"Defi, are you well?"
Vesia's concerned tones broke Defi of a mildly panicking spiral. He realized she'd been talking while he sat there silent, clutching Turq in his arms like a lifeline, his mind rushing through numerous plans.
Needless to say, many of the plans, including the one that said drop everything and take a ship across the ocean, were discarded as soon as they formed.
He took a deep breath.
He did not need to do anything at all.
Ymirin was only being diligent. It was logical to survey an unknown city at least once personally, in case it became a battleground.
His hand went to where the Tesorium badge was tucked into his belt.
There was no one other than Garun who would connect the name Defi to Desislaf Rimet, he reminded himself.
The lord of Rimet could have heard mother call him that, but the man's indifference generally caused him to forget trivial things unrelated to the governance of the land. His siblings would not know the nickname, they were not that known to each other.
Defi af Gargehom of Sottolac was the official name and residence on the documents.
He didn't even know he could use the name of the Garge homestead like that. Vesia said his recommendation letters were from Tennar and Mayor Sforza, as well as Marmocha and Sarel.
The mayor's letter most likely was the cause of such a name.
It was so far from Desislaf Rimet, the name of Defi af Gargehom. It was a commoner name, the name of a farmer who owned his own land.
Defi's heart lightened a little.
"I…yes, just thinking of the poem. You seem to have memorized it well?"
"Of course! It was different from the compositions we studied in school, but it was hm…like a fresh breeze on a stuffy day, you know?"
Well, thinking about the poem was better than thinking about running away. "Calvus and Tarven il Marellan. They were controversial figures?"
They had left the towering sculptures behind in the center of the ring road, but the proud bearing and stern look on the faces of the statues were still clear to Defi's mind. There was a hint of a smile on their lips, a hint of a scowl on their brows, like the sculptor did not know what emotion to express on their features and at the end tried for expressionless.
So many centuries after their death, the sculptor could only rely on what the masses said of them. The lens of history was cruel, and in the end even the victors of old may be ridiculed.
Ymirin was meticulous, even at her age. She heard the story, distilled the elements of past, older past, and present, then leisurely made up a poem on the spot?
All the while subtly glorifying ancient nobility...
Defi agreed with Marmocha. That child was a very scary child.
He knew it was her work because it diverged from the traditional poetry of Ontrea, even the popular poems that only loosely followed traditional forms. It was clearly made for Ascharonian consumption; the sentiment and arrangement was Ontrean but the words were organized in verses appealing to the average Ascharonian, like a song.
Even Defi, who had studied the language for months and was now using it casually, was not fluent enough in how the Ascharonian language flowed to spout poetry no matter how free the verses.
"It is a good poem," Defi said at last, after listening to Vesia gush about the criticisms of the work in some literary circulary.
In the end, the hero of that bit of history and also of the poem written so long after it was that long ago first mayor, who kept his life and position by adding just the right amount of pressures in the right places. Defi felt some appreciation as well; he didn't think many people in a nation whose primary concern was food would use art like an Ontrean politician.
Vesia beamed at him. Then her attention was caught by one of the buildings outside.
"Oh, did you know, the brothers were also responsible for the growth of the guilds in Ecthys. That bakery has been around for several hundred years. Ah, at this time, their small breads have run out already."
She sighed in disappointment. "Their stuffed buns always sell so quickly. I don't have time to go there in the morning and by mid-day all the good ones are gone."
Defi leaned back in his seat, his unease at finding Ymirin had been in this city slowly leaching away at Vesia's chatter. He shifted the scarf higher on his face, and smiled at the older woman from behind it.
"It sounds delicious. Do you think I'd be able to get a few for tomorrow's morning meal?" Near the Bluzand building was the Sunsparrow Inn, which Tennar said the company used if their affiliated suppliers and merchants were too much in a hurry to find accommodation of their own.
Defi was informed that he had a room there.
"Oh, I'm a senior clerk now," Vesia's eyes widened. Then she smiled brightly at Defi. "If it's for a client, I can send one of the runners to buy the breads."
Defi of course got the full blast of her hopeful eyes.
"Excellent," he said dryly, going with the flow. "Will you eat with me in the morning, and tell me how Bluzand works?"
Vesia shone with happiness. "Of course!"
Seeing her enthusiasm, Defi now really wanted to taste the bakery's bread. Ascharonian food rarely disappointed him since he crossed the Gate, so he was secure in anticipating tomorrow morning.
He really did want to know how a merchant company worked. In Ontrea, his studies were focused on greater economics and not merchantry. Now that he was an affiliate of a trade business, he should at least learn the basics.
If the lord could see a son of his learning merchantry openly, even going so far as to register as a merchant, what would he think?
Defi smiled.
The lord would disown him again. Disown him more than once if possible, heh. Probably hunt him down and erase all evidence that Desislaf Rimet had ever existed, strike him from the annals of the bloodline.
The lord was a diligent person as well.
His smile faded a little. What would Ymirin think of him now, this disowned brother? Her poem was somewhat more sentimental than he thought from a disciple of his father.
Was Ymirin adapting to this world as well?
No, it was probably because she was young still. She was only halfway to thirteen years in age. Of course the ideals of the Teachings would resound stronger in her mind.
She was raised to the philosophies of the Red River more closely than he. She would understand, but still disdain his break from tradition and the perceived dignity of an Ontrean noble.
He felt a soft ache in his heart. They were not close, but she was still his younger sister. The thought of her seeing him in contempt was painful.
Of the lord's children, the two of them were the ones most talked about negatively for things they could not change. Him for having a slave for a mother, her for her lack of talent in the Current.
He shook his head.
He had chosen his path. To regret now was useless. Besides, this affair did not only impact him. Coming here, Ymirin's standing in Ontrea was also affected.
Ymirin had advantages over him. She was the daughter of the lord's first wife and Defi had always suspected that her mind was the sharpest and deepest of all his siblings. She would survive in the courts where he did not.
The Current was not everything after all. Ymirin's backing was not insignificant. It was entirely possible that one of his siblings or one of the enemies of her mother's family had her sent here to disadvantage her.
Defi sighed. Court politics, he had not missed it.
Even then, possibly her crossing the Gate to Ascharon would be good for her.
But that had little to do with him at the moment.
How Ymirin saw this world was entirely up to her.
As for Defi, he was a farmer and would prefer not to have any great acquaintance with any royals, rumoured or real, thank you very much.
He bent his focus to Vesia introducing the market streets that the carriage passed through.
"It's usually more lively than this." Vesia waved at one of the street-cart merchants, who gave her a wide gap-toothed grin and jogged to the slowly-moving carriage to hand over two cups of some kind of fruit juice.
"Miss, mestre, the best and freshest volonut juice in the city!"
Vesia laughed as she accepted the cups. "You all say that."
The child, barely ten years in age, grinned wider. "I'm the one not lying!"
"Oh? How do I know that, I wonder?" Vesia handed over one of the cups to Defi, bantering with the boy as he trotted beside the carriage.
It was milky and slightly earthy, melding well with a light fruity sweet and sour aroma. The fresh and complex taste slid down Defi's throat, washing his cares away.
"It's good. Thank you."
Both beamed at him.
"Luck to you!" called the very young street-merchant as he carried away the empty cups that had several small coins rattling in them.
"You as well," Vesia called back.
Defi watched the boy dodge pedestrian and carriage alike to return to the cart manned by a slightly older girl. In the market streets, there were more pedestrians than conveyances. The plodding of the one-horse carriage was barely faster than the walking people.
There were many people in the markets. To Defi, it was a place that was loud and noisy enough. How could it be livelier? Vesia's words made Defi look closer. There was indeed a subtle despondence in the air, making the smiles and laughs of the people, the loud cheerfulness of the cart-hawkers, look slightly forced.
"The latest notizie says that the war in Jebrimea was in the final stages, and the emperor is drafting one person from every family within the age of sixteen to forty into the army for the last push. It's going to be done over the next three years."
Vesia sighed, a faint line of worry forming between her brows.
"My brother is already getting his employment terminated to enlist. He's very excited. There hasn't been a draft since General Sorad died taking the Blacktree Hills fifteen years ago."
Notizie were public announcements distributed in the form of folio papers, smaller versions of the circularies that disseminated news stories and information to the public.
"A prepared soldier is a successful soldier. Even if he's excited, they likely won't have him on the battlefield without training for a long while."
Defi thought that the six months of training that Ascharonian soldiers got was insufficient, but also knew that training and equipment were expensive even for a rich nation.
The emperor must be certain of victory. The cost of such a draft, even spread over three years, would be more than most countries could afford.
With the urgency of this draft and the staggering costs of training, Defi only hoped they did not cut the training schedule and simply throw the recruits into the war to gain experience.
Old soldiers knew that the best training would be acquired on the battlefields. Even Defi, who had trained for over a decade, would not be seen by a veteran as a true warrior. He had participated in minor skirmishes, but had never known war.
The thought would undoubtedly be in the minds of the war leaders.
Vesia nodded. "You're right. He wouldn't be thrown into battle without preparation."
Defi eyed her. "Do you know where I can get a subscription to some circularies? I'd also like one for the apothecary journal."
She nodded again, then let herself be distracted. "It's a bit late right now. We won't be able to get to all the offices before sundown. Will you have time tomorrow morning? It won't take long."
His two lists were with Sarel, so he didn't have that much to do. Maybe buy some things for the children? He did want to see what the blacksmiths in Ecthys were like.
"Some small errands. I'll be leaving in the afternoon though. Most of the business with Bluzand is done. You don't have to accompany me tomorrow."
"Manager Tennar hasn't given me new duties yet, so my only concern right now is you." Vesia smiled dreamily at the streets outside. "My first client…"
Defi tried not to laugh, and said solemnly. "The honor is mine."
"That…" Vesia suddenly reddened, only now realizing that she'd been treating her first ever client too casually. She cleared her throat and looked out of the carriage. "Mestre, we are coming up on the Maze of Kings, where the sculptures of the old emperors were commissioned by the old counts of Ecthys. Of course, this tradition has been continued into the present time. The sculptures of the current and last emperors are particularly fine."
More art?
"I'm looking forward to seeing it."