jug of water. Lombrud, who had been waiting outside, followed him in awkwardly, with a mass of white cloth in his arms.

Meran pulled out a section of the wall and poured water into the basin of the hidden wash stand. The water was slightly steaming.

Erel made a sound of approval, and directly went to the wash stand.

Defi reminded himself that Ascharonians were more open than Ontreans, and that merchants were eminently practical people who did not waste time if they couldn’t help it.

If seen in that manner, what was impropriety? For people to live as they would, freely as they did no harm, this was the grace of the Creator.

He still averted his eyes, having no wish to witness a man’s ablutions.

“Brellor.”

The named man stood, walked leisurely to his friend.

Erel turned to face him. “How does it look?”

“Better than I thought.” Brellor lifted an eyebrow, hiding his shock. “The swelling is abating, and the sores are less red than before. How surprising.”

“Are you sure?”

“You doubt the word of me, who has conquered many a facial problem since that breakout of acne at fourteen?”

“It is a pity that the underlying problem could not so readily be solved.” Erel commented.

Defi snickered inwardly. He really had not expected the man to have so wide a streak of humor.

“If you leave the next application on your face longer, you may see more changes.” Defi stood from his chair, tamping down his amusement and uttering politely. There was business to be done. “Mestre, do you take this as me having kept my end of the bargain?”

Erel looked at him critically.

The sores and skin lesions on his face looked less like raging volcanoes.

“Do you plan on joining the guild? You are not in their ranks, I believe.”

“I believe I am too old to apprentice, and my education in the field has been haphazard and private.” He’d basically just read whatever material Orain could scrounge up for him in the library

“What is it you do?” wondered Brellor.

“Mestre, I am a farmer.”

*

Erel signed the supply contract with Defi, muttering, “All this fuss for just one sable crab every two months?”

Defi smiled brightly at him. “Mestre, such delicious viand, surely a good deal of trouble would be worth just one? What would a thing be worth, if it were acquired too easily?”

The guild officer’s lips flattened. “Impudent brat.”

There was no heat or malice in his words, so Defi continued smiling.

Praising another’s food was always a great way to get on an Ascharonian’s good side. Cheering on the pursuit of their lady-loves was a gamble but Erel seemed to look on Defi with a bit more favour after, so that may be a small success.

Likely, he could easily renew the contract in the future.

“You actually did it.” Lombrud looked at him in disbelief, as he escorted Defi out of the guild building. “The luck of the Harmonium must be with you.”

“Luck has ever been kind to me,” Defi agreed, though his lips twisted adversely at the words.

“Sir looked like he relaxed a little as well.” Lombrud looked at him, suddenly solemn. “On behalf of all the clerks in the guildhouse, I must thank you, Defi of the Lowpool.”

“I cannot accept such an honor, Lombrud of the same,” Defi said just as solemnly. “I have only negotiated a reprieve. The great battle is yet to come.”

They stifled their laughter at the same time.

“I’ll see you at the feast, then?”

Defi nodded. It was the first major town festival since his arrival. Not attending would be a pity. He made his goodbyes to the clerk and left the guild, the signed contract in his satchel lifting his spirits.

Hm. Farbar would’ve taken the wagon to the orphanage to keep it out of the way, if he wanted to stay in town for the morning. Because of Dari and Bree’s friendship, the orphanage and the northern farm had been growing closer.

He turned his steps toward the orphanage.

“Young Defi!”

He stopped and looked back. Brellor Ankerlan caught up to him.

“Mestre,” Defi greeted. “Was there something I forgot at the guild?”

“Not at all. I will be frank.” The man’s eyes were sharply determined. “I’d like to buy the recipe.”

Defi blinked. Oh, he should’ve expected this.

In his research, the apothecaries had few medicative products, even fewer that were not ingested.

The mystic chefs had cornered the medical market after all.

Too bad, he wasn’t selling. The recipe was something he wanted to develop himself. As it was, the savras balm he’d given to Erel was not complete.

Defi didn’t want to deplete his butter stores in such a manner.

He shook his head. “I only made it. The recipe, it will not be sold by me.”

If the collaboration between Telomberne and Bluzand went as Vesia hoped, then only the sales rights to the recipe would be sold. Creator’s rights would still be his.

“Not yours then?” Brellor looked as if he only expected it, losing interest in Defi easily. “So who is this apothecary friend of yours?”

Defi shrugged.

Brellor looked irritated. Then he smiled, almost provoking. “Tell your friend; Brellor Ankerlan of Carmedel’s apothecary guild wishes to meet him.”

“You might have to wait a long while.”

The man only smirked at him and left, leaving behind the words, “Don’t you think it worth so long a wait?”

Defi watched him go. The man did not look like the type to give up.

Unfortunately for Brellor Ankerlan of the Carmedel apothecary guild, Defi had no need of another channel for the products he wanted to sell.

Defi’s luck today swung high and low.

He got his crab. But then met an apothecary from the capital, who was presumably used to people falling over him and his connections, who now knew that one Defi of the Lowpool, a poor farmer, a village herbologist, had a connection to a rare medical product.

If the apothecaries’ guild decided to pursue the creator of savras balm seriously, Defi would be vulnerable. Ymirin was still in the capital, according to the latest circulary.

The collaboration with Telomberne suddenly sounded of utmost importance.

If Telomberne and Bluzand could bring the ‘savras balm’ to the market as soon as possible, Brellor and his guild would be less interested in buying the recipe from Defi or his non-existent apothecary friend.

If only he could just say that his ‘mysterious apothecary friend’ was three slimes and a butter churn.

He sighed.

Even that probably wouldn’t let him off the hook.