Theo Spencer smoothed back his black hair, letting his fingers linger over the pair of horns that traced the shape of his head. He stood, stowing away the quill, ink, and leather-bound journal into his inventory. It vanished with a faint popping sound. The body he inhabited came from a brood of Drogramath Dronon, tall Demon-like creatures that were as secretive as they were reclusive. He straightened the folds in his silken robe, content with the cessation of constant rain. During the Season of Blooms, in the southlands of the Kingdom of Qavell, that rain was a fact. It came in sheets daily, fouling dirt walkways. But as he descended the battlements of his walls, soft-soled shoes gently padding against a cobbled road, he realized he missed the horrid weather.
Broken Tusk rested at the end of a small kingdom’s territory, bordered by a river to the northeast, a sprawling swamp to the west, and mountainous hills to the north and south. It would have been defensively impressive, if not for the 5 local dungeons. Those dungeons had produced more than their fair share of monster waves in recent times. Investing in defense and production had seen untold growth, an endless supply of high-quality raw materials that they had only just begun shipping off to neighboring towns.
Dead Dog Mine was a recent addition to the town. Theo nodded to Gridgen Dev, a hearty man from the mountainous region north of Qavell. A layer of dust covered every inch of the man, caked on to sweat producing a glittering sheen. He moved on, not willing to engage with the rowdy miners. He spotted his goal, unexpectedly chatting with the smelter. Nira Weir ran the smelter, a modest woman from the capital who remained reserved even as she adapted to life in the swamp town. She was chatting, a smile on her face for once, with Alise Plumm.
“Alright there?” Theo asked, poking his head into the smelter.
Both women jumped at his sudden appearance. Dronon, like Half-Ogres, were heads taller than normal Humans. Alise was especially small, her shoulder-length brown hair bobbing as she clutched her chest.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she said.
Nira wandered off, back to her crucible.
“Time to renew your contract,” Theo said, beckoning for his administrator to follow.
They picked a lazy path to the eastern gate of the town, perching atop the battlements to get an excellent view of the river. The river cut from the base of mountains to the north and tracked a path south, heading directly for the ocean. Centuries ago, that river dumped directly into the swamp. Only when an Earth Wizard arrived, offering to divert the river, did the Half-Ogres catch up with the rest of the kingdom. Theo doubted the providence of the story. He had theories.
“You have a meeting with the Mercantile Chairs today,” Alise said, clearing her throat and checking her notes.
“Which means you want to keep working for me,” Theo said.
“I’m getting comfortable,” Alise said, her face flushing.
Few things got past Theo these days. Only those with superior attributes could get one over on him, and Alise was a fledgling compared to him. She had another motive, but he wouldn’t prod. Their magical contract prevented her from hurting Broken Tusk’s interests. This was thanks to his [Governance Core], the most recent addition in his collection of classes. It had everything to do with managing people and sat as a specialized Administration Core. Alise herself held a standard [Administrator’s Core] in her chest and was invaluable for handling the more mundane tasks related to running a town.
“We should renegotiate your wage,” Theo said.
“Ah, maybe,” Alise said, looking wistfully over the river.
Like most people in Broken Tusk, she wasn’t interested in having money. They loved to make money, but no one seemed to hold on to it for long. The community came together, pooling their resources to improve the town. This lay in stark contrast to the way other towns did business. Rivers and Daub, a town resting at the start of the river up north, employed the aggressive trade guilds popular in the kingdom. They were entities which pocketed large amounts of profit from the workers. Anyone who didn’t refuse that old way of doing things didn’t belong in Broken Tusk.
“A percentage, maybe?” Theo asked, smiling.
Alise looked shocked at the offer, knitting her brow and letting her mouth hang agape. “I couldn’t.”
“We really don’t make that much, as a town,” Theo said. “It all depends on the strength of our trade deals. And that comes down to you.”
Theo was, as always, being truthful with the people that worked for him. Alise was instrumental during the trade negotiations with Rivers and Daub. She was always there to poke him into action, forcing him to stay on the ball where it would normally fall away. She had a knack for this.
“Ten percent?” Alise asked. “Is that too much?”
Theo’s [Intelligence] attribute had grown significantly in the past few weeks. He could easily do the mental math, and his [Wisdom] attribute allowed him to recall the deal they made with Rivers with perfect clarity. “75 silver coins a week,” he said, nodding. If this was the Broken Tusk that Theo saw when he first arrived, that sum would have seemed insane. Now, it seemed like a drop in the bucket.
“You like the percentage-based payment schemes, don’t you?” Alise said, reaching out a hand for him to shake.
“There’s no better way to incentivise performance,” Theo said, grinning. “Allow me to draw up a contract.”
Theo invoked his [Contracts] skill, a skill slotted in his [Governance Core]. He wrote up a simple contract for her to sign. Through the system’s interface, he could write at the speed of thought. A message box popped up for both of them to review and agree upon.
[Lady Administrator Alise]
Contract
Alise Plumm shall agree to adhere, to the best of her ability, to the interests of Broken Tusk in all matters. She will handle Broken Tusk’s needs where Theo Spencer (Belgar) is unable.
Terms:
Alise Plumm shall gain the title of Lady Administrator
Alise Plumm will draw a weekly salary based on the performance of existing and future trade deals.
Alise Plumm’s salary shall be 10% (before tax) of all profits related to exports and trade conducted by Broken Tusk.
Theo Spencer (Belgar) shall provide all due support to aid in her advancement.
Alise Plumm shall never harm Broken Tusk, intentional or otherwise, through any action.
Timeline:
Renewed every 3 months
Most people liked to change the wording of a contract, but Alise was fine with it as it was. Since it was a contract created by the system, Theo didn’t have to worry about manually paying her. It would automatically withdraw from either his inventory, or the town’s inventory.
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“Things are picking up, aren’t they?” Alise asked.
She was relatively new to the town, only calling it home for a few weeks. She didn’t know how rapidly things had changed when he first arrived. Back then, it was a mad scramble to get everything done. There were more things to accomplish back then, and their scope was more narrow. Now, they were looking at establishing themselves as a trade empire in the southlands with an aim to usurp the ensconced trade guilds.
“I hope so,” Theo said. “Let’s take a walk, I want to talk shop.”
“Talk what?”
Theo and Alise made their way back to town, passing by the newly established ranch. Miana Kell, the first person Theo had seen upon arriving in this world, worked to milk the Karatan and keep the Pozwa in check. Karatan were pleasant enough once a person had seen them enough times. More insect than cow, they were six-legged beasts with strange, short fur. This breed was specialized to produce as much milk as possible, a Veostian invention according to his supplier. The Pozwa were horrid. A twisted cross between an irate rooster and an insane goat, they were not fun to look at. The beasts had a fan of horns behind their head, 12 chitinous protuberances that sent Theo’s stomach turning. They had feathers and laid eggs like a chicken, but were quadrupedal. He shuddered as they passed.
Theo discussed his concerns with production, but Alise allayed his worst fears. She was coaching each producer to level up as quickly as possible, and invest whatever money they made back into their seed core buildings. That didn’t sit right with the alchemist. It was his responsibility, contractually, to upgrade each building. He needed to have words with the producers of the town, but there was no time today. Not with a meeting scheduled.
The Mercantile Chairs were the only trade tradition Broken Tusk adopted from the northern towns and cities. Unlike Qavell’s version, the merchants in Broken Tusk saw no need to limit the amount of chairs. Everyone who produced got a say. They’d even let the adventurers in on it, if they wanted. Of course, they never did.
“We need to get a proper town hall,” Alise said.
The pair were approaching the building they used to conduct all meetings. The Adventurer’s Guild building was massive, compared to every other building in town. It was two floors, but sat more like a three-story building. The entrance was wide, a set of well-hewn stones led up to a massive set of wooden doors. Inside was a hall, massive and crowded with people. Among the citizens of Broken Tusk, Half-Ogres made up most of the population, followed by Marshlings, then Humans. There were a few stragglers that still had to arrive, but Alise got things underway.
It was the town’s standard meeting of the minds. Everyone had suggestions on how to make things better, but the focus remained on improving everyone’s buildings and levels. That would give them the most cost effective way to increase production, then they would be prepared to start trade negotiations across the sea. That was a long-term plan, though.
The meeting went on for hours, well past midday and into the scorching afternoon. The topic remained on production, and each Chair claimed they were making more resources than they could sell. That surplus went directly into repairing the town, owing to the seed core’s magical properties to consume the resources and apply them to the damaged sections of the wall. With the threat of monsters around every corner, this was necessary.
“We’re limited on trade partners,” Throk said.
Throk was a cornerstone of the town. He was their Blacksmith and Artificer, responsible for creating more amazing inventions than anyone else. Half of Theo’s alchemy equipment was created by the Marshling, and he was the father of the alchemist’s Tara’hek.
“Not least of which because of our location,” Alise said with a nod. “Qavell is the obvious trade partner.”
That sent a murmur through the room. Most people this far out from the capital didn’t trust them, not least of which because of the reputation of the Merchant’s Guild up there. Alise calmed the room after a long moment of distrustful glares.
“Do you recall when the cults went to war?” Alise asked. The room responded with nods. “Something happened in Qavell. Mayhem in the streets. Under the king’s nose and conducted by the Merchant’s Guild.”
“This is the first I’m hearing of it,” Theo said, snapping out of his stupor. He’d been paying half-attention until now, and hadn’t heard anything about a merchant’s war.
“They might need bulk goods,” Alise said, shrugging. “Who knows.”
“Perhaps a more measured approach,” Theo said. He didn’t want to get into bed with Qavell anymore than he already was. “Smaller trade agreements with the towns that dot the path north.”
Alise nodded, and the room broke out into discussion once again. This went on for a few more hours with no obvious goal in mind. At the end of the meeting, sometime near dusk, Alise took responsibility to find any new contracts and present them to the chairs. Agreements only needed Theo’s approval, but it was always nice to loop everyone else in.
With the meeting dismissed, Theo found his way away from the crowd and onto the cobbled street outside. A figure twisted in the shadow of a bush, bursting forth and wrapping itself around him, bowling both of them over onto the hard ground. Tresk, a Marshling and Theo’s soul-bond companion. She was short, only coming up about waist-high for him, but a ball of pure energy. Like most Marshlings, she had slick skin, like that of a salamander’s, with a pink tinge to her skin and little frills that stuck from the side of her head.
“We’re eating spicy stuff tonight,” Tresk said, removing herself from Theo.
“Marsh Wolf?”
“Marsh Wolf.”
The pair made their way to the only eatery in town, The Marsh Wolf Tavern. Xam, the Half-Ogre proprietor, had only recently got a cooking core. That hadn’t stopped her from making some of the best food Theo had ever eaten. The squat, recently expanded building was already packed as the sun dipped lower in the sky. True to Tresk’s word, the moment they entered the building their senses were assaulted by a wave of spicy air. They found their regular table, ordered, and waited for their food to be served.
“We need to find more trading partners,” Theo said, propping the window open.
That seat by the window was a prized position, even if it was made obsolete recently. Tresk had expanded the tavern, the magic of the seed core creating more windows along the long, south-facing wall. Most people could easily find a seat with a window, but that center one was the original.
Tresk shrugged in response. “Gonna be hard around here. Unless you want to go traitor and trade with Veosta.”
“I don’t imagine the kingdom would be happy if we traded with the enemy,” Theo said. “Not even the walls could hold back that tide.”
“Well, there’s those lizard-people down south,” Tresk said.
“The patch of islands?” Theo asked, grimacing. “We’d need boats. Unless you’re volunteering to swim.”
“Not me,” Tresk said, holding her hands up. “Boats would be better.”
But the creation of boats that could traverse the coast was a long way away. From what Theo understood, there wasn’t a functional port on the entire east coast of the continent. Perhaps there were a few small fishing piers inland, but nothing worth noting. The capital, Qavell, was landlocked. Although he might have tried, it was impossible for him to understand the distance from Broken Tusk to the capital of the kingdom. Adventurers were a bad source of information on that. Disregarding travel powers, most of them could move quicker than a normal person. While they claimed a journey to the north took 7 days, the alchemist suspected it was as long a walk as Earth’s Europe was wide. But people didn’t seem to measure things by distance here. Perhaps that was just a Broken Tusk thing.
The image of Sulvan Flametouched stuck in Theo’s mind while he waited for his food. The Grand Inquisitor of the Order of the Burning Eye could cross the continent in moments. He just ran everywhere, which struck a hilarious image in his mind. By the time a person leveled their cores and themselves up to 130, they were something other than a regular person. They rested on the edge of something Theo might never understand.
The food came in time, two plates of something Theo didn’t recognize. Xam Slug herself delivered it. She was fair, as far as the hard-faced Half-Ogres went, shorter than her kin and softer all around. While her personality matched most times, she could match the temper of her race. But the tavern was too busy for her to stay and chat. Since she got her cooking core, that had been the case.
“Oh, yeah,” Tresk said, rubbing her hands together. While Theo understood how they were supposed to eat the meal, Tresk simply tipped the plate into her open mouth. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes from the spice.
The dish was interesting. A curry-like substance rested on milled and rolled Zee flour, reminding Theo of curry over couscous. On the side was a stack of Zee derived flatbread, meant for sopping up the overflowing sauce and holding the wolf meat. Xam always used wolf meat, although it wasn’t uncommon to see Marsh Snapper meat. Before she got her cooking core, the food was always bland. Now, even at a low level, it was a treat. Theo’s eyes watered, sweat forming on his brow as he ate through the spicy food. As he finished the meal, fanning his face, a system notification popped up.
[Food Buff!] You’ve consumed a piece of [Spicy Wolf Meat Curry], crafted by a [Cook].
+2 Vigor for 8 hours.
Theo and Tresk didn’t come to the dinner service for the food buffs. The ambiance wasn’t much to speak of, either, especially since Xam started importing liquor from Rivers and Daub. The crowds were rowdier than ever, but the food was worth it. Soon, the Marsh Wolf Hotsprings would open, elevating the town even further. It was another feather in their hat.
Something Theo noticed, as they were preparing to leave, was the excess of strangers in the tavern. With the roads cleared, adventurers must have shuffled themselves southward. The opportunities up north were drying up, not least of which because of the war. The alchemist marked them as a mix of traders and adventurers, but pushed it out of his mind as he left the tavern. Today was busy enough already, he didn’t want to complicate it further. The pair returned to the Newt and Demon, their alchemy lab and home, entering the Dreamwalk.