“I have nothing but this ugly horse, and these clothes have been unwashed for many days,” I replied. “I’m not worried about the consequences. Just take me to your leader.”
“Fine, but it’s your funeral,” he said. He placed the whistle made of bone to his lips and blew. It sounded very much like a bird. He gave three sharp chirps and an elongated one. More chirps came back from the deeper parts of the woods. “All right, he’s coming. You better be nice and polite,” the scout said as he hopped down from the tree. “Or he’ll skin you alive.”
I wasn’t terribly worried about an audience with some brigands. I had done quite a few dealings in third world countries, often with men who had retinues of brutes wielding machine guns at their sides. All men could see reason, as long as you were able to make them understand how they could benefit from such reason. Even the cruelest, must violent leader wanted something. The trick was to convince them that you were able to give it to them.
After about twenty minutes, a few men emerged from the woods, wearing leather armor and carrying bows. The arrows were nocked and ready to be fired, all weapons trained on me. I stood confidently though, tall and proud. If they smelled fear, it would give them power over me. And besides, what was there to be afraid of? We would both get what we wanted.
“So, who may I ask is in charge?” I said, looking around at the men who were armed. It couldn’t have been any of them, but they were the only ones who came out of the woods.
“That would be me,” said the scout, who was leaning against the tree, eating an apple. “I like to keep an eye on the road, as these knuckleheads often can’t tell who’s rich and who’s not worth robbing. The name’s Finch the Pinch, you?”
“Charles Morris,” I replied, turning to face the scout. He seemed rather delighted at the fact that he had fooled me and I was impressed. By pretending to be just a scout, he was able to observe my character while I was unaware. Hopefully, I had been convincing enough not to end up riddled with arrows.
“Well then, Ser Charles,” Finch said, spreading his arms wide. “What can I do for you?”
“I am the representative of the village of Tine, not too far from here. It has come to my attention that your crew is responsible for attacking caravans that pass through.”
“To be fair, if they didn’t want to be attacked, they probably shouldn’t have been carrying so much cargo,” Finch said, chuckling a little. The rest of the thieves laughed as well. They were beginning to relax, lowering their weapons as their leader clearly seemed to be at ease with the situation.
“I’m new to this region,” I continued. “And I wish to build a trade route that passes through this road. What would it cost me to keep it safe from your people?”
“Come again?” Finch said, wrinkling his face at the question.
“How much can I pay you in order for you to leave my shipments alone?” I clarified.
“No one’s ever asked that question before…” Finch said. “I mean, no one has. Mostly they just try to round up a posse and fight us. Sometimes Igithor sends a few of their thugs to fight us.”
“You and your men are outlaws, I understand. You need the money. But it’s in everyone’s best interest if we can come to an arrangement. You see, I don’t have the manpower to protect these caravans. So, I’ll leave it to your capable team. You don’t bother my shipments coming back and forth, and you make sure no one else bothers them.”
“But what’s to stop us from just taking it all?” Finch asked as he drew out a knife and lurched forward, placing it against my cheek. I didn’t flinch. This was theater; I could see it in his eyes. The idea of getting paid to do nothing was alluring.
“Because then I stop shipping goods and you don’t get any more money. Tell me, how many caravans come down this way anymore?” I asked.
“Less and less,” Finch replied, lowering the blade. “If I am to be entirely honest, my men and I haven’t had a decent shipment in a long time. The last haul was just several boxes full of wool. No one wants to buy wool from the likes of us.”
“Exactly. If you keep this up, you’ll have to move somewhere else. And if a territory is lucrative, you know there will be more guards or worse, nastier bandits who will fight you for their turf. Or…you can stay here. The forest seems nice, the weather is good and there’s no heavy amounts of law enforcement nearby. You get paid by me upon each shipment and everyone’s happy.”
“How much are we talking?”
“Right now, I am willing to pay you 10 gold per shipment. You will be paid by the driver of the caravan, either coming to or going from my village.”
“10 gold?” he said with a laugh. “We clear ten times that in a single haul.”
“And when was the last time you had that?” I asked.
Finch the Pinch frowned at me. “How many shipments are you planning?”
“That’s the best part. You see, when you allow me to make my first few shipments, it profits my village. We grow and pay you more. The more shipments that go out, the more you make, simply for the task of sitting back and making sure the road is clear of any other bandits. And seeing how this is your territory, you do that anyway,” I explained.
“10 gold’s too low,” Finch said. “Make it a hundred.”
I was unsure if Finch was greedy or an excellent negotiator. By coming in at such a high price, he had room to talk me to a much lower offer, but still getting significantly more than 10 gold.
“A hundred a shipment? No, that’s not in either of our favor because I wouldn’t be able to ship so much. I’m willing to go 15 gold per shipment, with the caveat that you are paid a flat fee of 100 gold a month, regardless of how much I ship. This payment will be at the end of the month as long as all shipments arrived to their destination safely.”
Finch growled a little at me. “15 is ridiculous. I don’t think you’re here to make me an adequate offer.”
“Don’t forget that I’m saying per shipment. The moment I need to ship more than once a week, your money doubles for the exact amount of effort you’re putting in.”
Finch tilted his head at that. “True…true.”
“My village is small right now, we don’t have much. The gold I’m offering you is proportional to our wealth. As we grow in size, I’ll increase the payments. What about this. If you’re willing to take the deal now, I will work on increasing the payment to a maximum of a hundred a shipment by the end of the year. However, if that’s going to happen, I need to ensure that the roads are more than safe from you. I need to ensure the roads are well looked after,” I told him.
“You mean fixing them up?”
“I’ll pay for the material,” I said. “But if your men can get the road here in good working condition, you’ll be looking at 100 a shipment by the end of the current year.”
“That’s in five months,” one of Finch’s allies said. “Not a bad deal.”
“Oy!’ Finch snapped, turning to dress down his subordinates. “Ain’t no one asked your opinion.”
“Five months,” I said. “Fifteen a shipment and you keep the roads maintained.”
“And we uh, we get a place to stay if we run into any kind of trouble?” Finch asked. “Your village will be friendly to us?”
“I won’t shield you from the law if you’re killing and robbing indiscriminately,” I said. “But as long as your hands stay clean, you’re welcome to visit Tine.”
Finch pondered the offer for a few moments. I could see the wheels turning in his head. “How do I know this isn’t some kind of trick?”
“Because if it is, you can just rob my caravans,” I said. “We both have a reason to cooperate. If we work together, we can prosper. But if one betrays the other, well, we both lose good money.” I stretched my hand out. “What do you have to lose?”
Finch glanced back at his men. “Any objections from you sorry lot?” he asked.
One raised his hands. “Does this mean we can buy food
again? I hate hunting.”
I grinned, because that was less of a question and more of an emphatic yes.
Chapter 6
I had come back from my first trip, happy to have dealt so efficiently with both Reed and the bandits. Finch the Pinch had every economic incentive to keep my transports safe, and I had security for my transports. If any other thieves tried to threaten my caravans, that band of thugs would handle the problem for me. And they would certainly be less restrained than traditional law enforcement.
Upon returning home, I opened up the book, allowing my vision to be pulled up high—in the Topsight, as Liza Reed had called it. Immediately, I could see the town continuing to go about its business. I realized, however, that I had more than just a view of my town. I could also watch the forest, the small bandit camp where Finch’s men worked as well as the village of Reed itself. The bandit camp had a level of 5 and, focusing on it, I could read the number of bandits and the amount of gold they were taking from me each week.
Reed was level 4 and I could see the various resources that they had access to, as well as the size of their border. Their color was green and the border extended well past the center of the town. Yet, while they had an expansive border, they did not have any buildings outside of the town. Above the entire town was a symbol of trade, indicating the deal that I had made with them.
The trade overlay required that I take a few actions. I needed to create the caravans, load them with supplies and then set what day they were to move to their destination. The only problem was that I lacked a Master of Caravans, a specialist profession that had a recruitment cost of 50 gold. With only 15 in our coffers, I wouldn’t be able to get the shipments starting without just a bit more.
“You have a question?” Mayor Hemming’s voice asked. I was surprised to hear him through the Great Picture.
“How did you know?”
“I’m your advisor, so I’m gifted with the ability to respond to your inquiries about the town. As you grow, you’ll be able to promote more advisors for specific policies. What do you need?” he asked.
“I’ve got a great deal lined up right now. But I don’t have the money necessary to hire a caravan master in order to get our first shipment out. Is there any way that I can get 50 gold? Any way at all?”
“Taxes, sir,” Hemmings said. Another overlay appeared. This one was a large box with several different percentage sliders. The current taxation was set to 0. “You can charge the villagers a tax. They do produce their own wealth. But that production is based on our prosperity level.”
I looked at the maximum amount of gold the villagers possessed. 100 pieces. The slider for overall taxes could be set to anything, even 100%. I grimaced. My entire life I had listened to businessmen groan about taxation, and I myself had resented when the government reached its hands into my pockets. Now I was about to do the same. It was for a good cause, I would tell them. Just like how my own government had told me that it was for a good cause. I didn’t believe the politicians then, and these people certainly wouldn’t believe me now.
“And what’s the trade off if I tax them too harshly?” I asked.
“I shouldn’t have to answer that,” the Mayor said. “But you can set how often you set taxes. A onetime thing will irritate them, but they will understand. Make it monthly or quarterly and there may be riots.” There was a pause in between his words. “Uh, and well…I haven’t quite told everyone about you yet.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I practically shouted. “You haven’t mentioned my status to them?”
I zoomed out of the Great Picture and rushed over to where the Mayor was sitting on his porch in front of the town hall. “Are you kidding me?” I said.
The Mayor raised his hands defensively. “I’m breaking all of our traditions here. It’s not something they’re going to be happy about. I thought that you’d find some way to improve their lives first and then, well, I could give them the news but in a positive light.”
“But if my first official act in this town is to make them cough up half of their savings…” I groaned. “You’re killing me here.”
“To be fair, I’m your general advisor, not the civil advisor,” Hemmings said.
“Aren’t you the Mayor?”
“It’s a title that’s almost as meaningless as our sacrifices to Marispa,” he moaned. “Listen, just do what you need to do. I’ll tell them.”
“No, no, call a town meeting. I’ll address them myself,” I said.
The Mayor nodded and leaned back in his chair, to relax. I looked at him for a moment and furrowed my brow. “Now, dammit!”
“Yes, sir!” Hemmings shouted as he hopped out of his seat and went off to do as I ordered. I wasn’t a particularly nasty or aggressive boss, but some people just needed to have a fire lit under them. Perhaps it wasn’t the man’s fault. After all, he spent his entire life waiting for something to happen. He probably wasn’t used to the idea of doing anything meaningful.
I pondered that sad thought as I watched the men and the women of the town begin to assemble in front of the town hall. There wasn’t enough room to house them inside, so we would have the discussion right here. I looked around for some kind of podium, but there was nothing.
Hemmings came and stood by my side once the adults of the village had gathered. He had instructed them to leave the children home, he informed me, in case of there being an outbreak of what he called “adult language.” I suspected he feared more than just a few curse words. The thought of their Mayor breaking tradition without consulting anyone might drive them to do him harm. Hopefully, I would be able to smooth this over.
“People of Tine,” I said, standing tall in front of them. “I have come to deliver news that many of you will not look upon kindly.” There was no reason to try and sugarcoat my words or act as if I were doing them a favor. A tradition had been broken. There was no making them feel better about it. It was better to hear their anger and frustrations now, than to pretend as if everything was okay.
The people all looked at me with curiosity upon their faces. They had not been aware that I had stayed after my first night. When I took the horse and left, they had assumed that I went on my way. The fact that I had returned was a great surprise to them.
“I was not selected as a champion by your goddess,” I continued. “But I am an outsider from this realm. I have the gift to see the Great Picture, to interact with it as if I were champion. I will not pretend as if I have powers that were divinely given, but I have the power that you all lack, the power of perspective.”
There was more silence and curiosity from the crowd. No one seemed to know where this was going. Perhaps they were so set in their ways, they could not even consider someone else taking the reins. I took a breath and continued. “Mayor Hemmings has been tasked with watching over you, to see that you will all prosper. In our conversation, the night that I arrived, we both came to a conclusion that your village cannot wait any longer.”
Now the crowd began to murmur. They were finally realizing what I was saying and they did not look happy about it. I reached into the satchel at my side, the one containing the book and raised it up. “And so I have taken it upon myself to come to your village’s aid. To help you prosper and to grow, using the power that I possess.”
I had never been booed by a crowd before. Normally, people were happy to hear about the great profits that the quarter had, or the announcement of the new factory opening up. But now, I had told a crowd of people that everything they believed in had been violated due to impatience. And they screamed their displeasure at me.
“Fool!” spat a particularly old man. “You’ll certainly anger the goddess this way! Put the book back!”
“Idiots! We hold to these traditions for a reason,” cried a mother whose face was so red I thought her eyes might bulge out of her head.
Everyone jeered and shouted at me, hurling insults. The Mayor, to his credit, stood in front of me and ra
ised his hands. “People, people, please! We may have broken tradition, but…the goddess has scorned us already! She dropped an outsider by us and flew overhead, raising all of our hopes. How long must we go on, desperate to hold onto the idea that she will provide us aid?”
“There are other gods to worship!” screamed a man adorned in a hat full of roses and thorns. “Now we will never get our champion!”
The crowd’s fury was great and I began to wonder if they would attack. This would be a very unfortunate way for my story to end, brutally murdered by the people I was trying to help. But then again, in a way, it would be business that was killing me, so I guess my doctor had been right the whole time.
I pushed past the Mayor and confronted the crowd. “Listen, there is no reversing this course. You said it yourselves, this action very well may have scorned the gods. The Mayor has done what he believes is necessary not only for your survival, but your prosperity.”
“Bah!” someone yelled from the back. “You won’t bring us any such prosperity! Unless the gods have a blessing for you, you’re wasting your breath.”
“What will it take then?” I asked the crowd. “What will it take to get you all to believe that I can help?”
The shouts began to die down as one of the elders stepped forward. He was the Farmer, Leopold Fritz, the only specialist in the town. The people made way for him, so I knew his voice held importance in the community.
“Sir,” Leopold said, stopping at the front of the crowd. “You do not realize that we have held this tradition for our entire existence. While many of us cannot fathom your good intentions, I understand that you meant well. But this is not your place. You must go.”
“The seal has been broken,” the Mayor said. “The book has been bound to him. If he leaves us, then we are doomed to forever live like this. How many do we lose each winter? How many die from sickness? Without a champion, we cannot solve these problems.”
There was a moment of pensive reflection upon Leopold’s worn face. “Hemmings, you are a fool for having done this to us. But…it is what it is, I suppose. We cannot put this turnip back into the ground.” He looked back at his people. “I say that we let him stay for a month. And should he fail us, we sacrifice him to Marispa as penance for what was done.”
CivCEO: A 4x Lit Series (The Accidental Champion Book 1) Page 4
