“And what’s exactly this?” Tamara asked unfazed by Aloe’s theatrics.

“You’ll know if you open it.” Aloe smugly said.

“No, I don’t think I will.” The scribe responded, removing the girl’s smile with a metaphorical slap.

“Why?” Aloe asked with true doubt and curiosity, a bit of fear lingering on her expression.

“You surely don’t know how things work here.”

“No?” Aloe tilted her head in confusion. “I have never been in palace before.”

Tamara sighed. “Do you remember how five years ago the assassins killed the previous... well, rather the avant-previous emir?”

“Yes?” Aloe added, now realizing where the scribe was getting that.

“So that.” The mature woman responded. “I’m not going to open a random package from a random girl.”

“Alright, alright!” Aloe raised her hands defensively, a common ydazi gesture. “I mean no harm! If that’s a problem, I’ll open it myself.”

Aloe grabbed the jar from the table and undid the strings of rope keeping the lid in place.

“See? No suspicious stuff.” Aloe pointed the open jar at Tamara.

“I don’t know. That looks pretty suspicious.” Tamara observed the insides of the jar from a safe distance. “What’s even that? It’s dark and... gooey?”

“It’s ink!” Aloe responded. “One I developed on my own.”

“I see...” The scribe of commerce’s face twisted in confusion. “So let me get this right. You refused the offer to work as the personal scribe of the emir of Sadina to sell me ink?”

“No? Maybe?” Aloe said unsurely. “This is more of a secondary thing.”

“So that’s what I am, a secondary thing?” Tamara added, her eyes half-closed.

“No, no.” Aloe shook her arms around, almost spilling the ink in her distress. “I didn’t express myself correctly. I mean tha-“

“Jesting, jesting.” The scribe chuckled. “I get what you mean. This old woman just wanted to get a laugh out of the youth. You meant to say that this is an addition to that greenhouse of yours, rather than the main reason.”

“A bit too stark, but yes, that’s what I meant.” Aloe accepted. She couldn’t deny that Tamara’s antics had driven a spike in her heartbeat.

“So then, tell me why I, the head of the economy of one of the richest cities in Ydaz, should buy your handmade ink instead of the crafted by specialized sellers?”

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds awful... But I don’t intend to sell it to you or wealthy buyers, but rather a more open and untapped market.”

“Oh, do tell.” Tamara arched her back, closing her head to Aloe.

Got her. Aloe grinned in her mind. Merchants can’t resist the words ‘untapped market’.

“Basically, this ink is cheap and rather fast to produce,” Aloe explained.

“But,” Tamara interjected. “I smell a but ‘round the corner.”

Aloe sighed. “But the ink is of inferior quality to what you can buy in stores.”

“Judging by the disappointment of that sigh, I suppose its quality isn’t that good?” Tamara guessed.

“You are mostly right. You can try if you want.” Aloe approached the ink jar toward the scribe. “Or should I just try it myself? You know, in the case I am some sort of assassin infiltrate?”

“No need to go that far.” Tamara chuckled. “I think I can take a risk or two. I’m quite old, so it isn’t like I’m losing much, to begin with.”

Tamara took the pot out of Aloe’s hands, and before leaving it on the desk, she waved some papers to the side to make space as the whole desktop was completely composed of parchment, not a trace of wood visible.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Out of one of the drawers, the scribe took a stylized feather. The price and quality of it were astonishing, especially compared to the ones Aloe was used to write with.

“Em... are you sure you want to use such a good feather for the test?” Aloe asked shyly.

“Why? Don’t you believe in your product?” Tamara brandished the feather around, doing tricks with surprising sleight of hand.

“It’s not that... but I would also not like to have such a good piece go to waste if something happened.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to bill you any damages, I do this because I want.”

“That’s not the problem...” Aloe added weakly – she truly would hate to see an expensive and beautiful feather go to waste – but the scribe ignored her and dipped the tip on the ink pot.

The feather’s top danced gracefully as Tamara circled the tip of the pot, making sure the ink stuck. With her other hand, Tamara grabbed a blank sheet and put it on top of her writing lectern.

Slowly, the scribe raised the feather and scratched the tip against the parchment.

Her first reaction said it all.

Nonetheless, Tamara continued to write. Aloe couldn’t know of the contents of the scribe’s writing as the lectern blocked her vision, but she waited restlessly as the woman’s hand moved back and forth. After three lines, she dipped the feather again into the ink yet she continued writing.

“Tell me,” Tamara muttered, her hand not stopping. “Why did you think this would sell?” That tone doesn’t bode well.

“Besides being cheap to produce, this ink has a special property. One that a customer may enjoy and be willing to buy the ink for.” Aloe explained hiding her nervousness as best as she could. Thankfully, she was far more comfortable discussing transactions than dealing with imperials.

“Please, don’t leave me with this suspense here,” Tamara said boredly. “What’s this magical property of yours?”

“Drying.” Aloe taciturnly responded.

“Drying?” The scribe reiterated.

“Indeed,” The girl nodded. “This ink, whilst a bit tedious to write with, far rougher to the feather, dries quicker than common ink.” Aloe put on the best salesman tone she could. Charismatic and assertive, but without being as obnoxious as the stall merchants of the bazaar. “Common ink may take more than a quarter of an hour to dry, but with mine, that time is five minutes maximum. If the conditions are right, you may even have a settled scripture in a single minute. Furthermore, because of its different viscosity, no lectern is needed to write. You can straight up write on a flat surface.”

“Hmm...” Tamara left her feather on the pot and shook her hand around. “It’s hard to write with. My wrist is already tired, and I have been writing how long, two-three minutes?”

“That’s one of the disadvantages, yes, the main one,” Aloe admitted. “With a bit of practice, you can extend that period to five minutes.”

“That isn’t a lot of time.”

“Nor the drying time.” She countered with a smile.

“Good point.” Tamara acknowledged her verbal exchange. “Let’s recap. This trashy ink who hurts the one who writes with you wants to sell to the masses.”

Aloe did not react to the scribe’s harsh words. It’s a test, common practice. If you are offended by such words, you are either showing weakness, stupidity, or lack of confidence. Maybe the three of them. Her thoughts were paraphrasing of her father’s lessons, though adapted to her own words.

“Yes.” She simply responded unperturbed. “Production is cheap, and so’s the ink. And the customers.”

“Good, good....” Tamara muttered as she scratched the side of her neck. “Removing the lectern from the equation does help. The less a commoner has to spend on writing equipment, the more likely they are to buy ink, for starters. I would, maybe, be interested in this ink, but that depends on how much quantity you can produce. So, numbers. How many jars per week?”

“Um...” Aloe executed fast mental calculations.

I have only one Aloe Veritas currently, and whilst I can plant more and grow them fast, I need to state what I have now. Overdelivering will end up in failure. Yet another failure her mind recited. Her life was full of them recently. The veritas fully regrows each week. Around ten leaves per week, and every leaf being between two and three pots...

“Twenty-five jars per week.” She responded confidently.

“Hmm... Low numbers, especially when you intend to go to the open market, but I guess it was expected of a singular, unprepared manufacturer.” Tamara stood from her chair. “Tell you what, I’ll contact an acquaintance in the ink industry, and depending on their opinion, I’ll give you a definitive answer. Though I’ll need that ink pot as a demonstration.”

“All yours,” Aloe responded after also getting up.

“I’ll contact you through mail at your house whenever I get the news about your enterprise,” Tamara explained.

“Understood.” Aloe bowed down and turned to leave the room.

“Wait.” Yet the scribe interrupted. “Here.” And threw her a coin.

Even though it caught her with the guard down, Aloe managed to catch the coin in her hands. Her eyes opened like plates as she looked at the coin. The weight of the coin was big and the color was silver.

It was a fajati.

A big silver coin worth fifty drupnars.

“I... I cannot accept this. This is far more expensive than the ink.” Considering her precarious economic state, a fajati was a fortune.

“Then don’t consider it a payment for the ink, but a funerary gift,” Tamara added with a weak yet understanding smile. “It’s truly a shame what happened with Shahrazad. And whilst I didn’t hold her in regards as high as Amid, I should have done more for her. Your whole family. A simple fajati won’t be even enough to pay that gratitude.

“I-I don’t know what to say...” Aloe clutched the coin in her hands, her eyes tearing up like this noon. Death was still recent in her mind.

“Then don’t say anything.” Tamara’s smile became warmer. “Rest, girl. You deserve it.”

With a deep bow and no words, Aloe made her way out of the office of the scribe of commerce. Her heart ached, but her mind was excited with the chances of her enterprise.