The Slime Farmer - 46 Buying Nobility? What Heretic Came Up With That?

Defi was at the boundary testing detector emblems when Karles waved him over. He frowned at his design. It was not enough. The limitations of no.1 ink were evident. He didn’t have a lot of no.2 ink for testing, and he was still making his way through the emblem that Jast at the glyph shop had given him.

Lemat mentioned that a glyphmaker who made his own could create a custom ink with the power of no.2 standard using no.1 ingredients.

An excellent idea. It was just that Defi didn’t know any ink recipes. The book ‘Glyphos Grammatik’ only expounded on the creation of emblems and the history and uses of glyphs, not the creation of inks. In fact, it didn’t mention ink at all, only saying that each glyph needed a requisite amount of power.

He tried not to sigh as he jogged toward Karles and the warehouse.

The warehouse exterior was done already, looking sharp and new. The interior was currently being tiled.

Karles didn’t come over everyday, only when he needed to supervise or there was something to talk to Defi about. He greeted the man with a smile, which was returned.

“The building is going well. We might be done ahead of time,” the man said, looking pleased. “I wanted to talk to you about something that came to mind when we spoke last time, about the feeding habits of your slimes.”

He brought out a sigilcard and activated it. A semi-opaque square rose above it, twice the size of the man’s head. The square, an illusion, started to change.

“I know it’s for children,” laughed Karles, at Defi’s curious look. “But it’s useful for this type of work too.”

The illusion became the floor of the warehouse that they planned. Defi nodded, already thinking of various uses a changeable illusion could be valuable for.

“Can I buy that at the glyph shop here?”

“My brother made this one for his daughter,” Karles answered. “You’ll find more in the city, but Jast likely has a few. It’s one of the few fifth-level card emblems published for public use.”

“I see.” He turned back to the illusion. There was a second level above the ground floor that was filled with large containers. “These are…feeding bins?”

“Yes. Some years ago there was a milk farm that used structures like these to feed their cows in order to save grazing land for other uses. The idea was not continued past a few years, as the cows took sick for lack of space. For this slime stable, it’s perfect. With the correct emblems, you can automate the feed dispensers. I haven’t found a way to do that to the mixing bins, but moving the feed storage would be easy like this.” A platform above the slime habitats became more evident. A line of containers started to move. “Wheeled containers would be easier to move around the platform, to refill the mixing bins. They’d be connected to a banister, like so, to prevent accidents. The mixing bins could be opened and closed manually with levers, and the contents mixed evenly by rotating this lever here. The feed dispensers can be operated manually using levers as well, in case the emblems stop working.”

The man’s explanation was accompanied by the illusion images changing as he gestured.

“It will add eighty crescents to the total, but the utility is excellent.”

Karles had even shaped the platform and containers to take into account a similar aesthetic to the slime habitats Defi had designed.

Defi smiled. “Let’s do it.”

“If you feel there are changes to be made, please be free to say so.”

“There are preservation emblems included in this?”

“Yes, as the entire structure is stationary, it is possible to use a greater preservation emblem on the platform itself. It’s connected to all the important containers, so even the storage containers will be under its effects.”

Defi looked at him evenly. “A greater preservation emblem of that versatility costs more than eighty crescents.”

Eighty crescents would not even cover half the materials needed to make it.

Karles smiled. “We were given the emblem with particular requirements. The charge for use on buildings in the Lowpool is free.”

Karles’ family must have expanded their business outside the Lowpool. Otherwise, the cost of materials and the glyphmaster’s fee to create such an emblem would have bankrupted them after the tenth building.

Defi contemplated that. “The mayor?”

Karles shrugged.

Defi was about to comment that the Lowpool and its people had a very odd mayor when a large shadow flitted across the sun, taking their attention.

Marmocha’s winged carriage, recognizable for the bold colors and fluttering ribbons, lowered behind the trees, where the house was.

“You have a visitor, it seems.”

“There is nothing else to talk about?”

The builder shook his head and deactivated the sigilcard.

“Thank you for suggesting this. It would make everything easier. I’ll bring the added payment to your office.” Defi started toward the house.

“I’ll have the amended contract ready.” Karles lifted a hand in acknowledgement before heading back to the warehouse.

*

Marmocha was already sitting pensively on one of the porch chairs when Defi saw him. He felt a little unease at the uncharacteristic demeanor.

“Bad news?” He asked the question lightly.

Marmocha stood, clapped his hands on Defi’s shoulders, his grin back. “Ah, my young friend, what have you been up to these days? Bad news, eh, possibly, possibly. Good news is far from common in these trying times.”

“Let’s go in then. It appears a drink is needed.” He had not yet cracked a bottle of the wine he’d been given by the old couple whose house he now owned.

“Oh, what tragedy, to have such an austere person as a friend,” lamented the other. “When there is good wine, one drink can never be enough!”

He paused at the sight of the central hall. “Friend, this Lowpool is a place of hermits. But did you really need to live like one?”

“It’s not completely empty.” He pointed at the tall vase in the alcove across the fireplace that held four pinecones tumbled together within its flaring lip, then at the large sculpture of fish in pride of place on the mantel.

Emer really had come through. It looked like the fish were jumping off his walls.

Besides those, he thought the book cases and the reading alcoves looked cozy.

“A good start.” Marmocha looked at him, contemplative. “It’s best not to invite others inside until your place does not look so solitary.”

“Another Ascharonian custom I missed?”

“At this point, the fact that you are not receiving guests is understandable. But not for long, especially as there are people campaigning against your name in town. Ascharon as a whole thrives on the strength of the relations between people. We are a social people, and the receiving hall is the second most important room of the house.”

Marmocha sighed. “I would not be telling you this if you were normally living a quiet life. Solitude is prized greatly in Ascharon as well. We are a conflicted people, I suppose. I will say this, Defi, you may choose to live as a hermit but you cannot close your receiving hall, no matter what. The message it sends is not favourable. It will be used against you.”

Ah. For a people so focused on food, it was logical that hospitality was prized. But he had not connected it to a deeply social culture or the receiving hall. Since there was a separate dining hall, he’d thought the receiving hall similar to the courtyards where Ontreans socialized in planned gatherings. Stiff, formal things, where people went to see and be seen.

Defi’s strongest bond to the Lowpool was Sarel, who saved his life. But she lived as a hermit, and only had sporadic interactions with the townspeople beyond the weekly gathering at the orphanage. He thought everyone was more or less like her.

The receiving hall was bare when both Karles and Aire saw it. Was it the reason none of them appeared to visit? Aire at least, was the type to barge into her friend’s houses at all times. So she didn’t believe she was welcome because of the state of the receiving hall?

Sarel visited and had been more concerned he didn’t have a stove than anything else. But was this also the reason she’d been not-so-subtly pushing him to make friends?

He frowned in confusion. “Sarel doesn’t have a receiving hall.”

Marmocha chuckled. “For those who make their homes beyond the calm waters, the intention is clear. No one who chooses to build there is expected to have a receiving hall. Like I said, solitude is also prized in Ascharon. You only need to be subtle about it. Sarel, however, has a very good kitchen. I feel, in that case, everything can be forgiven.”

The large man gave a long, longing exhale, fantasies of food clear in his glazed eyes.

Defi laughed, light. “I feel the same. Now sit down in my apparently unwelcoming central hall and tell me what fiends lie in Calor Ducan’s shadow that makes you concerned about my social life.”

Marmocha turned half a smile on him. “You would know this more than I, nobles fight with shadows.”

Defi lifted a brow as he opened the cabinet, sadly containing only two bottles. “Are you not noble yourself? You were introduced to us with a sur.”

He was still curious how the Ascharonian census and taxes worked when only the nobility were given second names.

He took two glasses out, and the first bottle, a white wine. He put the bottle and glasses on a table, glanced at the assayer who was silent suddenly.

“I wondered how you knew that name.” Marmocha poured himself a glass. “I thought you were one of my father’s enemies, you gave me quite the fright.”

Defi felt the onset of a story that needed more than one bottle of wine. He grabbed bread and several instances dried seafood from the kitchen, a round of cheese, and snagged the second bottle from the cabinet as he passed.

He looked around, curious. Where have the children gone?

“Did you just empty your gin cabinet for me?”

Defi turned back to his guest, confused. It wasn’t like he had more than two bottles of alcohol anywhere.

“I am truly touched,” Marmocha continued, clasping the bottle close.

Sometimes, Defi felt he would never understand Ascharonians. He arranged the plates and sat, not commenting on the Ascharonian culture that just happened but making note of it.

“You don’t use the name Chacort usually?”

“My great-grandfather was an ambitious man, a merchant. He bought his nobility.”

Defi froze in the act of spreading jam on his bread. “What.”

He bought his nobility? The notion flew against everything Defi had grown up with he could not regulate the cold blankness of his tone.

“I researched everything I could get on Ontrea the moment I decided to do business in Stahlchausses. By all accounts, the nobles of Ontrea cut off their association with Ascharon merchants the moment they learned that as well. You haven’t come across that tidbit yet, I see. Each year, ten baronial titles, twenty patrician titles, and one hundred armigerial titles are available for auction from the imperial master of arms. The baronial titles are rarely bought, as they cost a rather silly amount of djamants, but at least one is acquired this way every few years. The others, those are auctioned off to the last.”

Marmocha downed his glass of wine.

“My father was ambitious. He wanted a title. The Chacort are only untitled nobility, and are merchants in all but name. He wanted it all, the access to the imperial city, the invitations to the gatherings of the high nobility, the chance to mingle with the luminaries of the court in the capital. He made many enemies, he sold my sister in marriage to gain influence, he destroyed the family and dragged the name he so wanted to shine in the mud because of his obsession.”

Defi forced himself to calm consideration. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Calor Ducan wants a title. And much more than my father, he knows how to play the shadows.”

“You think this is his goal?”

“It has always been his goal.” Marmocha leaned back. “The imperial master of arms does a rigorous check of all applicants before allowing them into the auction. The requirements are land, education, and money. Calor Ducan has had the means to acquire at least a patrician title, possibly even a barony. It’s the popular opinion that he wants an appointed title, one that could not be bought. But he is here, and doing shady things, instead of lounging around a baronial mansion somewhere and increasing his influence or power that he might be promoted.”

“Which tells us he is nosing around other means to acquire said higher noble title?”

“Very few barons get promoted to count.” Marmocha said. “They would need great deeds, more than merely possessing wealth. Ducan’s always openly disdained the military and merchant professions. Apart from those, the only way to gain enough influence would be government work.”

“And yet, as you said, he is here. Are we to discard all legal means then? What then are the traditional ways that the nobles of Ascharon comport themselves?”

Marmocha grinned. “This poor merchant only hears stories. How about you?”

True, he really didn’t need to ask. But were they really so similar? Buying nobility, what heretic came up with that? It was all a bit more serious than Defi thought. “Do you know what he wants with the Garge homestead?”

“I know that their association has been less than a month. But his treatment of her has been noticeable, invitations to gatherings, visits between households, signs of great friendship.”

Curious. “Did she or her husband save his life?”

“On the contrary, the husband got Ducan’s wine order wrong. Descending upon the hapless wine merchant, he instead met the wife and, rumors say, her dulcet tones soothed the savage anger and instead forged a friendship!” Marmocha sighed, in imitation of a lovelorn maiden. “Isn’t it great, there are nobles who are so gallant and not snooty at all!”

“Something Agreine said directed his attention to the Lowpool then.” And the Garge homestead. Defi sighed, slightly frustrated. “Did a famous pirate found the homestead, that there might be treasure under my feet? Did this damnable Garge marry the hidden daughter of the emperor and their descendants are contending for the throne?”

“Talk to that Agreine again.”

“She is caught in his web.” But Defi’s thoughts were turning in that direction as well.

Marmocha snorted. “Does it need to be about him?”

**

Chapter End

**

*

Notes:

The noble ranks in Ascharon are:

Emperor, archduke, prince, duke, marquis, count, viscount, baron, patrician, castellar, armiger, esquire.