With a jubilant air following their deal with Faros, Viktor and Arelos found a secluded spot outside to count the glistening coins they had acquired. Fifteen shiny silver coins danced with light in Viktor's hand, a remarkable sum that filled them with both relief and exhilaration for the future.
A moment of exultant silence passed between them before Viktor spoke up, his eyes gleaming with newfound purpose. "First things first," he declared, a broad grin spreading across his face. "We should put aside five silver for your lessons. That’ll at least cover four months of tutoring, maybe even more if Hamin feels a little generous."
Arelos nodded, a sense of gratitude evident in his demeanor. "Agreed," he said, a touch of optimism in his voice. "Maybe I can talk Hamin into lowering the price a bit."
Having secured part of their funds for Arelos’s education, they were still left with a modest but substantial amount to fuel their new endeavor. Eager to press their advantage, Arelos pulled out the leather-bound notebook they had found in the attic and began leafing through its pages. After a minute of searching, his finger landed on a particular entry.
"There," Arelos stated calmly, holding the notebook out for Viktor to see. "The contact for sourcing the tallow is named Telmin, and the going rate is one silver and five coppers per load. If we head to the slaughterhouses, we should be able to find him by asking around a bit."
Viktor nodded, impressed by the meticulous detail captured in the notebook. "So that’s where we start," he said, the plan coming into clearer focus. "We source the tallow from this Telmin and then find a chandler to turn it into candles."
Arelos nodded, his expression thoughtful and measured.
With their course charted—Viktor and Arelos set off, eager to embark on their first business venture together.
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Viktor and Arelos wandered through the lively streets of Lycona, following the rough clues from the worn pages of an old notebook. The city unfolded in front of them like a complex maze of tall buildings and intricate alleys, a chaotic blend of darkness and light.
“Are we close?” Viktor asked, attempting to sound confident while glancing around, his eyes searching for any sign of a butcher or something resembling a slaughterhouse.
Arelos was more focused on deciphering the details in the notebook, only half listening as he muttered, "I think so." His voice carried a hint of doubt as he scanned the streets.
After stopping several times to request directions and enduring a few wrong turns, they finally reached a building that matched the descriptions they'd gathered—a large, brick edifice exuding a scent that unmistakably marked its function. The distinct odor of slaughter wafted through the air, mingling with the urban sounds around them.
They crossed to the main entrance, pushing it open, the interiors welcoming yet unsettling with the distinct metallic tang of meat in the air and the lingering scuffle of workers bustling about their tasks.
“Excuse me,” Viktor began, addressing a weary-looking man unloading crates near the door. “We’re looking for someone named Telmin?”
The man straightened up slightly, glancing at Viktor and then Arelos. “You done found him,” he replied after a moment of consideration, his voice carrying the rustic twang of someone who had spent a lifetime working with his hands.
“Pleasure to meet you, Telmin,” Viktor said with his usual charm, extending a hand. “We’re hoping to purchase some tallow.”
Telmin wiped his hands on his apron before taking Viktor’s extended hand. There was a brief, appraising look he gave them before speaking. “Aye, tallow?” he inquired, eyeing them with skepticism.
“That’s right,” Arelos confirmed, stepping forward and meeting Telmin’s gaze head-on. “We have a plan to turn it into candles for some side sales.”
Telmin considered their words with a cautious amusement, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “Twenty pounds per load, we’re selling at two silvers,” Telmin stated.
Viktor hesitated, hearing the price and recalling the details of the notebook. “Thing is,” he pressed, his expression earnest. “We’ve come across some previous notes about tallow selling cheaper, at around one silver and five coppers per load.”
Telmin chuckled, a rough, gravelly sound. "Eh, who's been flappin' 'bout that?" he said, shaking his head like he'd heard a good joke. "Prices ain't what they was, y'know. Everythin's done change now, costs spikin'. Tell ya what, I fancy y' two blokes, so let's make it a silver an' seven coppers, coz ol' Telmin's got a soft spot, see?"
Arelos and Viktor exchanged quick glances, an unspoken agreement passing between them. “We can handle one silver and seven coppers,” Viktor agreed, nodding as Telmin gestured them toward the stacked barrels.
A deal was struck, leaving Viktor and Arelos with one large barrel of tallow weighing twenty pounds, an amusing realization dawning on them as they ducked to examine it closer.
“Well, here's one thing we didn’t think through,” Viktor quipped, patting the drum of the heavy load they now owned.
“Right,” Arelos added, his tone wry as he ran his fingers over the barrel's rim. “Now what? Find a chandler? Didn’t think about actually lugging this around until now.”
They both stood there for a moment, considering the hearty volume of their procured tallow. The volume of the haul and the significant oversight hung over them as they pondered the next steps.
“Guess we head back,” Viktor suggested, scratching his head thoughtfully while gazing down the road ahead. “We may run into someone.”
With a shared shrug, the two boys began their trek back, steps slightly heavier under the weight of their burgeoning venture. Chatter died to occasional remarks as they took turns carrying the unwieldy container, a mixture of determination and resignation moving them forward.
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Their journey back through the busy streets of Lycona was fraught with the subtle challenge of maneuvering a large barrel of tallow through the morning throng. The clatter of hooves, the cacophony of vendors hawking their goods, and the general hubbub of city life blended into an almost chaotic symphony. Arelos and Viktor took turns carrying the hefty barrel, their minds abuzz with strategies, plans, and uncertainties.
"Should’ve brought a cart," Arelos muttered breathlessly as they paused for a moment's rest, leaning against a brick wall to catch their breath.
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Viktor laughed, wiping a gleam of sweat from his brow. "Who would've thought we'd be candle entrepreneurs by now? Next time we’ll think logistics before enthusiasm," he quipped.
Their banter did little to lighten the barrel’s load, but it eased the challenge of navigating through the streets. They pressed on, their steps determined as they sought out the advice of locals on where they might find a chandler. Their path eventually led them toward a neighborhood just outside of the Burrows, known for its concentrated hub of craftsmen.
The sights, sounds, and scents shifted subtly as they entered this cluster of creativity—an area permeated by the rhythmic pulsing of industry and the solace of industrious invention. Craftsmen chiseled wood arcs, cobblers plied their trade with diligent fingers, and the air bore the familiar scent of seasoned oak and fresh leather. Scraps of metal, fabric, and wood littered the cobblestone streets, small splashes of chaos beneath a veneer of intention.
Viktor stopped by a thin grey-haired man seated near a forge that sat across the street from their path. "Excuse me, sir," Viktor began, his tone polite as he greeted the man with a nod. "We’re looking for a chandler—someone who works with tallow. Could you point us in the right direction?"
The craftsman looked up from his work, a spark of interest in his eyes as he regarded the boys. "Ah, trying your hand at the candle trade, eh?" he chuckled, wiping his hands on a leather apron. "You'll want to head over to Nolan’s place—young fella this side of the crafts district. Head up that path, take the second left, and his shop’s the one with the blue door. Can’t miss it."
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Following the directions given by the grey-haired craftsman, Viktor and Arelos made their way through the bustling crafts district. As they walked along the cobbled streets, they kept an eye out for the blue door marking Nolan's shop. Despite the weight of the tallow barrel they lugged between them, the promise of progress lent a buoyancy to their steps.
The neighborhood around them was alive with the rhythmic pulse of productivity, the air filled with the sounds of industry—the ring of hammers striking metal, the scraping of sandpaper over wood, and the murmur of craftsmen engrossed in their work. It was a place that breathed life into raw materials, transforming them into products of use and value.
Finally, they turned a corner and spotted it—a modest but tidy structure with a blue door standing out like a welcoming beacon against the drab stone walls. Painted on the surface was a small but recognizable symbol: a candle, its wick alight, seemingly casting a warm glow beneath the clear morning sky.
“That must be it,” Viktor said, nodding toward the door. Arelos responded with a curt grin and nodded back, before they made their approach. Reaching the door, Viktor knocked confidently, the sound echoing across the quiet street.
A few moments later, the door swung open, revealing a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, with a slightly surprised expression etched on his face. His hair was tousled, a sign of intense focus and work, and the remnants of candle wax were visible on his smudged apron.
“Hello there,” the man greeted, his surprise quickly giving way to a friendly curiosity. “Nolan's the name. How can I help you two today?”
“We’re looking to have some work done,” Viktor began, slipping into his role as the spokesperson with ease. He gestured toward the barrel resting heavily against Arelos's side for emphasis. “We’ve got about twenty pounds of tallow here, and we’re hoping to turn it into candles. Plan is to sell them in the market for some profit.”
At the mention of the tallow, Viktor slapped the barrel lightly but Arelos, caught slightly off guard by the gesture, almost lost his balance and shot Viktor an annoyed glance. Viktor cleared his throat, continuing as if nothing had happened.
Nolan chuckled, stepping back to make room for the boys. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Come in, come in. Put that down here. No need to strain yourselves further.”
Gladly accepting Nolan’s invitation, the boys entered the shop and Arelos carefully set the barrel on the floor near a workbench crowded with molds, tools, and various projects in different stages of completion.
“Young entrepreneurs, eh?” Nolan remarked as he moved around the shop, clearing space. “I remember when I started out like you two. Every copper counted, and each venture was an adventure.”
Viktor nodded, watching as Nolan deftly navigated the cluttered shop. “We’re definitely trying to make each copper stretch,” he agreed with a grin.
“So,” Nolan clapped his hands together, focusing on the matter at hand. “You want candles made from twenty pounds of tallow. I can do that. You’re looking at about forty standard-sized candles when all is said and done.”
Arelos and Viktor exchanged glances, silently calculating their costs. “And the price?” Viktor queried, pitching his question with practiced casualness.
Nolan pursed his lips, considering for a moment before offering, “Twelve coppers for the lot. That covers labor, time, and materials. Fair deal, considering.”
Viktor, a keen negotiator, leaned forward, a smile playing on his lips. “Can we bring that down a bit?” he asked, determination and charm threading his voice. “How about eight coppers? We’re tight on budget, trying to make our first foray into this business as profitable as possible.”
Nolan paused, his eyes locking with Viktor’s as he weighed the proposal. “Eight coppers, you say? Well, I suppose I can work with that,” he conceded after a moment’s thought, a hint of reluctant agreement settling in his posture. “You’ve got yourself a deal, but only because I like your initiative.”
With the terms agreed upon, the boys felt a sense of accomplishment at securing a good deal for their first venture into candle making. They followed Nolan’s gaze as he gestured toward the shelves filled with finished candles of various shapes and sizes.
“Bear in mind,” Nolan cautioned, a note of earnest advice in his voice, “I can’t promise you’ll see a profit on this. There are others who try their hand at making and selling candles, and it can be an unforgiving market. Profit margins depend on factors like the price I charge you, the cost of the tallow, and what you manage to sell the end product for.”
Arelos nodded, inviting further insight with a question. “Is there a way to increase the candles’ value?” he asked, eyes bright with the prospect of learning.
“Well,” Nolan began, a flicker of appreciation for Arelos’s interest, “beeswax is something to consider. People are willing to pay extra for beeswax candles, especially during winter when supply’s tight. Clearer flame and all that, you see. Wax is seasonal, though, so it comes with its own set of risks and opportunities.”
Arelos listened intently, nodding intermittently, absorbing the knowledge. “Interesting,” he commented thoughtfully.
"Alright, you've convinced us," Viktor concluded, flashing Nolan a genuine smile. "We’ll leave the tallow with you today. How soon can we pick them up?"
"Give me two days," Nolan instructed, his hands skillfully resuming an ongoing task. "Come back then, and I'll have your candles ready."
They shook hands—first Viktor, then Arelos—sealing the agreement with tacit confidence.
With arrangements in place, Viktor and Arelos took their leave, buoyed by the prospect of their undertaking. As they stepped out of the door, Nolan's voice followed them into the crisp air. "Good luck, boys," he called after them, an encouraging warmth underlying his words. "It's a tough market, but with enough persistence, who knows? You might just make a name for yourselves."
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The boys stepped out of Nolan's shop, the door creaking shut behind them as they emerged into the bustling streets of Lycona once more. Viktor's face was bright with optimism, a spring in his step as he glanced over at Arelos. "I've got a good feeling about Nolan," Viktor said with a grin. "He seems like a decent guy, and I think we got a fair deal."
Arelos, however, was less effusive, his demeanor reflecting his usual careful consideration. "Yeah, Nolan seems alright," Arelos conceded, keeping pace with Viktor. "But, honestly, we probably should have scoped out a few more chandlers to get a better idea of the market rate before agreeing on the price." He adjusted his cloak against the cold wind. "We already lost two coppers on the tallow compared to the sourcing price in the notebook. If the market rate for candles dropped even slightly, it could eat up the rest of our margin."
Despite Arelos's words of caution, Viktor chuckled, exuding a laid-back charm that had eased many a tension. "Don't worry too much, Arelos," Viktor replied, tapping his friend on the shoulder reassuringly. "Worst case, we lose a few coppers. But think of how much we've learned just by trying this out. We've navigated this far—it's all a part of the adventure."
Arelos sighed, shrugging slightly at Viktor's relentless optimism. "Easy for you to say," he replied, his voice devoid of humor, highlighting the inherent risks in their ventures.
Viktor gave a light-hearted smile, brushing aside the potential setbacks. "We've done well by exploring the unknown so far," he noted, looking down the bustling street that stretched before them. "This new venture is no different—just another form of discovery." He glanced at Arelos, his grin unwavering. "Who knows what surprises await us on the other side of this door?"
With those words hanging between them, the two boys strode forward, their steps carrying them deeper into the promise of the future, their hearts lighter despite the uncertainty ahead.