89 A DROP OF MERCY (1/2)
Tons of different cargo was being unloaded from Extensive Voyage near Bravery Port, at the edge of a city with torn walls.
”It's quite an honor to meet you, Madam Stussy. You look far prettier than in the portraits,” the Port Captain in suit formally bowed to her. At the edge of the ship, both of them were standing under the shade of a tree, overseeing the ongoing exchange of goods. There was enough wind blowing around to make some leaves fall or drift about aimlessly. ”I didn't expect that someone of your stature would be assigned to captain this ship.”
”I didn't expect that your city would grow to the extent it did either, and it's still growing just like you are,” Stussy said in a rather friendly tone. ”I am happy for you, but I'm not quite sure whether to feel good for your city or feel bad for all the poor towns and villages it has working in bondage.”
”Haha,” he didn't seem much surprised, which showed that he had come prepared to face many things, ”the tides of the ocean are ever-changing, and so do the wind currents and minds of men. As the sun and the moon shift spots in the sky, some waves never break to the shore, some winds never rise to the clouds, and some minds never allow themselves to do new things. So it's only natural that one who's living in a village and one who's living in a city sweat for different reasons.”
”Stop quoting Elvyck.”
”Haha, I've been seen through.” He rubbed the back of his head. ”I've embarrassed myself.”
”Trying new things in new places with shallow pockets is rarely rewarding,” Stussy calmly replied, her eyes looking in the city's direction in a knowing gaze. ”Only a few places I've been to were free from filth, and a city isn't among them. Cities, as they're now, don't quite provide opportunities for the poor to get rich as they do for the rich to get richer. Whoever knows how to neatly[1] steal from the rest through deft dissembling will presumably end up among the richest, and those with pockets full of coins are likely to indulge in all forms of sharp practices than those who feed their children dirt-cakes. Wherefore, cities often engender concentration of evil.” Her eyes briefly glanced up at the towering ship that looked like an artificial-tiered mountain. (Without the fair and strict rules, this ship would also become another city, the only difference being that it can move, which makes me wonder what the builders had in mind when they built this distinctive vessel. If cities were to fall into the wrong hands, there's no saying what disasters will spring out of them.)
Stussy cast a rebuking glance at him, but she patiently replied, ”Everyone experiences life in different yet similar ways. Some are elegant. Some are not. You can't look down on others just because your views are at odds with them. Is this the gratefulness you show for all the food you eat produced through the perseverance of the poor?”
”Well,” he cleared his throat and somewhat frowned. If it were any other person, he'd have broken out against them and called them an armchair critic with no experience but plenty of advice. However, the woman standing before him was someone who had probably seen a lot of the world than he could ever see in his lifetime, so he could only keep his impatience in check. Still, he replied a bit bluntly, ”For all practical purposes, someone has to do the labor, and we are paying the laborers as we see fit. So, what's the big deal?”
”The deal is this—the lack of appreciation,” Stussy's gaze turned a bit cold. ”A drop of mercy if you can call it that for all the sweat and blood they shed to bring food straight to your repository. Or are you saying that the poor have nothing to gain but poverty?”
”That's…” he didn't know how to respond, and his feet couldn't stay on the floor quietly. He had to choose his words correctly, or even his head was separated, no one in the city would dare wage war with her, let alone with the sect she was part of.
Stussy briefly glanced at his feet. She then softened her expression and voice, not wanting to intimidate him without good reason, ”Money makes it hard for a man to do the common things of the poor. Do you know any rich folk in your city who work hard with little pay? Can they swim through squalor for anything noble? Can their pride bring prosperity to the poor? You see, more often than not, those with deep pockets hardly struggle to correct their wrongs when a matter concerns those with shallow pockets. It's an irony how the richer one gets, the more they lose the sense of the value of a coin.” She glanced at him and made eye contact, ”I can go on, but the gist of it all is this: Can you tell apart the rich and the poor by their ashes?” she asked, and he silently shook his head. ”The issue is not about being rich or poor, but about one's character. Richness is never as much in coin as it's in character. You can't buy character once you lose it, so don't let coins cloud your character. We already have enough lost souls ravening about in this world seeking everything save themselves.”
”I think I somewhat get what you're saying, Madam Stussy. The more coins one has, the harder it gets to maintain a good character in and out. And since cities glorify wealth...” The Port Captain's lips stretched out in an awkward smile. ”I give up. Winning an argument with a mighty martial is more demanding than what my current mind can bear.”
”I wasn't trying to win in an argument,” Stussy looked into the distance. ”A brother once told me, 'the rich man is a creature born to eat the poor.' I wouldn't go that far, but…” she smiled a little. ”What he said can't be disregarded either. In most societies, since long ago, while the poor strive, the rich forever thrive. The poor get forced to feed the rich with their flesh and blood, increasingly, with every year. And cities are places built with the ever-rising standards of the rich in mind, which the poor can never catch up with. One such standard is that everyone tries to get rich through money and not other means. No one tells them, 'you can always have enough money to fritter away, but you can never have enough for invaluable experiences.' One empties the pockets of riches, while the other fills the heart with substance. It's clear to see which way is worthier to walk, yet most fail to take the right one. They choose to live with tornadoes of smoke and tall walls of brick rather than breathing wilderness and openness. And after they stack enough coins, they all look for ways to extend their pathetic lives. How can one who can't respectably walk the Mortal Way hope to fittingly walk the Martial Way? It is but a doggy dream.[2]”
A few seconds of silence passed. ”I'm already in my late forties,” the Port Captain sighed. ”Can I still start pursuing the Martial Way?”
”Some things in the world have no set beginning or end.” A paper slip slowly drifted through the wind and fell in Stussy's hand. She then handed it to him.
Upon taking a look at it, his expression hardened. ”The herbs, meat, and the grains… all their prices went up significantly compared to last year.” He folded the paper in frustration. ”This isn't fair, Madam Stussy. I mean, even though your sect doesn't let us levy taxes on our people for your exports and forces us to follow many other conditions, we still deal with Exvo because you don't take brokerage fees. Your sect has high credibility, but if the prices of the goods alone are so high, it feels like we're at the short end of the stick.”
”Mr. Bryan,” Stussy put her hands behind her back and turned to face him. ”What would you give in exchange for your health?”
Bryan couldn't answer in return and went expressionless.
”As easy as it may sound, there is no denying that health is one of the most precious things in the world, and we do our utmost to harvest and hunt food from the flourishing mountains and forests. We don't export goods grown from the same region every year, so prices vary every year depending on the efforts we exert to procure great, quality things,” Stussy's voice contained no hesitation or hurry. ”Every blade of grass, every piece of grain, and every chunk of meat we trade heals people's bodies like they were meant to, yet some fools, who can't go out into nature and get food for themselves, complain that our herbs don't taste good and wish they were as sweet as candy. Unlike those fat-heads, if you have a legitimate problem with our products, then we're willing to listen, but as long as the prices we've set are within the agreed limits, there's no room for negotiation anymore. There are many people out there who put more care on their clothes than on their own bodies and health. If you want to be like them, then please go ahead and send a request for the termination of our trade.”
”P-Please don't misunderstand me, Madam Stussy. I'm not foolish enough to suggest my superiors to break this trade,” Bryan said and smiled, but then quickly hid his face and frowned. If he had even an inch of ground, he would've fought his way back into the conversation, but he knew that all the meat was of animals that naturally grew up in the wild and not raised in the farms. Even the grains were of top quality. As for the herbs, their results were too evident to even raise doubts about their quality. Still, he kept looking at the list to find something that would help him gain the upper hand, and his eyes eventually stopped on a particular item. ”This Mock Sand… Three silver pieces per ton? Why is it so expensive?” He made a baffled expression. ”Isn't the current international price only a little over forty copper coins?”
Stussy slightly took a breath before responding, ”It's in the name. What we sell is not natural but mock sand. Unlike those who steal sand from lakes or river banks or beaches and disturb the neighborhood, we make our own sand by breaking down the rocks using our own ways. Still, producing sand in large quantities in a short period isn't an easy task.”
”That's what the high price is for, huh,” Bryan narrowed his eyes.
”If our mock sand was not different from desert sand, you think anyone would even be willing to buy it? Besides, the prices we set have nothing to do with the prices of products sold internationally. We sell to our clients as we see fit. Don't you even know that?”
”S-Sorry,” Bryan had no answer, but he came to his own conclusion. (I see. That's how it is. If the price were to be between one to two silver, then there'd be more demand, so they kept the price high enough to make sure they won't overburden themselves and, at the same time, will make enough profits out of the limited clients. What a smart business tactic! Moreover, the contracts they make are confidential, so we have no idea how they're selling to other parties. This isn't possible with just brains. No wonder their sect 'stays' near the top. Shambala Sect, huh. Never in my life, the name itself made me feel practically nervous.)
To add to that, the beauty and the calm-yet-powerful presence Stussy held was second to none among all the women he had come across, at least up until now. (She surely must be a big cheese in the sect.) At this point, he couldn't hide his envy. He was used to having the upper hand in general, but now, he felt like he was tasting his own medicine. Still, he didn't give up and tried the sympathy route.
”Madam, you should already know that eight months ago, our city suffered a lot of property damage due to a felon summoning a terrifying beast that our metals couldn't pierce. We've suffered great losses, and the fact that we just watched as the beast took the criminal and flew away into the night didn't help settle down the masses either. An economic conflict arose between different classes, even though a 'everknight' stated that he would catch the criminal. Our economy soon fell off the cliff but somehow miraculously survived at the cost of some sacrifices, broken bones, and loss of faces. Even though those affairs affected the trade business, we're slowly starting to pick ourselves up again. So please consider offering some help, however much you can. Fortto will never forget favors.”
”So you're saying…” Stussy calmly said, ”your city is as wide as an ocean but only as deep as a puddle.”
”Uh,” Bryan was left frozen for a short while. He tilted his head down. ”We are, after all, just a city full of hollows. Though we try to stand on our own feet, given the monstrosity of the world we live in, we're not inane enough to push away all help that comes our way.”
Seeing how he bowed his head, Stussy didn't think much before replying, ”Since everyone has to eat and also have a roof over their head, I'll reduce the prices of all products by five percent, but that's all. No more bargaining.”
”I'm deeply grateful for your change of mind,” Bryan's head was still tilted down. He was pretty happy for more than one reason. Though he wanted to try and test his luck to see if he could ask about including war weapons of at least Minimal Grade in the trade, he couldn't dare speak his mind, afraid of losing the discount, for he was sure that she saw through his little veil of haggling.
At that moment, a fat man dressed in green approached them and kneeled before Stussy, revealing even more clearly that he was thin on top. ”Chief, I've come bearing bad news. A number of deaths were reported in the tenth belt yesterday, seventeen to be exact.”
”Is there any death that we need to look into?” she asked, trying not to look at his not-so-beautiful head.
”From what we gathered till now, the information looks clean, Chief. But two of those deaths are from the thirteenth deck.”
”Thirteenth, huh… Is it because of the scamps in the sand, or...”
”It's the deltas who passed away in their sleep.”
”The poor deltas...” She squinted her eyes to a slit.
At that moment, a group of nine men in their sixties was unloading dozens of barrels by themselves. One of them, who had the most sweaty face, took secret glances at Stussy a couple of times, with a hint of fear and maybe also lust dwelling in his eyes.
Just then, Stussy's eyes made contact with that sweaty-faced man, causing him to look away lickety-split. She walked past the fat man, puzzling him, and then approached the group of nine men and asked in a calm yet commanding tone, ”Which one among you is the leader?”
One among the nine men quickly stepped forward, with his hands folded and shoulders squeezed in tightly. ”Captain Commander, it's me,” he politely bowed, and Stussy's eyes had long settled on him before he even came forward. ”My name is Znoja Schweess.”
”What's in those barrels?”
”Nerve wine, madam,” Znoja replied in a respectful tone.
”Nerve wine?” Bryan got a little excited. ”Isn't it one of the strongest white wines? One that stimulates the nerves and forces the brain to work extra-hard and heal the body. However, there's also a major side effect of people suffering from hallucinations if they drink too much. I heard stories of people doing more than just sleepwalking after taking that wine.”
”Sir is quite knowledgeable,” Znoja nodded and paused a moment before continuing, ”but we carefully dilute the wine so that it doesn't diminish the positives as much as it does the negatives. So, drinking our product is not only safe but will also make you immune to the pure and original wine in the long run.”
Bryan was surprised to hear that. ”Only expert brewers are capable of making such beverages without breaking a sweat. Did you guys make such a fruitful wine?”
”Yes, sir,” Znoja humbly said. ”We are not experts by any means, but we do have decades of experience. And I believe anything done without breaking a sweat isn't satisfying.”
”Talented yet modest. You've come to the right city to sell,” Bryan started to walk toward them with a big smile on his face. ”I'm Bryan, the Port Captain. If you can impress me with your wine, then consider yourself to have landed a lucky deal with our city.”
”That's very nice of you to say, sir,” Znoja looked at one of his associates, and he quickly served Bryan nerve wine from a bottle hanging by his waist.
After taking a sip, Bryan closed his eyes and squeezed his lips tight. A second later, he opened his eyes.
”How was it, sir?”
”Strong.” Bryan leaked out a big smile and nodded twice. ”It left a taste in my throat. This is good stuff. How many barrels do you have in total?”
”About 400 or so.”
”Alright, I'll be buying half of those, and you can do business with the rest.”
Znoja hardly smiled. He could guess that Bryan would probably throw a big party soon and use this wine to impress the rich folks of the city and even gift them some wine. Whether that was the case or not, if the leader didn't oblige with the Port Captain's wishes, he wouldn't even be allowed to step foot on the city grounds, so he could only swallow his disappointment. ”Sure thing, sir.”
Bryan then looked at Stussy. ”You should also taste some, madam. It's darn delicious.”
The leader of the group himself hurriedly tried to pour a cup of wine for her; however, she walked over to the barrels and tapped at different spots on numerous barrels with her fingers, and though it produced soft sounds, she was able to tell the difference. ”Open one of these.”
”Pardon?” the leader of the group looked confused.
The fat man, who was standing in the background till now, slowly closed in.
”I said open one of these,” Stussy stressed her words.
”U-Uh, sure,” the leader glanced at one of his associates. ”Open it.”
Bryan silently watched with intrigue.
With a nail and a hammer, one of the associates carefully broke the earthen sealing around the cap of the barrel, and when he removed the cap, the fat man took a glance inside before he looked at Stussy and nodded. ”It's full of wine as they say.”
Stussy's eyes swept over the nine men once, and their faces put up pleasant smiles. She tapped on top of another barrel twice. ”Open this one.”
”Yes, Chief,” the fat man quickly came over and started to unseal the sealing by himself with his bare fingers. As he did that, all the nine men kept looking at each other's faces, and beads of sweat formed on their faces. With a wine bottle in one hand, the leader's other hand slowly gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
When the fat man undid the sealing and opened the lid, there was an eyeful of white wine inside. ”It's wine.” He looked at her as if asking what to do next.
All the nine men silently breathed sighs of relief.
”Look closely,” Stussy said.
”Mm?” the fat man then put his hand into the barrel, but it only went down to his wrist. ”Chief! It's not going in full.” He bent the barrel to the side. All the wine gushed out onto the floor, causing twitching in the noses of horses in the distance.