by Scott Warren
The Dragon’s Banker
By Scott Warren
Copyright © 2019 Scott Warren
All rights reserved.
Contents
A Quick Note From The Author
From The Ballad of Alkazarian
Chapter 1 – Kelstern Merchant Banking
Chapter 3 – Legal Tender
Chapter 4 – The Value of Ice
Chapter 5 – Magic, of a Sort
Chapter 6 – Gold and Silver
Chapter 7 – The Jaws of the Mountain
Chapter 8 – Alkazarian
Chapter 9 - Lineage
Chapter 10 – Moving Money
Chapter 11 - Quicksilver
Chapter 12 – Kuvtka’s Freight
Chapter 13 – The Shipwright
Chapter 14 – Ur’s Gift
Chapter 15 – Fost and Lavender
Chapter 16 – Spardeep
Chapter 17 – Securities
Chapter 18 – Delayed Returns
Chapter 19 – Early Closing
Chapter 20 – Liquid Assets
Chapter 21 – Riding the Hammer
Chapter 22 – The Queen’s Grace
Chapter 23 – The Living Fire
Chapter 24 – Cooked Books
Chapter 25 – A Fish out of Water
Chapter 26 – Dragon-Eyes
Chapter 27 – Cut Losses
Chapter 28 – Hostile Takeovers
Chapter 29 – A Short Reprieve
Chapter 30 – Due Diligence
Chapter 31 - Compound Interest
Chapter 32 – A Matter of Pride
Chapter 33 – Burden of Obligation
Chapter 34 – Reported Earnings
Chapter 35 – The Economy of Dragons
Chapter 36 – Hot Commodities
Chapter 37 – Cold Storage
Chapter 38 – Realized Gains
Epilogue
Other Works by Scott Warren
Forego Quest
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
A Quick Note From The Author
It gives me joy beyond measure that I can present you with these two stories.
The Dragon’s Banker is the story of the unlikeliest of heroes mixed up in more conflicts than he realizes, and in more trouble than he can imagine. Our hero lacks the magic of the great wizards of his world, the brawn of its greatest warriors, and the guile of its greatest rogues. Instead he must make do with his wits, his integrity, and the loyalty of his comrades.
Readers of my other books, The Sorcerous Crimes Division, will recognize the shared world. But The Dragon’s Banker is completely removed from those stories by both time and distance, and written and as a standalone story. As ever, I’ve taken queues (read: stolen ideas) from my favorite authors and created an interlaced world to serve as a vehicle for the stories within. And The Dragon’s Banker is, at the time of this writing, both my favorite story that I’ve ever written and the closest you will likely come to my own unfiltered internal monologue in the narration of Sailor Kelstern.
I hope that you will find entertainment in his frustration.
I chose the subject matter that I did as a challenge to myself, and as a departure from my nominally violent, militaristic work. I wanted to write a true pacifist, a hero in a threatening fantasy world who could not (and would not) solve his problems through violence, and I also wanted a story that could explore the engines that made fantasy worlds tick, pick apart the minutiae of what goes on behind the scenes of everyday struggles of those far removed from the epic clashes of armies and wizards and queens.
Forego Quest is something of a quirky story. It started out with a simple premise. What if you were the hero of not just one legend, but so many overlapping prophecies from every book, movie, video game, and song that it warped the very reality around you? What it ended up as was a love letter to all the legends we grew up on, with some not-so-subtle pokes at some of the common tropes along a hero’s journey. I hope it gives you a chuckle, and good luck spotting all the references.
From The Ballad of Alkazarian
Into the mountain’s burning heart
Our champion descended
His blade of gleaming silver shone
His shield of gold defended
But from the Alkazarian
That god of greed and endless spite
Came wrath alive and in his rage
An unquenched fire, blazing bright
And ’neath his blackened dragon’s claws
The shield of gold was rent
The silver sword turned molten
And our champion lay spent.
Verse 9, The Ballad of Alkazarian – author unknown.
Chapter 1 – Kelstern Merchant Banking
Please, Master Kelstern. All the other banking houses have turned me down.”
That’s not something a banker typically likes to hear when reviewing a voyage proposal. Unless your name happens to be Sailor Kelstern, which mine is. And unless you happen to be the head of Kelstern Merchant Banking, which I am.
I set down the figure sheet and peered across the desk at a beleaguered alchemist with no small measure of desperation in his eyes. “My word,”—I glanced down at his paperwork—“um, Jess, is it? All of them?”
Jess nodded, trying and failing to control his nervous, sheepish smile. “Decates, Taigne, and erm,” he said with a glance at the door to my office as my secretary slipped inside. “Fost.”
My secretary, Dahli Fost, didn’t look up at the mention of her family name. But I did notice the freckled corners of her mouth tighten. I turned back to the man sitting before my desk.
“I see. And what made you decide that your fortunes might change here?” I asked.
“Well,” he said. “The feller I spoke to at Fost said to ask after you. He said maybe someone named Sailor might be more inclined to nautical ventures, see?”
I shook my head and stifled a smile, already knowing exactly who to thank for such a ridiculous referral. “Sailor is just my given name. And a silly one at that,” I admitted. “I know very little about ships and sailing. I couldn’t well tell you the difference between a prow and a poop deck.”
Jess’ expression fell, and I held up my hand. “Still,” I said. “You were right to come to me. I don’t know sailing, but I do know a promising venture when I see one. There’s very little competition for alchemicals in Lethorn right now. Of course, a summer voyage around the Kraken’s Teeth with a hold full of caustics isn’t without risk. It’s no surprise you were met with resistance. But what’s life, and therefore business, without a little risk?” I asked. I pulled a sheet of vellum from my desk and began to ink a brief chit of intent. “Master Jess, if you’ll acquiesce to a captain of my choosing for your voyage, I’ll agree to finance your crew and cargo.”
I did a small bit of mental calculation as I scribbled. “Wages for fifty men, securing a vessel, and the going rate for caustics here in Borreos should put this at… four thousand, six hundred marks in silver at three percent interest. Plus ten percent at the point of sale. Are these terms acceptable?”
“Yes, Master Kelstern. Very acceptable. I owe you greatly, sir,” said Jess, snatching the chit from my outstretched hand almost before I’d offered it. I kept the hand extended a moment longer so that he could shake it as he looked over the figures.
“That’s just the preliminary, of course,” I said. “I’ll have a full contract over to you tonight. But this will be enough to begin arranging what you need.
Congratulations. Your voyage is funded.”
Jess gathered up his mess of parchments and beat a hasty retreat. Maybe he was worried I might change my mind if he lingered too late in my office. I leaned back in my chair, chuckling, and looked at Dahli. She closed the door to my office behind Jess and then shook her head as she leaned on the corner of my desk.
“So was his plan good?”
“No,” I admitted, pushing an errant lock behind my ear. “It’s rubbish. There’s no competition because there’s small demand for caustics in Lethorn. And the first week of summer is a terrible time to launch a voyage across the shifting winds to the west. They churn the sea with crosscurrents that will turn the strongest stomach. I’m not surprised we were the last resort. But it seems we often have to make wine from the dregs, of late. Don’t we?”
“So the captain you suggested…”
I felt a smirk crawl across my face. “Skilled, but a drunk. He’s cheap, but most importantly he’ll brave the roughest inland waters without hesitation because his world is already swimming. If we’re lucky, he’ll get the shipment to Lethorn before the alchemicals lose their potency. But I do feel bad for his crew.” I paused, considering. “And whoever will have to clean the ship. But it will require more than luck and a skilled captain to turn a profit on that deal.”
“Your schemes will have to wait. I brought you something.” She checked the door again and then pulled a crisp little square of paper from her pocket and unfolded it.
My breath caught in my throat as my eyes locked on the little brown slip. I reached out and took what she offered. “Is this…?”
“An official fiat note. The first in Borreos ever printed at the order of the Queen herself,” said Dahli.
Few pleasures in my life were equal to a fistful of gold dinars and silver marks. But laying eyes upon the first run of notes from the royal mint came close. The note bore a perfect likeness of Queen Liza and the value of one hundred silver marks in each corner. It was like holding a feather, and yet it carried the weight of a full purse behind it.
“I thought they weren’t being issued until high summer,” I said, holding it up to the south window to see the watermark. I wondered if the shifting colors held some subtle enchantment against forgery. “Just think, Dahli. A currency not backed by precious metals. A country where promises have more weight than gold. A handful of these could fund a caravan north to Kaharas for timber and marble, or west to the wizard’s college at Whadael. How did you get it?”
Dahli winked at me beneath a pierced brow. “A few have been getting out. One of Barron Dancin’s clerks gave me that one for twice the face value, and I figured you’d want it. The Queen is shoving Darrez Issa in front of a crowd this morning to declare them legal.”
That detail almost caused me to tear the precious new future of my country’s finances in half. Darrez Issa, the old pit viper, was Master of the Royal Mint. Issa typically performed his work in the shadows because he abhorred crowds and gatherings of any size greater than one. The palace dictate was a half-hour away by horse carriage, and I would not miss that spectacle for a mountain of free gold. I snatched my coat from the back of the chair.
“Dahli, have the carriage brought round, please. When I get back, I’ll be looking at the alchemical deal further.”
Dahli’s smile turned to speculation. “It’s nothing you don’t already know,” she said. “Besides, your next appointment is coming. The new girl, remember? The strange one I told you about.”
“Well,” I replied from beyond the threshold of my office, “she shall just have to wait.”
Chapter 2 – Lady Arkelai
I made my way through the main room of my banking house, nodding to my junior partners, Bendric and Tokt, as they updated prices on the latest timber and whale oil shipments. Beyond was the gentle warmth of my courtyard. My banking house was just far enough south in the city to smell the salt of the sea on the air without suffering the stench of the docks themselves. My courtyard was nestled on a terrace between a boarding house and a chapel to northern gods. It shared a covered arcade around the perimeter with both structures. Transients and pilgrims tended to gather in the arcade, thanks to the burbling fountain in the courtyard that promised a cool drink to thirsty travelers. I encouraged the traffic and kept the fountain flowing at my personal expense. Both groups often carried news, and so it paid to entertain them. The banking house itself was a rather nondescript little affair with a narrow façade and my name on the sign: Kelstern Merchant Banking.
You could just begin to make out the forest of masts in the bay to the south from the top of my steps. Though you couldn’t see individual pennants from this distance, I had a very good handle of who was who based on the season. It was a time for fresh fruits, spices, and medicines on the small two-masted vessels that braved the shallow breakwater of Aedekki to the south. Most of them moored near the markets. Books, timber, and slate for roofing would be aboard the larger three-masted vessels in the deep-water docks. Further east yet were the drawn blood-red sails of the Queen’s navy in the military quarter.
By the time I finished counting the masts, my driver still hadn’t arrived. While I waited, I approached my courtyard’s newest resident on the shaded side of a column and dropped two coppers in his begging cup. I am not a particularly charitable man, but the tenor of two coins singing in an amphitheater of battered tin was pleasure enough. And despite the threadbare appearance of this transient’s clothes and oft-patched hat, he harbored a rather earthy odor that was, in truth, less offensive than the perfumes preferred by many of my noble-born clients. Best of all, our rat problem seemed to dwindle under his tenure. I did not wish to explore the cause. But for these reasons I entertained his patronage on my step and tolerated his small talk while I waited.
“Bless you, sir, and thanks all the double,” said the drifter.
“Nothing of it,” I replied, leaning to see over the north fence. I could hear Cunning and Hydra, our horses, being led around. But worried whines crept along the morning breeze from the stable yard behind the bank. Something was causing them no small distress.
“Perhaps not to you,” the drifter continued, “but to I, I says two pennies is worth the news. And I happen to have some.”
I glanced back. “Oh, I’ve heard about the proclamation. In fact, I’m late for it, Master…”
The beggar yanked off his torn and stitched hat, kneading it between his hands. “Cas, if you please. Just Cas.” He leaned in conspiratorially, and—never one to pass up an opportunity to conspire—I accommodated him. “Not that, sir. I heard tell a dragon were seen over the Redfang Mountains early in the spring, up above the snow and the clouds.”
A snort of laughter made it past my attempts to contain it. “Winged beasts swooping down from the western hills? To do what, devour the Queen? Faerie tales. What’s next? Orcs in the eastern jungles?”
“If’n it please you sir,” said Cas. He looked more than a little hurt at my curt dismissal, and I immediately regretted the harshness of my tone. I dropped him another pair of coppers by way of apology and was spared from further embarrassment by the arrival of my driver. Dannic was soothing Hydra with a soft word and gentle hand on her great black hindquarters. Something had upset the beast, but I simply didn’t have time to question the issue.
“Palace Dictate, please,” I said as Dannic swung the door open.
“Aye, Master Kelstern,” he said, nodding hello to Cas as he shut the door behind me. I heard his footsteps back up to the dashboard. It was not until I had secured the door and drawn the curtain against the morning sun that I found I was not the sole occupant. In fact, I was sharing the gloom of the cabin with a woman who reclined on the opposite bench. How I missed her I cannot say, but it appeared my appointment would not be content to wait after all.
The carriage rocked into motion, and I examined my traveling companion. It would be both cliché and a lie to say that I fixated on her amethyst-flecked eyes. I admit the truth of it was
I could not have told you then what color her eyes were at the time. My gaze instead was drawn to her neckline, to the delicate silver chains suspending an array of engraved platinum discs, some as large across as my thumb. Wild rubies trapped in white-gold cages studded both the crests and lobes of her ears where her tangle of red ringlets was swept back so as not to cover them. A segmented snaking band of gold wrapped around her right wrist below the cuff of her jacket, and the fingers of that hand tapped a tuneless rhythm across her crossed knees. But my eyes kept returning to the platinum. The casual display of wealth across her breast was enough to fund several dozen of Jess’ trading expeditions and pay the men to crew and protect them.
One thing was clear: this woman came from money. I don’t mind telling you that she stoked in me a smoldering hunger for all things that glitter. In trying to calculate the value of her display, I reached a figure between the cost of a villa and a small castle before I realized she was speaking to me.
“Master Kelstern, or Sailor, if you prefer. May I call you Sailor?”
She asked through a smile that gave every impression that my wishes on her chosen moniker offered no consult. The Lady would call me as she pleased and damn otherwise. She lit a vellum-wrapped cigarette, and a thin haze of spicy smoke filled the carriage as she exhaled. She settled back and smiled as the burning ember at the end of her cigarette gleamed against the half-hundred polished discs on her chest. And in her eyes—which I then noticed were flecked with amethyst. It was not a natural color. Perhaps a cosmetic enchantment? Her lighter olive skin suggested an origin in Whadael to the west across the Redfangs, and there she could certainly afford a wizard’s retainer for such things.
“Sailor I think will be fine, Lady,” I said as the carriage continued to bounce across the cobbles, taking us closer to Darrez Issa’s proclamation. “What shall I call you?”
“Lady… I like that. Lady Arkelai, I suppose.”
I coughed. The carriage was small, and with the curtains drawn, the air seemed to stagnate, making the spice of her smoke almost overpowering. “Lady Arkelai. What brings you to my office this morning? Or my carriage, as it were.”
