B2 – Chapter 30: Tense negotiation

A few days passed. Tristan activities were heavily invested in getting to know these various crew members. Not just spending time to himself, working on improving himself with his essence crucible practice and inner world reinforcement, but he wanted to know the different people and get the measure of each of them.

The once-pirate crew were grateful for his mercy, and the chance to earn an honest living to support their families. They were eager to prove their worth, and Tristan found them quite amiable despite their standoffishness towards the Tideskipper’s Crest’s crew.

That crew, the crew he started off with on the journey from Jewel’s Point, were business professionals. Despite him trying to make conversational inroads, his earlier actions with the pirate assailants seemed to have rubbed them in quite the wrong way. He confirmed this with Captain Yokain, who said, “Just give them some time. They lost three shipmates they’d known for years. They’ll come around, in time. Just give them time to grieve and hold their grudge. They blame you, right now, for their lack of revenge – but they’ll turn a leaf eventually.”

Turning his attention to the Pathfinders, Tristan was given an equally frosty reception. They had not lost anyone during the fight and were not forced to fight – they had done so of their own volition. But Tristan giving orders and instilling a sense of control was something they were not used to, being party-based operatives without any traditional hierarchy. As William put it, “They’re just not used to being ordered around. Just don’t do it again, unless they ask.”

And so, it was a frosty few days; not the temperature, no, but the relations that Tristan was trying to build up between these varying groups. Ultimately, he was relying on the two contracts with the ship’s captains, and their mutual desire to make money to keep relations friendly.

“Land ahead!” a crewmate yelled from the crow’s nest.

Tristan was below decks when he heard the shout and tapped Felicity on the head to wake her up, “Come on. Land is in sight.”

She yawned, stretched like a cat would, and then clambered up to his head before taking her usual seat. “We should really look at getting you a pillow to wear up here. I deserve such a seat.”

Tristan just shook his head. Leaving the lower decks behind, he headed to the bow. The land at the edge of his sight was lush and green. A relatively flat landscape, with little indication of hills or mountains in the distance. Obadai was already there, as was Shandra, and both were looking ahead along with some of the Pathfinders.

Obadai glanced sideways as Tristan joined them at the rail, “Maladonia. A land embroiled in civil war.”

“It’s very flat-looking,” Shandra said.

“It is a large, flat landmass, yes,” Obadai replied as he puffed his pipe. “They have to import their metal from other countries. But they have rich, abundant fields of flowers. And you know what flowers bring? Bees. That means honey. Their mead industry makes them a pretty amount of coin.”

Tristan glanced at one of the Pathfinders, “And you all are just being paid to fight in this civil war?”

The man nodded, “Yup. Flors for me and my group.” He pointed to a group of Pathfinders on the opposite side of the bow, “Them’s going to be fighting for the Founts.”

Tristan glanced between the two, “So you’re going to be fighting each other? Despite being part of the same company?”

“Ayup. Probably won’t meet on the battlefield, but if we do…” he trailed off and let Tristan’s imagination fill in the blanks.

That unsettled Tristan. I always thought that Pathfinders were a brotherhood that stuck together through thick and thin, taking on epic quests of heroism and saving people. But they’re just mercenaries, judging from these two groups.

He sighed, and Felicity tapped him on the head sensing his discomfort. “It’s going to be fine. We are just doing a pit stop, fixing up a ship, taking a jaunt to the Fey Realm to stock up, and then we go on our merry way.” She grinned, “And while we restock…I can get up to some hijinks!”

“I don’t think it’ll be that simple,” Captain Yokain said as he joined Tristan. “We may end up being halted and held up.” He put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder as the two stared out at the slowly approaching landmass. “It may be worth getting your hands a bit dirty, if you can afford the detour.”

“Why?” Tristan asked as he turned his back to the rail, leaning against it. “I have a task to complete.”

“I imagine whoever you end up siding with – if you join this conflict – would owe you a great debt. Such a debt, that they may name you as one of the primary trade partners who can export their delicious, very profitable mead.”

Tristan frowned, “I’m not interested in being a merchant.”

Yokain leaned in and whispered, “You might not be interested, but I can guarantee you that the crew – both ship’s crews – would love you for securing such a lucrative contract.”

“I don’t need their love, I need their labor,” Tristan replied in the same whispered tone.

Yokain squeezed a bit on Tristan’s shoulder, and his voice became more tense and filled with some annoyance, “You don’t get it, Lord Tristan, so I’ll make it simple – you want to do this. If you get this contract, and pass it onto me to execute, you will be one of the only exporters of their mead. I’ve been trying to get a contract with them for decades. It’s more than just about money. It’s about prestige. You can open doors with the seal of being their official salesperson and emissary for goods. A middleman. This is your key to meeting kings, lords, chiefs, and even emperors.”

Obadai leaned in, voice equally hushed but serious. “You should listen, Tristan. I know you don’t want to play politics, and getting involved in any war can be…messy. But the political gains far outweigh any moral quandary you may feel. And besides, I know where Bertram is.” He tapped his temple, “Located him with divination. He’s on Yustat, currently residing in the Citadel of Essence with his lover. Apparently, making incursions to the Elemental Realms has become part of the curriculum, and he’s being kept on-hand in case dragons come mucking about with the students. A nice Pathfinder contract, apparently.”

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That brought Tristan some relief, “So I’m not going to be chasing him down across the world. If I wanted to, it seems like I could afford to detour slightly.”

“Correct,” Obadai replied.

Tristan looked up at Felicity and swapped to Elvish, “Mitä mieltä sinä olet?” (What do you think?).

She made some paw-claw biscuits on his head, and her voice was filled with nervousness. “Mielestäni se voisi olla arvokasta. Minä… pelkään sotaa. Luulen, että sinunkin pitäisi pelätä. Se on vaarallista. Mutta voisit myös pelastaa monia henkiä taitavuutesi ja loitsuntajuutesi ansiosta.” (I think it could be valuable. I…am scared of war. I think you should be, too. It’s dangerous. But, you could also save a lot of lives given your prowess and spellweaving).

Tristan looked at William, who had joined the group at the bow. “Tell me more about this civil war. I know it’s because the king had two wives from different noble families, and both produced sons at the same time.”

William nodded, “Yup. The Founts have Prince Roland, and the Flors have Prince Merrill.”