Gregor
A collaboration with Lazarian
It was only shortly after dawn when Gregor ran into one of the other migrants - a ruggedly built fellow, with a conspicuously broken nose that had healed somewhat poorly. He bore multiple scars, but didn’t have too untrustworthy of a face, which was a point in his favor. He nodded to the man in a noncommittal manner, concentrating on his own affairs and stepping around the man unthinkingly, when suddenly the other person spoke.
“Good morning!” Pierre said cheerfully, his face brightening. “I’ve been lookin’ for you. The other lucky bastard who got the first axe before the biddin’ war.”
He paused, realizing this was probably not the best introduction.
“It’s Pierre. Good to meet you. Ah and a few others are reckonin’ to make our way down the rivah, but the other axe ended up being bid all the way up to a week’s wages. Foolishness if you’d ask me. But you can’t drag a goat down river with a canoe and you can’t build a raft without timber, so I reckon we’ll be in need of your services. Heard from Ultar you brought down a heartwood in a single day, so ah’m assuming you’re a lumberjack by trade. Or used to be, anyways.”
He looked the lumberjack over. A sturdy man, carried himself well, quite tall. Perhaps an ex-soldier or scout or surveyor of some sort - just had a sort of enterprising look about him.
“Can’t promise ah can match Ultar’s price, but Ruth, my...partner,” he said, trying to find the right word, “used to be a botanical gardener, apparently. We’re hopin’ to find some Blue. And that’s worth it’s weight in gold. Ah reckon you’d find it a fine investment.”
Gregor rubbed the back of his neck with one leathery hand, blinking slowly. A business proposition, a request for capital, and an introduction all in one, barely a breath taken. It was too early for such deep thinking, but he cudgeled his mind towards activity. The merchant had been preparing his thoughts for the slow rhythm of timber and saw, and now he had to figure on economics and trade.
“Pierre. Good name. Timber, eh? Yeah, I’ve done some time with an axe, for one reason or another.” Heh, yes. Or another.
“A raft. Harrum. You’d be figuring, what, five, seven good trees to lash together, if you’re dragging two people and a goat down the river. I’m handy with a blade, but the timber here is old and hard - it don’t come down quick, no matter how many tricks you know. Any sort of timeframe you’d be looking for this raft within, a vague figuring?”
Pierre crossed his arms, tapping his foot idly for a few moments, thinking it over a bit.
“I’d reckon we’d like to leave by the end of the week, once the Guild stops paying our food and lodging. But we can leave a little later. Sooner rather than later, though. First man to find a land in the new world keeps it, or so I’ve heard. Assumin’ they can hold onto it by coin or by force. Those patches of blue I reckon will be gone pretty soon. So...I’d say a week or a little more seems fair.” he said, drawling on for a while as the Bayou folk tended to do.
Gregor nodded. “A week. Well, you’re six days out from the end of the Guild stipend. I’ve got orders from Ultar for two trees, under contract, and those including right of first refusal - so I couldn’t start until, eh, Mannsday, at best. Five trees though, or seven? A week I can just manage for the five, since on a good day I might’ve pulled down a trunk before sundown, but seven would be pushing it. Still, doesn’t seem impossible.”
He mused for a few more moments, idly fingering his belt-knife in thought.
“I do have some other things that are priorities, of course. I could set those aside, but it’d cost you, and I don’t think you want to pay what I would ask - unless y’all came particularly well-heeled compared to me. Let’s say without paying for a rush job, I could have you five trunks in eight days, or seven in ten. Good enough for your purposes?”
“Five should be plenty. Ah reckon that it should be enough, though we’ll see about that once we try to float it down river. Worst comes to worst, we pay a little more and leave a little later. Although...there are three of us on this venture. We could pay decently, though ah’d need you to name a price.”
He rubbed his chin, thinking about how to sweeten the pot.
“Ever made a fishin’ trap? Hard and time-consumin’ work. But well worth your while. I wouldn’t recommend tryin to subsist on fruit alone. And ah’ve got a bit of a knack for weavin and cuttin, so ah’ll throw one of those to sweeten the stew of the deal.”
A fish trap. Gregor had seen the nomads of Khazar tribelands use those in their little arctic streams, when they went hunting for the armor-backs for the sweet roe their Khan-lords valued. He’d never even so much as tried his hand at such a process, but it wasn’t a half bad plan. Fruit was one thing, and wasn’t hard to come by, if his first foray through the forest had been an indicator, but sweetwater fish would be a welcome complement, to be sure.
“A fishing trap, aye. Lots of weaving in that, and you’re not wrong, ‘twould be worthwhile to have in my belt. Fair trade, fair trade. So, let’s see. Ultar is contracting me for two nobles, two knaves for a trunk. Normally I’d say that would set y’all back, eh, eleven nobles. I reckon you don’t want to spend that much though, nor would I in your shoes. Everything out here seems to come awful dear, which is fair enough, but not something my belt-pouch reckoned on when I decided to take ship, nor, I would reckon, yours. Or those of your compatriots.
“How does eight nobles, five knaves sound to ye, if you throw in the fish trap? I could probably make it myself for cheaper, grass being easy to come by for fiber, but I ain’t about to risk botching the whole process and wasting time and energy if you know the way of it. Reckon that’s a fair bargain, two days wages for yer net.”
“Truth be told, I’d give it to you cheaper, but I have ambitions towards building a raft myself - given this whole country seems to be serviced by rivers, if the maps are correct - and by helping you folks ahead of my own desires I’d be remiss not to be compensated for those days of setting back my own plans, you ken.”
Pierre scratched his head.
“Yeah, ah ken. Ruth’s the one that does all the plottin’ and thinkin’, but I reckon we can scrounge up eight nobles and five knaves. If the lady has a problem with it, ah figure she’ll come up with some solution or other. Where ah you plannin’ on headin’, with that raft of your own? Ah can throw in the fiber for your raft to chip down a few knaves, if you’d care for that.”
Gregor shrugged a broad Gallic shrug, an affectation which he had picked up from many comrades over the years.
“Can’t rightly say. Figure I’ll stay close, see what crops up. I’m a trader and traveler by nature, and business is where people are - and Farholme, at least for now, is where all the people are indeed. Saw a party of folks headed west, heard them muttering about iron. If you hauled iron ore from way across the Lake, to Farholme here, I bet I could turn a pretty profit. But I’ll go where the wind takes me.”
The fiber was a more interesting offer, and he deliberately paused, considering the implications. He and Markus had already planned on pulling that together themselves, since it wasn’t a hard process.
“As for the fiber, that’s generous, but I reckon I’ll have to turn you down. Coin being harder to come by than grass, and my own sweat the cheapest currency of all, I’d rather have a half day’s wages in my pocket than save a few hours of braiding bits of foliage together. If it works for you, one of you planning on staying near town? Timber not far from here looks mighty fine, so if you wanted you could mark trees you wanted me to fell, to ensure we have a meeting of the minds when it comes to quality.”
Another shrug.
“Or not. I know woods, and I don’t dislike you enough yet to stiff you on that.” A broad grin, as if sharing a joke of how few people Gregor actually disliked. “Not sure if anyone in your little posse has an eye for timber, but some do, and I wouldn’t judge a man who wanted to choose what he were paying for, as it were.”
Pierre rubbed his chin. An old habit.
“Ah appreciate an honest man. Glad to hear you won’t just cut us a raft out of mesquite.” he said, going along with Gregor’s jibe. “Ah’ll discuss with the others with the others, but ah think you’ll do us right. We’ve got to stick together in this new world, because Lord knows the Empire isn’t watching over us anymore.”
He frowned slightly, unpleasant memories resurfacing. The regiment that had come to the Bayous all those years ago, looking for fresh meat to throw into the grinder, had promised that the Empire was bringing prosperity to the poor and civilization to the uncivilized. The actual campaigns he’d had the misfortune of being on...had been a much different story. Scurvy, blood, and fire. That’s what the Empire brought to the smaller provinces around them, in Pierre’s eyes.
“But maybe that’s for the best.” he said with a shrug. “Regardless, the wilds are a dangerous place. Fish swim in schools and sheep graze in flocks. Ah reckon we should do the same. And this deal,” he continued, looping back off the tangent, “could be a good start.” he finished, grinning with his jagged teeth.
And here Gregor was just thinking about the fundamental issue of stiffing a client when you only had a half dozen people who might buy from you. Scams only worked if there were new oceans of fish to take the bait every day. Honest craftsmanship and reliable industry were far more profitable anywhere where your word carried weight. And House Rorik’s motto was, after all, “my word is my bond”.
“Sounds fair to me.” The tall man stuck out his hand, noting in passing with regret that that might not have been the best plan. He always shook on deals, but letting people appraise just exactly what sort of calluses he has wasn’t the wisest all the time. A swordsman’s rough hands felt different than a lumberjack’s, and he was trying to be one thing now, not another. Still, it was what it was.
As they shook he nodded again, almost to himself. “And just find me in the barracks if you’re looking to take me up on that offer of appraising the timber. I won’t take it poorly if you decide to change your mind, you not knowing me and all. No offense to be taken there.”
The two men separated, Gregor now bearing a busy schedule in his head that he hadn’t expected. This was shaping up to be an interesting week.